“Oh my goodness, yes you have. It must have been quite exciting. I am very pleased that no one was injured by the booby traps in those ships.”
“That was scary for a while- wait. You already know what happened?”
“Of course, dear. Skippy told me all about it a few milliseconds after you jumped in. It all sounds dreadfully frightening.”
Damn it. I had been looking forward to telling her about the mission, and I didn’t consider that Nagatha is an AI who communicates at lightspeed. That is how pathetic my life had become; I looked forward to telling my story to a computer. It made me feel like a little boy running home from to tell Mommy about his day at school. “It was, uh, yeah. It was, you know,” I felt deflated. “It actually wasn’t all that exciting. A lot of bad things could have happened, but they didn’t. It was exciting at the time,” that sounded lame as I was saying it.
“Dear,” she said in a motherly tone, “did Skippy ruin your surprise by telling me? He made it sound like you monkeys, I’m sorry, you humans, would have been lost without him. He always says that, I should know better than to listen to him.”
“Skippy is Skippy, we couldn’t have done it without him-”
“-and he lets you know that.”
“Yes,” I laughed, “he does.” I wondered what Nagatha’s conversations with Skippy were like. Did they have conversations, or did they only exchange data files? Someday, I needed to ask her about that.
Skippy’s avatar popped into existence above my desk. “Hey, Joe, FYI, while we have some downtime-”
“Downtime?” We were in a typical jump, recharge, jump cycle on our way to the Ruhar data node. Most of the crew were intensively training for our upcoming pitch-black operation, even though hopefully there would be nothing for us to actually do. I was participating in as much special ops and pilot training as I had time for, and at night, I found it difficult to fall asleep because I was so worried about getting the entire crew killed. Or exposing the presence of humans flying around the galaxy, which might get our entire species wiped out by pissed-off aliens. Other than that, I was sleeping just great. “What downtime?”
“Relatively, I mean. I have a submind running most of the ship for me right now. Ok, so the downtime is mostly mine, whatever. While I’m not real busy, I want to try something. I was thinking about that dead AI we found on Newark.”
“What about, uh, him?” Since we were talking about what used to be an Elder AI, Skippy might not appreciate me using the pronoun ‘it’. The gang of Kristang scavengers on Newark had dug up an Elder AI, a shiny chrome beer can just like Skippy. We stole that AI- Hmm, technically, we didn’t steal it, since by the time we took possession of it, the Kristang were all dead. Ok, I guess that is still stealing. But it wasn’t like the Kristang had a legal right to ‘own’ a sentient AI, so sue me. Anyway, I vividly remembered how sad, disappointed, and frightened Skippy had been when we brought that other beer can aboard, and Skippy determined the canister was empty. Something bad had happened to the AI in there, something Skippy could not understand, something that scared him badly. “Again, I’m sorry about that. I know you were looking forward to talking to another of your kind.”
“That, too, but I was mostly hoping that AI could give us answers we need. Whatever happened to Newark, an AI there should know who did it. Joe, when we get done saving Earth, again, we need to get some answers about what the hell has been going on in the galaxy.”
“Skippy, I agree,” I ran a hand through my hair in frustration. “I’m not the person you need to convince. Chotek is the mission commander; he doesn’t see that flying around the galaxy looking for clues to ancient mysteries is worth the risk to Earth. There is too much danger of our presence out here becoming exposed.”
“Hfff,” Skippy sniffed. “We found Elder sites that had been obliterated, by Elder technology. We found an intelligent species that was wiped out because Elder-level technology pushed their planet out of orbit. We don’t know how this happened, or who could have done it, because all this mysterious stuff happened after the Elders left the galaxy and before the Rindhalu had spaceflight capability. There is an unknown actor in the galaxy, and Count Chocula thinks this is not a threat that is worth investigating?”
“Damn, Skippy, you are preaching to the choir. I agree with you, we need answers.” Even if humans didn’t have any immediate practical need to know what happened to Newark, we owed it to Skippy to help him find out about those events. And how he came to be buried in the dirt on Paradise. And why he can’t contact the Collective. And the more basic question: who Skippy truly was. Since UNEF Command on Earth already didn’t trust Skippy, I think they should very much want to know his true nature.
But I could also see Chotek’s point of view. UNEF Command on Earth knew the Flying Dutchman was humanity’s only way of learning about new alien threats to Earth. Our stolen pirate ship was also our only prayer to halt those threats. Our current mission starkly demonstrated that there were immediate threats to Earth from aliens we already knew about. Until we could secure our home planet’s survival in at least the medium term, we should not go looking for even bigger trouble.
Unless acting now was the only way to prevent even bigger trouble later. Damn, I really, really hated my job some days. “Anyway, Skippy, what about this AI? You said it, uh, he, is dead as a doornail.”
“Joe, I do not understand why, of all inanimate objects on Earth, your species singled out the lowly doornail as a sterling example of deadness, but, yes, the AI is certainly dead. What I want to do is load part of myself in that canister, so I can examine it in detail. I am hoping I can determine the nature of the AI; was it like me, or different. And what happened to it?”
I did not like the sound of that. “You want to load part of yourself, in an AI container that might be defective?”
“It’s not defective, Joe. The canister is just fine, what I want to know is what is inside it. There might be residual traces of the AI that resided in there, I mean the part of the AI anchored in local spacetime. If I can understand the nature of the AI, I might be able to get some clues about what happened to it. Because it frightens me terribly that something could have destroyed an AI like me.”
“Uh huh, it frightens me too, which is why I don’t like the idea of you poking around in dark scary places all by yourself.” Sometimes, it was easy to forget that Skippy was an incredibly advanced being who spanned beyond our spacetime. All I could think of was how small and vulnerable he looked, and how much he needed someone to protect him. Too often, Skippy lacked common sense, and he was so absent-minded, I was concerned he would go poking around in there, and forget what he was doing. “This is like a horror movie where one of the characters wants to open a door and go down into the dark, creepy basement, and the audience is all yelling ‘Don’t go in there’! But of course the stupid character goes down the steps, and the light goes off, and the monster or spiders or serial killer is right there. So, if you’re asking for my permission to-”
“Joe, I was being polite, because Nagatha insisted. Why would I need permission from you?”
“Skippy,” I let out an exasperated breath. “You reminded me that you should be on the crew roster, because you are a sentient being and vital to the operation of the ship.”
“Yes, and I see you still have my rank in the roster listed as ‘Asshole First Class’.”
“Let’s not get into that right now,” I said quickly. “My point is that if you are a member of the crew, you are subject to my authority as captain of the ship.” Technically, he was also subject to Colonel Chang’s authority as executive officer; I wasn’t going to push the issue right then.
“Oh sure, as if.” He chuckled. “Oh, wait, you’re serious?”
“Duh.”
“Crap. Double crap! So, my choices are that either I am considered a shipboard system like a toaster, or I am part of the crew and have to listen to monkeys tell me what to do?” His voice reflected disbelief.
“What part of military chain of command do you not understand? The Flying Dutchman is a warship, we’re not on a pleasure cruise out here. This is a Special Operations mission under the authority of UNEF Command.”
“Technically, this is a stolen alien pirate ship that only functions because I do all the work around here,” Skippy grumbled with sarcasm. “Fine. Whatever. What. Eh. Ver. Colonel Bishop, do I have permission to examine the empty AI canister? Pretty please, with sugar in it?”
“You are certain there is no danger to you, or to the ship?”
“Joe. Come on. It’s me.”
“Exactly what I am worried about.” I rolled my eyes. “What if I say no? You will leave that AI canister alone, you won’t go behind my back and do it anyway?”
“Sure, let’s go with that.”
“Skippy!”
“Let’s also pretend I haven’t already been examining the canister for the past twelve freakin’ minutes, while you’ve been blah, blah, blahing me to death. I started before I even mentioned it to you. Does that make you feel better?”
“Oh, crap. No, it does not make me feel better.”
“One way for you to feel better, Joe, is to avoid asking questions where the answers might upset you,” he suggested helpfully.
“A captain is supposed to know what is going on aboard his ship,” I clenched my teeth. Sometimes I wanted to strangle him.
“I did say this was more of an FYI, Joe.”
“Oh, that makes me feel so much better,” I sighed. Skippy was going to do whatever he wanted, whether I liked it or not. Ordering him to stop would only erode what little sense of authority I had. “Ok, fine, do what you want, but please, please, be careful? When you go poking around in dark corners, bring a flashlight with you, so when the monster kills the lights, you can still see.”
“Hmmf. What good will a flashlight do against a monster? Whatever. Yes, I promise to be extra careful. I will keep you updated. So far, what I have found in there is a whole lot of nothing; just a big, empty space. I might as well be exploring the inside of your skull, Joe.”
After what he cluelessly perceived as a very positive and respectful response when he revealed his Grand Admiral Lord Skippy avatar to the crew, Skippy had been pestering me to let him perform at karaoke night. I put it off as long as possible, but after he was so helpful during our successful operation to salvage two derelict starships, I relented. The crew universally groaned at the thought of listening to Skippy warbling off-key, and I was almost forced to voluntold some people to fill the galley for the occasion. Chang suggested if I was going to assign mandatory fun, it might be a good idea to open the liquor cabinet for the evening. That was a great idea because once I made that announcement, the galley was standing room only.
Skippy’s avatar was especially resplendent and sparkly, like he had rolled himself in stripper glitter. Anyway, he led off with the theme song from an old James Bond movie, it was the one about nuclear submarines, or maybe the one about space shuttles; I forget. Except that, Skippy being Skippy, he changed the lyrics to fit his arrogant asshole self. “Nobody does it better, makes me sad for the rest. Nobody does it half as good as meeeeeeee, baby I’m the best-”.
Simms leaned over to me with a harsh whisper. “The correct lyrics are ‘Nobody does it half as good as you, baby you’re the best’.”
“Shhh,” I shushed her. “He’s happy and not causing any trouble for the moment.”
“True.”
Next, Skippy performed an old Beyoncé song. “You can feel my halo, halo. You can see my halo, halo-”. That also was not quite how I remembered the original lyrics, but I wisely kept my mouth shut.
Skippy’s karaoke singing went on for twenty minutes, with the well-disciplined and well-lubricated crowd clapping enthusiastically. The alcohol may have helped the enthusiasm of the audience, I know it helped me. Really, although the little beer can’s voice was beyond horrible, his performance was so unintentionally amusing, we all had an uproariously great time.
“Bravo! Bravo!” I stood, clapping so hard my hands hurt.
“Why thank you, Joe, I’m touched. For my next number-”
“No!” I stood up and waved my arms. “No, Skippy, you need to give someone else a turn. Although, hey,” I looked around at the crowd, “who would want to follow such a remarkable performance?”
The answer turned out to be me, Staff Sergeant Adams and Lt. Williams of our SEALS team signing ‘Lollipop’. As my signing voice was even worse than Skippy’s, my only part was to do the ‘pop’ sound with a finger in my mouth.
I crushed it.
Counting down for the final jump that would take us near the Ruhar data node, Skippy threw me a curveball. “Hey, Joe. Before we contact the data node, we should talk about that thing first.”
“Thing?” With the corner of my eye, I saw Chotek shoot me a look of annoyance. No doubt he was wondering what crucial detail I had failed to tell him about before, so I could spring it on him at the last minute.
“Yeah, you know, the, uh, the thing.”
The beer can was not helping me at all. “What thing, Skippy?”
“Oof,” he sighed. “That intel I got from the Thuranin ships at the wormhole cluster. You know, about those little green MFers planning a major offensive against the Jeraptha? You said we would talk about it later. This is later. If that intel is going to do any good for the Jeraptha, I need to pass the info along to them soon. Like, now.”
“Oh,” I breathed a sigh of relief and looked at Chotek. “Sir, we did tell Skippy we would address that issue. I had forgotten about it,” I admitted with a lame smile.
Chotek looked briefly unhappy. He had forgotten about it too. “How would you pass the intel to the Jeraptha, without them knowing the message came from us? And why would the Jeraptha trust intelligence that fell into their laps?”
“Oh, please,” Skippy scoffed. “Dude, I am Skippy the Magnificent. This is child’s play for me. I will load a file into a Ruhar message, that will route itself to a Jeraptha data node in the sector the Thuranin are planning to hit. When the Jeraptha pick up the file, it will unpack itself, infiltrate the ship’s computer system, and convince the computer the message is legit orders from Jeraptha Fleet Headquarters. By the time the message gets to the Jeraptha ships, they won’t have time to contact Fleet HQ and get a confirmation. They will have to act, and they will.”
“Ok,” I shared a look with Chotek. “They won’t be able to authenticate the message before the battle, but afterwards, their Fleet HQ will know for sure they didn’t send those orders, or have that intel. Somebody will be wondering where that intel came from.”
“Joe, your lack of faith in me hurts. Trust the awesomeness. The file will erase its tracks along the way, no way will the Jeraptha be able to trace it back to that data relay. And yeah, of course Jeraptha Fleet HQ will go crazy trying to figure who passed that crucial intel to them. The prime suspect will be the Bosphuraq.”
“The Bosphuraq?” Chotek asked, confused. “They are peers of the Thuranin, in the Maxolhx coalition, correct?”
“Peers in terms of being clients of the Maxolhx, and in terms of rough technological equivalence with the Thuranin. The Bosphuraq would dearly love an opportunity to screw with the Thuranin; anything that hurts the Thuranin moves the Bosphuraq up a peg in the hierarchy. There is no love lost between any member of the Maxolhx coalition. Remember, Joe, the Maxolhx encourage competition, even conflict, between their client species. Having their clients fighting weakens those clients and decreases the potential for those species to ever threaten their Maxolhx patrons.”
“Damn it,” I swore. “Is there anyone under the Maxolhx who are not trying to stab everyone else in the back?”
“In this local sector of the galaxy, I guess that would be the Urgar. They are clients of the Wurgalan, but due to their harsh treatment by the Wurgalan, the Urgar are nearly extinct. The Urgar are busy simply trying to survive, they don’t have the time or energy to harm anyone
else,” Skippy explained, as if he were describing the menu at Denny’s rather than the politics of a murderous group of alien MFers. “Anywho, the intel reaching the Jeraptha ships in the target sector is easily explainable. The question is, yes or no? We jump in near the data node in eighteen minutes, I need an answer quickly.”
“What would be the benefit to humanity, of passing this intel to the Jeraptha?” Chotek asked. “I don’t see how two alien species fighting one battle in a very long war affects Earth.”
“That’s simple. And complex,” Skippy responded. “Right now, Paradise is in a region firmly under the control of the Jeraptha. The Ruhar are stationing a battlegroup at Paradise, mostly because they hope to find Elder artifacts there, but also because the region around that planet is protected by their patrons, the Jeraptha. Without strong support by the Jeraptha, the Ruhar could not hold Paradise for long. If the Jeraptha suffer a serious military setback in this sector, they might pull their forces back from the area around Paradise. Now that we made everyone think Paradise might be a treasure trove of Elder goodies, the Thuranin may be interested in taking that planet for themselves. I’m sure you can see how that would be bad for the humans on Paradise.”
“Jesus Christ,” I pounded a fist on the arm of the command chair. “We just got done rescuing UNEF there. When is it going to be enough?”
“I’m sure our resident diplomat could tell you,” Skippy said with dry humor, “resolving one crisis leads you right into the next one.”
Chotek nodded, with a smile creasing the corner of his mouth. He and Skippy had just found common ground on something, I guess that was progress. “Skippy,” I asked, “you got any more good news for us?”
“Sure, Joe,” he replied with cheer. “Right now, the wormhole near Earth that we shut down is in a region at the edge of Thuranin-controlled territory, and remote from any of their large military bases. With their current weakness, the Thuranin are not much interested in that area, or that wormhole. But if the Thuranin are able to score significant victories against the Jeraptha, they might want to exploit the area around that deactivated wormhole, and they eventually will investigate why that wormhole shut down. So, to keep Earth safe, we should ensure the Thuranin remain weak in this sector.”
Black Ops (Expeditionary Force Book 4) Page 16
