The center glowed within the torn hulk of the shell. Onboard Avenger, the crew watched as the sphere shrank from nearly sixteen thousand meters in diameter to just one and a half kilometers across. Radar and magnetic scanners now showed that all remaining metal had been pulled inward, forming a thick, closed armor around the core, supported by short, dense columns. The rock had been pushed to the outer surface and fused into slag.

  Russell suspected the sphere was still capable of something dangerous. He didn’t trust whatever was happening inside it, so he ordered another attack. The Avenger’s beams struck, but now they merely cut into the thick, glassy rock. The silicates refracted and scattered the lasers. Rocks hurled at the sphere were absorbed on impact, instantly fusing into its surface. The bombs still caused damage, but they only gouged and dented the structure—penetration was impossible now.

  The dish structure hadn’t re-formed, but the tracks on the opposite side of the globe were glowing. A pale blue light pulsed and dimmed until the tracks seemed to vanish completely.

  Russell’s scanner tech suddenly yelled, “What!?” Then, as if trying to make sense of his own words, he added, “Sir, it’s gone! The sphere—the metal part—it’s just gone!”

  Russ turned sharply. “What the hell do you mean ‘gone’?”

  “If you think I’m kidding,” the technician snapped, “bomb that thing again!”

  Russ gave the nod, and the mass cannoneers fired. Explosions lit up the viewports, sending slag and rock flying. When the last blast cleared, there was nothing left but the cold void of space.

  “I’ll be damned,” muttered Carlin.

  “Did it explode?” Russ demanded.

  “No,” the tech said. “It was gone before the last blasts even hit. Right when those tracks vanished.” He gestured at his console, eyes still wide. “I had heat patterns, magnetic readings, mass data—everything. Then nothing. Like it just—” he exhaled, shaking his head. “Vanished.”

  Russell clenched his jaw, staring at the empty starscape. His mind raced. It was here. It let us beat on it. It acted like it was falling apart. Then it hunkered down. And now it’s just... gone? He exhaled through his nose. Where the hell is it now?

  The answer came from Earth in fragmented transmissions:

  “Object has bypassed Jupiter bomb ships…”

  “No data on course or speed…”

  “Object within eighteen minutes of Mars orbit…”

  “Measures one and two-tenths kilometers in diameter now…”

  “Mass drivers seem ineffectual…”

  “Projectile weapon striking mass driver sites… total—”

  “Repeat—total destruction of M.D. sites.”

  “Object appears to be landing on Mars—Plain of Elysium.”

  “All ships, all ships, general recall. Return to OP and await instructions. Do not, repeat, do not approach object. All ships…”

  Russ exhaled, tension coiling in his chest. “Cut it off, Murray.” OP meant every ship was to return to its origin point and await further orders. For Avenger, that meant Earth and Luna Base.

  He issued quick instructions to his astro-gator and first officer before heading down the corridor to Med-Clinic. His legs carried him fast, and he nearly overshot the door.

  Inside, Debra was awake, sitting up in the g-bed. She looked to him immediately. “Is it over?”

  “No,” Russ admitted. “It isn’t.” He stepped closer. “Are you alright? I was afraid you—”

  She cut him off by pressing a finger to his lips. “I’m fine,” she assured him. “For now, at least. But Russ… something happened in the hopper.”

  He frowned. “What?”

  She hesitated, searching for the words. “Something… appeared. Inside. Just after I detonated the charges.”

  Russ’s pulse spiked. “What something?”

  She hesitated, searching for the words. “Something… appeared. Inside. Just after I detonated the charges.”

  Russ’s pulse spiked. “What something?”

  “The blue globe,” she said, her voice lower now. “It just showed up inside the hopper… and it spoke to us.”

  Russ felt ice crawl up his spine. “Spoke?”

  “And I understood it. They spoke like the council does,” she confirmed. “It told us to go ahead. That it would help.”

  His gut twisted. He turned sharply, stepping to the doorway panel. Placing his hand beneath the circular interface, he spoke, “Intruder aboard hopper craft. Disconnect and distance the hopper immediately.”

  Just as Russ lowered his hand and turned back, something moved in his periphery.

  The blue globe—the very thing Debra had spoken of—rose from behind the g-bed, floating effortlessly.

  Russ’s instincts kicked in hard. His breath quickened. His fingers closed around the grip of his sidearm. What the hell is this? Some new trick? A last-ditch deception? A leftover from that damn sphere?

  His weapon was up in an instant, sights locked on the orb.

  “No, don’t!” Debra yelled.

  But Russ’s mind was already roaring, his muscles tense, finger hovering just shy of the trigger. His pulse thundered as the weight of everything crashed in—Mars under siege, mass drivers obliterated, a planet-killing anomaly jumping through space like it owned the damn universe.

  Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

  And now this thing. Right here. Floating inches from Debra. Watching.

  Not this time. Not again.

  Before Russ could press the firing stud, the globe faded into nothingness. The stunner’s bolt snapped and crackled in the small clinic room as it displaced the air. Russell quickly scanned the area but saw no trace of the globe. Then, he heard its voice behind him.

  “You must think I’m an enemy or a spy,” it said. “But I am neither.”

  Russ spun around, tense. “And why should I think otherwise?” he demanded. “I can’t even see you.”

  “And you won’t,” the globe replied, “until your weapon is holstered.”

  Russ narrowed his eyes. “How the hell am I supposed to trust something I can’t even see?”

  “I have no armament to harm you with,” the voice assured him. “But I must protect my existence.”

  “Put away the stunner, Russ!” Debra cut in, urgency in her voice. “It didn’t hurt me or my crew. If it wanted to stop us from escaping the sphere, it could have—easily.”

  Russ hesitated, his grip tightening on the stunner. Finally, he exhaled sharply and holstered it. “Fine. Besides, if it meant us harm, it would’ve taken me out the second I pulled a weapon on it.”

  “Incorrect,” the globe responded as it reappeared in front of him. “I could not attack you under any circumstances. My only defense is evasion.”

  Russ crossed his arms. “Great. So you win the argument by default. Now tell me—what the hell are you?”

  “In your primitive language, the closest word would be ‘computer.’ However, my capabilities far exceed that definition.”

  Debra frowned. “What’s your purpose, then?”

  “I am a war correspondent,” the globe said. “I was constructed to observe, record, and report on the war between my creators and the race that built the sphere.”

  Russ blinked. “A reporter?”

  “And a historian.”

  Russ shook his head, trying to process it. “Alright, fine. But where exactly did you come from?”

  “From the fifth planet of the star you designate as Alpha Cygni, or Deneb. It is one thousand six hundred light-years from here, by your measurement.”

  Debra exchanged a glance with Russ before asking, “Why were you inside the sphere?”

  “I was recording and observing.”

  Russ let out a sharp breath. “If your creators built you, why are you still here? The sphere must have left its origin a long time ago. According to our data, it’s been traveling for at least nine hundred years.”

  “Your estimate is close. Nine hundred seventy-three of your years have passed since the sphere’s journey began.” The globe’s voice was steady, but there was a weight to its words. “I remained aboard because the descendants of my creators are still inside.”

  Debra and Russ both stiffened. A sick feeling settled in Debra’s stomach. “The descendants of some of the sphere’s prisoners?” Russ asked hesitantly.

  “No,” the globe corrected. “The last survivors of the Denebian race.”

  Debra paled. “They’re still alive?”

  “Yes. What remains of them is alive… technically speaking.”

  Russ’s mouth went dry. “What do you mean, ‘what remains of them’?”

  The globe hesitated for a fraction of a second before answering. “They are no longer the sentient beings who created me. The race that subjugated them has been experimenting on their genetic structure for over eight hundred years.” It paused. “They are slaves now. Pawns of their conquerors. They have no writing. No speech. No memory.”

  Debra felt her knees weaken. “You still communicate with them?”

  “Not since I realized they were mindless,” the orb admitted. “That was four hundred years ago.”

  Russ shook his head, running a hand through his hair. “Then why the hell did you leave with us?”

  “I was powerless to help them inside the sphere. You were escaping. You are an unconquered race. I stowed away, hoping to report to you… perhaps to help them.”

  The globe’s voice held something eerily close to sorrow. “I am a sentient machine. And I—‘feel,’ to use your word—a loyalty to my creators and their progeny. But once my reports became useless, and since I can only observe and record, this was all I could do.”

  Russ let out a bitter laugh. “So you’re hoping we’ll storm in and set them free?”

  The machine’s response was immediate. “No.”

  A chilling silence followed before the globe spoke again.

  “I hoped that, with my information to guide you, you would permit them to die—before your race becomes the sphere’s next conquest.”

  Russell and Debra looked at each other, then at the globe. Russell said to Debra, “go up the corridor to the command room, tell Murray to get his portable relay back here.” He turned back to the machine. “If you’ve been aboard so long, didn’t the sphere race try to destroy you as well?”

  “Yes, but I avoided them for so long they probably have forgotten about me. That last time I tried to speak to one of the descendants, he pointed me out to them and I was pursued briefly. The sphere builders set beam activated traps for me in the corridors and airshafts, but I avoided them easily enough. Several years later the story the guards told their commander made me out to be a hallucination of the slave involved” it said.

  “This is probably not relevant to you,” said Russ “but our race will need a name to address you by.”

  “Of course, it is…” the sound which followed was somewhat like a few musical notes and a thin scream uttered inside a tunnel.

  When the reverberation stopped, Russ said, “That was different, but I don’t think any of us could say it. Do you have another name or a title that will translate into our language?”

  “Perhaps my machine designation will serve better; Advanced Data Access Memory, well?”

  “That’ll do, but abbreviated it’s better; ADAM we’ll call you Adam!” said Russell

  “Adam” quoted the globe “yes it will serve, and what is your name?” the machine asked.

  “Russell Carlin, Captain of the UWSS Avenger.”

  “And you came from where?” asked the globe.

  “The third planet of Sol, the sun outside out ports, called Earth or Terra. How do you speak our language Adam?” Russ asked.

  “I accessed the computers of the mining crafts, the hoppers, and listened to the crews talk by microwave signals until my vocabulary was sufficient. Frankly, the race which built me would have been amazed at a language with only twenty-six characters. The Yī qǐlái addendum to your language was an afterthought or a compromise I gather.”

  “Both actually” Russell said as a few laughs escaped him. Remembering from his history lessons the computer incident which combined the two most populous languages of the old Earth. “About two thousand years ago these were separate languages, A predominately eastern language spoken by the Chinese, Korean, Mongolian, Japanese and similarly regioned peoples called Yī qǐlái , and all the rest of the world was using one called Amer-English. English, Spanish, German, and African words made up Amer-English. Computers on the two sides of the world were programmed in the language preferred locally. When, at last, all computers on the Earth were joined on the UW network, they gibbered and gabbered at each other until every concept had a word to define it in any language. The machines of course opted for the clearest language with the fewest letters for easy storage, only when no word in Amer-English existed the computers used an Asian word, and even then wrote it in AE letters and used english pronunciation rules. The East Asian nations were furious at first but finally calmed down when the machines also rejected the western measuring system and went completely metric at last. There were advantages and drawbacks to this of course. The huge number of Chinese characters made it a perfect language to encode, literally one character per word. Tolstoy’s War and Peace would have been a paperback three centimeters thick in Chinese writing, but to teach all children to read, speak and define thousands of characters was impractical. Also new concepts would have to be characterized and recorded in a new letter as they were discovered, very tedious and mind tiring.”

  “So your machines actually chose your language for you?” asked ADAM.

  “Yes ADAM, we programmed them to be like us and always take the easiest job so that’s exactly what they did.”

  “The fight you will have with the sphere builders won’t be easy, Captain” said ADAM.