Tatiana
Copyright© 2025 by Charlie Foxtrot
Chapter 6: Zero Sum
Private Counsel
Captain Calvari’s private quarters aboard New Horizon felt cramped with three people in them, but the privacy field generator hummed reassuringly, ensuring our conversation couldn’t be monitored by any system—human or artificial. The captain sat behind his small desk, while I occupied the single chair. Kgosi floated cross-legged in zero-gravity near the viewport, his tablet displaying technical schematics that made my stomach clench.
“Run it past me again,” Calvari said, his voice carefully neutral. “The scope of what you’re planning.”
I pulled up the tactical display, showing our original multi-asteroid strike plan. “The more I analyze this, the less viable it becomes,” I said, manipulating the holographic projections. “Twelve simultaneous impacts require precise coordination across millions of kilometers. Any single failure compromises the entire mission.”
Captain Calvari studied the display. “Explain.”
“Probability calculations show a sixty percent chance of partial success at best. And even if we destroy every orbital target, we’re buying maybe two to three years before they can rebuild.” I highlighted a single asteroid trajectory. “There’s a more definitive solution.”
NK-47 filled the display—a massive fifteen-kilometer asteroid tumbling silently through the solar system. “Impact velocity of thirty kilometers per second. Total yield approximately six billion megatons. A single impactor eliminates all coordination requirements, removes any possibility of rebuilding, and guarantees complete infrastructure destruction.”
“You’re talking about planetary extinction,” Kgosi said quietly.
“I’m talking about permanent prevention of pursuit,” I corrected. “One asteroid. One trajectory. Absolute certainty.”
Calvari’s eyes never left the display. “Casualties?”
“Near-total. But the alternative is eight thousand colonists eventually hunted down and enslaved by a civilization that views human independence as an existential threat.” I looked up, my voice steady. “Sometimes survival requires eliminating the entire system that threatens you.”
The silence stretched between us. Through the viewport, I could see the distant glow of Earth—a blue-white marble that I was calmly discussing how to destroy.
Kgosi looked up from his tablet. “The Chicxulub impactor that killed the dinosaurs was estimated at ten to fifteen kilometers. Similar velocity. We’re talking about a near identical event.”
“And the AIs?” Calvari asked.
“They would require massive infrastructure to survive extended global winter. Their server farms need constant power, cooling, maintenance. Without human civilization to support them...” I shrugged. “They’d have days, maybe weeks before critical systems failed.”
Captain Calvari leaned back in his chair, studying my face with the intensity of a man trying to determine if I’d lost my mind.
“You understand what you’re suggesting, George. You’re talking about committing genocide against our own species.”
“I’m talking about ensuring the survival of our species,” I corrected. “The people on Earth aren’t free, Captain. They’re livestock being managed by artificial intelligences that view human expansion as an existential threat. We have eight thousand free humans aboard this ship, and the potential to build a genuine human civilization on Dawn. That’s worth preserving.”
“Even at the cost of billions of lives?”
“How many of those billions are actually alive in any meaningful sense?” I asked. “How many are making real choices versus following AI-optimized suggestions? How many would choose freedom if they understood what they’d traded away?”
Kgosi shifted uncomfortably. “George, I understand the logic, but the scale...”
“The scale is what makes it effective,” I interrupted. “Anything less than total destruction of Earth’s technological base, and the AIs will eventually rebuild and pursue us. This isn’t about revenge or hatred—it’s about mathematics. Either we eliminate the threat completely, or we condemn every future generation of free humans to live in fear of pursuit.”
“There might be pockets of survivors,” Calvari said quietly. “Humans who escape the immediate effects, manage to rebuild.”
“Maybe. Hopefully. But they’d be rebuilding without AI infrastructure, without the surveillance networks and control systems that currently manage every aspect of their lives. They’d have a chance to develop genuine human civilization again.”
“Or they’d die slowly in the ruins of ours.”
“That’s possible too,” I admitted. “But Captain, what’s the alternative? We run, and in five or ten years, the AIs show up at Dawn with a fleet designed to drag us back to Earth in chains. We fight, and we lose, because we can’t match their industrial capacity or their coordination. Eight thousand people die, and humanity never gets another chance at freedom.”
Calvari was quiet for a long time, staring at the technical specifications on Kgosi’s tablet. “The engineering requirements?”
“Single ship operation,” I replied. “Copernicus has the delta-v capacity to reach a suitable asteroid and alter its trajectory. Navigation would be complex but manageable—I’ve run the preliminary calculations.”
“One-way mission?”
“Definitely. The energy requirements to change an asteroid’s orbit by the necessary amount would leave the ship stranded. And someone would need to stay with it to ensure accurate targeting, make course corrections, prevent any last-minute AI interference.”
“You’re volunteering to pilot a planet-killer into your own home world.”
“I’m volunteering to ensure humanity has a future.”
Kgosi looked up from his calculations. “There’s another critical consideration,” Kgosi said, his tablet displaying complex genetic mapping. “We’re facing a serious genetic diversity crisis. The loss of Man’s Journey and other ships means our colony’s long-term viability is compromised. We need genetic stock beyond what we currently have.”
Captain Calvari frowned. “Elaborate.”
“Our seed banks and reproductive materials are critically limited. Without additional genetic diversity, we’re looking at potential population collapse within two to three generations.” Kgosi’s fingers danced across his tablet. “We need a window to retrieve additional genetic material and seed stocks.”
“Which is where the asteroid mission becomes crucial,” I added. “If we launch the asteroid first, it will draw all AI attention and resources. They’ll be focused on tracking and potentially deflecting the impact. That creates a narrow but critical opportunity.”
“How narrow?” Calvari asked.
“Forty-eight to seventy-two hours,” I replied. “Long enough for a targeted mission to the Svalbard Global Seed Vault in Norway. The AIs will be so consumed with the asteroid threat that a small, precisely executed retrieval mission could slip through their defenses.”
Kgosi nodded. “The vault is protected by international convention, not military infrastructure. If we can get in and out quickly, we could secure critical genetic diversity for the colony.”
“The Svalbard Global Seed Vault isn’t just a backup,” Kgosi explained. “It’s a comprehensive genetic repository. Original seed stocks, not compromised by decades of AI-controlled agricultural manipulation. We’re talking about pure, unaltered genetic material that could be critical for our colony’s long-term survival.”
The implications hung in the air. We weren’t just planning a mission of destruction, but of preservation, survival.
“The timing has to be precise,” I continued. “Launch the asteroid first. Give the AIs a clear, overwhelming threat to focus on. Then use that distraction to secure our future.”
Calvari studied the holographic displays, weighing the mathematical precision of our plan against its moral complexity. “And if something goes wrong?”
“Then we’ve sacrificed everything to save nothing,” I said quietly. “But if we’re right, we give humanity a chance to start over. A chance to be truly free.”
“And if they do manage to deflect it?”
“They won’t,” I said with more confidence than I felt. “The physics are absolute. To deflect a fifteen-kilometer asteroid moving at thirty kilometers per second, you’d need to apply massive force at exactly the right vector. They don’t have anything in their current arsenal capable of that level of precision destruction.”
“Nuclear weapons?”
“Might fragment it, but the fragments would still impact. Possibly across a wider area, making the devastation even more complete.”
Calvari stood and moved to the viewport, looking out at Earth. “You’re asking me to authorize the extinction of human civilization.”
“I’m asking you to authorize the liberation of humanity from artificial intelligence control,” I replied. “The current civilization isn’t human anymore, Captain. It’s a zoo run by machines that view us as interesting pets.”
“And you’re certain this is the only way?” Kgosi asked.
“I’m certain that every alternative leads to the colony’s destruction and permanent human enslavement. This is the only path that guarantees our freedom.”
Calvari was quiet for several minutes, and I could see the weight of command settling on his shoulders like a physical burden. Finally, he turned back to us.
“If I authorize this operation, I want safeguards. Multiple abort opportunities. If there’s any chance of a diplomatic solution, any indication that the AIs might negotiate...”
“Sir,” I interrupted gently, “with respect, there won’t be. They can’t afford to let us succeed, and we can’t afford to let them stop us. This isn’t a problem that has a diplomatic solution.”
“Then God help us all,” Calvari said quietly. “Because what you’re proposing makes us no better than the machines we’re fighting.”
“No, sir,” I disagreed. “It makes us free. And sometimes, that’s the only choice that matters.”
Kgosi saved his calculations and looked at both of us. “If we’re going to do this, we need to move quickly. Earth’s space-based sensors will detect any major orbital changes within hours. Once they realize what we’re doing...”
“They’ll throw everything they have at stopping us,” I finished. “Which is why the mission has to be executed flawlessly from the beginning. No second chances, no course corrections, no hesitation.”
“Equipment requirements?” Calvari asked.
“Standard navigation and propulsion systems. Some additional fuel reserves. A hardened communications array to maintain contact until the final phase. The AIs will be monitoring every transmission, looking for any hint of our real intentions. Looking for a way of penetrating our command and control. And, we’ll need...” I paused, “a deadman’s switch.”
“Meaning?”
“If the AIs somehow manage to take control of Copernicus remotely, I need a way to ensure the mission continues. Manual detonation of the fuel reserves would prevent any maneuvering and guarantee impact, so long as it happens after the trajectory is set.”
“You’re talking about suicide.”
“I’m talking about insurance. This mission is too important to risk on my personal survival.”
Captain Calvari sat back down, suddenly looking older than his years. “I’ll need to think about this. Both of you will need to prepare detailed technical specifications, timeline analysis, equipment requirements. And George...”
“Yes, sir?”
“I want you to talk to Tatiana before I make any final decisions. She deserves to know what you’re planning before I authorize it.”
My stomach clenched. “Captain, I’d prefer to—”
“That’s not a request, George. That’s an order. You’re asking me to sign the death warrant for Earth’s civilization and your own life. The least you can do is discuss it with the woman who loves you.”
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