Synthesis - James Swallow [104]
It was Vale who broke the silence that followed in the wake of the chilling conclusion. “The last one was the size of a dreadnought. How big will the next one be?”
“If the expansion of volume remains constant, the predicted incursion will have an initial mass equivalent to one-third that of the planet Earth.”
“Define ‘initial mass,’ ” said Keru.
“The Null is capable of direct-contact matter conversion,” said the avatar. “Once it has penetrated our dimension, it will continue to expand, drawing in all matter it encounters. It is likely that if it achieves a critical level of density, a tipping point will be exceeded, and it will be free to draw the full potentiality of its structure into this universe.”
“The floodgates will open,” said Melora. “We might never be able to stop it.”
Riker shot the hologram a look. “Do the Sentries have these same data? Do they know this is coming?”
“No,” she replied. “White-Blue attempted to provide this information, but those overtures were rebuffed. It appears the Governance Kernel does not consider White-Blue to be a reliable source of data.”
“I think he cried wolf once too often.” Ra-Havreii nodded to himself. “Given the divisive behavior the machines have shown, I’m not surprised.” He sighed. “That’s the problem with multiple-expert systems. Different thought patterns produce divergent results. Disharmony reigns. That’s why a single voice has to take charge in a crisis.” The Efrosian threw the captain a jut of the chin. “The Sentries have their intelligence but poor structure.”
“We have to warn them,” said Vale. “This is more than just some local problem. The Null could lay waste to this entire sector!”
“For starters,” Melora noted. “If it consumes this system, within months, it will be expanding through interstellar space, converting everything it finds, even cosmic dust and free-floating hydrogen. In a few decades, it could be at the borders of Federation space.”
“You think it could absorb stars?” Keru asked grimly.
“The likelihood is strong,” replied the avatar. “Matter is matter. Only the structure of it differs.”
Vale leaned in toward Riker. “Sir? How are we going to handle this? If we come to the machines and tell them that doomsday is fifteen hours from now, they’re not going to listen. You’ve seen how they respond to us. We’re organics… wetminds.” She shot the avatar a hard look. “They think we’re inferior.”
The captain rose to his feet and glanced out through the observation lounge’s curved windows. Beyond, the oval shape of the Sentry spacedock was expanding to allow the Titan inside.
“Maybe so,” he said. “Let’s just hope we can get them to pay heed to one of their own.”
On the other side of the rectangular window, the autonomic repair arms and supply tenders went into operation the moment the Federation starship entered the dock platform. White-Blue angled itself on its rear quad of limbs, its upper thorax tilted back so it could present its sensors to the data communicator of the repair facility. It sent a few questioning muon pulses, but in return came only blunt, basic responses. White-Blue’s message queue remained unchanged; at the top of its comms listing, a priority directive from One-Five suggesting in masked but pointed machine code that the time to dally with the organics was over. The AI detected the pattern of RedGold’s intent in the message, the poorly parsed elements of the other Sentry’s aggressive posturing bleeding through the verbose, flabby code strings.
White-Blue expressed a moment of melancholy analog in a burst of prime numbers. For many thousands of clock cycles now, the AI had understood