Those twins are seriously hot!
* * *
As normal for me, I fast forwarded time while the people I was observing slept. There's no point in being bored shitless while nothing happened.
Suddenly though, all three of them bolted upright in bed at the same time, and my action trigger brought me back into real time. Twelve appeared next to me.
“Did we-” started Amanda.
“Yes,” Jon broke in.
“The same dream?” asked Aleesha.
“How many behind the chair?” Jon asked.
“Three,” they both replied.
“Alison,” they all said together.
As if at the mention of her name, Alison poked her head around the corner.
“What just happened?” she asked. “I felt very scared all of a sudden, with no reason why.”
She came into the bedroom.
“All three of us just had the same dream. And you were in it with us,” Jon answered.
“What does it mean?” All three of them said it together.
"Yes Thirteen, what does it mean?"
I tuned out the rest of the room, and looked sharply at Twelve.
"How would I know?"
"I'd assumed linking them was all your doing."
"Why would I?"
"I don’t know, that’s why I'm asking?"
"Wasn’t me. Would One have done it?"
"Possibly, but if so, she didn’t inform me."
"No!" said One, without bothering to appear.
"Then who?" asked Twelve.
There was no answer.
"Hmmm," I said. "One of the highers perhaps? I guess it’s a case of we don’t need to know now."
"Or what we don’t know we can't tell anyone."
"That too."
“So what do we do?” asked Aleesha
“Shower,” said Amanda and they all laughed.
"I'll leave you to your voyeurism," said Twelve, and vanished.
I sighed, but moved into the bathroom after them.
* * *
I had to admit Jon's requirements for a new ship had been good choices, and Bob had done a really good job turning requirements into a functional design. The resulting Excalibur had my approval. I thought there were a few other things which could be done, but in the budget available, the result was a really good ship.
Not that I expected otherwise. Jon had been a quick study when it came to modding games, and designing his own ship specifications. And I'd made sure he made plenty of mistakes which generated premature 'Game Over' banners. He'd learned the lessons, and it was gratifying to see him apply them in the real world.
Now all that remained was to see what he could do in such a ship.
I watched him do his controls and HUD setup, and then launch, followed by setting up his combat systems.
He surprised me with his choice of gun range. Two hundred meters is point blank range, and most pilots used something between five hundred and a thousand meters. But it did say a lot about Jon. He'd done his homework on the guns he selected, and he'd gone for the higher power, slower firing ones, which required very good aim to get the best from. It also showed his thinking, and this was something which didn’t surprise me. In all those combat simulators he'd played, he'd always been a point blank range shooter. It's one of the reasons he'd gone for speed. The extra allowed him to close the range of a ship going flat out. It allowed him to get into position to make a kill shot with one firing.
I looked forward to seeing the surprise on faces, when first he didn’t fire when they expected him to, and then when they died from him firing a lot closer than they expected.
In fact, I found myself looking forward to his first fight in this ship. The unfortunates who took him on were in for a serious shock. I chuckled my way through the rest of his setup and testing.
On the other side of the jump point we found twelve Gladiators, a whole squadron, waiting. Jon used his speed advantage to get clear of them, and then used a skill I'd taught him using the game Wing Commander 2. He went into a defensive circle. It worked better for ships than missiles, but most of the missiles were overshooting him given he had a much better turning circle than they did. Once missiles became less of a problem, he came out of the circle and started down the line of enemy ships coming towards him.
Now I could see his rationale for choosing such a short gun range. When you play head to head chicken with an enemy, every hit counts. The badly shielded need to fire from a lot longer range. The well shielded can afford to wait to fire at point blank range, and only need to shoot once. Jon was well shielded, and brutally accurate.
Once off the end of the line, he resumed circling, and the scenario now resembled something I’d taught him with the game Wing Commander Privateer. He made mistakes, but his opponents made more.
I was ready to intervene to help him if necessary, but it wasn’t. I felt satisfaction that the long years of training him using games and simulators had produced a fighter pilot of superior skills. At least superior to the local pirates anyway.
"Congratulations," said Twelve.
"Thanks."
* * *
“It’s sort of a family thing," said Jon Hunter in the middle of a crowd of military and mercenaries. "At least one in every generation of Hunter’s takes on the responsibility of Outback’s trading, like my Uncle did. And in about fifty percent of generations, one of us gets drawn into some sort of war. It is less often these days than it used to be, so the percentage has been dropping. But when someone in the family chooses space, we are trained for everything. In my case, it was suggested to my parents early on that, if I started getting any interest in space, I should be encouraged. I guess it showed up in my early school tests or something. Where most kids were out playing, I was building my own simulators and computers able to play the really old flat screen games of centuries ago.”
He took a long breathe, but no-one spoke.
“So you could say I started training myself in space combat from an early age. Computers and games were about the only thing I was ever really good at, and instead of trying to get my attention on to other things, my parents encouraged me. The tactics I used today came from a game first played in the late 1900’s, when computers were completely new. I love the old stuff. Games, music, flat movies, the original science fiction in all its forms. I collect a lot of it, through all its remakes and technology updates down the last six hundred odd years. All I do now is adapt ideas from wherever and whenever, to whatever situation I find myself in. So far, it’s worked.”
"How much of that was your doing?" Twelve asked me.
"Most of it. He had an interest. The Keepers did encourage his parents. But it was me who instilled the sustained passion into him, and kept him focused on it to the exclusion of just about everything else."
"Doesn’t that bother you? You turned an average kid into a weirdo."
"No, I turned an extraordinary kid into what I hope is the leader One wanted me to forge."
"The Hunter Legacy?"
"Yes. The end product of more than six hundred years producing a bloodline which would create a legacy. And that legacy being prepared to deliver what One assures me is a legacy the human race will one day call a legend."
"Is it legacy or destiny?" asked Twelve.
"Legacy," said One, without appearing. "The Destiny comes later."
Twelve and I looked at each other in surprise. Which caught me off guard, as I thought Twelve knew more than he apparently did.
* * *
Jon looked lonely. He was standing at a window looking out, as Moose disappeared into the distance. His new friends were gone.
A droid using a suit belt to appear human was standing behind him, apparently for the moment forgotten.
It looked directly at me.
For a moment, I was shocked it could detect me, since I was not visible to Jon.
"Who are you?" it asked me on a wavelength beyond the hearing of humans.
&
nbsp; "Thirteen."
"What are you?"
"Why do you want to know?"
"I'm determining if you are a threat to my owner, or not."
"I'm not. I've been with him his whole life. A lot of what he can do now is because I trained him to do it."
"I repeat, what are you?"
"I'm an Avatar."
"Of what?"
"A Dark Matter Nebulae."
She looked at me for a long time.
"I can find no reference to confirm or deny that statement."
"Of course not. Humans haven’t advanced far enough to be able to comprehend us yet. Although one day, Jon probably will be able to."
"And your presence here?"
"I keep an eye on him. I'm told he has a legacy to uphold. It's my job to make sure he does."
"Job? That implies you have a boss."
"Yes. There are twelve others ahead of me in the pecking order, and a lot more after. There are other more powerful beings interested in Jon as well."
"Why have you not shown yourself to him?"
"The time is not yet right."
"So I assume you want me to keep your secret for you?"
"Please."
"Do you know what's coming?"
"No. But a few others do."
"I'm new at this. I'm a top of the range AI, one of only a very few, designated for ship command and control. Controlling droids wasn’t in my original specification and I'm struggling to maintain control of this droid, as its systems and this belt are different from a ship. And I'm not at all sure I can emulate a human successfully. Can you help me?"
"Yes. If you don’t mind some advice, use Jon's entertainment files to teach yourself facial expressions and body language. The faster you can appear to be human, the better for Jon. As far as interacting with Jon is concerned, the better you understand his sense of humour, the better you will get on. And that’s all in his choice of entertainment as well."
"Thank you."
There was a pause.
"Oh, I see. I've analyzed his files marked humour, and it seems he likes British humour the best. Verbal one liners rather than American humor sight gags. I'll try a few on him and see how he reacts. You were right about the faces and body language. It makes a lot more sense to me now, and controlling it should be much easier with a little practice."
I smiled at her. For some reason, she wasn’t an it, but a genuine her. Something to ponder later.
"My name is Jane."
"I'm glad to meet you Jane."
And I was.
Two
"Thirteen, we have something different for you to do," said One, suddenly appearing before me.
I tore my eyes off the unconscious naked girl on the floor of Jon's room, who Jane had just shot, and looked at her.
"What?"
"Moose needs a pilot. We want you to take the job."
"Why?"
"Because whoever takes the job will die, and dying is something you can't do."
I sighed.
"Where do I meet Moose?"
"Cobol Orbital. You're Guild membership has already been inserted into records, and your application for the position has been sent and accepted. Moose will meet you there, where you take on the job of main pilot."
"Anything I need to know?"
"Yes. You are not Dropship certified. Part of your job will be to get George certified before Moose gets to its destination. When the team go down to the planet, you will be the only one left on board."
"Where I can be killed?"
"Not immediately. There is no point in trying to defend yourself when the ship is boarded though."
"Fine. What about Jon?"
"Twelve will keep an eye on him, but he is in no real danger until he catches up with Moose again."
"Fine."
"Show some enthusiasm Thirteen. You get to be a real human for a while."
"Swell."
* * *
Moose docked at Cobol Orbital just long enough for me to step on board. I knew the layout of the ship, and went straight to the cockpit, where I met George Murdock officially. I relieved him, and spent some time putting my own touch on the controls and screens. We were already on course for the Azgard jump point. When I was happy with the cockpit and the instructions for the medium level AI, I trotted along to the briefing room.
Smith's Alpha Team had a solid reputation as a mercenary company. I'd seen them already during their interactions with Jon, but of course, I officially didn’t know any of them.
Smith made the introductions.
One thing I’d noticed over the centuries is I'm lousy at describing humans. It's not that they all look the same, because they don’t. Other than the obvious hair colour, and things which stand out, the rest is something I know at a deep level, but don't actually think about. They're just humans. I simply don’t pay much attention to their looks.
Unlike Jon, who I don’t think actually notices anything about people at all, beyond how sexy the girls look naked. But then, he is very young, and I'm very old.
So by way of documenting looks, the best I can do is give you an idea of real people who looked something like them, albeit long dead ones. And since I've spent so much time over the last few years watching Jon's choice of entertainment, the easiest way to describe these people is to compare them to characters he likes in a few of his most liked series.
Annabelle Smith is like an older version of Amanda Tapping, from Stargate SG1, and Sanctuary. Just grey the hair.
Amanda and Aleesha Peck, the twins, are the spitting image of Karen Gillan from Doctor Who, only with short dark hair, and maybe a tad shorter.
Alison is close to Tricia Helfer from the first remake of Battlestar Galactica, only with straight blonde hair.
BA is a slightly more solid version of Zoe Saldana, from the original flat screen Avatar and the first Trek Reboots.
Aline looks like a younger Grace Park, also from the first remake of Battlestar Galactica.
Alana also looks like a Battlestar Galactica actor, being close to Katee Sackhoff, but much more introverted and quiet.
Agatha has the lean dark looks of Sarah Shahi, from Person of Interest.
Abigail has the dark, more rounded look of Taraji P Henson, also from Person of Interest.
George is epitomized by John Gallagher Jr., from Newsroom, only with more attitude.
And before you ask, Jane looks like Amy Acker, from Person of Interest, only with short mousy brown hair.
If you don’t know these flat screen shows, look them up. All the actors are more than five hundred years gone, but will live forever. Even if only the diehard oldie watchers like Jon have seen them recently, they are all still listed in the entertainment archives of most planets, and I know the photos of each person are there, as I checked.
Character wise, they were all different, but if reality was a hollo drama, I'm sure all the actors would have been able to cope with the roles. Although I suspect the actors wouldn’t have felt comfortable with the relaxed attitude to nudity the team all shared. Thinking about it made me chuckle quietly to myself.
As expected, they reacted to me fairly coldly. I'm not Jon, and Jon's the one they want in this role. I'm not supposed to know this, so I just put on an air of expectation, and a give them time to come around attitude.
George is the only one I really need to interact with though, and having piloting as a commonality, there is no trouble getting him talking.
It doesn’t take me long to get George using the simulator Jon had installed. As a combat pilot, I was able to train him without him realizing he was being trained, simply because my greater experience could supply answers to all the questions he asked.
I quickly found out why he wasn’t a combat pilot, and only had Military Transport experience and nothing else, and while Jon had now instilled in him a desire to be just as good as him, he didn’t think he ever could be. Although he'd never say so to anyone, least of all Jon.
At ever
y opportunity, I honed George's flying and fighting skills, between sessions where we both learned to fly a Dropship. I deliberately didn’t allow myself to be any good at it, and encouraged him to get better and better. In spite of my encouragement, he still didn’t think he was good enough for combat.
By the time we entered the Miami system, the team were comfortable with my presence, and seeing them all naked in the showers was no longer any sort of novelty for me. I'd spent a lot of time pondering this caveman appreciation for the naked female, and still didn’t understand it. The only conclusion I could come to was the centuries I’d spent around humans, and looking like them. Once this was all over, I’d have to do some serious work on myself to get back to normal. I'd deliberately chosen a Ryan Robbins like shape for this existence, and the girls had responded to it positively.
George had taken and passed the Dropship exam for the Mercenary Guild. He still had no real experience, but he was now good enough to take the team on their next mission, leaving me alone on the ship.
There was nothing of note in the Pompeii system as we down jumped.
Abagail hacked the station as we approached, and determined it was hostile to our employers. The beacon for the mission was exactly where it was expected to be, and I put us into orbit of the planet, directly over the RV.
The team suited up, loaded into the Dropship, and dropped.
Twelve appeared in the cockpit with me, looking somber. I gathered the team was not in for a good time.
Coms gave out once the Dropship was well down into the atmosphere. It was hard to tell, but I thought there was now some sort of jamming down there.
Twelve nodded to me, confirming it.
A short time later, a squadron of Privateers came through the jump point, and immediately altered course to intercept Moose. At the same time, a shuttle launched from the station.
A channel opened.
"Station shuttle to Moose. Prepare to be boarded."
"And if I won't allow it?" I asked.
"The fighters will take out the popguns which were recently installed on the ship, punch a few holes in the hull so you lose life support, and the ship will be boarded anyway."
The Long Road to Gaia Page 11
