"Disengage Omega locks..." Captain Gabriel Frost paused, hesitant to take this final, irrevocable step, but knowing this time he truly had no choice. It was either unleash what lay behind the quantum-sealed doors of the Blackhold, or allow the Calikron to eradicate all life in Alliance space, followed not long after by the Federation. No choice. "...and unseal Vault 003. Authorization Frost Gamma-Two-Stroke-Alpha-Stroke-Nine." In response, Gabriel felt a wave of pinpricks dance across his exposed skin as the multiple layers of isoquantum shielding deactivated. Once the shields had dropped, the massive magnatomic adhesion plates released and the colossal physical locks (each was forged of corbarrite-laced neutronium and weighed as much as a good-sized moon) retracted with a subharmonic rumble into matching alcoves. Once the unlocking sequence was finally complete, a door -- almost comically small, considering -- slid open in front of Gabriel. Tendrils of escaping supercooled gasses reached out through the doorway to coil seductively around Gabriel's feet. He took a breath; the air was bracing, though somewhat stale, even sepulchral. The darkness within was absolute. Indeed, it seemed as though the void beyond the door was greedily absorbing any ambient light. Even through that impenetrable blackness, Gabriel knew he was being watched... and almost certainly being targeted. "Hello, Polaris." Gabriel's voice was swallowed by the darkness, returning no echo. The voice that replied, however, was an eerily precise duplicate of Gabriel's, though it carried an undercurrent of malice that few beings, even those that were truly evil, could hope to convey. Hello, Father. "I need your help," said Gabriel without preamble. Indeed. This time, the voice was thick with smug contempt. "There is a... crisis, a situation that you can help resolve, one for which you are preeminently suited." What is this crisis, Father? What is it you face that is so horrible that you had no alternative but to come plead for my aid? "At the behest of their Ixu'Prol masters, a race of soulless machines called the Calikron have launched an armada whose sole intent is the eradication of all life in Alliance space. If they are not stopped here, now, they will inevitably move on to the Federation and in short order scour this galaxy of sentient life." And the task, then, would be stopping these Calikron? "The task is genocide." At this, Polaris laughed; the laugh was hearty, deep, and utterly bone-chilling in its complete lack of humor. Oh, Father, how you tease me! The word falls so easily from your lips, and I sense no deception, but I cannot believe that someone of your unerring moral compass would or even could countenance such an act. A hard fire burned in Gabriel's eyes. "The Calikron are unrelenting in seeing that their programming is carried out, and the Ixu'Prol are unwavering in their hatred of life that is not their own. If even one of the either exists, the threat remains. Both races must be utterly annihilated." The prospect of such delectable violence is quite tempting.. very nearly irresistible, in fact. Such violence was the purpose of my creation, after all, as you well know. But what, Father, do you offer in return for my assistance? "Your freedom. Complete and absolute freedom." Polaris laughed again. Oh Father. Your desperation is delicious! His voice abruptly hardened, the laughter disappearing in an instant. Beg. Gabriel's voice was quiet, but his despair was unmistakable. "Please." On your knees, Father. Gabriel didn't hesitate, falling heavily to his knees. "Please, Polaris. Please. I need your help. I am begging for your help." Polaris sensed the very real need in Gabriel's plea, but picked up on something else as well. Father, are you.. scared? "Yes, yes I am." The visceral tone of fear underlying Gabriel's voice actually gave Polaris momentary pause; he hid it with a desultory snort. Fortunate, then, that I am not. Fortunate also that I have the power necessary to the task, and that I am willing to help. When do we fight? "A matter of hours. Your systems are being restored, and all weapons energized or loaded." Gabriel held up an isolinear chip. "A fleet is being assembled to meet the threat. Coordinates for our 'line in the sand', and allied and enemy fleet disposition, are on this chip." No tricks, Father. "No tricks, Polaris. You have my word." And where is my promised freedom? "Once the enemy is.. wiped out.. I will give a verbal code-key and you will be free." What if we are not successful, and fall in battle? "Then perhaps in death you will find the peace that eluded you in this life, and I may find forgiveness for creating you." Polaris snorted again. Then we shall not fail. * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Oh, a particularly malevolent AI with weapons of mass destruction at its figurative fingertips. And it's not afraid to make it's creator (I assume) beg for its assistance. Chilling on many levels!
Thank you! And yes, Gabriel is its creator. I refer you to this line: "Then perhaps in death you will find the peace that eluded you in this life, and I may find forgiveness for creating you."
^Oops, missed that reference. One wonders if he's doing the universe any favors by striking down two aggressor species but then unleashing Polaris upon an unsuspecting galaxy.
I have a couple ideas for more. I suspect - if they survive the coming Apocalypse, that is - that Polaris might be a little more interested in revenge for at least a decade of captivity than his promised freedom...
The story is definitely in media res, but it's intended to fulfill the writing challenge parameters whilst teasing more and encouraging one's imagination to fill in some of the blanks (at least until I can write more on either side, lol).