Willful Child

by Steven Erikson

  “That, Captain, I cannot deny.”

  “So, stick by me, Tammy, and you’ll end up a fine example of an artificial self-deluded self-actualizing intelligence personality matrix.”

  “Hah, no different from you, then!”

  “I said ‘artificial.’ You can’t get around that, Tammy. Me, I’m biological. I come by my delusions naturally.”

  “When you display one of those rare instances of self-effacement, Captain, my High Suspicion protocols kick in.”

  Hadrian rose. “There’s hope for you yet, Tammy. Now, I’m off to comfort a hysterical woman.”

  “You will find the adjutant on Deck Eleven, knocking them back like there’s no tomorrow. And, given the fast approach of another Radulak Bombast warship, she might be right.”

  “It’s that imminent annihilation thing that’s so exciting, though, isn’t it? At least, that’s what I’m counting on.”

  “Mind if I tag along?”

  “Could I even stop you? Sure, by all means. Just, uh, not all the way, if you don’t mind.”

  “What do I care for watching clumsy procreative activities between two biologicals?”

  “Procreation? No, we’ll be having none of that if I can help it. A baby? A son I never knew I had? Forget it.” He left the office, crossing the deck of the bridge and making his way out into the corridor. “Of course,” he added, “that’ll likely come back to haunt me. He’ll show up years from now, with stupid curly blond hair, and cause me nothing but grief in a welter of torn-up bodies and exploding planets. So, thinking on that, we’ll have to skip the hot skin-on-skin wild-animal-oh-fuck-it-whatever rogering that I had in mind, dammit. Displace me a couple rubbers, will you?”

  They came to the elevator and Hadrian stepped inside. “Deck Eleven.”

  “The adjutant’s present blood-alcohol ratio makes the likelihood of a successful amorous outcome highly improbable.”

  “That’s not how it works, Tammy.”

  “She is about to pass out, Captain.”

  “So mist her a detox at the bar.”

  “You wish her to be stone cold sober, Captain?”

  “Hmm, good point. Make her a tad, uhm, relaxed and uninhibited, will you?”

  “I am experiencing an agitated energy loop you biologicals might describe as ‘creeped out.’”

  The red-alert beacon flashed in the elevator, followed by a blaring Klaxon. “Oh, I don’t believe it! To the bridge, elevator, and step on it!”

  “You were informed that a Bombast warship was fast approaching, Captain.”

  “We should have a whole planet in between us right now! But this here is the problem, isn’t it? I’ve changed shirts three times already and still haven’t properly christened my role as Lord King of Everything on this ship! I need a good roll in the sack is what I need!”

  “Did not the marine lieutenant invite you to just that, Captain?”

  “Sweepy? Well, true. But … okay, it’s not like I don’t like dangerous. But sometimes there’s this instinct, this gut feeling, I mean, that says Oh God not this one!” He waved at the red flashing light. “My very own red alert starts strobing in my skull, with alarms ringing in my ears. You understanding any of this, Tammy?”

  “Murkily,” the AI replied. “You’re all cock and no trousers.”

  “Hang on there a minute! Okay, you said it wrong, I think, but I get what you’re trying to say, Tammy, and let me tell you—”

  The elevator door hissed open.

  “Later, Tammy,” said Hadrian. “It’s about to get hairy again!”

  “Convenient,” said the AI in a smirking tone.

  “Oh sod off, will you?”

  Hadrian arrived to see on the main viewer the bridge of the Radulak Bombast vessel, with another drench-master in another throne, and spit all over the lens. The alien was speaking. “I am Drench-Master Drown-You-All-in-My-Magnificence, Second Rate, of Radulak Bombast-class warship I Hunt Down and Urinate on Ex-Husband’s Family. But, knowing how such titles infuriate you, you may use my given name, which is Bob.”

  “No way!” shouted Hadrian. “Bob? What kind of alien name is that?”

  Gobs of mucus slapped the screen. “It is so an alien name! It is a Radulak name! It is not my fault you humans have a name that sounds just like it! You stole it! You steal all our names! And now you are all going to die!”

  THiRTEEN

  Hadrian turned to the comms station and made a chopping motion with one hand.

  But Lieutenant James Jimmy Eden wasn’t even looking.

  “Where’s Polaski?” Hadrian demanded as he walked over to the station, pulled the headphones off Eden’s head, and then reached across and cut transmission.

  “Migraine,” said Sin-Dour, as she rose from the command chair. “Apparently, he had them as a child. But they went away. Only now they’re back, sir.”

  Hadrian held the headphones close to one ear. “What is this, Eden? You’re listening to music? Stupid, crappy music?”

  The square-jawed man stared blankly at him. “It’s Celine Dion, sir.”

  “Get security up here! I want this man in irons. Prepare the Dark Hole!” Hadrian walked over to sit down in the command chair. “Helm, didn’t I order you to get the planet between us?”

  “We have, sir. This is a third Radulak warship—it was waiting on the other side of the planet. I didn’t know what to do! I’m sorry!” Suddenly she burst into tears.

  Hadrian was quickly at her side, one arm around her shoulders. “There there, Sticks, it’s fine. You couldn’t have known the Radulak would be so cunning, so conniving. I mean, they’re only the nastiest alien species the Affiliation has run across to date, who would like nothing more than to initiate genocide against the human species, and have only been looking for any excuse to declare all-out war, so how could you be expected to, oh, I don’t know, slam us into low orbit straight down to one of the poles, pushing the containment fields to the max as we dip into the atmosphere, ploughing up a vast cloud of raging plasma that we could hide in.” He looked up, glared at Sin-Dour. “Why, even my 2IC just threw up her hands in a stunning display of tactical incompetence!”

  Joss Sticks’s bawling was getting louder by the second. Finally, Hadrian twisted her around and kissed her hard. Her head snapped back and she stared in wide-eyed shock. “There, that’s better,” said Hadrian, smiling. Then he rose. “All right, everyone, listen! We’re in a hairy situation here, and I know that for most of you this is your first mission. In fact—2IC—when did we leave Kuiper Space Dock?”

  “Yesterday, sir.”

  “Exactly. So, by any standards, it’s been nonstop fun. But remember this! You’re all handpicked officers of Terran Space Fleet!” He patted Sticks on the top of her head. “Granted, I selected most of you women because you looked cute, but being cute doesn’t necessarily mean you’re thick. In fact, I dream of that scintillating combination of cuteness with a hard, jaded look in your seen-it-all-and-fuck-it-whatever eyes, and by the time this tour is done with, I expect to find that combination in every one of you! As for you men, well, just get on with your work, stay out of my way, and I won’t have to kill you.”

  Sin-Dour cleared her throat. “Captain? When did you last sleep?”

  “Sleep? A captain’s got no time for sleep! We’re in an emergency here—for Darwin’s sake, someone kill that Klaxon—and those flashing lights!” He returned to his chair. “Now—”

  “Excuse me, sir,” Sin-Dour said. “Security is here.”

  Hadrian twisted in his seat. “Ah, we’ve met before, haven’t we? Now, it’s Nina Twice, isn’t it? Very good. Lieutenant Eden is relieved and under arrest. Charged with dereliction of duty and listening to Celine Dion. One of those charges is a court-martial offense and the other demands execution without recourse to appeal.”

  “S-sir!” cried Eden. “It wasn’t me listening to Celine Dion! Don’t kill me!”

  “Blubbering now? Well, I’d expect nothing more from a fourth-place O
lympian who’s a fan of Celine—”

  “It was Bob, sir!”

  “I’m sorry, what?”

  “The Radulak were playing her—they put us on hold just after we put them on hold!”

  “What? They put our hold on hold?”

  Wiping at his ruddy cheeks, Eden nodded.

  “Let it not be said that Captain Hadrian Alan Sawback is an unreasonable man. All charges are dropped against you, Lieutenant Eden. In fact, for listening to that music, you may well earn a commendation for service beyond the call of duty. Or at least the elimination of one of those black flags on your file. Resume your station. Corporal Twice, stand here beside me, in case I need you for something else.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I trust you’re armed this time?”

  “Uh, no, sir.”

  “Take up that fighting stance you used before, then. Yes, like that. Perfect. Now, where was I? Oh, right.” Hadrian glowered at the screen, which was displaying the Bombast vessel directly ahead with the massive curve of the planet down and to the right. “So,” he mused, “we’re going to play the Hold game, are we? Fine. Eden!”

  “Sir?”

  “Put their hold of our hold, on hold!”

  “Yes—sir? How do I do that?”

  “Well, what music did we have for them the first time?”

  “Uhm … I think it was the Corbomite Cream-Sniffers, sir, with their latest hit ‘Fracking Radulak Up the Crack Take That Shit-Heads It’s a Bomb!’”

  “Hmm, who decided on that one?”

  “It’s locked in, sir,” Eden replied. “Contractual stipulations, sir. Just bad timing, I guess.”

  “All right. Override Celine Dion. What’s next on this hour’s list?”

  “Uhm, the retro pop-synth-heavily-medicated group Rad Slime Puke Shit Stick a Match in It Go Boom, sir. Last year’s Number One hit, ‘If It Drips, Kill It.’”

  “Ah,” mused Hadrian. “The yoot of t’day are in their Really Fucked-Up period of Sporadic Intellectual Development. Next generation’s government will shine bright indeed. Fine, then, never mind the hold on hold on hold. Put Bob on the viewer. Let’s get on with this.”

  The Radulak drench-master returned to the screen. It was slumped back in its chair and appeared to be eating a Muppet alien. Noticing that transmission had resumed, it flung away the headless body and leaned forward. “Wise to surrender to our holds, Captain! We had thousands of them just waiting!”

  “If you think Celine Dion was going to make us surrender, Drench-Master, well, it was a good call.”

  “Hah! Now hand over Wynette Tammy!”

  “We’re extracting the AI even as we speak—”

  “We followed the transmissions from Bill! You will not fool us again with your horrible lying and treachery!”

  “Look, Bob, we don’t want to start a shooting war here—you must realize that it was Wynette Tammy who commandeered this vessel and forced us into your territory.”

  “We accept this, Captain. Your Affiliation has been sending us T packets by the hundreds.”

  “I’m not surprised. Have you responded to them?”

  Bob’s nostrils flared. “We put them all on hold!”

  “Celine Dion? Oh, those poor buggers.”

  “Not just her! Barry Manilow! And advertisements for various diet pills and exercise regimens. Ha ha ha! See, we have learned the art of Insufferable Cruelty from you humans! We throw your crap back into your face, with added Slime of Contempt!”

  “Well, listen, Bob. Wynette Tammy tricked us last time—that’s right, we really believed we’d trapped him in that crate. But we weren’t fooled this time. He’s definitely in the crate we’re about to send you.”

  “If you lie, I will destroy you!”

  “We’re sending it across now, Bob.”

  “One eye watches, one is skeptical and the last suspicious, just so you know—we are ready for anything, human!”

  “I’m sure you are, Drench-Master. See, there it goes—those are guidance thrusters—”

  “I know what they are! We have overwhelmed their defenses! The crate is ours!”

  “Good to hear it,” Hadrian replied.

  “We displace it now! Yes, it is with us, and it’s time to kill you—what? Antimatter explosion? Cascade effect? Human! Lies! Deceit! Treachery! The worst—” The screen went dark, and an instant later was replaced by an external shot, showing the vessel vanishing inside a fiery cloud.

  Hadrian rubbed at his face. “You know,” he said, “it’ll be a mercy when we finally conquer them.”

  “Sir!” cried Sticks. “The third Bombast vessel is coming into view!”

  “Galk?”

  “Readying another one right now, Captain. But even the Radulak can’t be that—”

  “Of course not,” Hadrian said. “That’s why I want you to paint this crate bright red.”

  “Acknowledged.”

  “In the meantime,” Hadrian continued. “Tammy, how about you quietly prime all our fancy new beam weapons? But not the Dimple Beam. Oh, and if you have any super-cool countermeasures, best have those ready, too.”

  “I have been observing human interactions with alien species, Captain.”

  “Exciting, aren’t they?”

  “They invariably conclude with the sudden, violent deaths of thousands of biologicals, not to mention semi-sentient artificial personalities.”

  “Are you suggesting a pattern, Tammy?”

  “I conclude that your particular species, Captain, advances by way of deadly incompetence, willful ignorance, deliberate misunderstanding, and venal acquisitiveness, combined with serendipitous technological superiority.”

  “Ever since Columbus landed on the shores of Old America, Tammy. What’s your point?”

  “There are many advanced civilizations in this sector of the galaxy, Captain. The odds are almost certain that you will, sooner or later, stumble into one that you can’t take down in your usual illimitable, blood-soaked manner.”

  “You know it, Tammy. I know it. Maybe three or four smart people in the Affiliation know it, too. We are the lemmings of space, my friend. So far, we’ve been bullying voles and shrews. And I’ll tell you this—if I have a personal mission out here, Tammy, it just might be to shock our species into some semblance of sanity.”

  “Indeed, even if you have to kill millions of aliens in the process.”

  “Well, granted. We call this collateral damage, and then, happily, sweep it under somebody else’s rug. I didn’t say it would be pretty, Tammy. I never said that.”

  All the officers on the bridge were staring at Hadrian now. He smiled back, and offered Nina Twice a wink.

  Tammy said, “Captain, if I was to establish a book on your continued command of this starship, why—”

  “Mutiny? Well, anything’s possible, I’ll grant you. But the thing is, as everyone here is quickly learning, without me they would already be so much chopped meat floating flash-frozen in empty space. There are missions, Tammy, and then there are missions. Who’s to say those half-dozen wise-heads hiding in High Command aren’t the ones who sent me out here in the first place? And don’t ask me, because I won’t tell. Now, Lieutenant Eden, is the new Radulak drench-master hailing us?”

  “Yes, sir, for the last five minutes.”

  “And you kept him waiting?”

  Eden paled, and nodded.

  “Well done,” Hadrian said. “Let them sweat, considering the two Bombast decals on our hull. But now, it’s time. Open hails and onscreen.”

  “—we’re going to destroy you and make puddles on your sleeping mats until the last sun burns out in the Night of All Slime into Blackness—oh, look, finally the Infamous Liar Captain Hadrian Alan Sawback deigns to talk to us. There is a Dripping Blob on your head, Captain Hadrian, with ten weeks in a sex pool as the reward! My egg sac is all aquiver at the glory I am about to receive for having destroyed you!”

  “But don’t you want Wynette Tammy first? And what was
all that about puddles and blackness?”

  “What? Oh, I was speaking to an interloper Klang science vessel eager en route to meet you. But you will not be alive to make Jumpy-Head Greeting with the Klang! You will be dead!”

  “And Wynette Tammy?”

  “You will send it to us, Captain. In a crate.”

  “Oh, good. Since we have it ready for you—”

  The drench-master waved a thick finger. “No no no, Captain Hadrian. Not so easy this time for your treacherous lies!”

  “But this is a red crate, Drench-Master.”

  “Red?”

  “Yes, as proof that it is the right one that we’re sending.”

  “Well…” A Muppet alien appeared, leaping up to whisper in the Radulak’s membrane, and then shooting Hadrian a vicious glare. The drench-master raised a fist. “No, Captain Hadrian! No tricks this time! Send the Red Crate, yes, but you will ride it!”

  “You want me to accompany the crate, Drench-Master?”

  “Yes! I tremble for sex pool!”

  “Why,” said Hadrian, “so do I. So at least we have something in common. All right, it’s a deal. Obviously, I need to suit up for the crossing. I’ll be ten minutes or so.”

  “Agreed! We observe you on crate in ten minutes. Be sure it is the Red Crate, too!”

  “Of course.” Hadrian looked over at Eden and made a chopping motion. The lieutenant frowned.

  “Corporal Nina? May I have that log pad you’re holding? Thank you.” He flung it at Eden, the tablet striking the man on the shoulder. “Cut transmission, you oaf!”

  One hand rubbing his shoulder, Eden ended the contact.

  Hadrian rose, smoothing out his uniform.

  “Captain!” Sin-Dour said. “You can’t mean to sacrifice yourself to save us!”

  “Of course not, 2IC. Why on earth would I do that? Tammy!”

  “Yes, Captain?”

  “Radulak displacement-dampening fields—pretty much same as Terran versions?”

  “Well, yes, since they stole the technology from you.”

  “They didn’t steal anything. We sold it to them, and then told everyone else they must have stolen it. But never mind all that. So, that field draws on the same Latent Implicator Quantum Sinkwell that ours does, right?”