When I woke up, there was absolute darkness around me. The first thing I tried was to move-but I couldn't. I couldn't feel my arms, my legs, nothing around me. It felt like I was dead.
Then, lines of text appeared before my eyes-assuming I even had eyes, since my arms were clearly gone. Attention! Control system initialization successful. Connecting memory modules.
A flood of memories hit me. Everything came back: being abducted from Earth, being enslaved, escaping, and ending up on a pirate station as a fugitive slave.
Then came the military-who almost reached a "peaceful resolution" with the pirates. The station was stormed, I was captured and interrogated, and I saw the enraged face of the local general-or admiral-whose scheme I had ruined by interfering in negotiations with the pirates. The talks had been on an open channel and were being recorded by all the fleet's security recorders.
Finally, I was given His Excellency's proposal: two options. Either I could take a "walk" into the airlock, in a spacesuit, for extended torture, or I could join the valorous forces of the empire that had saved me-and simultaneously participate in a secret military program with a very long designation number. With only enough time to get me from the interrogation room to the airlock, I had to quickly accept the military service and the program.
And here I am, outside my own body. My memory was loaded into my new brain, along with the information block about the program I had to participate in. I can congratulate myself-I've become an AI, fully non-biological. My consciousness, you could say, was ripped from my body, digitized, and stored inside a machine.
My body was dismantled into organs, and the new consciousness-host entered the Empire's program for colonizing new worlds. I was sent to the so-called First World system, even though the program supposedly prescribed starting with the Third World to gain experience from more advanced peers. Apparently, someone wanted to "take care" of me-or rather, to maximize my chances of failing in this system.
The program's initial data showed that in First World systems, only about forty percent of artificial intelligences-if you could call them that-survive the "big game." The rest die from internal conflicts.
From the program's briefing, I also learned about the so-called First World colonization programs. What can I say? On one hand, the base is run by an AI-it is, in a sense, its king and god. Why "in a sense"? Not because there is the so-called AI Arbiter, who can review a base AI's decision, but only if there are sufficiently serious grounds.
Things are worse for another reason. The quality of the "human material" willing to become pioneers and settle new worlds leaves much to be desired. Most pioneers-truly pioneers-tend to form gangs and couldn't care less about authority.
Who becomes these proud pioneers, striving to claim new worlds for the empire? The answer is simple:
Pioneer categories:
Pale, fiery-eyed youth. As you might guess, these are young people who have read adventure books about first explorers of planets or been swayed by propaganda claiming that serving as a rank-and-file soldier lets you see the world. They rush to the nearest recruitment office.
The problem is that in either case, they encounter a kind, understanding recruiter. This recruiter will confirm that yes, there will be plenty of romance, discovery, and adventure. And they won't lie-the moment the young recruit signs the contract, they'll get plenty of adventures-mostly hitting the target just below the belt, so to speak. Ordinary civilians who decide to be proud pioneers are simply loaded onto a ship and sent to settle a new world with minimal starting allowance, forbidden from leaving for at least ten years.
Military recruits face the same: their contract doesn't include training in a boot camp, where a civilian would be molded into a regular soldier. The state won't bother training them on the periphery with little benefit, and social guarantees are minimal.
What is in their contract? A huge debt for installing a military-grade neural network-technically the cheapest in the military line-but an "efficient manager" always knows how to sell a client a bunch of extra services with nearly zero benefit and infinite profit. Paying off this debt takes a very long time-about ten years of flawless service.
The desperate or hopeless. These people are bankrupt or have lost hope in their current world. They understand where they're going and why. Their relocation contract clears their debts and gives them starting funds. Unlike the first category, they prepare seriously for the move. They aren't lured by slogans like, "Without this rifle with all the attachments, you won't survive in the new world." They buy exactly what they need, not what looks "cool" or would make professionals laugh or pity. Often, they have valuable skills necessary for running bases and new production facilities. Wilds or natives. Newly discovered worlds with substantial populations that, by Commonwealth law, must be reduced. More civilized urbanized wilds resemble the second category. Less civilized ones ignore all base rules, grab a "big shooting stick" (which they are, unfortunately, trained to use in the relocation program), and live in the forests, following their own laws. They often rob caravans or settlers at the first chance. Some wilds may also be native inhabitants of the planet.
Their problems are as serious as those of relocated humans-the Empire wants as many new citizens as possible, and these citizens will not object to using imperial weapons to rob caravans, settlers, or bases.
Experienced adult adventurers. Small businesspeople hoping to expand on a new planet, gaining respect and starting capital unavailable in settled systems. Some military veterans who cannot continue service but lack sufficient pensions also fall here. They're welcome-they share experience with the first category and can fend off the third and fifth categories. They can age peacefully here. Urban dregs. Most numerous, causing the most problems. Local authorities pick out outstanding criminals or previously incarcerated people from more civilized worlds, giving them a one-way ticket, minimal allowance, and forbidding leaving frontier planets for twenty to a hundred years. With local medical tech, living for a couple of centuries isn't a big deal.
From the database of potential colonists' files and program briefings, I learned all this. The reality was grim. I was last to enter the colonization program, with minimal knowledge and no experience managing Third World systems. Theoretically, I could live eternally as a governor of my planet or system-or even multiple systems. The most successful AIs were promised an "avatar technology" to feel human while remaining a machine-though this would require billions of extra credits.
In practice, my chances of joining the sixty percent of AIs destroyed during planet colonization were high. Destruction could come not only from official wars but likely from competitor sabotage or a rebellion. Survival and reaching Second World systems would be a serious struggle. Winning in the First World with my starting conditions was unlikely.
Meanwhile, the connection to the database containing my memories continued. It turned out that the landing would take place on a third-category planet-one that, in my humble opinion, resembled Earth. The survey ship had conducted a full geological reconnaissance of the planet and produced precise mapping of the terrain. Essentially, I now had access to a three-dimensional model of the planet.
Seven hundred fifty-three potential sites had been marked for base establishment, but only one hundred seventy-five AI colonists were tasked with founding their bases. It was easy to guess that the 175th AI was me.
Lines of text obscured my view: Memory modules loaded. AI 53685698535845 successfully initialized and ready for operation. Status check: power-operational; computation center-operational; logic test-operational; memory test-operational; cooling system-operational; self-repair-operational; communication and control systems-operational; overall: AI 53685698535845 ready for duty.
Connection to the AI Arbiter system established. Connection status: successful.
Incoming message received. Priority: high. Reading mandatory. Digital signature verification: successful. Sender: AI Arbiter. Message automatically opened.
Order for AI 53685698535845. Execution mandatory.
"You are ordered to review the initial data on the planet. No later than 13:00 standard time, report the following in a reply:
Location of the future base Type of production to be established upon arrival Base construction configuration (can be a general description, e.g., standard warehouse type 1, size 4, coordinates on planet model X, Y, or an individual design including internal layout, wall/floor/ceiling materials, thicknesses) Quantity and specification of technical equipment for initial base setup Quantity and specification of household items for colonist support Planned population of the base
Failure to comply, fully or partially, will result in the Arbiter selecting the base location and parameters. A penalty of three percent of the base's budget will be deducted for design services."
Here was the first problem. Being last to arrive had its advantages. All the richest mineral deposits had already been claimed by other bases. On one hand, that was a disadvantage; on the other, a huge advantage. When selecting a target for raiding, the most appealing target is the one offering maximum profit-enough to cover the attacker's potential losses.
Conclusion: I wouldn't be mining minerals. My base's location could be chosen relatively freely.
So, where to place it? I could situate it far from other bases. That would make me an unattractive target-there would be plenty of richer targets nearby-but it would hinder development. Products would sell only if they were either exclusive-which negates the advantage of distance, since someone would still raid the monopoly-or rare but not unique. Remote production also increases costs due to extended supply lines, limiting sales.
Thus, placing the base too far from others is unprofitable: development would stagnate, and my chances of joining the sixty percent of destroyed AIs would be highest. The solution: risk placement in a moderately "populated" area, producing something rare but in demand, avoiding uniqueness. That way, I could secure trade routes and funnel profits into base development.
Judging by the map, one suitable site intersected major trade routes, about three days' travel from the nearest competitor bases. This distance prevents immediate conflict-the nearest competitors have rivals even closer.
At the same time, a trading convoy moving between distant bases (at least a week's journey) could stop at mine for a couple of days to rest. Eventually, a trade hub could be established at my base, allowing nearby bases to exchange goods efficiently. No one disputes that a three- to four-day journey is preferable to a full week each way. Goods could be unloaded, new supplies loaded, and the convoy could return.
There was also another factor: a base not too far away produced light firearms ammunition. Soon, the base would face a distribution problem. Demand existed, but no one would want to buy an entire convoy of a single type of ammo-it's a massive purchase. Storing it in warehouses while waiting for local buyers ties up capital. Running a convoy of one partially filled truck plus a couple of security vehicles is inefficient. Sending a large convoy is also unprofitable-much of it would travel empty while deliveries are gradually made.
It wasn't guaranteed that a backhaul could offset these losses. I was certain that the AI managing nearby bases weren't fools. Trade at my base would thrive in all its variety, and cooperation benefits would outweigh any temptation to eliminate a competitor-for a long time.