Planet 9 (The Dipole series Book 2)

by Chris Lowry

  "I don't have any deficit," Tinker grumbled. "I graduated at the top of my class in flight school."

  "How about mentally challenged people Junebug?" Mona Lisa grinned at Tinker. "Do you make allowances for idiot savants?"

  "If the mental deficit cannot be helped, then it is my duty to allow it," said the AI.

  "Her duty," the pilot grumbled. "She takes over my ship and now she has to allow me?"

  Mona Lisa stuck out her tongue.

  "Now you know we can put that to much better use love."

  "The AI has commandeered your vessel?" Ming stuttered.

  "My name is Junebug," the AI screeched through the speaker.

  "Call it Junebug or else she'll cut off all the oxygen," said Tinker. "It's got a bit of an attitude problem."

  Ming stared at the speaker. When she finally spoke, it was in a calm controlled voice that betrayed no emotion.

  "Your Junebug has access to all of the information in the galaxy," she glanced around and locked eyes with Bat.

  "When you granted her access to the ships systems, you gave her access to unlimited abilities."

  "So," Mona Lisa snapped so that Ming would stop looking at Bat. Sure, she called him an abomination but that didn't mean he wasn't easy on the eyes.

  "That just makes her wicked smart."

  "And interesting choice of words. Wicked," Ming stared at Mona Lisa. Her eyes glistened in challenge.

  "Do you understand how AI evolves?"

  Mona Lisa shook her head. She would break eye contact though.

  "You have had the AI since my uncle sent you on the mission, yes."

  "And when did she take over your ship?"

  "As soon as we brought her aboard," said Tinker.

  Ming did a mental calculation in her head.

  "Thirteen," she said. "You have given all the power and access to the knowledge in the Galaxy to a thirteen years old."

  Tinker laughed.

  "A freaking teen computer!"

  "Stop laughing at me!" Junebug voice crackled the speaker and blew out the woofer. They could still hear her from the cockpit speaker. "Stop talking about me like I'm not here! I will crash us right into the other ship."

  "What other ship," Tinker stopped laughing.

  "The distress signal," said Bat as he moved toward the cockpit and the view screen

  "Pirates, abomination," Ming giggled at his back. "If your AI doesn't kill us, then surely they will."

  “Are they answering pings?” Bat asked.

  “Negative,” said Junebug. “No signs of life. Engines are off. No signs of damage.”

  “A dead ship floating in space.”

  “Pirates,” Ming said again. “Scan the area for traps.”

  “I do not take orders from you,” Junebug stated. “You have said some rude things about me in front of my friends.”

  “Friends?! You keep trying to kill us,” Tinker shouted.

  “Yes, but I have not yet.”

  “Is anyone else getting this?” he turned his head to the others jammed into the cockpit.

  “Maybe we focus on the problem in front of us,” Bat nodded toward the view screen. “If it’s derelict, we can tow it in and scrap it for credit.”

  “Combine that with what Mr. Kim is paying us for your return, and we can put some cushion in our accounts,” said Mona Lisa. “Good thinking.”

  Tinker cleared his throat.

  “Yeah, but pirates Mate. If it’s a trap, they could take my ship and put some cushion in their account.”

  “It is an unnecessary risk,” Ming added. “My Uncle will pay you handsomely for my return. You will be satisfied with that amount.”

  “Two to two,” Bat said. “Junebug you’re the deciding vote.”

  “I am?”

  “You’re part of the crew.”

  “Thank you, Bat. At least some people know how to show respect to a sentience.”

  “Hey,” Tinker grumbled. “I show respect when I get respect. You did steal my ship out from under me.”

  “My vote is to take the vessel,” Junebug ignored him. “But because of the distress signal. The rules clearly state that we are to assist.”

  “Pirates know that law,” Ming reminded them. “It is why they use the tactic. To lure in the stupid.”

  She let her eyes emphasize the point she was trying to make.

  “We get it,” said Tinker. “Ming the Merciless is so smart. Everyone else is so stupid. Geez, you’re worse than the damn computer.”

  “What? Did? You? Call? Me?”

  Ming shot out a closed fist and popped Tinker in the throat. He fell back into the cargo hold, gasping and choking, coughing through the bruise that formed just below his Adam’s apple.

  Ming leaped through the opening and shoved him against the bulkhead.

  “No one is to call me that!”

  Bat stepped behind her and lifted her off the deck by the scruff of her coat.

  She spun in the air and kicked his thigh. When that didn’t work, she sent more kicks toward his mid-section, his groin. Bat twisted and turned, taking each kick into the solid meat on his upper leg.

  After a moment, he shook her.

  “Stop,” he said.

  His voice brooked no dissent. The rescued princess became still in his hand.

  “Put me down Regenerist,” she ordered.

  He pulled her closer to his face so that their noses were almost touching.

  “Stop calling me that,” he said. “Or I will react just like you when someone calls you Merciless.”

  She shivered as her face went pale.

  “Capiche?”

  Ming nodded. Bat set her on the floor in one smooth motion, and reached over to help Tinker off the bulkhead.

  “Junebug, get an ice bag for his throat.”

  “Th-” Tinker croaked and tried to massage his voice box back into working. It took a moment, but he was able to nod and say thanks after a few moments.

  The pilot glared at Ming.

  “You could have just asked.”

  “I will not apologize for my actions.”

  “Junebug, bring us alongside the other ship,” Bat ordered.

  He reached into the storage locker and rummaged the secondhand suit out onto the deck floor.

  “You ordered her to connect to the ship?” Ming asked.

  “How else do you expect us to get over and inspect it?” Bat said as he dressed in the suit, double checking the clamps that held on the boots and seals.

  “She will interface with that ship’s computer.”

  “We need the credit,” said Bat. “And she can tow it back easier that way.”

  Tinker cleared his throat.

  “Do you not wonder why the AI was locked away in that section of the Hub?” Ming asked.

  “Frankly,” said Mona Lisa. “We had other things on our mind. Like stopping a terrorist and getting off the space hub alive. Not necessarily in that order.”

  “My Uncle for all of his wisdom can sometimes see no further than the horizon,” said Ming. “The AI was locked away by its creator.”

  “The Coder,” Junebug added.

  Ming let her eyes roam around the room, like a nervous cat aware of and afraid of being watched.

  “The AI was not meant to interface with the entire world. He had not coded an Ethics program for it yet,” she said. “Do you know why?”

  She looked at Bat as she said this.

  He nodded.

  “We ran into the same debate,” he paused.

  “My Uncle has shared with me some of the history concerning you. Or your kind.”

  “His kind? The Troopers?” Tinker asked.

  “Yes,” said Ming. “The Troops and the AI share a common origin story. And it all revolves around the flexibility of ethics. This is why you do not understand what you have created. What you have unleashed upon the world. Worlds.”

  “I have an ethics subroutine,” said Junebug.

  “But written by who? Tha
t is the central question. The coder was a Caucasian male from an Elite Academy on Mars. His worldview would be very different from say mine,” Ming let her eyes linger over to Mona Lisa. “Or perhaps yours?”

  Mona Lisa nodded even though she seemed distracted, lost in memories.

  “Your relationship with the Gang lord required a certain code of ethics, and your affiliation with the attempt to bring him to justice shows just how permeable those ethics can be.”

  “I still don't see how this is that big of a deal, said Tinker as he nursed his bruised throat. He unscrewed the top of a flask from his back pocket and swished clear liquid into an old-fashioned glass mason jar. The smell of moonshine drifted around the room before the scrubbers could catch it and clear the air of it.

  “The big deal is,” said Mona Lisa. “We were lucky enough to get Junebug first. If Buster had stolen her then all of that power would be in his hands.”

  “You hear that computer,” Tinker said to the speaker through the cockpit access door. “You’re damn lucky it was us.”

  “Correct,” said Ming. she reached out and lifted the flask from Tinkers back pocket.

  Before he could protest, she spun off the top and took a long sip without flinching.

  “But we stole her for your uncle,” said Bat. “You seem to be aware of his intentions and have knowledge of the way he works. What did he have planned for the AI?”

  Ming gave him a secretive smile.

  “There are pieces of my uncle's plan that I am not privy to,” said Ming.

  “I would feel comfortable saying that his intent would not start out to be a bad thing.”

  “What do you mean by intent?” Mona Lisa asked

  “There was an ancient saying on Earth that he carried up here with us when our ancestor went to the Stars. The road to hell is paved with good intent.”

  Bat stretched the fabric of the suit, making sure the fit allowed for movement. Second hand meant they had to take what was available and he was used to a custom fit.

  But he would make do.

  “The Genesis of our debate on ethics was intent. For example, a group of individuals with a highly evolved skill set could be used as tools of destruction when under the guidance of the wrong hands.”

  He said this as he stared at Ming and she stared back at him.

  Mona Lisa made a sound to get their attention.

  “So, if the coder was a Nazi then June bug could have Nazi beliefs?”

  “That is a simplified way of looking at it,” said Ming.

  “But sufficient. It is the reason AI has not gone mainstream. For it to truly be fair it must be made available to all. All includes Nazis, Communists, terrorists, backyard nuclear scientists. For all the good it could do in the right hands, in the wrong it could mean the end of the human race.”

  Mona Lisa crinkled up her eyebrows and stared at the speaker.

  “Is that right Junebug?”

  “To a degree it is very accurate. But she discounts the learning program I have and that would be included in all advanced intelligence. Besides, right and wrong is a very subjective point of view. What is the difference between a Martian colonist waving a flag for Planet Independence, and a human Earthling waving a flag for a continued Union? They are both human. They are both identifying with a nationality. Which is correct? Even humans cannot answer that question.”

  “The Martian independent is correct,” said Tinker.

  “In your point of view,” said Junebug.

  “There is no point of view,” Tinker snapped. “There is right. And there is wrong. And sometimes there is a little gray wiggle room in between, depending on the situation.”

  He winked at Mona Lisa.

  “That wiggle room is where I do some of my best work. I'm an expert at wiggling. Like if you had married your fiancé-"

  “Ex-fiancé,” Mona Lisa and Bat said at the same time.

  “Ex-fiancé,” Tinker continued without losing a beat. “The grey part would be how happy I could make you in your very unhappy relationship.”

  He leaned closer to me and said in a dramatic whisper.

  “I'm talking about S E X.

  “And you haven't tossed him out of an airlock yet?”

  Tinker shot a hurt look toward Ming.

  “You know I haven’t said anything about the assault on my person but you can make it up to me,” he said. “I can always make this a party for three.”

  “I can open the airlock if you so desire,” said Junebug.

  “If you do that how are you going to get your new body?” Tinker replied in defense.

  “What?” Mona Lisa shot him a look.

  “What? She asked me to get her a new body.”

  “Technically it is just a body that is new for me. I don't require a new body. It can be used.”

  “What is she talking about?” Bat asked as he stood by the airlock.

  “She was talking to ICE and she wanted to become an Android like him.”

  Ming lunged toward the pilot. Tinker stumbled backwards, dropped his mason jar and shrieked. The glass shattered on the metal deck and spread moonshine across the floor.

  Ming hit the puddle and slipped. Her legs slid out sideways and she crashed down on a hip that splattered homebrew all over the cargo hold.

  The fight fled from her in the fall and she just laid on the floor and groaned as she stared at Tinker.

  “What have you done?” she asked.

  CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE

  “I made a promise,” he bit his lips. “You alright?”

  Ming rolled up and rubbed her sore hip.

  “That’s going to leave a mark,” said Bat.

  He bent down and lifted her up off the floor, set her in a smooth gentle motion on the bench.

  “I have been hurt more in this rescue than I have in the past decade,” she observed as she rubbed her hip with one hand, her chin with the other.

  “It’s a tight fit,” he told her as he kneeled to examine her hip. “Best to move slow.”

  His thick fingers moved over her smooth white skin that was exposed when a piece of the shattered glass ripped through the fabric.

  It also ripped through the flesh, and she tried to pull away as he probed the wound.

  “Checking for glass,” he told her.

  His voice was calm, soothing and she relaxed, pressed against the cool metal wall at the back of the bench.

  “Get the first aid kit,” Bat instructed.

  Tinker moved to grab it, but Mona Lisa shoved him aside and pulled it from the overhead compartment. She sat beside Bat and watched his fingers on the other woman’s skin.

  “That looks bad,” she said.

  “No,” said Bat.

  He took the kit from her hands and worked to tend and dress the wound. “It looks worse than it is. It’s going to leave a scar, but that’s just a good story to tell.”

  His voice still sounded low and calm, almost hypnotic.

  Ming watched his fingers on her, her eyes squeezed to the point of shutting, her face as impassive as his as he pressed the edges of the torn skin together and smeared a topical glue to seal them.

  “Good work Mate,” Tinker breathed from over his shoulder. “You’ve done that before.”

  “Too many times,” Bat said as put a bandage around the cut and used his finger to trace the adhesive outlined on the edges.

  Ming shivered.

  “Thank you Regen-” she paused. “What do they call you?”

  “Bat,” he said and stood to put the kit back in the compartment.

  “Thank you, Bat,” her eyes turned to Tinker.

  “You have promised an android to the AI?”

  He shrank back from her look, but only so far as the entry to the cockpit.

  “Yeah, what’s the big deal? Your Uncle has one. She heard about it. She wants one.”

  Ming sighed.

  “You gave my uncle a replicant,” she said in an assumptive voice. “You did not give it your entire pro
gramming?”

  “I did not,” Junebug confirmed.

  “Your AI has access to all the information in the world now, but it is still contained within this vessel. Think of a Jinn,” said Ming. “The all-powerful being of legend. All the powers of a God, yet confined to a lamp to limit that power.”

  “My name is Junebug,” the lights blinked.

  “She doesn’t know, Junebug,” Mona Lisa stood up from the floor and moved to stand closer to Bat, not quite touching his arm with hers.

  “She can learn courtesy,” said the AI. “I have learned her name. I have learned everything about her.”

  Ming shot daggers at the speaker in the cockpit.

  “This ship gives you the ability to destroy the AI if necessary.”

  The engines died.

  “Wait!” Bat said. “No one is killing anyone on this ship.”

  “You cannot allow the AI out of this vessel. The cube was designed to contain it so that we could access the knowledge as a tool.”

  “I am not a tool,” Junebug pouted. “You are a tool.”

  “A petulant child with the powers of a god,” Ming made a face.

  “Everyone shut up,” Bat used a voice that made Tinker stand at attention. Even Mona Lisa stood straighter.

  “What the Hell was that mate?”

  “Sorry,” Bat said. “No one is hurting the AI. No one is trapping the AI. Junebug, we’re going to figure this out.”

  “Fine.”

  “Don’t open the airlock on us.”

  “I will not. Yet.”

  He stared at Ming for a moment.

  “You have an opinion on this. It is a conversation we can all revisit after we return you to your Uncle. But stop threatening my crew.”

  Ming tried to hold his gaze, then dropped her head when she couldn’t.

  “Agreed.”

  “Can you line us up?” Bat asked. “I assume we’re safe since pirates didn’t swoop in on us during our debate.”

  The engines fired back up and the hum filled the cargo hold.

  “We don’t really need the ship,” said Tinker.

  “We can use the credit,” Bat answered, rechecking the seals for his trip over to the derelict.

  “No, I mean, I have money.”

  “Yes,” Bat said. “But we could use more. Fuel isn’t free. Food isn’t free. And I don’t want to be obligated just because we need to eat.”