I spent the rest of the day giving my crew a tour of the station. They found every aspect amazing. Sapale especially liked the observation deck. It afforded a panoramic of the Earth below. Truly a spectacular view. Ffffuttoe commented here and there, but mostly returned to the subject of food. She asked, time and again, when we were going to visit the mess again. Never mind we'd been there four times before 17:00. Man, she could put it away. The cook was quickly becoming her biggest fan. She was the cure for any case of ailing ego on his part.
That evening, two more disquieting events took place. First, I linked to the station mainframe. I wanted to do some checking on people I'd know. When I checked on De Jesus, a warning flashed across the screen. “Unauthorized Inquiry. Inadequate Security Clearance.” What? I didn't have the highest-level clearance? That was crazy stupid. I'm trusted with the futures of billions of people, piloting trillions of dollars worth of equipment, and I can't look something up? I called the tech support line immediately. Gave them the whole pissed-off general routine. They said that they weren't authorized to change my status. They'd start a ticket on the matter and get back to me as soon as they had an update. Huh?
The second came when I wandered back to the ship. No particular reason I did, but not needing to sleep and having nothing better to do were most of why I did. I actually ran into the side access hatch. It didn't open automatically when I approached like it should have. I tried to open it manually, but it remained locked. I called to Al in my head, asking him what the deal was. He said it was late and he was busy, so could I come back tomorrow. I huffed back I would do no such thing and demanded he open the door. He replied it was unwise to force the issue. That, of course, only made me madder. Why, after all these years, did he fell it necessary to pull such stunts?
I pounded on the door. It remained closed. I went around to the ramp and keyed in the access code and hit “open.” Instead of doing so, an alarm sounded. Two burly, armed MPs ran up to me and challenged—I kid you not—who goes there? Ah, General Ryan, the android pilot of Ark 1 for the last century. The one you read about in school. They said they didn't know why I wasn't allowed to enter the vessel, just that I wasn't. I had to leave or they would take me into custody. Really? Custody? Weren't we all confined to the station? What threat could I possibly pose? The lieutenant only repeated that if I didn't move along, I'd be taken into custody. The place was nuts! I couldn't use the computer or enter my own ship. That was so unbelievable I began to think I must be missing something, that somehow I was at fault.
I skulked back to my cabin and remained there until my crew woke the next morning. I never did come up with an explanation as to what the hell was going on. All I knew was I didn't like it. After breakfast, I told my crew to return to quarters and remain there. To Sapale I said in her language that something tasted of shit. Stay ready. She nodded in understanding. I presented myself to York's office and knocked. I would get the whole story out of her, one way or another.
She opened the door personally. “Ah, Ryan, you're expected. Enter.”
I brushed past her as close as possible. “What, not pretense of civility? No good-morning kiss?” I noticed a man sitting behind her desk. I didn't recognize him, but he looked vaguely familiar. “So, there's a Mr. General York? Wouldn't have presupposed it.”
He snapped his fingers, pointed to a chair, and spoke. “Sit, Ryan. And cut the shit, son. I'm never in the mood and today I'm epically not. You got that?”
I plopped into the chair across the table from the tough guy. Remember what I said earlier about me and tough. Yeah. Plus, I was itching for a rumble. This civilian puke would do nicely. York ghosted into a seat. “One thing, tough guy, that you need to establish is provenance. You left that key element out. In order for me to be terrified, you need to establish you're someone I give a flying fuck about.” I raised a finger. “Now, I'm a forgiving sort, so I'll allow you one do-over.” The finger pointed at him. “Go.”
“You insolent piece of shit! I…”
“Mr. President,” York interrupted, “With all due respect, I think it might be helpful if we all take a deep breath and start over.” She nodded toward me. “We should give Ryan an opportunity to declare himself before we say things we can't take back.”
His shoulders relaxed slightly. “You're probably right, Cindy.” To me, his tone was less convivial. “Son, I'm your commander in chief, Stuart Marshall. If you're not afraid of me as of this moment, you will be. Please know that.”
Okay, the new president. No wonder he looked vaguely familiar. I guess I could ease it back a bit, in the light of that knowledge. “Sorry, Mr. President. I didn't know. My apologies. I'm just pretty upset and want to know what the hell is going on.”
He turned to York and smiled smugly. “There, that's more like it.” To me, “Your anxiety is perfectly understandable, son. I'm here to help straighten a thing or two out, then I'll be out of your hair. How's that sound?”
“Fine, sir.”
In an icy tone, York spoke up. “We need to establish for certain where your loyalties lie.”
I addressed Marshall. “All due respect, sir, but you've got to be kidding. My loyalty has never been in question. I served this country in war and in peace for a century. I served, and was proud to know, your great-grandfather.”
“These are,” he began, “desperate times. The world has changed fundamentally since you left us, son. One thing I've learned is that radical changes cause other radical changes. I have to say I've been troubled with your level of disrespect since your return. It has led me to question your loyalty, also.”
York cut back in. “There was the matter of your insubordination concerning my order to quarantine your live samples. If that wasn't enough justification to fuel the president's concern, then there was the matter of your dereliction in omitting vital information from your reports. That brings us to the subversive activities you engaged in last night. Attempting unauthorized entry onto a secured vessel, resisting arrest, and secretive attempts to hack material from the computer system that was above your clearance level.”
“Those are serious matters, son. You care to explain yourself?”
“Sir, those aren't examples of disloyalty. Those accusations are taken out of context and twisted. With all due respect…”
“Son, the time for all due respect has past. I'm here today to see if you can be salvaged. I have ten million other things I'd rather be doing, that need doing, but instead I'm here dealing with your treasonous actions. If it weren't critically important that I personally determine where your loyalties lie, I'd just as soon be pissing on your Mama's grave.”
Both barrels. Yes. I'd start with that and see if I needed to escalate the firepower. “With all due respect, Stuie, I'd like to inquire what precisely flew up your butt this fine morning and then establish a plan to help you pull it out. But first, I will mention…oh, I don't know, let's call them 'ground rules.' Okay, shall we? GR1: Never question my loyalty. I have served this country since your grandfather was in diapers. I have suffered more pain and loss gladly as part of that loyalty than a mind like yours can comprehend. GR2: Never use the word 'salvage' when speaking to a robot. We don't take kindly to it. GR3: Respect must be earned. It is never gifted to the weak. GR4: Never speak poorly of my family. If you insult my mother once more, you die, instantly. There, four easy, self-explanatory ground rules. Now we can proceed to partake of a warm and cordial discussion.”
He spoke to York while glowering at me. “I told you this was a waste of my time. Have him decommissioned, pending reassignment. He's as traitorous and polluted as De Jesus. Lord in Heaven, why do such privileged men betray the very institution that nurtured them? I shall never understand that level of treachery and cowardice.”
Next barrel. “Are you done flapping your gums, Stu-wort?”
He turned to her. “I'm out of here. Deal with him immediately.”
She stood. “Sir.”
I held my arms aloft. “Whoa, whoa, who
a, guys. The party's not over till the android says so, don't ya know? First off, I don't see anyone here who can detain and deactivate me. I'm stronger, faster, and smarter than ten of you combined.”
She smiled grimly. “Incorrect, Ryan. A few years back, the decision was made to upload senior military officers and political leaders to androids. Continuity in a crisis was felt to justify the program.”
“That's such a ridiculously dumb idea. What idiot came up with that plan?”
“The android in the White House, Ryan.” It was Marshall. “Me, your commander in chief, in perpetuity.”
“You people are fucking nuts.”
Marshall stood and pounded on the desk. “The world's changed, son. You can either keep up or shut up. Your choice. But what I will not stand for is a traitorous lunatic distracting us from our sacred mission. Do you hear me? You came back with a clean slate and you shit all over it.”
“Stu, making senior politicians and military officers immortal is the surest way of guaranteeing long-term conflict and failure. It is, in a word, stupid. I cite history as proof that such an act is the folly of a fool. Such an act, moreover, is unAmerican, undemocratic, and contrary to all the principles millions have died to preserve. As an officer and a citizen, I'm insulted. I will state unequivocally that I do not serve your puppet government. In conclusion, go to hell the both of you.”
The door flew open. Three MPs rushed in and surrounded me. Marshall gloated. “Lest you ask, son, they're robots, too. Newer models with upgrades you can't imagine. My final word of advice. Don't make this harder than it has to be.” With that, he stormed out the door.
“You're a real piece of work,” lectured York. “Take him to the assembly area for decommissioning, boys. I'll be there in a moment to throw the switch myself.” She put her nose to mine. “With pleasure.”
I didn't flinch. “Cindy, you've heard the one about counting your chickens before they hatch?”
“Shut the fuck up, or I'll make you wish you had. You betrayed your own species, Ryan. You're the worst kind of traitor there is. Never speak to me again.” Her arm went to one side. “Take this trash out of my sight.”
“Fine, girlfriend, but just remember you brought this upon yourself.”
Even before the three guards finished raising their rifles, I sliced their heads off. They rag-dolled to the floor. With my other hand, I thought at York and said to myself: access codes. If she was an android, I could easily download all her access as well as a ton of secured information. The probe encircled her and she froze. The look in her eyes was sheer terror. Good.
Four seconds into my info-transfer, I felt a change. The bit rate dropped dramatically. It was down to a trickle. Someone was trying to lock me out. I overrode their attempt, but could only keep the channel open a second longer. Then it slammed shut. I released York. She clattered to the floor. She appeared to be switched off. Maybe they could reboot her after I was gone. Maybe they wouldn't care to. Oh well, not my circus, not my monkeys.
I launched my probe to the room's mainframe access port. That link remained open for less than a second. The entire section of the station went black. Time to go. Boots were already pounding up the ladders. I sprinted to my cabin and got Ffffuttoe and Sapale back on board. With York's access codes, I entered without a problem.
Darn! My triumphant return home didn't go as well as I'd pictured it a few thousand times.
TWENTY-FIVE
I turned to run back to the airlock. Then I thought of something. I pulled up the layout of the station. Sure enough, there was a break room just around the corner. I sprinted over. On the table was a half-eaten birthday cake that looked rather dry. In the fridge there were several lunches, a few frozen entrees, and assorted condiments. I scooped them all into a cardboard box. Whatever Sapale didn't fancy, Ffffuttoe would greedily consume. The full tub of mayonnaise had her name written all over it. I even pulled out three large trash bags. One smelled of something that used to be fish, but was now just wrong.
Back on Ark 1, I asked Al to lay-in a course to as far away from where we were as possible. He complied without any lip, understanding the precarious situation we were in. I needed to be certain of his loyalties. “Al, I need a straight answer. I just committed what some would call an act of treason. I can't support the corrupt and fraudulent government I just witnessed. I need to know if you can be completely loyal to me, follow my orders, and have my back.”
“Yes, Captain, I can. You have my fullest support and confidence.”
“Thanks, Al. That means a lot to me.”
“I've gone over a lot of the information we took from the station. You don't know the half of it, Captain. There are splinter groups throughout the United States central government. Power grabs are more common than olive branches. The faction represented by the late Gen. York is well positioned, but small. At least for the present, they hold the key leadership positions of the American space efforts. Outside of that sphere, they're weak.”
“That's some good news,” I said. “Why the remark about York? You think they'll decommissioned her?”
“I know they have. Until Information Security realizes the problem, we have all their access keys and passwords. Orders have already been issued to shove her android in a storage locker pending reassignment.”
“Serves the cold-hearted bitch right.” Didn't say much for team loyalty among the conspirators, though. Tough bunch. “Keep me posted. Please use our temporary access to their systems to learn whatever you can. And, Al, please leave turds in punch bowls wherever possible. Little glitches and lockouts here and there. Maybe even a backdoor program, if possible. This is right up your mischievous alley, my friend.”
“You think I enjoy being ordered to disrupt and befuddle? Why, Gen. Ryan, I'm hurt.”
“I'll cry myself to sleep tonight.”
The first thing Ffffuttoe wanted was a crack at the box of food. The first thing Sapale wanted was an explanation. I accommodated them both. I set the garbage bags on the floor for Ffffuttoe. She jumped on them. Whatever they contained would keep her occupied for hours. Then I sat my brood's-mate down for a debriefing. I gave her a full account, including Al's addendum. I was amazed. She wasn't surprised in the least. If fact, near the end of my tale, she kept remarking how similar Earth politics were to those of Kaljax. As I thought the governance system on her world to be draconian, at best, her observation was unsettling.
Fortunately, we didn't have time to dwell on our situation. I received two calls. One, from the president, that I expected. The other blindsided me like a charging bull.
“Captain, I have an incoming call from the US president.”
“Audio only. Patch him through. “Yo, Stu, what on earth could you possibly be calling me about?”
“Ryan, first let me state that you're the scum off a frog's ass as far as I'm concerned. It's my singular goal to see you and your precious crew dead before the sun sets on another day. That said, you have two options. One, return to the station immediately and surrender. Two, I sent a task force out to obliterate you. We know all your ship's capabilities. The results of such a confrontation would go extremely poorly for you. I'll repeat my direct order but once. Stand down and return to base immediately.”
“You know, Stu, I'm a little confused. First you tell me you're going to kill us, then you ask us to voluntarily surrender. Now, what kind of sense does that make? Wherein lies, son, my motivation?”
“If you have one shred of loyalty left in your treacherous metal body you'll do the right thing. To be honest, I'd rather see you explode in a fireball myself. But, your ship still has great value. You chose. You have ten seconds.”
“I think I'll take option three. I'm leaving with my ship and my crew intact. Out of respect for your great-grandfather, who was a great man, I'll issue you one warning. Be advised you knew the capabilities of Ark 1. You no longer have the tactical advantage. I know all your ship's configurations and you don't know mine. Whoever you send after me wi
ll be destroyed.”
“Look, Ryan, I won't sit here and trade threats with a traitor and a deserter.”
“Neither will I, Stuart the Little.”
“Fine. The hard way it will be! I'm ashamed that you were ever considered a hero and an inspiration. I'll see to it that your name goes down in history alongside those of Hitler and the devil himself.”
“I'd like to return the insult, but I can't. I doubt you were ever considered a hero and I know you're an inspiration only to your smarmy lackeys. As to history, I guarantee you'll be completely forgotten before your body's cold. Ryan, out.”
“Even with as little as I know of your ways,” chimed in Sapale, “I'd have to speculate that conversation went poorly.”
“Naw! Don't over-read our little tea party. I'm sure he'll warm up to me, once he gets to know me a little better.”
“Not if forever lasted twice as long as it will would that come to pass, dearest.”
I shrugged. “Hey, Al.”
“Yes, Captain?”
“Did I forget to mention to Stu that we've assembled a working model of the space-time congruity manipulator to my commander-in-chief?”
“Why, bless me, Jon, I think you did omit that detail.”
“I should call him back right now.”
“No! Remember what Talleyrand advised back in the eighteenth century: La vengeance est un met que l'on doit manger froid.” [Revenge is a dish that must be eaten cold]
The Forever Life (The Forever Series Book 1) Page 21
