Cybership

by Vaughn Heppner

  As the ship neared Neptune, Gloria, Bast and Jon debated Da Vinci’s fate. Bast wanted to keep the dispossessed alive as a prisoner. Jon believed shooting him the wiser choice. They already had too many problems. Dealing with the dispossessed would be asking for trouble. Gloria had a different idea.

  “Da Vinci helped us win,” Gloria argued. “Without the miracle weapon, we wouldn’t own the greatest starship in the Solar System.”

  “No one is arguing that,” Jon said. “The stakes are too high to keep him alive, though. It’s a simple matter of survival.”

  “I don’t believe that,” Gloria said. “You of all people should see that.”

  “Why me?” asked Jon.

  “Because you believe in honor,” she said. “You’re part of the Black Anvil Regiment. You mercenaries pay your debts. Why change that now, at this critical juncture?”

  “I’ve already said why.”

  “You own Da Vinci, Captain.”

  Jon scowled as he examined his hands. That was better than looking into Gloria’s eyes. Finally, he looked up.

  “It’s too big a risk,” Jon said.

  “No, no,” Bast said. “I have already told you—”

  “Excuse me, Bast,” Gloria told the Sacerdote. “But I think there’s another way.” She regarded Jon.

  “Well?” Jon said. “What’s your big idea?”

  “We drain the alien memories from him,” she said softly.

  “A difficult procedure at best,” Bast said. “I do not recommend such a thing.”

  Jon drummed his fingers on the table. He didn’t like the idea of shooting Da Vinci out of hand. It just seemed like the safest thing to do.

  “Can you attempt it?” Jon asked Bast.

  The huge Sacerdote scowled. “One cannot simply erase such a thing. A bio-mind is not like a computer.”

  “Can you attempt it?” Jon repeated.

  Bast Banbeck shook his head. “I cannot foresee success. You would no doubt blast his mind in the process, turning him into a drooling imbecile.”

  “That’s better than murdering him,” Jon muttered. “Yes,” he told Gloria. “We’ll give it a try.”

  “I’ll need a day to prepare myself,” Bast said.

  “You have it,” Jon said.

  There had been a hundred other matters for Jon to address. Of those, two seemed critical. The massive starship had taken heavy damage from multiple sources, and the regiment was down to only a few hundred men.

  Jon sat in a straight-backed chair at the end of a large table. The three sergeants had just filed in, sitting down.

  The first sergeant still seemed tired, his eyes hollow. His shoulders slumped more than normal. Stark seemed to be struggling to focus. The fighting had taken it out of him. He mourned the regiment’s losses.

  The Old Man seemed much older. He fiddled with his pipe, but did not tamp it with tobacco. Thus, the pipe remained unlit. Finally, the Old Man put the stem in his mouth, clicking his teeth against it.

  The Centurion looked much the same as always. The mercenary almost seemed fresh. The small man could almost be called tidy. Here was the ultimate professional. Give him a gun and an order, and he’d be ready to go. Jon had come to rely upon him more than he’d expected. The man’s reliability made the Centurion a priceless asset.

  “We won,” Jon said, opening the meeting.

  Stark nodded. Then he said, “The regiment is a shell, sir. We hardly have enough older war-horses left to rebuild.”

  “We have a few more than that,” the Old Man said.

  Jon glanced at the Centurion. The professional remained silent.

  “That’s the thrust of this meeting,” Jon said. “Since waking from the cryo units, the regiment has taken repeated casualties. Before we make our next move, I’d like to strengthen the regiment.”

  “What is the next move?” Stark asked.

  Jon studied the big man, wondering if he should make him say sir. He decided to forgo that for the moment.

  “I’m still working on that, Sergeant,” Jon said. “The critical point for us is that we have the most powerful spaceship in the Solar System.”

  “Without any weapons except for the exhaust,” Stark said.

  “We’re working on that,” Jon said. “Given enough time, the techs can fix a few weapons systems.”

  “We need more than time,” Stark said. “Look, Captain, I don’t pretend to be a warship-fighting officer. But we need a space dock. This monster needs a thorough overhaul.”

  “Before we can even think about that,” Jon said, “we need loyalists in large enough numbers. We need some rest, and we need to get back into fighting trim.”

  The Old Man took the unlit pipe out of his mouth. “How do you propose to do that, sir?”

  Jon nodded. “There were survivors here. Remember the ships slipping onto the other side of Neptune?”

  “Say you’re right,” Stark said, “you want to recruit from them?”

  “I do,” Jon admitted.

  “How do you trust any of them?” the Old Man asked.

  “By the usual process,” Jon said. “We pick and choose our recruits with care.”

  “Since when did the regiment do that?” the Old Man asked. “We’ve been taking everyone’s dregs for as long as I can remember.”

  “I don’t know how many survivors are in the Neptune System,” Jon said. “There must be some. The alien AI didn’t have enough time to hunt down everyone. Here’s my point. We’re going to search this system, helping those we can. While we do that, we’ll keep an eye out for recruits. We’ll start rebuilding by taking those recruits and turning them into Black Anvils. That’s what the regiment has been doing for years. You’re the experts at that. Centurion, I’m putting you in charge of…training the recruits. Old Man, you’re going to choose who gets to set foot on our glorious starship.”

  “What about me?” Stark asked.

  “You’re staying near me,” Jon said. “You’re the active duty sergeant. We’ll take what we have and divide it into thirds. One third helps the Old Man however they can. One third of the regiment helps the Centurion train the newbies. The last third guards what we have in whatever manner that takes.”

  Stark glanced at the Old Man before regarding the Centurion.

  “I can accept that,” Stark said. “What about you, Old Man?”

  “Yes,” the Old Man said simply.

  “Centurion?” asked Stark.

  The small Centurion turned to Jon. He looked over the younger, taller man. “You’re the Captain,” the Centurion said. “We back you under the articles of the Mercenary Code. We’re your men, just as we used to be the colonel’s men. You’ve already taken us to hell and back. Now, we’ll follow you wherever you decide to go next.”

  “Agreed,” Stark growled. “Jon Hawkins is the Man.”

  “Yes,” the Old Man said with a sad smile. “Jon Hawkins is the regiment’s new father.”

  -15-

  A week passed after the memorial service honoring their dead.

  They found a few survivors in the Neptune System. They were fewer than Jon had estimated.

  Bast Banbeck attempted the nearly impossible. Five big marines wrestled a yelling, protesting dispossessed into position under a brain-tap machine.

  The thing in Da Vinci strained at the bonds securing him. He howled, promising dire threats. At last, as the process began, the head thumped back onto a rest-plate. The dispossessed closed his eyes.

  Jon watched as Bast stood in a control chamber. It was a long and tedious process. The Sacerdote muttered to himself many times. He tapped a screen, twisted a dial, watched an indicator and attempted to drain the alien memories from the thieving Neptunian.

  Finally, five hours later, the little Neptunian opened his eyes. He looked around in terror, staring at the alien machinery.

  “Please,” he whispered. “I’m so thirsty. Can I get a drink?”

  The marines unlatched him, helping him to a waiting chamber
. The thief drank water and began to shiver.

  When Jon entered the chamber, Da Vinci stared at him. The Neptunian trembled uncontrollably, and tears leaked from his eyes. His brown eyes. Da Vinci began to sob. It sounded heartfelt. The thief shook for some time, finally stopping. He hiccupped, asked for more water and began to babble about the horror of being inside your mind and watching something else control you.

  Jon listened. He wondered the whole time if the dispossessed in Da Vinci was playacting. How could he be sure?

  “We’ll have to leave you in the brig for a time,” Jon said.

  Da Vinci bobbed his head. “I know. I know. I completely understand. Thank you for doing this. I’ll never forget it. You’ll see. You see that I’m a new man. I’ve learned my lesson.”

  Jon had his doubts. With an inward shrug, he rose from his chair.

  “Sir,” Da Vinci said.

  Jon regarded him.

  “Will…” Da Vinci licked dry lips, hunched his bony shoulders and looked down. “Will you forgive me?”

  Jon thought about it. Finally, he said, “This time.”

  Da Vinci looked up with gratitude, the tears leaking anew.

  Jon hazarded a smile. Maybe the thief meant it. Maybe a dog could learn new tricks and maybe a leopard could change its spots. They would see. After an ordeal like that…maybe it was possible.

  ***

  Jon stood in his study that evening, what they called ship evening. He’d moved a human-built desk into here, one they’d picked up in a Neptune space habitat. On the desk, he had charts, tables, figures—

  A knock sounded at the hatch.

  “Just a minute,” Jon said. He moved near, unlocked the hatch and let Gloria into his study. He’d asked her to come.

  “Coffee?” he asked.

  “Caffeine is no good for a mentalist.”

  “Is there anything I can get you?”

  “Do you have chocolate ice-cream?”

  Jon smiled. “I believe I do. I’ll have to ask my orderly.”

  He used a comm-link. The orderly said he’d have it in twenty minutes.

  Jon motioned to a chair. Gloria sat. After she did, he sat down, crossing his legs. He’d seen Colonel Graham do that before. It didn’t feel right, so Jon stretched out his legs instead, crossing them at the ankles.

  They talked about pleasantries for a time. He thanked her for all her help. A knock sounded. The orderly entered with a dish of chocolate ice cream.

  The conversation ended as Gloria ate as slowly as she could. The ice cream didn’t last long, though.

  Gloria smacked her lips, setting the dish aside.

  “More?” Jon asked.

  Gloria hesitated, finally shaking her head.

  Jon looked away. He found that he kept staring at a bulkhead.

  “Are you well?” she asked.

  Jon came out of his reverie with a start. He hadn’t realized he’d been staring. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking.”

  “About what comes next?” she asked.

  “Yes.”

  “We have the greatest ship in human history.”

  “I know.”

  “But it’s badly damaged. It would be good if the ship received a thorough overhaul.”

  “Mentalist,” Jon said, as he sat up. “We have a grave decision to make. You’re my confidante. Are you comfortable with me making that your official position?”

  She looked thoughtful, and then nodded sharply, meeting his gaze.

  “I trust your insights,” he said. “I need help now to make a momentous decision. The cyberships are out there. More will come in time. How long that will take, I have no idea. Humanity can prepare for them now. Maybe, though, this is the only vessel that can face another cybership.”

  “At least for right now that’s true,” she said.

  “Gloria, I hate the Solar League. I hate the secret police. I don’t like their method of ruling. In the interests of humanity, do I hand them this ship?”

  “What other choice do you have?”

  “Well…I could overthrow the Solar League. This ship, if used right, could probably defeat them.”

  “Then what happens?” she asked. “You have to put something in its place.”

  “A new form of government?” asked Jon.

  “Exactly.”

  “Are you game?” Jon asked.

  Her eyebrows rose. “What are you suggesting?”

  “That you come up with a governing plan,” he said. “We barely beat the robot killer. I have the Black Anvil Regiment and a shell of a starship. The colonel taught me about Alexander the Great and Charlemagne. Maybe this is the era of Jon Hawkins.”

  “You have a pretty high opinion of yourself,” she said.

  “It’s not that, Gloria. I know I was just a stainless steel rat once. Genghis Khan started low, too.”

  “Who?”

  He waved that aside. “The point is that I had to convince myself before I could take on the robot killer. Then I did it. I’m not trying to delude myself, but I’m in a position to attempt something fantastic. If I don’t try, who will? Do I leave people like the arbiter in control of humanity’s fate? I can’t do that, Gloria. That means I have to try. I know what’s out there for us. I have the means, or possibly have the means. If I don’t try to do what I think is right, that means I’m a coward.”

  “Maybe,” she said. “Or maybe that means you’re modest.”

  “The time for modesty is over,” Jon said. “Everything is on the line. I need your help, Gloria. I’ve read a lot of books, but there’s a lot I don’t know. I need people I can trust.”

  “You trust me?”

  Jon stared into her eyes as he nodded.

  It seemed as if she tried to frown. Instead, she smiled. “You should do it, Jon. You should conquer the Solar League, or let the other planetary systems go free. Then you, me, Bast and the sergeants should get ready for a bigger cybership invasion.”

  “Thank you, Gloria.”

  She laughed. “This is crazy. You know that, right?”

  Jon shrugged.

  “What’s the plan?” she asked. “Have you thought of your first step?”

  “I have,” he said. “Before I do more, I need more Black Anvils. But there’s only one planetary system that my sergeants and I really know.”

  “The Saturn System?”

  “Right,” he said. “We’re going to start in the Saturn System. We have a lot to do—”

  “And a short amount of time to do it in,” she said with a laugh. “I’ve heard that before. What do you want me to work on first?”

  “Before we discuss this,” Jon said. “I’m going to get you another dish of ice cream.”

  “Yes,” Gloria said. “That sounds like a great idea.”

  THE END

  Thanks Reader! I hope you enjoyed Cybership. If you liked the book and would like to see it become a series, please support it by putting up some stars and a review. Let new readers know what’s in store for them.

  —Vaughn Heppner