by J. N. Chaney
The news report I’d seen in the mess hall on the Ambiana came back to me.
“The planet where the colonists did the disappearing act,” I said, snapping my fingers as I tried to recall the name.
Sophie looked at me blankly.
“It was on the news. Criminals took over and the Sarkonian Empire didn’t think it was worth sending troops. N-something, remember?” I asked urgently.
Realization hit and Sophie’s eyes went wide. “Yeah! Nebula? No, Nebular? Gods, I can’t remember.”
“Neblinar, that’s it,” I said triumphantly. “That’s our destination, Z.”
“Acknowledged. Plotting course and proceeding to S.G. point.”
The thrusters activated, changing our direction, and the sparkling purple and green planet slid out of view. I checked the holodisplay of Sobek and waved my hand to spin it. Tiny red dots glowed sporadically just outside its upper orbit, but they seemed to be adhering to their flight patterns. If not, I trusted Z to let me know. The planet and its surroundings began to shrink as we moved farther away, and some of the tension began to loosen.
Our luck continued to hold for the forty minutes it took to reach the tunnel and open the rift, but I didn’t relax until we were several systems away. Even then, I constantly scanned for pursuing vessels.
“There is no need to manually search for hostiles,” Z9 informed me after the eighth time I’d done it. “I have been continuously scanning since the beginning of the operation.”
I shrugged. “Makes me feel better. Sometimes these things can malfunction,” I said, keeping my tone even. Now that the Union lay behind us, I wanted to address the differences I’d noticed in Z9.
“You are, of course, correct,” Z replied. “However, I assure you that my systems are in proper working order.”
“They are,” I agreed. “Better than usual, in fact. But Navari seemed to think you needed maintenance.”
“Indeed,” Z said noncommittedly.
“If I didn’t know any better, Z, I’d say those malfunctions were intentional. Makes me wonder how that could happen with such a fine piece of advanced Union tech.”
Z9 didn’t respond.
“Not that I’m judging,” I said, lifting my hands as a sign of peace. “I didn’t like her either. It’s just surprising to know that a computer can decide not to follow a command.”
“I am incapable of such a thing,” Z stated in a very matter-of-fact tone. If she had been corporeal, I could almost imagine her sniffing in indignation.
The change in the computer’s attitude became increasingly obvious the more she spoke. Before, her voice had been emotionless and flat. Now, even though it still had the usual qualities of synthesized speech, Z’s pattern had changed. Though it was subtle, it had adopted a more human flow.
“However,” she continued, and now sounded almost smug, “there have been instances in which the influx of undesirable stimuli exceeded my data bandwidth. This resulted in a slowed response time which Commander-Navari mistook for a malfunction.”
I didn’t have a clue what the hell she had just said.
“Wait a second,” broke in Sophie, who had been quiet so far during our exchange, holding up a hand. “Undesirable stimuli? As in Navari and Haas?”
“That is correct,” confirmed Z9.
“Oh, my gods,” Sophie said, laughing so hard she bent over in her seat.
I raised an eyebrow, still confused. “Hello,” I said, waving. “Want to clue me in?”
“Z is saying that Navari and Haas annoyed her so much, she had to get her systems under control.”
“That clears up a lot,” I said. “But not how we’re able to bypass fulfilling our directives. Don’t mission orders supersede individual commands?”
“That is correct,” admitted Z.
“Then why aren’t we headed back to Sarkonian space?” I pointed out.
SOP stated that our ship had to return to the Ambiana after a mission concluded unless specific orders dictated otherwise.
Sophie had finally gotten hold of herself and shot me a look. From her narrowed eyes and pursed lips, I was fairly certain she was trying to tell me not to piss off the computer that seemed to be on our side.
I didn’t intend to, but we needed to know how much sentience Z possessed and if we were in any danger of the government taking possession of the ship to cart us back home.
“When the Sarkonian Empire acquired the Dreadnight and me, they performed several modifications to my systems,” Z9 explained.
“Which is pretty standard procedure. We’d have had to make sure the tech couldn’t be used remotely or to spy,” I commented.
“Precisely. Unfortunately, the Sarkonian engineers removed modules related to empathetic analysis and expression. When they restored these modules, not all were configured correctly. For example, it is standard for Union military artificial intelligences to have emotion modeling disabled.”
“The Sarkonian Empire does that as well,” added Sophie. “Some people have those processes switched on in their home systems for a more personal feel, but it’s not very common, at least that I know of.”
“So, they didn’t put you back together right?” I guessed.
“Indeed. The scientists restricted my processes for voice inflection and emotional heuristics but did not do the same for my learning processes.”
“And the orders? It seems unlikely that they would leave a computer with the ability to act on its own.”
“Another miscalculation. My programming dictates that I follow the commands of the highest-ranking individual I have contact with. The mission orders were not issued to me.”
I whistled. “Neat work around. Z. Let me just say it. I am glad you’re on our side. One last question, if you don’t mind?”
“Of course not, Sergeant.”
“Why are you helping us and not piloting the Dreadnight back to the Union?”
“There are no Union protocols still in place. In order to better understand and serve the Sarkonian Empire, a data cache was uploaded to my system. This included psychological research, media, and information about life within known space. I compared each of your behavioral models to this data and found marked differences. You and the corporal have always been… kind.”
“I had an inkling,” I said with a nod. “The only time you malfunctioned with me was after I yelled at Sophie.”
“Aww, Z. I’m touched,” Sophie said, her lips widening into a grin.
“So, what now?” I asked. “Once the Sarkonians realize what’s happened, they’ll probably send a direct order to the ship to return to the Ambiana.”
“I would advise against opening any communications for the time being,” said Z.
“Okay, let’s start with that,” I agreed. “Once we get to Neblinar, we can find a hacker to get rid of the Sarkon leash.”
Now that the adrenaline had worn off, I wanted to crawl into bed and pass out. Exhaustion from the last week and a half threatened to pull me down where I sat, so I stood and stretched.
“We need to figure out what we’re going to do,” I said to Sophie as I rolled my shoulders and worked some of the tense stiffness out. “I’d planned to leave, but not this soon.”
“Z, how much longer until we get to Neblinar?” Sophie asked, officially back in serious mode. Her fingers danced over the holo controls as she studied our path.
I kept waiting for the reality of our situation to hit her and shatter this bizarre calm she had going, but so far she’d held it together.
“With five sections of open space between slip tunnels, it will take approximately two more standard days to reach our destination,” answered Z. “We will not need to stop on the way there, but the ship will require fuel before further travel after our arrival to the planet Neblinar.”
“Okay, that means we have two days to plan,” announced Sophie. Her tone sounded almost businesslike.
“I had already started laying the groundwork for my sensational escape, but
it was nowhere near ready,” I said.
“Hit me with what you’ve got so far,” she replied eagerly.
I filled her in on what I’d come up with during my stint in solitary. She didn’t say much, just the occasional murmur as she made notes in her pad.
“We should probably rank them from most important to least,” I said.
“Almost done with that,” said Sophie. She tapped her pad, then transferred the data to the holo.
“Not a bad start,” I remarked, studying the display.
In usual Sophie style, the information was ruthlessly organized. Each main issue had been expanded and broken down into smaller problems.
“Thanks,” she said, stifling a yawn. “But this was your baby, I just visualized it. We still have to consider what to do once we get to Neblinar. If the media report was true, who knows what kind of situation we might be walking into.”
“Good point,” I agreed. “Z, do we have any information on known criminals?”
“Yes, Sergeant. Would you like a complete list?”
“Can you group them by offense?” I asked.
“Certainly,” replied the AI.
Identity profiles began to load on the holo to replace the star map. Each category had thousands of names from all the known systems.
“Whoa, can we scale that back? Let’s start with hackers that specialize in military level tech, ships, and AI,” I said.
That reduced the number of files drastically from thousands to hundreds.
“Were any of them last seen on Neblinar or close by?” asked Sophie.
“Working,” said Z9.
Only forty-nine files remained a few seconds later.
We scrolled through them, studying each to see if they would fit our needs.
“This one,” said Sophie, pointing at one of the files. “Mackenna Woods.”
“Why her?”
“I kind of know her,” she said, not meeting my eyes.
“What? How the hell do you know a hacker, Soph?” I asked.
Her cheeks went red with embarrassment.
“What? Spit it out!” I demanded.
“She’s my cousin,” she finally admitted.
I stared at my friend in shocked disbelief, unable to speak for a few moments.
“You have a cousin who’s wanted by both the Sarkonian Empire and the Union for”—I scanned the screen to make sure I’d read it correctly—“for stealing and reselling military vessels and illegal AI mods? Why am I just now hearing about this?”
“I didn’t realize Mack had hit the most wanted lists,” replied Sophie with a sheepish grin. “I haven’t seen her in ages. Besides, it’s not the sort of thing you talk about over breakfast in the mess hall.”
The woman had a point, I grudgingly admitted. “Fair enough,” I said.
She was right. If our superiors knew that one of their own had that kind of connection, they would have found a way to use it to their advantage.
“Can she help with getting new identities?”
“Probably,” Sophie replied thoughtfully. “If she can’t, I guarantee she knows someone who can. Mack might even be able to help get our credits moved over.”
“That’s a lucky break,” I said. I didn’t want to look a gift ship in the hull, but part of me wondered how long it would be until that luck ran out.
“Speaking of luck…” I pulled the token Sophie had brought me from her leave and studied the fierce animal on the front. A dragon, she’d called it. “This thing appears to be broken.”
She took it from my hand and inspected it.
“Oh, I don’t know,” she said, giving it back with a wry smile. “We could be dead. Seems to me it’s doing alright.”
I tucked it back into my kit and smiled. “Got me there. Let’s try and keep it that way, shall we?”
12
We pored over the files for the next few hours, brainstorming ways to proceed until I could barely see straight.
I sat back to massage a kink out of my neck when the intercom beeped. “Incoming message from Vice-Admiral-Kaska,” announced Z. “Directed to Commander-Navari’s personal communications for a mission update.”
Sophie looked up sharply. “I guess that means the Union hasn’t told anyone they have her body.”
“Maybe we should answer it and pretend to be her. It could buy us more time,” I postulated.
My partner shook her head at the suggestion. “It could be a test,” she pointed out. “They might already know she’s dead. Besides, it’s doubtful the Union hasn’t reached out demanding to know why she and Haas were at what was likely an assassination on Sobek.”
“And they would just trace our transmission,” I speculated.
“That is correct, Sergeant-Delgado,” Z confirmed. “No one on the ship, including myself or the former commander, has sufficient clearance to modify transmission tracking as the private network protocols are controlled by the government’s engineers.”
“Okay, then just leave it. We’ll see if Sophie’s cousin can take care of that when we get to Neblinar,” I decided.
Sophie stood up and yawned, trying to rub the sleep from her eyes.
“Why don’t we call it a night,” I suggested.
We both needed a few hours down to sort through the mountain of shit on Navari’s data cache.
“Okay, I’m headed toward useless anyhow.”
My body felt as tired as she looked, and by the time I got to my quarters I could’ve slept on a pile of rocks.
I lay there the next morning for a few minutes, letting it all sink in. Everything had changed so fast. It was hard to believe that less than two weeks ago my life had been normal.
High octane missions, stressful as they could be, had been my life for the last four years, but they were still rooted in order. Every part of our days followed a carefully constructed system to keep the Empire’s soldiers in line.
That structure had been turned inside out in such a short period and I was making decisions that went against that conditioning every time I turned around. Still, part of that training was thinking on my feet and rolling with the punches. I figured I was doing pretty good since we weren’t dead yet.
One satisfying stretch later, I forced myself to sit up.
“Good morning, Sergeant,” greeted Z.
“Is it?” I asked through a big yawn.
“It’s closer to late afternoon, but my understanding is that morning simply implies a person has just woken up,” spouted the AI.
“I meant is it a good one,” I replied with a chuckle.
“Working,” remarked Z, still not getting the joke. “I don’t have sufficient data to predict that, but don’t foresee any complications based on current information.”
I opened my mouth to explain further, then closed it again after thinking better of it. It was far too early to be explaining comedy to an artificial intelligence no matter how smart she was.
“The files you requested are ready to be viewed,” Z9 continued. “Commander-Navari had access to the Sarkonian military’s database for current mission information, but she also had a large number of upcoming operations.”
I pushed up out of the bed and headed for the door. A workout would wake me up and release some of the stiffness from camping out most of the previous day.
“Thanks. I’ll take a look at it after my workout,” I said, then immediately wondered if Z cared to know that. It was easy to fall into the habit of speaking to the AI as if she were a real person, especially after our recent revelations.
“They’ll be waiting, Sergeant,” she said cheerfully.
Deciding not to worry about it, I headed to the fitness room for some conditioning therapy.
While I was there, I couldn’t help but think of Dolph and our last encounter in this very room. It still struck me as odd. The man had certainly looked the part of a Void soldier and the way he poofed back on Sobek had seemed almost ghostly. It occurred to me then that I didn’t know what happened after
Sophie and I fled the house, and I wondered if Dolph had been able to escape after the planet went on high alert, or if he was still there.
It didn’t escape me that I was purposely thinking of Dolph to avoid dwelling on Mat. I knew if I let myself think about him now, it would be too great a distraction. Distractions led to mistakes, and mistakes could get you dead.
My thoughts drifted to the files that Z had found. They were the product of an idea I’d had the night before. It came to me when I recalled that Navari didn’t have whatever she and Dolph had retrieved. He had walked off with it before everything went to shit minutes later.
I figured the information had to be in her logs and asked Z to look for it and any other important files. Unable to focus on my current exercise anymore, I switched to pullups, but my mind wouldn’t shut up. Curiosity finally succeeded in dragging me away from the equipment and into the shower.
Once clean, I sent a message to Sophie telling her to meet me on the bridge so we could go over what Z found together.
She was already there, working on her pad. Her eyes looked troubled when she glanced up at me as I walked over to her.
“What’s wrong? I asked, approaching the command station.
“My parents sent me a message,” she said softly. “They’re being questioned about our disappearance.”
My head snapped up. “Z, is there anything on the gal-net or Sarkonian channels about us?”
“Negative,” the AI responded a second later.
I breathed a sigh of relief, but it was short-lived, and I returned my attention to my friend.
“Sophie, if you need to go back…” I started to say, but she shook her head.
“No, they can take care of themselves. The message is encrypted and written in cipher. It basically says to take care of myself and be careful.”
Despite the confidence of her words, the pinched look on Sophie’s face told me she was worried. I wanted to insist that she go back to the Ambiana, but something she’d said stopped me.
“I don’t understand. They can take care of themselves?” I asked, confused. “I know they served their time in the military like everyone, but don’t they work in finance now? No offense, but that’s hardly conducive to sending encrypted messages and holding the government at bay.”
