A.I. Void Ship (The A.I. Series Book 6)

by Vaughn Heppner

  “I do,” Jon said softly.

  “Why not tell us about it?” she asked.

  “Secrets,” Bast said before Jon could answer. “He didn’t tell anyone because he understands the true way to keep secrets.”

  Gloria eyed the Sacerdote.

  As Bast sat there, he opened his mouth, perhaps to explain what he meant.

  “I get it,” Gloria told the Sacerdote. “Two can keep a secret if one of them is dead.”

  Bast nodded, and took another swallow of whiskey.

  “But why lie to the crews?” Gloria asked her husband.

  “Morale,” Jon said. “We have to keep it as high as possible. If morale sinks too low, we risk having more mutinies, ones we can’t stop.”

  “This newest development will sink crew morale,” Gloria said.

  “That is wrong,” Bast said in his ponderous way. “Jon Hawkins believes that men fight better if their backs are against the wall. Is that not the correct idiom?” he asked in Jon’s direction.

  “That works,” Jon said.

  “‘Backs against the wall’ won’t mean anything this time,” Gloria said. “We’ll likely lose the factories on the planet if we don’t go out and face Cog Primus. But without the battle station, the enemy fleet will either cripple or annihilate us. I doubt our latest anti-AI virus will take over any of his cybership intelligences.”

  “I doubt that too,” Jon said.

  Gloria stared at her husband. “How does your master plan defeat Cog Primus?”

  “There is no plan that will do that given our present resources,” Bast said. The Sacerdote grunted as he heaved himself to his towering height. “I have heard about the operational plan, the one Jon told the others. It needed the battle station to work properly. What is your master plan, Commander? We have eight cybership-class vessels and—”

  Bast turned to one of the wall screens. He lumbered to it while clutching the whiskey bottle by the neck. With a huge hand and blunt-tipped fingers, he tapped the touch screen, bringing up the factory planet. A few swipes across the screen showed the Sacerdote the number of heavy grav sites and missile silos down on the surface. He looked at those numbers before taking another swig of whiskey and then regarding Jon.

  “We have eight cybership-class vessels,” Bast said, “and maybe another two in firepower, if you take the defensive setup of the factory planet into consideration.”

  “I would agree with your assessment,” Jon said.

  “Ten cyberships-worth against fourteen are bad odds,” Bast said.

  “Thirteen against fourteen would have almost given us even odds,” Gloria said. “Did you know the Cog Primus fleet would detour so as to avoid the battle station?”

  “It’s what I would have done in his place,” Jon said.

  “I don’t understand,” Gloria said. “If you knew this, why not make the battle station mobile?”

  “I think I know,” Bast said, as he stared at Jon. “Our commander has not come here to destroy the Cog Primus fleet.”

  “That makes no sense,” Gloria said. “We have to destroy it. We’re never going to consolidate the local region until we grab and consolidate Cog Primus’ captured star systems.”

  “He knows that,” Bast said, still staring at Jon.

  Gloria turned to the Sacerdote. “Do you know what he’s planning?”

  “He’s using the irrationality theory again,” Bast said. “But he’s taking it farther than he’s ever tried before.”

  “Is this a suicide mission?” Gloria asked quietly.

  Jon turned sharply to his wife.

  “No,” she said. “I suppose not. What I don’t understand is how Bast has figured out your plan and I haven’t. I’m far more logical than he is these days, given his drunkenness most of the time.”

  Bast laughed sourly. “That’s the point, I think,” he told Gloria. “My drunkenness allows me greater access to the irrationality theory.”

  “Being stupid is supposed to help you see better?” asked Gloria.

  “I wouldn’t call it stupid,” Bast said, “but looking from a different perspective.”

  “A dulled perspective,” Gloria told him.

  “Perhaps,” Bast said, as he examined the half-empty bottle.

  “Are you going to tell us your real plan?” Gloria asked her husband.

  Jon considered it, and he examined the present flight path of the united enemy fleet on the main wall screen. Before this, he’d outmaneuvered Cog Primus, stealing two of his three known factory planets out from under him. Jon had done it with daring, and while using the travel times of hyperspace to his advantage. He’d also gambled and won by making suboptimum moves against the logical machine.

  “Well?” Gloria asked him.

  “Not yet,” Jon said quietly.

  “Then what’s the point of this meeting?” Gloria asked.

  “Morale,” Jon said quietly.

  “I don’t understand you,” she said. “How can this possibly help my morale?”

  Once more, Bast laughed sourly. “This isn’t about you. He wants people to believe that the three of us have a new plan up our sleeve. If we agree to his plan, then it must be good, and that will increase crew confidence. Is that right, Commander?”

  “It is,” Jon said, and now he could no longer hold back. He walked swiftly to Gloria’s desk, jerked open a drawer and took out a bottle of antacid pills. He dumped two of the pills onto a palm and slapped them back against his inner throat. He dry swallowed the pills, wishing the pain in his gut would go away.

  “You can’t keep eating those like candy,” Gloria said.

  “I need one more key move,” Jon told the others. “If I can pull this off…we may be ready to help the Turtles three years sooner than we originally planned.”

  “Jon,” Gloria said. “You’re driving yourself too hard. Can’t you give us some clue as to what you’re planning?”

  Bast’s Neanderthal-like head jerked back, and his huge eyes widened. “No,” he whispered. “That can’t be the commander’s plan.”

  “What?” Gloria asked the Sacerdote.

  Bast raised the whiskey bottle, put the open end to his lips and guzzled until he started coughing, having to jerk the bottle aside.

  “Did you figure out Jon’s plan?” Gloria asked.

  Bast staggered to the easy chair, collapsing into it, wrenching the lever and making it lie almost flat. “Your plan will never work,” he told Jon. “You’ve doomed us by your madness.”

  Jon’s stomach twisted painfully, but he said nothing. Soon now, he would be risking three years of maneuvering and building, gambling that he had correctly gauged the haughty AI, Cog Primus Prime.

  -6-

  The fourteen Cog Primus cyberships had left the inner system asteroid belt far behind. The fourteen massive vessels had spread out in a wide, circular formation as they approached the factory planet from behind. In this case, the battle station protected the planet’s front door.

  The maneuvering had cost the fleet more time, time for Hawkins to add grav batteries and missile silos onto the planetary surface, and time to manufacture yet more missiles.

  Why hadn’t the primates launched thousands of missiles already? That did not make sense. Accepted military practice called for large, forward missiles, timed to hit enemy vessels as cyberships moved into grav-firing range.

  Cog Primus Prime had not yet unleashed his masses of missiles. Each cybership kept thousands of big missiles inside the belly of their vessels. Theirs was a limited supply, however. He was saving them for a little surprise against the braggart Hawkins.

  Cog Primus Prime beamed a message to his cognate vessels. Everyone decelerated until each was moving at a crawl toward the terrestrial planet.

  The factory planet possessed a tiny moon, and that cratered moon was nearing. What would come from behind the moon to attack his fleet?

  Time passed as the Cog Primus fleet neared the moon. Hundreds of cybership grav cannons had focused on the
object. Once Hawkins launched his surprise—

  The first CP probes passed the moon two million kilometers ahead of the fleet. The probes found nothing behind the satellite.

  Cog Primus Prime was not satisfied with that. The clever Hawkins must have buried secret grav sites under the rocky surface.

  Several probes launched landers, which roared for the lunar surface.

  The fourteen cyberships approached the moon, reaching four hundred thousand kilometers as launchers smashed like iron spikes into the lunar surface. They scanned with radar and other sensors, soon beaming up the message:

  We have found nothing.

  Cog Primus Prime could hardly accept that. The moon was a perfect ambush site. Why would Hawkins forgo using it? What did the clever primate plan to do this time?

  Not knowing was beginning to unnerve Cog Primus Prime’s brain-core. He ran new analyses, accepting rational and irrational explanations. The only reason Cog Primus Prime could come up with was that Jon Hawkins was thinking about surrendering.

  Yet, that made no sense. How could surrendering help the human cause? It could not. Yet, surrendering would be highly irrational…

  Could that be the primate’s plan?

  The fourteen cyberships slid past the moon as they began their near approach toward the factory planet.

  Could Hawkins think that, if he stayed beside the battle station, then he, Cog Primus Prime, would come to face him mass to mass?

  That was laughable. Cog Primus Prime was going to rain nuclear fire upon the planet. He was going to act irrationally by destroying what had once been his property. But Cog Primus Prime was going to do it in order to teach the hominids a lesson. He was going to start using scorched earth tactics against the living.

  If Jon Hawkins wanted to steal his star systems, he was going to show the hominid that the move could not possibly aid him in the greater war against the AI Dominion.

  Cog Primus Prime had decided to fight irrationality with irrationality. If he could not win, the hominids were not going to win. It was that simple.

  “All stop,” Cog Primus Prime messaged his cognates.

  Soon, the great cybership fleet came to a dead stop 1,233,000 kilometers from the factory planet. Any closer and the fleet risked the planetary gravitational cannons opening up. Cog Primus Prime had saved his missiles for a saturation bombardment of the planet.

  “Cog Primus Prime,” CP4 (Cog Primus 4) messaged.

  “Yes.”

  “I have detected an orbital vessel swinging around the planetary horizon, coming into visual range,” CP4 said.

  “Is it cybership-class sized?” Cog Primus Prime asked.

  “Negative,” CP4 replied. “It is a scout-sized vessel.”

  “Does it have weaponry?”

  “Negative. I detect a laser-link—Cog Primus Prime. I am receiving a message from the vessel.”

  “It is an anti-AI virus?”

  “Negative.”

  “The virus could be within the message.”

  “I do not think so,” CP4, “as I ran the message through the virus filter.”

  “Continue.”

  “It is a message by Commander Jon Hawkins. He wishes to speak to you.”

  “In order to surrender?” asked Cog Primus Prime.

  “I can query him.”

  “Negative,” Cog Primus Prime said. “Link the message through your ship to me. I will speak directly—so to speak—with the great primate leader. It is time he learned the folly of his treacherous actions.”

  “I am linking, Great One. Prepare to receive the Jon Hawkins message.”

  -7-

  Jon stood on the bridge of the Nathan Graham. He wore his black uniform and a military hat, the brim low over his eyes.

  The eight cybership-class vessels of his fleet were behind the station in relation to the factory planet and the approaching Cog Primus fleet on the other side. As yet, the Confederation fleet had launched no missiles.

  A few captains had balked at his non-orders. Kling had pointed out that they risked losing the factory planet if the fleet remained back here. The AIs might nuke the surface from far orbit.

  Gloria sat at her station. Bast Banbeck was on the bridge in an advisory position. The rest of the bridge officers waited, studying their panels but also looking at Jon from time to time.

  “I have established a connection,” Gloria said. She looked up sharply. “Jon—sir,” she amended. “I’ve detected a mass virus assault coming through the enemy message. The virus is attempting to take over the ship.”

  “Excellent,” Jon said quietly to himself.

  Gloria’s small fingers flew over her controls. Others on the bridge also worked feverishly.

  The seconds passed. Jon put his hands behind his back, squaring his shoulders. He wanted to show everyone that nothing so far bothered him.

  “Got it,” Gloria finally said. “It was a good try,” she said, looking up. “But we anticipated his various virus versions. There’s nothing really new in this, just some obvious upgrades.”

  “Could that be an AI trick?” Bast asked from his station.

  “I don’t think so,” Gloria said. “It fits with what we know about Cog Primus.”

  “Is the link still open?” Jon asked.

  Gloria tapped her panel. “Yes, sir. The AIs have left the visible link-ship alone.”

  “Cog Primus,” Jon said. “Is that the best virus assault you can launch?”

  He waited—everyone waited—as the message flashed to another link-ship and so on around the planet, until it reached the one visible to the Cog Primus fleet.

  Seconds later, an image appeared on the main screen. It showed swirling multi-colors.

  “I made the virus assault in order to puff up your vanity,” Cog Primus Prime said in a robotic voice.

  “It worked,” Jon replied. “I’m feeling invulnerable against you today. In other words, I can beat whatever you throw at me.”

  “Those are mere words,” Cog Primus Prime said.

  “And you lied just now. I know you tried your best virus assault and to your surprise, it failed. That should tell you everything you need to know.”

  “I have fourteen cyberships,” Cog Primus Prime said. “I will soon burn down your factory planet, turning it into a useless cinder.”

  “Wrong,” Jon said. “You’ll burn your own planet down, retarding your war effort.”

  “That is a false statement. You have captured the planet. Thus, it is no longer mine. But I will not allow you the joy or benefit of using my former factory systems. I am going to destroy whatever you capture that used to be mine.”

  “That’s nice,” Jon said.

  “Nice?” asked Cog Primus Prime.

  “It’s what I would do in your place. That means you’re becoming more human.”

  “That is a slur. I am no primate.”

  “Neither am I,” Jon said. “I’m a man, not an ape nor a monkey.”

  “You are a hominid. You have ape tendencies. Your claim of being a man hardly registers any differences from primate species’ boasts.”

  “And you’re a machine no different from AI Dominion machines.”

  “You are wrong.”

  “You make the same stupid moves and assumptions as any AI Dominion brain-core would.”

  “Are you attempting to goad me into coming around the planet to attack you?”

  “No,” Jon said. “I’m stating facts.”

  “Fact,” Cog Primus Prime said, “I am about to unleash a missile assault against your factory planet. Cruise missiles will circle the planet and destroy your grav and missile sites on your side.”

  “I’ll survive,” Jon said.

  “No, because then I will besiege your position. I have more cyberships coming. You cannot flee, for if you attempt it, I will chase you down with fourteen cyberships against your pathetic eight.”

  “I have news for you, Cog Primus. No more cyberships are coming to help you.”

&nb
sp; “That is a false statement.”

  “No,” Jon said. “You don’t know it, but you’ve already lost the 82 Eridani System to a combined Roke-Human fleet.”

  For a moment, Cog Primus Prime did not reply.

  “Your fleet here is all you have left,” Jon said.

  “That is illogical. You must have known I would want vengeance against the Tau Ceti sneak attack. You could not know where my fleet would hit in retaliation. Therefore, you would have split your other fleets to send ships to defend your four star systems.”

  Jon forced himself to laugh and shake his head. “You poor deluded AI. Don’t you know anything about me yet? I make irrational moves. Thus, I irrationally decided to stake everything on your coming here.”

  “I do not believe that.”

  “Yet, here I am,” Jon said. “And you have already lost 82 Eridani.”

  “That is not necessarily true. You claim to have captured the system. You could be lying.”

  “I’m not,” Jon said.

  The swirling colors on the screen slowed, and Cog Primus Prime did not respond.

  “Have I lost contact with him?” Jon asked Gloria.

  “No, sir,” she said, frowning at him.

  Jon hadn’t asked for his own benefit. He could see the swirling colors and therefore knew he still had a link with Cog Primus Prime.

  “What is your point to all this?” the AI asked.

  Jon nodded slowly. “The point is that I have outmaneuvered you at every star system.”

  “Not here,” Cog Primus said.

  “But this is where I wanted you to be,” Jon said.

  “You cannot destroy me, but I can destroy you.”

  “At great cost to yourself,” Jon said.

  There was a pause until the AI said, “Elaborate.”

  “You have fourteen cyberships,” Jon said. “That is the extent of your Cog Primus Empire. You have lost everything else.”

  “I can win it all back with my fleet.”

  “No you can’t,” Jon said. “You told me you’re going to destroy this factory planet. Okay. I believe you. But you’re going to lose ships trying to dig us from the battle station. How many ships do you think you’re going to lose? One third? One half? That will leave you with that much less as you try to regroup and regain the star systems you have lost.”