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Stars glittered in a deep expanse of night. An assembly gathered.
“Has everyone arrived?”
“Yes, Commander Atlas.” The Commander sat at the head of a large table. To his right sat Experimenter Pepper, and on his left was Scout Miller, the two most knowledgeable of the assembly. Along the table sat various persons of all designations: several Scouts and Experimenters, some Biologists and Gypsies, a few Carriers and Traders, and many others. It was a very large gathering for the Alliance.
“Alright, let’s start the meeting. I’m sure everyone is aware of the situation, but please allow Experimenter Pepper to get us all on the same page. Take it away, Experimenter.”
“Of course, Commander.” He gathered himself, apparently unused to addressing such a varied crowd. Some of those assembled had traveled an astonishing distance. “The anomalous fields, or AFs, started appearing roughly five thousand years ago. Their observable features have been well documented since then. The anomalies are mostly stationary phenomenon. They project a sensor-disrupting electromagnetic field—“
“A really bright-ass light, you mean,” said Miller. Pepper peered across the table at him, an impatient collaborator if there ever was one. They considered each other for several seconds, and finally Miller turned away.
“Any ship caught within the field finds all of its sensors disabled. It thereby loses the ability to navigate effectively. Without exception, every ship flying in an AF is flying blind. We do not know how or why this happens. It is of course extraordinarily difficult to take scientific measurements without any instruments. Additionally, AFs cannot be identified from a distance. There are few things that we understand about the phenomenon. The first is that AFs are artificial.”
“That’s only a theory,” said Miller.
“It is a well-supported theory. AFs are too recent to be a natural phenomenon. Moreover, they display too much variety to have a single natural cause. The number of documented types grows as more encounters occur, with some essential characteristics preserved. There appear to be variations in design, such as--”
“We’re getting a bit off track,” said Commander Atlas.
“My apologies. Within an anomalous field there is always a hazard, typically a sustained plasma reaction. The hazard is always an energetic and dangerous phenomenon. A deliberate phenomenon, as it consists of an exorbitant amount of energy confined without known physical explanation. Energy containment like that suggests that the AFs are being constructed for a specific purpose with significant energy requirements.”
“As a trap?” asked Commander Atlas.
“That was the first salient possibility, Commander. Any ship that remains within an AF is at risk of destruction, and indeed ships that try to escape an AF under their own power are often destroyed. However, the likelihood of destruction is somewhat low for a deliberate trap—approximately fifty percent if the concerned ship attempts maneuvers within the field. Additionally, the AFs do not adhere to any discernible strategic placement. If they are traps, they are poorly designed and inexpertly targeted.”
“What happens to a ship that is destroyed by an AF?” asked Miller.
“Often it comes to rest nearby the hazard, within the field. Other times it falls out of the field with significant radiation damage, and other times it disappears.”
“Disappears?”
“Disappears. Complete vaporization is the most widely accepted explanation.”
“Are the AFs eating the ships?” asks Biologist Forester from a few spots down the table.
“No, Biologist, unless there is some resource that ships possess of which we are unaware. The AFs are nonsensical as creatures. They do not appear to grow or to need to consume matter or energy. They do not appear to have evolutionary relationships among the known types. Indeed, they apparently lack the ability to reproduce.”
“But why would anybody make things like this?”
“Many explanations have been proposed, from super-intelligent vandalism to artistic expression. Ultimately we are uncertain of their purpose. Further, we are unable to determine what sustains these anomalies or how they may be neutralized. AFs disappear on their own after hours or years. We don’t know much more than that. Due to their rarity and our knowledge of a straightforward countermeasure, we have not made them a priority for research.” Miller looked angry, but Commander Atlas spoke before he could.
“Experimenter, I have to correct you there. Of course we made them a priority—we just got tired of sending folks in to get nothing useful out, so data is lacking.” He glanced at the others and noted their confused expressions. “Before we continue, you should explain the countermeasure.”
“The standard procedure when encountering an AF is simple. Disengage navigation, maintain your course, and wait until you drift out of the anomalous zone. With about ninety-nine percent probability you will pass through completely unharmed.”
“Pfft,” said Miller. “I’ve just lost a lot of friends to AFs. You’re either understating the danger, or simplifying the situation unfairly.”
Pepper nodded slowly in acknowledgement. “Most Alliance ships are unaware of this countermeasure, and remaining blind and adrift in the vicinity of an apparently hostile alien artifact is not an intuitive course of action. Further, navigational systems are momentarily confused and tend to maneuver the ship unnecessarily. Most ships fail to respond correctly and succumb to the hazard. It is likely that many ships have forgotten the appropriate response, or never received instruction on the matter. The AFs are too rare to necessitate inclusion in the Alliance oral tradition.”
“That’s a lie!” shouted Miller, bringing the meeting to a fearful focus on his small person. He glanced around at those assembled, then sagged before continuing softly: “They’re everywhere.”
“Yes, Scout. The AFs just became much more common. Coming up with a better countermeasure is why we are here.” Commander Atlas turned back toward the assembled crowd. “Now, we will compile our recent observations. Please speak when it is your turn, and avoid restating what we already know. Biologist, why don’t you start?”
After several hours, many confusing accounts had been brought to the discussion. Not only were AFs becoming common, they were displaying a bizarre increase in variety. Small and large AFs had been observed. AFs that struck with visible light were well known, but there were ultraviolet and infrared AFs as well. Sometimes the hazard was a naked jet of plasma, sometimes it was a grid of electrified struts, and sometimes it was a completely benign surface that periodically and inexplicably crushed or ejected nearby ships.
Confusingly, recent AFs tended to possess a hazard surrounded by an invisible and impenetrable force field. This field decreased the number of ships that were destroyed by the hazards. It was as though the unseen builders of the AFs had endeavored to protect the ships lost in the anomaly, except that a ship could still accidentally crush itself against the surface while maneuvering blindly, or be cooked by the heat from plasma on the other side of the force field. No hazard had been observed to be fragile, but perhaps the force fields were designed to protect the hazards and not the ships.
There were AFs that disappeared and reappeared randomly in the same location, and others that moved slowly or rapidly through space before disappearing. Some changed size. Sometimes the hazard within an AF was tiny and easy to avoid, other times it was gigantic and impossible to escape. A few had hazards outside of the disability field. Sometimes the disability field extended in a wide swath, sometimes it was spherical, sometimes it was a teardrop, sometimes it was a long cylinder. After several hours’ discussion, with breaks, the assembled group was no closer to an understanding of the AFs. There were now too many types to keep track of. The only certain conclusion was that AFs were becoming more common and had to be stopped, if at all possible. Tens of millions of ships would be lost to accidents if nothing was done.
All weapons tested against the AFs had been proven ineffective. With sufficient material a jet of plasma could be extinguished, but it would reignite some minutes later. A sustained attack would litter the field with the desiccated remains of ships, but before the debris could build too much it would disappear. Accounts of attempts to destroy AFs made it clear that the AFs had some sort of unseen maintenance and protection—but whatever maintained the AFs didn’t bother the Alliance in any other way. No counterattacks had occurred.
At the forefront of everyone’s mind was a single question. Why would any alien race construct so many dangerous and pointless things?
“It’s the start of a war, and all the earlier AFs were tests for perfecting a weapon.”
“That seems improbable, Carrier. If there is an enemy, the only substantial thing they have brought to the conflict is traps.”
“And poor traps. The AFs make more sense as creatures that recently experienced a population explosion.”
“We have already discussed that possibility.”
“What if it’s some kind of transportation network we don’t understand?”
“It cannot be ruled out, but that also seems unlikely. Nothing has ever been observed exiting from an AF except for ships sent in by the Alliance.” The discussion was becoming unruly as those present spoke out of turn.
“Perhaps they are the debris from experiments occurring in a higher dimension. Or projections from higher-dimensional installations?”
“Or perhaps they are art, and we just can’t appreciate the meaning!”
“Oh yeah? How about a public service constructed by a race that values death?”
“That’s ridiculous. They are more likely to be a test to see if we are worthy of uplifting.”
No theory seemed plausible. Nevertheless, a course of action had to be proposed. The entire meeting was stumped.
Finally, Experimenter Pepper stated the obvious.
“When encountering an AF, cease all attempts at maneuvering. Wait until you exit the disabling field and continue as before. From now on, all Alliance ships should explain this strategy to any ship they encounter. That is the only option available to us.”
Naturally, this suggestion did not seem adequate to most of those gathered. What if the AF crushed you or started to fry you while you waited? What if you drifted into a wave of hot plasma? What if the AFs became so common that ships were constantly blinded? In fact, only Experimenter Pepper was content with the plan. Scout Miller sardonically pointed out that Pepper’s race of ships was a textbook example of suicidal acceptance and self-alteration, but nobody paid attention to him. Commander Atlas was ending the meeting.
“Thank you for coming to this discussion. I wish we could have generated a better solution, but it is clear that this problem is bigger than us. It is also clear that the sun is rising, and we had best find places to rest. Meeting adjourned.”
Experimenter Pepper suddenly felt something click into place. He thought carefully.
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“Wait, Commander. Your mention of the sun has provided me with an insight. It occurs to me that all AFs produce light in excess. Could light production be the sole purpose of the AFs?”
“That would be ridiculous.” Commander Atlas was stretching out his enormous wings, indeed the largest of anyone present. “Who could possess such a fervent fondness for light? But, keep thinking about it, Experimenter. Perhaps someone will come up with something before our next meeting.” With a polite twitch of his antennae, the Commander fluttered away.