by Ryan Krauter
Web needed to get to the cargo control area amidships, so he turned and ran down the corridors, passing up some of the crew who were still getting control over their own stomachs again.
As he turned a corner, he almost ran into Halley, and she stopped by bracing her hands on his shoulders.
"What the hell?" Web asked.
"No idea," she replied quickly. "Just get to your station and keep an eye on these people. I'm supposed to go to the bridge and watch the engine repeater displays. If things head down the sewer pipes, we'll meet in your quarters!"
And with that, she took off running.
Halley arrived at the bridge at the same time as the captain, a burly Trin by the name of Two-Swords (whose family name had been changed following Trin tradition after a great conflict many generations ago) who looked like he'd been commanding ships for a few hundred years or so. He gestured for her to go first, then quickly stomped to the command consoles where the First Officer was already standing.
"What's going on out there?" the captain asked.
The First Officer, a Drisk woman of much younger age than Halley had been expecting when she'd first hacked the ship's crewmember database to review the crew, turned to her captain and gave the grim news. Lirik Daemon was no stranger to tense situations. She'd been on all of the more exotic runs the company had to offer; hazard pay and the chance to test herself were things she craved. This was just any old day for her. "We're being hailed by the ships, Captain," she began. "They're broadcasting on all the usual channels, even our company frequency."
"It seems they want to talk," he mused. He looked right at Halley. "What of our engines and weapons?"
Halley had already surveyed the systems and spoke without consulting her screens. "Engines are fine; a little hot from the forced reversion, but within tolerances. There's a huge gravity well around us, though, so they either have a minefield or one of those picket ships is nothing but a gravity generator with some engines welded onto the sides. As for our guns, they're not showing up at all on the boards."
"We've already broken them down, Captain," said First Officer Daemon. "We were following Priman policy and so most of the major components are removed and stored."
"How long to reassemble them?" asked Captain Two-Swords. "They're big enough to handle these three."
"It took hours to disassemble, Captain," said Daemon sullenly. "I doubt they'll give us that much time."
A colored box began flashing repeatedly on one of the screens at the command station.
"They've locked weapons onto the engines," the captain replied softly. He took several steps over to the communications officer, who stepped out of the way as the captain tapped the screen.
"This is Captain Two-Swords of the Solar Venturer, a registered cargo ship out of the Andreas Cluster. What is this all about?"
"Captain," a smooth but commanding male voice responded. "Your course shows you bound for Callidor, a Priman held system. We'll be boarding your ship to relieve you of your more valuable cargo before you finish your trip. If you cooperate, we'll only take the cargo. Resist, and we'll take your ship as well as your lives. We're sending over launches; decide right now whether we board shooting or talking."
Captain Two-Swords looked around the bridge. This was a decent crew, capable in deep space and masterful at their tasks, but they were at their essence a cargo crew. Not Confed navy officers, not combat veterans or mercenaries; he wouldn't ask them to fight to the death for the company's cargo. He couldn't ask. He didn't take more than a couple seconds to respond.
"I'll meet you at the starboard forward docking port."
"The Carada Monarchy," began Captain Elco. He sat at his place at the head of the port side briefing table behind C3 on the deck below the bridge of Avenger, "consists of eight different solar systems. The people are humanoid; hairless, a few extra fingers, the usual little differences, but nothing like a Quipal with all those legs, of course. They're ruled by a royal family and have been for the last two thousand years. Central control is on their home planet, Carada Prime. Each planet is ruled by a member of the immediate family, with various dukes, duchesses, princes, and other family members controlling smaller territories, orbitals, that sort of thing. They've managed to make it work pretty well, too, according to all the data we have."
Loren, the only other one present, shifted in his seat as he searched for a better view of the data on the table's surface as it scrolled by. "So what does Admiral Bak have in mind for us here?" he asked.
"The next two locations on the itinerary are worlds where AI support is very high, either openly or through various fringe groups."
"So which one are we dealing with here?"
"Well, the royal family has done pretty well by listening to the people, and a lot of folks here are pretty open to the idea of AI technology. As far as we know, they're still following the AI Accords, but they do it more out of an interest in galactic relations than a deep-seated problem with AIs in general. The Kingdom never got to the point of advanced AI before everyone started signing onto the treaties banning their use. As a result, the Carada Monarchy is known for developing some of the most advanced legal computer intelligences in the galaxy."
"Alright," said Loren easily. "Who are we after?"
"Admiral Bak has arranged for us to travel to the surface of their capital planet so we can attend a product demonstration. He's told them we are acting as representatives of the Confed navy and we're hoping to use their advanced technology to acquire a way for our torpedoes to see through the Priman countermeasures once and for all." Elco leaned forward, elbows on the table and hands grasped together. "You and I both know that General Horle gave Confed some very advanced Lemurian adaptive scanning technology. Hell; the upgrades are in our torpedoes right now. However, nobody else outside of some the senior leaders knows this. So, as far as anyone knows, we're here for a sales pitch. We tour the factory, I give them our sad story about the Primans, and you take Merritt and Cory and mingle. Hell, you can talk freely about AIs; it's not a taboo topic here. Just see where it takes you."
The surface of Carada Prime was every bit as grand as Loren had imagined it might be. As the seat of power for a respectably sized kingdom, it had to create a certain impression. There were castles, resorts, and luxurious living opportunities available everywhere from snow-capped mountains, to man-made islands, the ocean floors, and soaring antigrav-supported skyscrapers hundreds of stories tall. Everything sparkled, and if it didn't sparkle, that was because it simply gleamed instead. The whole planet was shiny, new, and felt like a fairy-tale planet had come to life.
"This place is for real, huh?" asked Merritt, a bit awestruck, as they strolled along the immense plaza that joined several of the government-run manufacturing complexes that they were touring. The grass was lush and cut to the perfect height, the trees provided ample shade and beautiful flowers filled the air with fragrances that calmed the nerves.
"According to the captain," Loren mentioned, "a lot of the industries are wholly or partially owned by the royal family. They have no shareholders, no particular profit margin to meet, so they dump a lot of the income right back into the economy and infrastructure."
"And I can only imagine the landscaping bills," Cory said as she gently brushed her hand over a row of blooming flowers whose petals rippled with iridescence when she touched them.
They'd already been present at one briefing and all parties were wandering the plaza while the second presentation was being prepared. A light lunch would precede it, and Loren saw the doors to the cafeteria hall open, signifying the meal was served. Loren, Cory and Merritt followed the small group of people inside.
They passed through the buffet, served by white-jacketed stewards on china with gold veins mimicking marble, and wandered towards the back of the large room where standing-height tables were arranged in small groups. From that location they could see onto the floor of the manufacturing facility through floor-to-ceiling windows. The Caradans were
proud of their technology, no doubt about that.
"Are you planning to stay for the afternoon tour?" Loren heard a voice behind him. He turned to see one of the scientists who worked in the building, and even recognized her from the first briefing of the day.
"I heard it would be a rewarding experience," said Loren with a smile. Some people needed to practice their 'diplomat' smile; the one that could be made to appear whenever needed. Loren, despite the darker things he'd seen so far during the war, still enjoyed talking to people and came off as genuine when meeting others. "I suppose we haven't been officially introduced." Loren held out his hand, which the scientist shook with her own six-fingered one. "I'm Commander Loren Stone, Executive Officer of the Confederation ship Avenger," he began. "This is Captain Second Rank Corinne Sosus and Commander Merritt Elder."
"I'm Sera Dom," the woman replied as she shook hands with Cory and Merritt. "It's gratifying to finally meet you." She caught Loren's puzzled look. "The rest of the galaxy knows about the war with the Primans, I assure you. We've heard about some of the work Avenger has done, you know. I suppose we didn’t come by all the most interesting and daring things, but enough to know your ship and your crew a bit by reputation."
Loren couldn't entirely stifle a slight grin. "Perhaps you could help spread the word to the Primans that it would be best for them if they just ran away," he replied.
"If only it were that easy," she said. "In any case, my team is part of the people who put together the presentation for your captain. Hopefully our technology can do some small part to help you, and I admit selfishly to hoping that it will test well for you in case we need it for ourselves."
"Oh, the Primans will come calling sooner or later," Cory said softly.
Loren saw this as a time to shift the topic. "Can I ask you what may be more of an opinion question than technical?"
Sera looked at him without giving any emotion away. "Please."
"It's well known that the Kingdom has a very neutral stand on the use of artificial intelligence," he began tenderly, not wanting to scare her off but also needing to show that he wasn't afraid of the topic. "You use the most intelligent programming allowed in the civilized galaxy. Do you think creating a fully conscious AI would help with the weapons design over what you've done so far?"
Sera digested that for a second, staring at the finely crafted cup of stim-caf she carried. "I admit we wondered about that for a while," she confessed as she looked back at Loren and his comrades. "But other than the fact that we aren't allowed, there wouldn't seem to be any point in making the weapon conscious. It's smart enough to follow an incredibly complex set of algorithms to seek out its target; making it feel emotion about it, to wonder why the target needed to die, seemed like a bad idea."
Loren nodded sagely. "I guess I never really thought about that side of the technology." He wanted to push more, but didn't want to seem obsessed. "I guess I'm just throwing ideas at the walls to see what sticks. We need something to help tip the scales back towards those of us caught up in the fight; I couldn't help but wondering if there was a way having access to AI intelligences would help."
"A valid question," Sera returned, "but a futile one, I'm afraid. Just remember there are places in the galaxy where you might be detained for mentioning such things."
"Of course," Loren demurred. "Can't blame a guy for wondering, though, right?"
"On some planets, you can. Not here, though." She pushed back from the table with a smile, leaving her empty cup behind. "Would you three care for a quick tour of the line before the afternoon briefing?"
"We'd be honored," Loren replied.
The next few hours were interesting in an academic sense, but to Loren it seemed a waste of time. They weren't going to buy any of these weapons, he'd pushed as far as he felt he could with the staff at the facility, and it was time to go. Chasing across the galactic core looking for a mythical band of camera-shy androids was no longer his first choice of ways to spend his time.
Finally, they bid their farewells and headed back up to Avenger, Captain Elco aboard as they shared their ride back into orbit.
"Did you find a way to win the war yet?" Elco asked Loren lightly as he eyed Cory and Merritt in the seats across from them in the cramped confines of the transport's aft flight deck.
"No," Loren replied glumly. "Made a few friends, I suppose. They're a pretty upbeat and extroverted bunch, and I pushed pretty far talking up AI as a positive thing, but I guess I never really expected an android to jump out of a broom closet and congratulate us on our positive attitude towards them. I don't think we really accomplished anything, I'm afraid."
Elco looked at Cory and Merritt. "Anything to add?"
"I think the Commander summed it up nicely," stated Merritt. "They seem willing to help with what they can, but nobody offered to show us to android headquarters, either."
Nobody said anything for a minute after that.
"I know this is a long shot and all," Cory began, "but how long are we supposed to do this? I mean, trying to develop this kind of intelligence is the sort of operation somebody like Halley would work months on. And here we are, just knocking on doors and saying 'hi'. Do we think this is going anywhere?"
"A valid concern, that's for sure," said Elco. "I give us two more stops on our itinerary and if nothing develops, I'll contact Admiral Bak and see if he can offer us another option."
More silence as they watched through the cockpit doors and out the windshield in front. The underside of Avenger was growing larger as they approached and lined up on the port side hangar bay. Avenger's armored hull flashed by just above their heads as they cleared the force field into the hangar. No sooner had the pilots slid the craft out of the flying lane than the armored door slid down from above, closing off the hangar from space.
"Now where to, Captain?" asked Loren as the four of them strode across the hangar deck towards the Vipers' ready rooms.
"The Mining League," Elco said simply. "It's a loose collection of a half dozen worlds that claims several solar systems relatively close to each other. Not really a fully organized galactic power; they're more of a group of very close trading partners that still remain relatively independent. But if you make a deal with one of them, you better make the same deal with all of them. We're going there to have you take a look at a very strong and influential underground AI support. AI issues are quite illegal there; one of their planets was almost completely wiped out long ago by computers gone rogue, and their trading partners had to basically blockade the entire planet and bombard anything that was left standing back down to sea level."
Loren just turned to look at the captain. "I assume there's a plan for getting access to what it probably a quite fidgety and nervous bunch of people?"
"Oh yes. His name is Von. He's a SAR operative like our friend Halley."
"Everything is in place," Captain Vol finally heard from his subordinate. It had taken longer that he'd liked, but getting into the Carada system undetected and finding a suitable place for the ambush was no mean task. He'd only allowed himself three ships for the task; one light and two heavy cruisers. The rest waited far out beyond the Caradan system's frontier outposts and listening sites, ready to dash in if need be but preferably not tipping their presence to the locals if possible. They'd watched via long range scans and piggybacked feeds from in-system traffic control.
And now they waited.
Captain Vol had found the perfect place for an ambush, and it was almost right on Avenger's expected vector if they were in fact sticking to their itinerary of visiting the Mining League next. The Caradans maintained an immense mothball shipyard on the outer reaches of the system. Since government and commercial ventures were often controlled by the same family members, the Monarchy had seen fit to consolidate all long term repair, salvage and storage to one monstrous facility, out where two dwarf planets had once orbited each other as they went round the system's sun. Immense tractor beams were installed on them, balancing their orbits
and in the process created a sort of semi-stasis field in the space between the planetoids. In that gap were tucked hundreds upon hundreds of ships large and small. The large-scale field created by the tractors holding the planetoids together also helped to drastically slow any movement within the area of coverage. Ships parked in the facility were also equipped with external thruster modules which kept them in precise position.
The facility was monitored by various sensors and a number of picket ships, though those were easily enough evaded by Captain Vol's capable crew and his people's superior sensor technology. Nobody was going to break into the shipyard and steal anything; even if somebody could gain access to one of the ships in the field, the powerplants were all either empty or disabled. Long before anybody could install one or tow a ship away, the Monarchy's home fleet would arrive on-scene and deal with the interlopers.
Luckily, Captain Vol didn't intend to take anything. He intended to leave something. A large debris field, filled with scraps of what used to be the CSS Avenger.
"Make sure we're well concealed," he cautioned the officer who'd reported in. "If the Confeds or system patrols see us, I'll execute you myself."
Captain Two-Swords stood alone at the small docking hatch, watching the warning lights cycle from red to amber to green. If only Daemon hadn't been so motivated to tear down the guns. If only Confed wasn't engaged in this ridiculous civil war and was patrolling these systems for pirates like they were supposed to be. If only his ship was faster. If only.
Locking bolts slid away and the hatch rolled into a pocket in the bulkhead, revealing three people standing in the airlock waiting for him.
A human, Trin and Qualin stood there, all grinning to various degrees. He didn't know what he expected a pirate to look like, but he guessed these three were as typical as anyone else. They all wore mismatched clothes; bits of jumpsuits, uniforms, and various utility belts. The human was even wearing a stripped-down chest piece from an EVA suit. The Trin spoke up, his smooth deep voice unusual to hear from a member of a species who communicated more by gesture and smell than speech.
