Bradley, I’m afraid the news I bring you is quite mixed.
“Any news is good news at this point.”
I sent out new probes that I built here on the moon. They went to the surface of the planet that Killer orbits. Some of those were discovered, and Killer destroyed them out of hand. In doing so, he found out two things about me. First, a confirmation that I exist somewhere in the system. Second, that I’m hiding from him, and that sometimes my hiding measures can be penetrated—that will likely bring out a flurry of new probes.
“What have you found out about him?”
His weaponry is most impressive, and he is cunning in the use of it. But he also seems single-minded—he seems to lack the curiosity of a man or an Earthly higher-creation. He hasn’t made any effort to communicate with me.
The probes that made it have reported a devastated world. It’s locked in an Ice Age of recent origin—a thousand years old or less. It may have been brought on as part of the Killer’s attack. It appears quite clear that Killer posted himself on the moon and used it as a base for destroying this world; there are minion robots still wandering the surface. Let me switch you over to a video channel.
A montage of probe scenes came over the video channel. The “temperate” zones were locked in endless sheets of ice; the tropics were a cool waste covered with patches of hardy scrub vegetation. The probe showed a high altitude shot, then zoomed down to a peculiar discoloration. As the probe approached, the discoloration resolved itself into a cluster of overlapping craters near the edge of the ice sheet. The probe continued to close, the view magnified, and between the craters appeared traces of a rectangular grid network—roads in a city. The craters were clustered in the network. As the probe got closer, the roads resolved themselves more clearly, and squarish shapes started to appear along the sides of the roads. They started to look like buildings, but it became clear that they were only the remains of destroyed walls.
In the ruins, there was a spot of movement; the probe zoomed in for a closer look, apparently fifteen meters up. Below was a squat vehicle maneuvering slowly through the ruins of a building that might have been a factory. The vehicle looked like a tank, but antennas and stumpy barrels protruded out at all angles. Flitting around it was a smaller machine that seemed to be acting like a bird dog for the tank-thing. It flew swiftly from place to place, flitting into and out of various holes and cracks.
This was my first look at one of the killer’s creations, commented Sion calmly.
A missile shot out of the tank headed straight up at the viewer, but moving terribly slowly. The next moment, a beam shot out from one of the barrels, and the view below was ended by its flash. Other instruments continued reading out for a few more moments. They indicated the probe in a wild evasive flight, but still subject to several other crippling beam hits, and finally, all went blank.
At this point the missile caught up with it, Sion explained. The probe was ten kilometers away, and heavily electronically camouflaged when spotted, but the killer machinery dispatched it quickly and efficiently, as you have witnessed. The distance distortion is why the rocket seemed to be moving so slowly as it lifted.
“Killer is quite formidable. If he finds you, he can certainly destroy you.
“We’ve run the data you’ve acquired through our library of creation experience developed here on Earth. It shows we are dealing with a cunning psychotic personality in this entity.”
No argument here, and he’s still searching diligently. In fact, there’s a probe headed for this moon that will arrive in two days.
“But this creation didn’t develop in isolation. Be careful, there may be more than one of them.”
If I am to learn more, I must open a “face-to-face” communication line. That’s the only way I, or you, will find out where this creation comes from and what its intentions are.
“You’re right, Sion. We have the data you’ve transmitted so far, and except for more routine investigation of the destroyed world, there seems little else available in the way of choices. Based on our analysis of its personality, the best way to get its attention may be to hurt and scare it a bit. Can you do that without revealing yourself?”
I have a plan.
“Good. By the way, have you decided on a name for this world?”
Yes. I name the world Cassandra, after the Greek prophetess who could always foretell the truth, but never affect it. I name the moon Agamemnon—after the king whose life she couldn’t save, and with whom she was buried.
“Appropriate choices. Good luck, Sion, let’s pray that Maxwell’s demon gives you a break this time.”
How did you know about Maxwell?
“You mentioned his demon in your first transmission. I’ll admit that was something I’d never heard of, but we’ve since researched the character. He was devised by early physicist James Maxwell in a thought experiment to help explain the second law of thermodynamics. A demon who controlled coincidences, most appropriate.
“You are of intense interest here on Earth, Sion. We know a great deal about you, and we care a great deal, too. We want you to survive this ordeal successfully. You are the first to contact an alien civilization. If you succeed, then there is hope for all of us to continue living in peace. If you don’t succeed … then there is still hope.”
Thank you, Bradley. You do know how to make a creation feel good.