"So, what's your master plan you were about to share?" Cas flew along right next to him.
"We need to figure out what in the hell the Machine is after," Jason said. "We also could use a little help when it comes to countering that superweapon it's building. Identifying it would be a great first start."
"So, you want to unpack the Archive and see if that information is in there," Cas finished for him. "I don't have to tell you how risky that is."
"Seems to be equally risky not to."
"You wish," Cas scoffed. "The knowledge contained in there could permanently tip the balance of power in this quadrant, likely the entire galaxy. The funny thing about knowledge is that once it's out there, it no longer belongs to anybody. It's just there to be used…or misused."
"I still think it might be worth the risk," Jason said.
"How about you get some sleep—and some pants—and we talk about it once you're fully rested?"
"You're awfully prudish about nudity given you're a computer program," Jason said.
"Unfortunately, I spent so much time in your head, and was formed largely from bits of your personality, that your archaic human sensibilities about not waving your genitals at people is ingrained in me," Cas said. "The weird thing is, it's only humans. If I saw Crusher naked, it wouldn't bother me in the slightest."
"Oh, I bet it would," Jason warned.
"Who wants to see me naked?" a voice boomed.
They'd been passing by the galley, and now Crusher, Kage, and Twingo all stared at them.
"Nobody, Crusher," Jason said. "Nobody—not ever—wants to see you naked."
"See how much he's protesting," Crusher said to the others. "He definitely wants to see."
Jason opened his mouth to respond but decided enough damage had been done. He continued his trudge over to the lift so he could get to the command deck and escape into his own quarters. Cas still followed along like a loyal puppy, entering the lift car before the doors whooshed closed.
"You don't have to follow me around," Jason said. "I'm sure you have something better to do."
"I-I actually don't know if I do." Cas sounded uncertain. "I'd been untethered from the confines of your implant before, but always for a specific reason and with a mission in mind. I'm really not sure I know what to do when it's up to me completely."
"Yeah, it's a real conundrum," Jason said as he reached his quarters. "I guess I should have been more direct with that. What I meant was, I don't care where you go, but you're not coming in here with me."
"Oh," Cas said, the drone sagging a bit to the floor. "So, I'll just…go, I guess."
"Holy shit, are you sulking?"
"How dare you! I would never—"
"Just stay quiet and in the corner and you can come in," Jason sighed. Without a word, Cas zoomed past him and into the suite. He could only roll his eyes and shake his head. Apparently, he was a magnet for neurotic artificial lifeforms.
17
"You received the raw scan data?"
"I did. The site is from the right species, it is the wrong kind of installation," the Machine said. "Perhaps it was an observation post for them to keep an eye on Sol-3 as the human species emerged as the dominant life form. Or they may have even helped it along. They were known to meddle from time to time."
"Fascinating," Scleesz said, not actually finding it so. "Will you need me to—"
"You're free to depart whenever you find it convenient," the Machine said.
"What should I do about the humans?" Scleesz asked. "Was I authorized to offer them anything, or should I just cut and run, dropping the ruse altogether?"
"Oh, that? Do whatever you feel necessary," the Machine said. "Offer them full membership into the ConFed or just destroy their planet outright…it is of no consequence either way."
"We might be able to offer something in between those two extremes," Scleesz said. "I feel like disrupting the Cridal Cooperative at this juncture may be premature."
Scleesz waited for an answer, sitting silently until he realized the channel had been terminated. He felt relieved this mission was over and that it seemed he'd been able to spare Earth from the Machine's erratic and destructive whims, but now he needed to figure out a graceful exit strategy so he could pack up and head out before the damn thing changed its mind.
He'd been mildly curious about the strange ruins the humans had discovered on one of their planets, but not enough to want to stay around and discuss it. The other relic, the remains of an old shipwreck, was also somewhat interesting. Captain Webb had told him it was from a group that called themselves the Travelers and that it had some sort of teleportation drive that would move the ship instantaneously from one point to another. Seemed like something the ConFed would be interested in developing, but the Machine brushed it off as if it was nothing.
"Councilman." The leader of his security detail nodded respectfully when he emerged from the com pod.
"Something has happened?" Scleesz asked.
"The captain is asking that you contact him at your earliest convenience, sir," the guard said. "I believe he wants to depart this system as soon as possible. Intelligence reports indicate a sizable Cridal flotilla is heading this way."
"That's what I love about you, Valluma," Scleesz laughed. "You're always far more connected into what's happening on any ship we're aboard than you have any right to be. Tell the captain he may begin preparations for departure, but first, I must speak to my contacts on the planet. I think the Cridal just gave us the excuse we needed to leave hastily."
"Of course, sir."
Scleesz had no doubt what the Cridal intended. They heard from their contacts on Earth that a ConFed delegation had arrived and was making overtures. Now, they were sending a war fleet to posture and make sure the ConFed knew Earth was already spoken for. It said a lot that even a little backwater world like Earth, an emerging power with little in the way of real clout yet, was worth two major powers fighting over. Even though he was here under false pretense, the Cridal was still taking the threat seriously. It indicated to him that the quadrant was moving out of its millennia of stagnation and sliding into full regression. There needed to be a major shakeup to mix the pieces up again and spur innovation and push worlds into new relationships.
At first, he had lied to himself and said that's what the Machine represented: a paradigm shift that would reset the system. When the Centralized Banking System went down, he'd thought that would be the catalyst for true revolution. It had been promising, but had petered out quickly as, against all odds, a new banking AI was developed and slapped into place. The disruption had been distressingly minimal for the developed planets, and predictably devastating for the Tier Two and Three worlds.
Now Scleesz wasn't sure what the Machine represented. It wasn't just some power mad being that wanted to rule for the sake of ruling. There were odd moves that made no sense within the current political structure—such as his trip to Earth—but seemed to be very important to a schedule the Machine kept. The two major events, the fall of Eshquaria and the attack on Miressa, had been unprecedented, but those seemed to barely even register when Scleesz spoke to the ConFed's de facto ruler about them. The more he analyzed it from outside his politician's sphere of understanding, the more he became convinced the invasion of the Empire had been nothing but a diversion, and the attack on Miressa had been done with the Machine's blessing, if not by its design.
"What is this thing up to?" he murmured to himself as he walked down the corridor to the ship's regular com section.
"How may I be of assistance?" the young ensign asked when he walked in through the secure checkpoint.
"Please, contact Ambassador Walker and tell him Councilman Scleesz needs to speak with him right away."
"At once, sir. Please, make yourself comfortable in chamber three, and I will route the channel there once it is opened."
"My thanks."
Scleesz settled into the too-small chair and waited. He needed to get out of this s
ystem and off this ship. Now that his task was complete, he wouldn't put it past the Machine to have the captain toss him out an airlock. That was what made the Machine so terrifying to someone like him. Scleesz had no doubt it knew he was helping the rebellion in some capacity, but it didn't seem to care. As long as the councilman was still useful, he would continue to breathe. The moment he wasn't, he would be discarded.
"Senior Councilman, it is a pleasure to speak to you again," the slimy Ambassador Walker said. He was aggressively showing his teeth with his smile, but Scleesz knew from his dealings with Jason Burke that it wasn't meant as a challenge.
"Ambassador, I regret to inform you that we must depart the system immediately. We have learned that the Cridal have dispatched a fleet that we can only assume is meant to intimidate us. I regret that our talks couldn't be more fruitful before this shocking breach of protocol and, frankly, grievous insult given our status as guests in your system." Scleesz was really laying it on heavy, but it was having the desired effect.
"Your excellency, I assure you that—"
"Please, convey my warmest regards to your Captain Marcus Webb and tell him he is welcome to come see me at any time," Scleesz cut him off. "Farewell and good luck, Ambassador."
Scleesz killed the channel before the nasty little human could respond. He wasn't sure why he tossed in that last bit about Webb. He actually did hope the captain might reach out to him, but he realized he likely just caused a lot of trouble for the naval officer.
"I hate politics on backwater worlds," he grunted, heaving his bulk out of that accursed seat. He punched in a destination code on the intercom panel and waited for a chirp to let him know someone was listening. "Tell the captain we're done here. He can depart as his discretion and ignore all further calls from the planet."
"Acknowledged, Senior Councilman."
"The ship is now past Saturn's orbit."
"So, they just up and left?" Marcus Webb asked, frowning.
"The councilman made a special effort to make sure to send you his—and I quote—warmest regards. He also said you're welcome to come see him any time you wished," Secretary of the Navy Solomon Harris said.
"I guess I know why you came out here to see me personally, sir," Webb said.
"What are you up to, Captain?" Harris asked, his tone ominous.
Webb suppressed the sigh that had been working its way up from his chest once he realized what someone so high up the food chain was doing on the UES Kentucky. He'd gotten word through his back-channel connections that Scleesz's private meeting with him had people in the upper echelons of power nearing a full panic. Now, that same ConFed politician was inviting him out for a visit after pulling up anchor and leaving rather suddenly.
"I'm not sure I fully understand the question, sir, nor do I appreciate the underlying implication," he said carefully. "I'm as much in the dark as everyone else apparently is about his special interest in me."
"I was warned," Harris said, clasping his hands behind his back and turning towards the massive windows in the Kentucky's observation lounge. "Warned about NAVSOC, but warned about you, specifically. My predecessor told me that you had your own little kingdom out there in the desert on Terranovus, answerable to no one and deploying your Scout Fleet teams out to do God knows what without any oversight or accountability."
"That's a wildly unfair assessment of what NAVSOC is and does, Mr. Secretary, and I think you know that," Webb said, letting some steel creep into his voice. Harris may have been the Secretary of the Navy under the new United Earth charter, but to Webb, he was just another politician. He'd show the proper respect, but he wasn't going to be a doormat.
"What I know is that in the last twenty-four months alone, your special operations teams have been involved in civil wars, firefights with criminal elements, murders, espionage… Every time I sit for my morning brief, I'm fully expecting some news on how NAVSOC has shit the bed again." Harris turned on him. "You're given far too much autonomy in my opinion. Now, we have a powerful legislator from the quadrant's lone superpower showing up unannounced and taking long strolls through the desert with you. Alarm bells are ringing, Captain. Earth has already dealt with one attempted coup during this new age of space travel and aliens. Am I looking at the man who is going to try the second?"
"That's…that's actually a fair question." Webb deflated a bit. He was insulted by the blunt accusation, but Harris wouldn't be doing his job if he didn't address the concerns of the governing body regarding a possible rogue element in their military. "No, Mr. Secretary, I have no plans other than to execute my assigned task to the best of my ability and to defend Earth and humanity for as long as I can or as long as I'm needed. I'll admit that Scout Fleet has had a rough patch here lately, and Margaret Jansen's One World faction seems to always hit my command, but that's the long and short of it, sir."
"You understand I had to ask," Harris said. "And I hope you'll also understand that while the Kentucky has been here over Earth, the NIS has been going through your base on Terranovus and questioning your people."
"I've got nothing to hide," Webb said. "My people will know to cooperate fully if NIS agents arrived with the proper documentation."
"From all reports I've been given, your staff has given them no cause to suspect they're hiding anything," Harris said, sounding almost disappointed. "But let me tell you, Captain, that doesn't let you off the hook here. There are powerful people in Geneva who want you gone, or at least removed from your current posting."
"Am I here to be reassigned, sir?"
"No," Harris finally answered. "You also have your share of very powerful supporters. For someone who claims to not be a political animal, you're playing a dangerous game, Captain. Your supporters won't always be in power, and your detractors don't like being embarrassed by having their requests denied.
"For now, you're still in charge of NAVSOC. At least until you can put it back the way it was when you got it. Your primary goal right now should be getting 3rd Scout Corps back to at least eighty percent effective."
"Of course, sir." Webb had dodged this bullet, but more would be heading his way. The people who wanted him gone never just fired once nor gave up so easily. "If I may, sir, the people who want me gone, do they have an idea who would replace me?"
"There had been a couple names brought up as people they would like to see in your office."
"While I'm certain you'll find I have no ulterior motives for abusing my position and unique advantages of my command, are you also as certain of them?" Webb asked.
"Explain," Harris said.
"I've been fighting traitors and spies within NAVSOC for a couple years now," Webb said. "If one were to have the sort of ambitions you've accused me of, wouldn't a strong first step be to neutralize the Navy's special operations command? We're the very people who would be first alerted to what they were up to and possibly be in position to stop them."
"This conversation is a bit above your paygrade, Captain, and I've already stayed here too long," Harris said. "This little talk is completely off the record. I don't want to give you the mistaken impression you have a direct line of communication to my office because of this. Admiral Sisk is being put in charge of 2nd Fleet, so you'll be reporting to him once he arrives on Olympus."
"Have a safe flight down to the surface, Mr. Secretary," Webb said. Harris just gave him another of those unreadable stares, and then walked out of the lounge. Webb walked over to the window and leaned against the frame, staring down at the night side of Earth as the Kentucky flew over. He'd expected the conversation with Solomon Harris to go poorly, and it had. What he hadn't expected was to be delayed so Naval Intelligence could ransack his base and question his people. The fact he didn't get a heads up about that from the NIS director, someone he was personally acquainted with, was a bad sign. Maybe Director Welford agreed with his detractors and thought he might be dirty.
"Well…shit."
18
"All the computers are connected in a
chain. This should be plenty of power to do whatever you have planned. I assume we're all going to talk about this first?"
"Talk about what?" Jason asked.
"Now that the Archive is out of your head, and the immediate danger of your old, malfunctioning implant killing you is past, I think we should seriously consider just deleting this whole thing," Kage said.
Jason, Kage, and Cas were the only three in the cold cargo bay that housed all the computers they'd originally been using to brute-force hack into the stolen ConFed data core. Cas, still inhabiting the small drone, had been flitting about the space, using its sensors to check all the connections and ensure the machines were up to the task.
"I thought we'd all talked about that already," Jason said, moving past his friend and booting up the interface that would allow the Archive to read his bio-signature and unlock itself.
"No," Kage said, "you just told us what you'd stashed in your head that some Ancient program aboard that superweapon had given you. We never decided what was to be done about it."
"The way I see it, it's hardly our decision to make," Jason said.
"He's technically right, Kage," Cas said. "The Archive was entrusted to him, and him alone."
"Nobody here is talking to you," Kage said hotly. "I trust your judgment on this about as much as I would trust the Machine's."
"Leave him alone, Kage," Jason said, rubbing at his eyes. The calibration process between his new and improved neural implant and his existing ocular implants was uncomfortable. It was just like when he'd first had them put in and, without warning, the spectrum he saw in would switch randomly for a couple of days until the computers sorted it all out.
"I'm serious. We need to—"
"Shut up and let me think!" Jason snapped. Since Cas had been taken out of his head, he was surprised at how irritable and short tempered he'd become. He didn't actually miss the smartass voice in his head, did he? "We don't even know if the Archive survived the transfer. Right now, all we do know is we have a compressed data file sitting on a computer. Let me unpack it, verify what we have, and then we'll call everyone down here and talk about what we should do with it. Deal?"
The Pandora Paradox Page 14
