“Yeah,” Brock grunted. “Trying to expand the range of our shields in case these ARs have some kind of firepower that can penetrate our shields.”
Trev’or slumped down on a stool at the same workbench as Pieter and Brock. “Hey man, it really is going to be all ok. We’ve got your backs. Those ARs fire one shot anywhere near you and we’ll take them out.” His fist clenched automatically as he spoke the words.
Brock took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “I appreciate that, Trev’or.” He smiled. “But I still need to make sure I do everything I possibly can to keep the team alive out there.”
“Of course.”
Bourne’s voice suddenly chirped up over the workshop intercom. “You know… I’m good for more than just hologames!”
Trev’or looked startled and looked around to see where the voice was coming from.
Pieter chuckled. “It’s ok. That’s just Bourne.”
“Bourne?”
“Yeah, one of our in-house AIs.”
“AIs? As in…”
“Artificial intelligence.”
“I prefer the term Advanced Entity,” Bourne interjected.
“He’s sentient,” Pieter added rolling his eyes as if to elicit sympathy from Trev’or.
Trev’or’s brow furrowed. “You have sentient AIs?”
Brock kept working as he spoke. “Yeah. It’s a thing. Sorry… we should have warned you.” He lifted his voice a little to reach the intercom. “Bourne, this is our new friend Trev’or. Trev’or, this is Bourne.”
“Nice to make your acquaintance,” Bourne said.
“Likewise.” Trev’or looked a little unnerved still. “So, this is for real?” he asked Pieter quietly.
Pieter nodded, grinning now. “Yeah. We liberated him from a military base a while ago. Now he just mostly watches movies from the archives and hangs out playing holo games with us. And Oz… the other AI.”
Trev’or took a deep breath. “Wow, this is… incredible.”
“You mean, you don’t have AIs in the Zhyn Empire?” Pieter looked confused. “I thought you guys were technological badasses?”
Trev’or’s eye widened. “Heck no. I couldn’t think of anything more terrifying. One of us would certainly destroy the other.” He shrugged. “I guess it’s kinda like your Estarians in the face of meeting a new tribe.”
“Why do you say that?” Brock asked.
Trev’or shrugged. “Well, we’ve never seen AIs before. Our tech is good, and we have self-learning intelligent programs. But nothing alive. And I think most of our warriors would agree that another life form that has more capability than us would be a threat. And so they’d have to snuff it out. So I guess no one’s bothered to think about inventing a fully sentient entity, simply because… well, what’s the point?”
Pieter watched his new friend, fascinated. “That is truly incredible.”
“I guess,” Trev’or agreed. “But from our perspective it’s just never been a goal we’ve sought. We figure that we’re smart enough and complicated enough, without compounding our problems.”
Brock suddenly sat back, a relieved look on his face. “Done!” he announced, pushing the box away from him and further onto the bench.
“Great!” Bourne pipped up again. “Game time!”
The holoscreen over by the old couch came to life, game music starting up in the background.
Pieter sniggered. “Come on, let us show you the advantages of having a friendly AI hanging about the base.” He led Trev’or over to the gaming area and handed him a gamepad.
“I’ll be back in ten minutes,” Brock announced, heading out toward the daemon door. “Just have to fit this box…”
His words fell on deaf ears. Pieter and Trev’or were already immersed in the new world Bourne was creating for them as the game powered-up.
Chapter 10
On Board Glock’stor Ship #597
As Supervisor Gultorra made his way toward the mess hall, he glanced out a bulkhead window. He fancied, for a moment, that he could see Gaitune-67 in the distance. As close as the ship was to it, though, he knew they weren’t that close.
Perhaps one of the twenty Zhyn ships might have been, but not his. He spared the bit of whimsy only a moment of thought before he pulled his attention away from the bulkhead window and continued on his way.
The dome of the mess hall was abuzz with conversation. Every so often someone shouted from the main table up to one of the walkways above. It was lively and almost bombastic, and that, combined with the lingering smell of roasted zarther-beast, it was a bit like home.
“Supervisor on deck!” someone announced from down the table. As one, all eyes turned to Gultorra and everyone at the table saluted in nearly clockwork unison before turning back to their meals and their conversations.
Gultorra plucked his hat off of his head and took a seat at the head of the table, Kalvor to his left and Tulnok to his right. Kalvor passed the zarther-beast platter and Gultorra plucked the bone from it. It had nearly been carved clean, but enough meat still lingered to be satisfying, and the bone was the best part, regardless.
As Kalvor set the platter down and shoved it back along the table. Tulnok turned his expectant gaze on Gultorra.
Gultorra paused with the bone raised halfway to his mouth before he sighed and set it back on the plate, the tips of his fingers instead drumming on the table. “Tulnok.”
“Boss.”
“Have you picked up the habit of thinking before you start speaking? I’m impressed.”
Tulnok snorted and rolled his eyes. “Not quite,” he returned wryly. “Just wondering, Boss, but what’s up with this muttering I keep hearing about us being mercenaries now?”
Gultorra’s eyes narrowed, just enough to take him out of the running of ever winning a poker match. “Who said anything about that?”
Tulnok waved it off with an unconcerned flick of his claws. “You know how it goes. Just some scuttlebutt.”
“Uh huh,” Gultorra hummed dubiously. “Well, it’s not something I’m supposed to talk about.”
Suddenly much more interested, Tulnok leaned closer on his elbows. “You don’t say.” While he didn’t actually say ‘I’m all ears,’ the implication was there.
At last, Kalvor offered his own two cents. “Yeah, I heard about this whole ‘mercenary’ thing, too,” he chimed in, lifting both hands to make air quotes with his fingers as he said the word ‘mercenary.’
Gultorra shook his head in comic exasperation. “Put your hands down when you say that. You look like a cheerleader!”
Kalvor’s hands dropped back to the table so quickly they nearly broke the sound barrier. As Kalvor scowled, Tulnok’s eyebrows rose slowly and he wondered, “Why is he doing that?”
Gultorra simply arched one questioning eyebrow and finally started eating, teeth ripping at what little was left on the bone.
“The air quotes thing?” Kalvor supplied. He lifted his hands to do it again, just to see Gultorra glower at him.
“Yeah, that.” Tulnok nodded once. “When you say mercenary.”
Gultorra groaned and dropped the bone back down to his plate. “If I refuse to answer, are you going to drop it?”
“Probably not,” Tulnok answered pleasantly. He grinned, showing his dinosaur-like teeth.
Gultorra dug at the corners of his eyes with two of his knuckles. “Of course,” he moaned. “Just remember, I didn’t tell you any of this.” He punctuated his words with a lingering look at Tulnok, who looked only marginally offended about being singled out.
“We aren’t supposed to be here,” Gultorra admitted without any more evasion. “Not in an official, Empire-related capacity, at any rate. But Lord Ben’or, dipping into his infinite wisdom, found a loophole that means we’re not breaking the Federation treaty.”
Tulnok’s eyebrows rose once again. “By letting people hire us out for money?”
“You didn’t hear it fr
om me,” Gultorra offered by way of confirmation. Tulnok seemed distracted with his own thoughts after that, so Gultorra didn’t bother waiting for a reply. Instead, he picked up the bone from his plate and resumed gnawing at it, until it was nearly clean and it cracked beneath his teeth.
“So,” Tulnok mused slowly, slightly disconcerted, “we’ve been bought. We’re being pimped out for cash. Like common whores!”
Gultorra didn’t offer any sort of confirmation, instead taking a moment to appreciate the look of dawning horror on Tulnok’s face…at least until it was very quickly replaced with elation.
“Cool!” Tulnok grinned broadly and turned halfway around in his seat to look at the next table over. “Hey! Hey, Georg’oh! We’re mercs now!”
Georg’oh offered a distracted thumbs-up in reply. Whether or not he put any stock in the words coming out of Tulnok’s mouth was up for some debate.
When Tulnok turned back around, it was with a slightly worrisome grin on his face. Gultorra felt a knot of dread rising in his chest.
“Sooo,” Tulnok began casually.
“Don’t you dare,” Gultorra practically growled. He already knew where the conversation was going to go next.
Unperturbed, Tulnok asked, “Since you’re in charge, does that make you our pimp?”
Gultorra heaved a beleaguered sigh. “It means you have four seconds to get out of my face before I shove my mercenary boot so far up your ass you’re tasting shoe polish.”
“Right, yeah.” Tulnok got to his feet, grabbing his empty plate and Gultorra’s as he did. “No one will know you told me, boss. Sounds like fun!” Notably, he didn’t say that he wasn’t going to mention it at all.
He got distracted just a few steps away, leaning against the next table over to talk to another friend.
“Aren’t you glad I’m normal?” Kalvor asked, grinning as he watched Tulnok depart.
“Someone needs to balance you out,” Gultorra replied dryly. “I like to think of you as a matched set.”
Base conference Room, Gaitune-67
Molly glanced around the table of wide-eye attentive team members. Admiral Clor and Fleet Sergeant Kitcher sat quietly, with Ben’or on one side of them, taking it all in.
Molly turned to Crash. “Ok, how are the ships looking?”
Crash sat up a little straighter as he responded. “The Empress is ready to go and we’ve loaded up four pods as you asked.”
Paige frowned. “Why just four?”
Crash looked awkward for a moment and glanced at Molly. Molly signaled to him that she’d take the question. “Just in case. You might need them back here in the future if… anything were to happen out there.”
Paige’s eyes seemed to flicker with a horror that she quickly tried to suppress. She felt Maya look at her, probably with the same reaction, but she held her finger up discretely from her hand on the table and Maya dropped her gaze to the table. She realized it wasn’t the time to discuss the implications of Molly’s comment.
Molly’s eye caught that of the Admiral at the other end of the table before she quickly continued with her briefing. “And the Little Empress?” she asked Crash.
“Also on board and ready to rock,” he said simply.
Molly turned to Sean. “And how are we looking in terms of weapons?”
“We’ve loaded up everything that we think is necessary and useful. Obviously, we want to keep the weight down as much as possible. And space is an issue what with the additional ships… but we’ve got more than enough for any of the four scenarios.”
“Good. Ok. Joel?”
Joel stood up to take the lead on the team details. “Pieter, we’ll need you to be monitoring all signals on all frequencies during the approach. We’ve no idea how the ships are going to be able to communicate with us.”
Pieter nodded. “I’ve already adapted a couple of the receivers to pick up a broader spectrum than normal and hooked them up to my holo.”
“Good,” Joel confirmed. He turned to Arlene and Giles. “If you two are ok to join us, we’d appreciate any assistance in recognizing patterns or languages.”
Arlene nodded obediently. Giles raised his hand though. “Yes, of course. We can bring The Scamp Princess along, in case you need us for evasive maneuvers or to create a distrac—.”
“Actually,” Joel interrupted him, “we’d need you on board The Empress with us, to interpret anything Pieter picks up.”
Giles sat back, folding his arms, clearly disappointed to not be riding into battle on his own steed. “Very well,” he agreed reluctantly.
“Jack, you’re in charge of weapons from the cockpit. If we need to arm up personally, you’ll also oversee that. You know the protocols.”
She nodded. “Yes.”
Molly frowned. “You’ve briefed her on the strategies, and not shooting to kill unless we have the code word.”
Jack smirked. “Yes. I know the code word.”
Brock became suddenly animated flicking his eyes from Joel to Molly to Jack. “What code word?”
Pieter grinned. “Need to know, Mate,” he said, touching his nose.
Brock glanced at Crash. “Why are we being left out?”
Crash shrugged. “Speak for yourself…”
Brock started to protest. “Hang on—”
Molly held up a hand. “It’s ok Brock. It’s just a security measure to make sure there are no misunderstandings on opening fire. This is an incredibly delicate situation we’re walking into. That’s all.”
Joel continued, nodding to their new allies who had been sitting quietly. “Admiral Clor and Fleet Sergeant Kitcher also know the code word and will use deadly force only if that code word is uttered.”
“Maya and Paige,” he said next, turning to them. “We need you to stay put here and hold the fort.”
Arlene leaned forward. Joel clocked it and acknowledged her. “And yes, we should have Anne brought up from the surface to stay with Paige and Maya while you, Giles and Ben’or are on the mission with us.”
Arlene nodded.
“Which brings us onto our friend Ben’or,” Joel continued. Ben’or held Joel’s gaze steadily. Joel smiled. “Who would you like to ride with? Us or the Admiral?”
The Admiral waved his hand in offering to Ben’or as if he didn’t mind which ship he chose.
Ben’or paused for a moment, then without much consideration allowed his eyes to rest on Arlene. “My place is by Arlene’s side,” he said simply.
Joel noticed Arlene’s eyes get a little watery as he moved the meeting on. There were a few minor details to iron out and then the meeting wrapped up promptly.
“Ok folks, we leave in twelve hours. Let’s make sure we all get some good rest tonight. We’ll meet at the ships at 0800.”
The team got up and scattered, leaving Molly and Joel with Clor and Kitcher.
“I’m sure you have preparations to make, Ms. Bates,” the Admiral said congenially. “Kitcher and I will head back to our ships and we’ll look forward to accompanying you into battle in the morning.”
“Of course. And thank you again for doing this,” Molly responded. She started to move forward to shake hands with the pair, then remembering her damaged shoulder and bruised hand, stopped suddenly and bowed. Joel did the same before they accompanied their new friends out of the conference room and back to their transport ship where Trev’or and Ruther were already waiting with a stack of pizza boxes each.
The Admiral glanced at their strange packages.
“Gifts,” Ruther explained simply. “From our new friends.”
The Admiral raised one eyebrow.
“They’re food. That’s all,” Trev’or explained a little further.
The Admiral sniffed at one stack, cocked his head approvingly and then beckoned for the two warrior-technicians to follow him on board.
“Until tomorrow, Molly Bates,” he called over his shoulder as he climbed the ramp to their transporter s
hip.
Molly smiled as she waved. “You know,” she told Joel, “I do believe Paige has just single-handedly established pizza as a new upcoming food in the Zhyn Empire.”
Joel chuckled. “And to think, Giles missed this cultural transfer phenomenon completely.”
She sighed. “Yes. I suspect his mind has been on other things recently.” The pair waved as the transporter ramp retracted with the Zhyn crew on board and seconds later they were lifting into the air with a roar of their engines.
Molly and Joel ambled back across the hangar deck toward the steps for the safe house. “I’m sure it will all go well,” he said reassuringly. “No one has anything to worry about…”
“I hope you’re right,” she replied, her voice clearly trying to mask the degree of anxiety she was actually experiencing.
“Of course, you know what the big question is in all of this,” he added.
“No?”
“Whether those pizzas Paige sent the guys home with are meat or vegetarian…”
Molly sniggered despite the intensity of the situation that loomed ahead of them.
Chapter 11
Bailey Residence, Estaria
Arlene and Ben’or wandered into Arlene’s apartment.
“That was a much longer day than I was expecting,” Arlene admitted peeling her atmojacket off and sitting down on the sofa to untie her boots.
Ben’or stood, exhausted, in the middle of the living room, thinking for a moment. He glanced around. “Anne?” he called.
No answer.
He headed further into the open plan arrangement, looking around. “Anne?” He called again.
“She’s probably got her music on,” Arlene offered wearily.
Ben’or disappeared into the bedroom corridor, calling for Anne.
Arlene slumped back on the sofa. “How about I open a bottle of something?” she called through to him.
Ben’or came back through, his boots tapping heavily on the wooden floor. “Anne’s not here,” he reported, the concern weighing heavily in his voice.
Arlene hauled herself back into an upright position. “You’re fucking kidding me!” She rolled her eyes in frustration. “That girl… She’ll be the death of me.”
The Ascension Myth Box Set Page 220
