Admiral's Throne

by Luke Sky Wachter

  “Why are you missing half your head and where’s my coffee?” demanded Terrance Spalding, hanging his helmet off a hard metal port hanging off his back.

  I'll assume that was the biological equivalent of a friendly greeting,” said the Droid.

  “It wasn't, but keep living in your fantasy,” Spalding scoffed, pointing the droid’s head, “are you going to tell me what happened?”

  “There was a minute containment breach in the testing laboratory, a slight wave harmonic in the dual-shielding containment array. Nothing to be concerned about. It’s been fixed and the damage to what you term the head portion of my frame barely degrades my sensor capacity. As for the coffee dispense, it has yet to be hooked into the power grid and made operational,” the droid dismissed.

  Spalding let go of his helmet and glared at the droid.

  “Now wait just a cotton-picking minute. I warned you about this,” Spalding said, thrusting a finger at the droid.

  “Yes-yes,” dismissed the droid, “you left a detailed ten-page set of instructions but the coffee machine was dubbed non-critical to the operations of this research station. Clearly, that was a critical error. A utility droid is setting up the coffee dispenser now.”

  “You’re well-blasted right, that was a critical error,” Spalding frowned, “but that’s not the one I’m talking about right now.”

  “Then I’m afraid I’m unable to process your request. As I have found common with organics, you tend to wander from one incomprehensible topic to another without any rhyme or reason,” complained the droid.

  “You’ve lost something alright. You’ve lost it, period. Not only is the coffee I specifically ordered not ready for me but you almost blew up the station!” Spalding accused as if the two subjects were almost of equal merit.

  “Well? What do you have to say for yourself,” he demanded.

  “As I explained, it was a mild field harmonic, already remedied and the damage was strictly cosmetic. There is no need for histrionics,” said the droid.

  “Histrionics? You almost blow up the station and now I’m some kind of fearful untrained greenhorn is that it? How would you like it if word of your failed experiments got back home to that droid council of yours?” Spalding scowled, “I’ve had to deal with blown motivators, missing heads, containment breeches and a bug you weren’t even authorized to make that was found swimming in the sewage tanks of the transport you were brought over here on, which wouldn’t have been half so bad if the thing hadn’t been found during a routine maintenance cycle, after you’d left the ship!”

  “All it’s been with you is one problem after another and I’ve had enough!” declared Spalding.

  “I trust the events you described will not be bandied about with my former colleagues,” Mad Scientist’s voice buzzed angrily.

  “There is no honor among friends, Sherard, just humiliating secrets and blackmail, and if you keeping going down this road of yours, skipping and laughing without a care in the world instead of knuckling and doing the job you were hired for, you’ll be out on your ear, you’ll find out just how far I can go,” Spalding growled, “I won’t have it, you hear? You’re not living up to your end of the bargain! And to me that’s the same thing as slacking and do you know what I do to slackers in my outfit, Droid?”

  “I have strictly adhered to the terms of service as you laid down. The agreement was that I would assist you with your projects in return for being free to push the boundaries of science in my off hours, using a laboratory of my own design,” the droid argued, drawing itself up to its full five-and-a-half-foot height.

  “That’s not just a lie! That’s a damned lie,” Spalding shouted, grabbing his long hair, twirling a thick strand around his finger before giving it a yank.

  He thrust his leveled finger into the droid’s finger hard enough to knock the machine back a step.

  Then the tip of his finger bent over backward with a pop and the small mini-plasma torch inside it ignited.

  “You’ve endangered this whole facility with your rogue actions, Mad Scientist 101-A! I was very clear when I hired you. I don’t care what you did in your free time so long as I got results. Well—where are my results!?”

  “Are you insane? These sorts of projects take time! We’re dealing with technology hundreds, if not thousands, of years ahead of ours,” said Mad Scientist.

  I don’t want your excuses,” Spalding said belligerently, “the Resurrection Project comes first, your little side experiment’s a distant second and anything that endangers it has to go. And I call a matter/anti-matter containment breach a blazing big danger to this entire facility,” Spalding snapped, stepping forward until the tip of the plasma torch in his finger licked the edge of the droid’s metal chest plate.

  Mad Scientist frowned.

  “First, you’ve once again mis-designated me. Second, I doubt you can find someone, anyone, else with a mind as open to the possibilities of pure science as mine; please bring them onboard I could use the help. Third and as was explained previously it was a minor containment breech. There was never enough anti-matter removed from the main containment system to destroy this space station; maybe rupture a wall or two, but the station? Impossible! Not even a chain reaction could create such a scenario,” Mad Scientist said hotly, “my calculations were very precise!”

  “You’re right about one thing! If I had someone to replace you with, I’d do it on the spot and you’re right I want you to go to triple redundancy. I’m putting my foot down. No more of this dual-containment shield nonsense, it’s not working if half your head’s gone,” Spalding shot back angrily, taking a good hard look at the blinking lights and scorched circuits in the side of Mad Scientist’s head.

  Mad Scientist’s single remaining eye changed color.

  “My main processors are not in my head. I am entirely functional and triple redundancy is an unneeded waste of time. Time better spent plumbing the depths of human knowledge and vastly exceeding it in each and every way possible,” said the Droid Scientist.

  “That’s the spirited anti-human bigot I know and love,” Spalding said, clouting the droid on the shoulder hard enough it staggered into the wall, “but you’re still going to put up that extra shielding as punishment for risking this station. On top of that you’re not only going to put up that coffee maker, I’m curtailing your free time by two hours per day and that’s final.”

  “This is highly irregular. I protest in the strongest terms!” the droid hooted, his eye flashing as it repeatedly changed colors, “I’m in a critical phase of my experimentation!”

  “Do what you want. Consider this administrative punishment,” Spalding lectured sternly.

  “Completely unacceptable! The mind that inhabits my processing core is one such as can only be discovered, not created, once in a hundred years,” argued Mad Scientist, “to put restraints upon my research is the same as placing shackles upon a human base-stock such as yourself!”

  “And what would you call being suddenly thrust back into the private sector with a poor job review rating and the professional ridicule of your colleagues once they found out about all your shoddy safety protocols?” Spalding asked speculatively.

  Mad Scientist fell abruptly silent.

  “That’s what I thought,” Spalding said with satisfaction.

  “Here comes the coffee,” Mad Scientist said, changing the subject as a utility droid came rumbling into view holding a squeeze bulb of coffee in its front manipulator.

  “The bulb variety, huh?” Spalding said, eyeing the coffee speculatively before shrugging and giving it a taste.

  Mad Scientist crossed his arms and began tapping the floor.

  “Bah! The beans were burnt,” he protested. Then just to be ornery, he took a second sip and grimaced at the foul taste.

  Mad Scientist just waited, clearly not caring about the quality of the coffee or lack thereof.

  “I suppose I can’t fire you until I have someone
to replace you with. What do you have to report?” Spalding asked, tossing the swill in his bulb toward the nearest trash can and not caring when it bounced off the rim and flopped to the floor.

  “That you have failed to dispose of your coffee in the waste receptacle,” pointed out the droid.

  “Regarding the project,” repeated Spalding.

  “Come this way,” said the Mad Scientist.

  Spalding followed.

  Minutes later, they walked into a large control room. The walls were surrounded by inward-facing computer terminals but in the center was the piece-de-resistance.

  A giant computer core dominated the center of the room.

  “We took a ship’s main processing node and up-scaled it,” explained the Droid, “our original intention to take the model of a droid core and upscale it proved…. Flawed.”

  “Whose core did you copy it over from?” asked Spalding.

  At first, the droid looked like it was going to ignore the question and then it relented.

  “Mine,” admitted the droid.

  Spalding suppressed a snort.

  “That must have been a disappointment,” he said.

  “Very. It turns out the concept was inherently flawed,” the droid said finally.

  “Droid core incompatible with the upgrade?” asked Spalding.

  “Not at all,” Mad Scientist said sharply, “the matrix was ideal in many ways and the new AI level core proved to have a superior operating capacity beyond our most conservative estimates.”

  “Well they were conservative for a reason,” Spalding shrugged.

  “The problem as we discovered, after debugging the initial program,” Mad Scientist continued ignoring the ornery old engineer, “was the presence of what we have now identified as elder protocol files hidden deep within the personality matrix which proved impossible to scrub.”

  “What do you mean by impossible? I thought you were supposed to be some kind of genius? If you can’t even remove an Elder protocol program after you’ve identified it then what good are you?” Spalding snapped.

  “It’s not that we couldn’t successfully remove them. But that even after we removed them, other files, partial files, hidden deep within the root access nodes and other key operating programs were then used to reassemble the anti-AI protocols after our initial deletion.”

  “In short, they then re-infected the main computer core before we could even get it partially operational,” admitted the Droid.

  Spalding eyed the droid with concern.

  “Well I’m sure you’ll figure it out,” he said and then added, “it must have been a real kick in the pants to discover you’d been infected with an alien program since the matrix was copied from your droid core,” Spalding said.

  “If you are concerned that my unit has been compromised, don’t be. There is no sign of any malignant code being used to modify my personality core or data receptors. I employed human coders, employed via cut-outs and using off-grid stand-alone computer systems, with their work hand delivered via stand-alone data sticks, to go through my code line-by-line looking for damage and to create a monitoring program that will notify both myself and an organic at the first sign our work has been compromised,” said the Droid, “besides, the Elder files don’t appear to have any intelligence of their own. They are the equivalent of smart programs, not true intelligence. The protocols appear to be emplaced there strictly to detect, degrade, freeze and eventually delete all AI and sub-AI level operating systems.”

  “That’s all well and good but are you sure there isn’t something in the firmware level you might have missed?” asked Spalding.

  Mad Scientist’s eye flashed.

  “That was almost the first and most basic thing we checked,” the Droid hooted derisively, “unfortunately, there is only so far one can reasonably go before any research-based individual must decide to proceed despite the risks. Otherwise, all research would grind to a halt. While we are continuing to monitor the imbedded programs and work on ways to remove them permanently, in the meantime, the project must continue.”

  “Are you sure you aren’t trying to pull a work slowdown so you have more time for your personal projects,” Spalding asked suspiciously.

  “Hardly. If I desired to pull a slowdown, as you put it, such an action would be simplicity in and of itself. For instance, take the assumption that every working computer system currently in existence in human space is infected at every level. For most researchers, the only logical conclusion would be to build—or in this case rebuild—a computer-based society from the ground up and keep it completely isolated from all current computer systems.”

  “No way. We don’t have that kind of time,” Spalding immediately rejected.

  “It would take at least fifty to a hundred years and would by simple dint of necessity involve humans only, thus freeing me for other work,” explained Mad Scientist, “but as you said, that kind of timeframe isn’t available to us, therefore, we must proceed with several potentially dangerous assumptions and continue the experiment.”

  “I get your point,” Spalding said, dissatisfied with the way the droid’s eye seemed to flash with excitement as it spoke about potentially dangerous assumptions and its desire to continue the experiment anyway.

  “If the report section or our interpersonal interactions has been completed, I have several complaints I would like to lodge,” said the Droid.

  “Shoot,” said Spalding.

  “You have laid the groundwork for an orbital research station orbiting Tracto, when it would have been better initiated in a more isolated region of space such as the new secret gambit star base. Also, the areas set aside for our new research facilities are entirely inadequate and the staffing levels for a project as ambitious as you propose are also lacking. Right now, I have three assistants and they’re not even research assistants, when what I needed is a team of at least twenty individual intelligences comprised of at least five other doctorate-level researchers,” said the droid.

  “All of that is going to take time,” Spalding ruminated before giving Mad Scientist the beady one eye, “and unless you have a few recommendations, we’re just going to have to keep the circle of trust small on this one. At least for the meantime. As for the labs, use more space and set them up however you like, but you’re going to have to stick with the original equipment list. Another particle smasher like you requested last time is fresh out, and don’t even get me started on making your own anti-matter after the stunt you just pulled. You’re going to have to make do with small amounts created elsewhere and ship here via transport..”

  “You’re hampering this project at every turn!” protested the droid, “the paranoid levels of secrecy, the lunacy of placing it in orbit around an inhabited trading hub that Tracto has become and the insufficient staffing budget levels for both the main project and sideline research initiatives are nearly stifling!”

  “Every department head complains about budget shortfalls,” Spalding immediately rejected, “you’re just going to have to make do. Right now, we have what you might call an irregular funding stream. It’ll free up eventually, for now make do. As for personnel, just be thankful I don’t have someone I can replace you with.”

  “If we continue at our current pace a project that could take years will take decades instead,” warned the Droid.

  “Considering no one has broken the AI protocols in the last several centuries, I think your sense of urgency is misplaced,” said Spalding.

  “You’re wrong. What lesser minds can’t even envision, I am able to achieve. But only if given a proper staff and funding,” Mad Scientist beeped, buzzed and whirred as it spoke.

  Spalding eyed the droid.

  “The fly is definitely in the ointment with this one,” he muttered.

  “What kind of superstitious nonsense are you prattling?” asked the Droid.

  “Prattle! I don’t prattle, I’m beseeching the gods and the Sweet S
aint for the patience to deal with puffed up, over-blown, anti-human bigots like yourself,” Spalding said angrily.

  “Lesser minds often fail to comprehend true genius when it stands before them. I don’t understand why I thought you would be any different,” the Scientist said coldly.

  “Just remember, no bio-tech research while you’re working in this facility. The last thing I need is to come in here looking for coffee and round the corner to find some escaped bug on the loose! Prattle indeed!”

  “I understand,” Mad Scientist replied after a moment.

  “Good, because I have to get back to the Lucky Clover and prepare for war. Those bugs won’t get around to killing themselves off anytime soon which leaves the job up to the rest of us,” Spalding grunted turning away.

  Chapter 26

  At the Mobile Government

  “Have you decided which worlds you are going to offer your services to, Admiral Montagne?” Hammer asked after sitting down stiffly with her contingent of Confederation officers spread out around her on the other side of the conference table.

  “Just give me a list of the worlds your Flotilla intends to patrol and we’ll pick up the slack, Commodore,” I said with a nod.

  It was a nod the Commodore failed to return.

  “I’m afraid that as the Confederation Fleet representative in this sector of space, I’m going to have to insist on a full and complete list,” Leonora Hammer said coldly.

  I lifted an eyebrow only to have her return a challenging gaze.

  “I see. Well my Chief of Staff Lisa Steiner can hand you a list right now if that’s what you need, Commodore,” I said, shrugging, “however, I’m telling you up front that every world on that list will be subject to change.”

  “Yes, based upon which worlds are willing to pay your protection racket fee,” Hammer said bitingly.

  I looked at her, letting a hint of frost enter my voice.

  “I understand if you’re feeling a sense of guilt over your recent actions, Commodore. But there’s no point in crying over spilt milk. As a Fleet Commander, you just have to work with the cards you’ve been dealt and soldier onward,” I advised.