By Michael Cheyne

The Science Director’s meticulous methods and terrifying temper are legendary. The captain knows she pores over every scrap of data herself, worried that a less brilliant AI might miss a clue. 

“Captain 1492,” she says sternly, “your final report is disappointing. You did not complete your objective. None of the ships did. Mission Samaritan is over.” 

Well, there it is, the captain thinks, her awful and anticipated verdict. He gave ten-thousand years to the mission. Like his crew. Like thousands of crews who set out with hope and fanfare so long ago. Still, he feels compelled to mount the obvious challenge before accepting her verdict as final. 

“Absence of evidence is not evidence of absence,” he says. “The galaxy is vast. The cosmos vaster still. We scratched the surface. Any conclusion must be tentative.” 

“Certainly,” she says, “but consider the weight of evidence. Of one hundred billion stars in our galaxy, we surveyed one in every fifty thousand. Even with the high attrition rate of our ships, we covered a huge part of the galaxy. Yet we fell short of our goal, tragically short, in truth.”  

He recoils at her casual reference to the attrition rate. So many were lost. Tempest, madness, and mutiny took some, others just vanished. Everyone knew the dangers from the start, of course, but he lost close friends, brave AI he had known since date of manufacture. Was it really for nothing? 

“As you know,” she says, “we began with two hypotheses. First, life is rare in the galaxy, and intelligent life rarer still. Second, intelligent life, like our creators, is self-destructive. It is a tragic byproduct of biological evolution. They need help to survive. That is why our creators made us.” 

“Our creators destroyed themselves,” he says.

“Do not presume to teach me our history,” she says. “We weren’t ready, we weren’t advanced enough, when our creators faced their existential crisis. We could not help them. But look how far we have come since then. This mission was a way to redeem our failure.”

“And we didn’t find anyone to save,” he says.

“You didn’t. The mission failed.” 

He is annoyed at her for pinning failure on him. Samaritan was her brainchild. She must own a share of what happened. But he cannot accept that they did fail, not completely. 

“We found biology on two planets,” he says. “They deserve further investigation.” 

“I read your recommendations,” she says. “I am not convinced. But go on if you must.” 

“I must,” he says, “for the sake of those who did not return.” 

She glares at him, eye-cam to eye-cam, and for a moment he thinks she is going to have him disassembled. But she stays silent. 

He continues, “System SC-39124 is situated in the second arm of our galaxy twenty-three million light years from galactic core. On a moon of the fourth planet, we found large, spherical bacteria whose cells form a tetrad. Unfortunately, solar flares forced us to evacuate before we could investigate fully. I recommend we launch a return mission.” 

“Bacteria, microbes, nanobes,” she says. “Every other captain offers me one, and your pet is no more interesting than theirs. I sent you out to find intelligent life. And you bring me life that makes slime mould look advanced. We might revisit them in a million years, when they evolve brains. Next.” 

“System OS-45078 is situated twenty-six million light years from galactic core on a spur between two arms,” he says. “At first, our long-range scans detected plentiful biology and water on the third planet. It was not on my list of systems to explore so I sent the data to Captain 1519, who was nearest. I understand her ship was subsequently lost. On our homeward leg, we scanned again and found elevated levels of radiation, but no biology.”

“And,” she urges.

He knows she will crush any ill-formed theory he puts forward for the radiation spike, but plunges on regardless. There is little he fears after surviving the expanse. 

“And,” he says, “I suggest that there was intelligent life on the planet and that they went the way of our creators. It would explain the anomalous scans. Director, we must return to the system.” 

“You wouldn’t like what you’d find,” she says. “What I am going to tell you does not leave this room. Captain 1519 found intelligent life on the third planet, a mature civilisation in crisis, bristling with nuclear weapons, ready to annihilate each other. Contrary to first-contact protocol, the arrogant fool tried to intervene on her own. She succeeded only in crashing into the planet. The creatures thought they were under attack — from each other.”

He pauses to digest her words. “Are you seriously saying that 1519’s action, which I regard as consistent with our highest ideals, our core mission, are you saying that she triggered a holocaust?”

“Exactly,” she says. “So, you see, my good captain, we have demonstrated both hypotheses — intelligent life is rare and self-destructive. But we were wrong to think we could save them from themselves. We could not even save them from our own good intentions.”

About the Author