by J. N. Chaney
“Wait, you’ve been studying the way I fantasize about things?”
“It is one aspect of my observations regarding you, yes. Remember, I am programmed to become as familiar with the Messenger as possible, to facilitate interaction with you.”
Dash angled the Archetype’s trajectory a fraction, offsetting the gravitational deflection from the nearby gas giant. Then he narrowed his eyes. “Hang on. Did you just make a general observation about my whole species based on your observations of me? Isn’t that, well, not very scientific?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, I’m like a single data point, right? But you just said that my whole species does a lot of fantasizing. That sounds an awful lot like what you’d probably call an unfounded extrapolation, or some such fancy criticism.” Dash ended on a smug note, impressed he’d actually caught the AI in some flawed thinking.
“Admittedly, the sample size is very small, and my most detailed observations are of you, for obvious reasons. But Tybalt has reinforced this particular observation, because he has noted very similar behavior in Leira.”
Dash’s smugness evaporated like spent plasma exhaust, blown away by flickers of outrage. But before he could say anything else, the docking bay loomed ahead of him, demanding his attention as he landed the Archetype.
He made a heavily underlined mental note to have a chat with Leira and let her know their AI’s were apparently gossiping about them.
Dash almost didn’t recognize the docking bay, as packed as it was by a throng of people. Instead of the big, echoing space he’d gotten used to, it felt more like being in an arrival bay on Passage right after a big liner had docked and disembarked its passengers. He threaded his way among the crowd of Gentle Friends, seeking out Benzel to ask him to get his people organized, before even beginning to try getting them settled in on the Forge.
He finally found Benzel, Wei-Ping at his side, standing in a small group with Harolyn, Leira, Viktor, and Amy. Ragsdale lurked nearby, eyeing the rest of the crowd with a tight expression that hinted at just how many security nightmares he was going through right now.
“Harolyn,” Benzel said, spreading his arms for a hug. “So good to see you after all this time.”
Harolyn curled her lip at him but said nothing and didn’t try to return the hug.
Benzel’s arms dropped back to his sides, but his grin—which Dash noticed seemed to consist of a lot of ostentatiously golden teeth, a few inset with tiny gems—didn’t waver. “So I guess you didn’t get my payment for that last job. Damned couriers, eh?”
There still wasn’t a glimmer of anything but sardonic contempt from Harolyn. Benzel’s attempt at a joke fell flatter than Harolyn’s cold gaze.
Undeterred, Benzel started to say something else, but Dash lost it in the swell of noise from the assembled Gentle Friends, who were chattering away excitedly all around him—about the Silent Fleet, about the Forge, about the Archetype and Swift. Dash started to move closer to Benzel and Harolyn, worried that this might become a serious confrontation. Whatever remained of his earlier fantasies about fame and accolades as the Saviors of All Life—in his mind, he’d capitalized it—vanished, vaporized by the reality now facing him. He had lots of new allies, sure. But with lots of new allies came lots of new problems, interpersonal conflicts, egos to massage—
“I think we are beyond petty things like past debts,” a voice boomed, cutting everyone off and causing silence to fall over the docking bay like a thick blanket. Custodian went on, “We, as well as the members of the Gentle Friends, must decide what is most important here—remaining committed to the single purpose of fighting the Golden, or being dismissed from this facility.”
Wei-Ping lifted her hand like a schoolkid. “Ah, excuse me, disembodied voice? What, exactly, does dismissed mean?”
Custodian’s answer was immediate. “Asked to leave, of course. Through an airlock. Ideally, but not necessarily, an airlock with a ship attached to it.”
Dash glanced at Ragsdale, who simply gave him a cunning smile and a wink. Ever true to his determined focus on security, the man had obviously worked this out with Custodian, getting the rapt attention of the Gentle Friends immediately and trying to head off their no doubt unruly nature.
“Got it, boss,” Wei-Ping replied to Custodian. Most of the Gentle Friends nodded with enthusiasm, although a few kept surly, even somewhat defiant looks on their faces. Or at least they tried to, but Custodian’s not-so-subtle threat was made all the more menacing for its calm, implacable delivery.
“Actually, Dash, as the Messenger, is the boss, but for matters of security regarding the Forge, I can act with impunity,” Custodian said, as matter-of-factly as ever.
Benzel looked at Harolyn, who finally let her flat façade fall away, revealing a mischievous grin. “Sorry, Benzel, watching you squirm a bit is all the payment I needed. Consider the debt cleared.” She gestured around. “I think Custodian is right, we’ve got more important things to worry about.”
Benzel grinned back. “Hell, I didn’t know you were so easy to please!”
“I, however, am not,” Custodian said. “I continue to await an acknowledgement regarding the behavior, not to mention the loyalty, of your followers as part of this war effort.”
“Noted, and we’re all on board, of course,” Benzel said. He glanced around at the Gentle Friends. “If any of these followers put a foot wrong, I’ll space them myself.” He shrugged. “That’s always been a part of our code.” He raised his voice. “Right?”
As one, the Gentle Friends, roared back, “Right, Cap’n!”
Benzel turned to Dash. “Well, here we are—boss. When does the war start?”
“About two thousand centuries ago, give or take,” Dash said. “So let’s take some time to get you guys all settled in. I think we can afford a few hours for that.”
In the docking bay, there had certainly seemed to be an awful lot of Gentle Friends. Dash had even wondered after taking them on board how much more room they’d have for future allies aboard the Forge.
Lots, as it turned out. The Gentle Friends barely made a dent in the available accommodations. Dash had known the Forge could hold thousands, but he hadn’t really known it, at least until now. But even after showing them the blocks of compartments allocated to them by Custodian, then turning them loose, it still left row upon row of empty spaces lining desolate, echoing corridors.
Still, the Gentle Friends brought a raucous sort of life to the Forge that had been missing before. At first, as they were taken on a tour in smaller groups by members of what Dash had now taken to thinking of as his Inner Circle—Leira, Viktor, Conover, Amy, Kai and his monks, Ragsdale, and Freya. As part of their tour, Dash had told Custodian to let the Gentle Friends see the parts of the Forge he and Ragsdale had declared restricted, such as the fabrication facilities and the engine room. But he’d also ensured they knew they wouldn’t have such access going forward, at least at first, because of their security concerns about possible Golden agents. He’d then braced himself for a backlash about lack of trust and the like, but the Gentle Friends surprised him with their indifferent acceptance of it.
“Makes sense,” Benzel had said, watching as robotic arms deftly manipulated molds and components in the fabrication facility. After an awed shake of his head, he’d turned to Dash with a grin and said, “I sure as hell wouldn’t trust me either.”
The last stop for the group Dash led was a briefing by Freya in one of the botanical sections, about the vital importance of her work and the life it brought to the Forge. She’d already worked wonders, with all manner of plants—from the familiar, like pears and carrots, to the bizarre, like the Golden tech-enhanced plumatoes and stab-apples—growing in various types of soil, in fluid hydroponic troughs, or even in air gardens. Every day, she seemed to spread her fruitful work a little more through the Forge, turning barren, lifeless compartments into lush gardens.
“It’s important to us,” Freya said, watching as Be
nzel and the Gentle Friends accompanying him sampled various fruits and vegetables. “The Forge can composite food from basic molecules and print basically anything we could want. But that takes power and raw materials, and both of those are at a premium. The more we can grow, the less work the Forge has to do.”
“And that means we can focus its resources into things like weapons and ships,” Dash added.
Benzel swallowed plumato. “Have to admit, this beats out ship rations by a light year. But I like the occasional steak or chops—meat, anyway.”
“You’re right, animal protein is important,” Freya said. “Both for the protein and micronutrients.”
Wei-Ping wiped pineapple juice off her chin. “Sorry, micro—nutro—?"
“Vitamins and minerals,” Freya said, offering an indulgent smile. “We need a bunch of those in our diets to stay healthy. We have to have the Forge manufacture our animal protein, though, because we haven’t brought any livestock on board yet.”
Benzel’s eyebrows shot up. “Yet? You guys plan to bring cows and sheep and things like that aboard this place, too?”
“Maybe at some point, but we’ve got much higher priorities,” Dash replied. “Speaking of the Forge making things for us, you guys really haven’t had much chance to interact with the—well, the being, I guess, behind it all. Custodian, how about introducing yourself? And in a threat-free way this time?”
“I am Custodian. I am responsible for overseeing all operations of the Forge, on the Messenger’s behalf.”
“And he’s, like, a computer, right?” Wei-Ping asked Dash.
Dash shrugged back at her. “Ask him yourself.”
“Oh. Okay. Um, Custodian, you’re just a computer, right?”
“I am not just anything. Nor am I a single computational device, as you would understand the concept, anyway. I am what you would term an artificial intelligence. I operate across all aspects of the Forge’s functions.”
“Which means he’s basically everywhere,” Dash said.
“Wait, everywhere?” Wei-Ping’s eyes narrowed. “What about when I’m in the can, or the shower or whatever? I am going to have this Custodian spying on me?”
“I will be aware of all of your activities aboard the Forge at all times, yes,” Custodian replied.
“Okay, that’s creepy and weird.” She glanced at one of the Gentle Friends, a squat, sturdy man with an enormous, bushy beard and a crooked nose. “Bad enough I’ve got Artur here trying to cop glances at me while I’m changing my clothes.”
Artur raised his hands and turned crimson. “It was one time! And it was an accident! And you broke my nose over it. Can we just move past it?”
“I can assure you that I have no interest in the activities and processes required for you to maintain your bodies,” Custodian said. “Indeed, I find them needlessly complex, as well as rather distasteful.”
Wei-Ping put her hands on her hips. “Are you calling me distasteful?”
“Don’t bother getting into an argument with Custodian,” Dash said. “Believe me, after living and working with these AIs for these past months, I can confirm that arguing with them is like slamming your face into a bulkhead—it only feels good when you stop.”
“Fine. But one smart-assed remark about my bodily functions, and I don’t care if he’s an AI, I’ll still kick his ass!”
Dash winced in sympathy. “I know the feeling. Anyway, Custodian, I really would like you to start interacting with our new allies here in a positive and constructive way.”
“I would never presume to do otherwise.”
“That means answering their questions, offering them help, and guiding them around the Forge without being a snarky dick about it.”
“I understand. I do, however, have to ask—how much input should I accept from them? They seem like a rather undisciplined group. Suppose they ask me to contravene my mission directives?”
Benzel spoke up before Dash could. “Believe me, we get it. We’re good. Air locks, behave yourselves, all that. We’re definitely good.”
Dash knew that Custodian wasn’t really asking a question, as much as driving a point home. He suspected Benzel knew it, too. But the hasty and earnest response from the leader of the Gentle Friends still made him chuckle.
“I’d say we’ve reached a détente,” Dash said. “Benzel, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”
“Wasn’t that a line from one of those Old Earth philosophers?” Wei-Ping asked.
“Something like that,” Dash replied, with a lopsided grin.
14
While the Gentle Friends got settled in, Dash had finally been able to find a chance for some downtime alone in his quarters. He’d just pulled off his boots and stripped off his sweaty socks when Custodian spoke up.
“Eight ships have just translated into the system and are now inbound for the Forge on a high acceleration trajectory.”
Dash jumped to his feet—his bare feet, which prompted him to grab his boots and start hopping, bouncing from one foot to the other as he yanked his socks and boots back on—and started for the docking bay and the Archetype.
“Can you identify them?” he asked Custodian, and then took off at a run.
“They are an unfamiliar design. I am resolving details of their configuration for a comparison to known types now.”
Dash reached a cross junction and saw Leira heading toward him, cinching her jumpsuit tight around her waist.
“Who are they? Does Custodian know?” Leira said.
“No. He’s trying to work that out now.”
“They might not be enemies.”
Dash gave her a look. “Really? You think so?”
“No, not really.”
They raced on, more and more people falling in behind them. Dash actually found it a little disconcerting to suddenly have so many people responding to an alarm from Custodian. This was definitely going to take some getting used to.
“I can find no direct correlation in available databases for these types of ships,” Custodian said.
Sentinel cut in. “There is, however, a number of broad similarities between these ships and the battlecruiser we encountered in the Brahe system.”
They reached the corridor leading into the docking bay. “You mean the one that apparently belonged to the Bright?”
They all knew full well that they had no idea what these Bright were all about, other than them almost certainly being some sort of allies or minions to the Golden.
“That is correct,” Sentinel replied.
“Great.” He looked at Leira, who had to head to the separate docking bay where they kept the Swift. “It looks like it’s a fight. Are you ready for this?”
“Do I…we…have a choice?”
“Not really,” Dash replied.
“Then yes, of course I’m ready for this.” She flashed Dash a nervous smile. “I guess I’ll see you in space.”
He nodded and hurried around the corner into the docking bay.
“Hey!”
Dash hesitated and turned back to the voice. It was Benzel.
“What do you want us to do? We going to fire up that Silent Fleet of yours?”
Dash shook his head. “I wish. But not this time. We’re not ready for it. You guys just stay here and get Custodian to give you the blow by blow. Watch how this plays out. It could be important when we do get the Silent Fleet engaged.”
Benzel looked disappointed but nodded. “Good luck out there, Dash. You go kick some ass.”
“That’s the idea,” he called back over his shoulder, then he sprinted across the docking bay, dodged around the Slipwing, and mounted the Archetype.
Dash studied the heads-up. There were eight ships incoming, all essentially the same design. Each was only slightly larger than the ships that made up the Silent Fleet. They maneuvered without any obvious thrust or exhaust, which roused both his curiosity and his caution. Were they using Golden tech? Could they be the Golden, but some other faction
or group within them?
“Sentinel, how are they propelled? I don’t see fusion plumes or anything.”
“It would appear that they use a gravity-polarizing technology for propulsion,” Sentinel replied. “It is similar to the technology used on the Slipwing for inertial dampening, but much larger and more powerful. The forces that normally would compensate for accelerations are, instead, used to propel and maneuver their ships.”
Dash nodded. Okay, so not Golden tech. Gravity polarizers were used for propulsion throughout the galactic arm. They were efficient, using gravity itself as the propulsive force, so they were cheap to run, but they also tended to be slow, especially with increasing distance from gravity wells. That’s why they were normally used for things like freighters and bulk carriers, ships that weren’t expected to maneuver hard or fast and were more worried about being cost-effective.
These ones, though, were approaching much faster than any punky old freighter. The Bright had somehow figured out how to dramatically amp up their performance. It meant they could potentially thrust hard, and in unexpected directions, without having to reorient the ship or generate telltale exhaust plumes.
He discussed it with Leira. Not being actual Golden tech, the Archetype, the Swift, and the Forge, among them, shouldn’t have much trouble seeing off these ships. Still, they agreed not to get cocky or make too many assumptions—especially since there could be Golden tech aboard them that hadn’t yet announced itself. Leira would hang back initially, and just engage at range, while Dash got in close and tried to force the Bright ships into a knife fight. The more they could learn about their capabilities up front, the better. Only once they had a more complete picture of what they were up against would Leira risk getting closer into the fight herself.
“The Forge’s defenses are now fully activated,” Custodian reported. “Firing solutions have been calculated and are being updated for all weapons. However, they will not fire until you order it or the Forge is in imminent danger.”
