A.I. Battle Fleet (The A.I. Series Book 5)

by Vaughn Heppner

  Benz didn’t care what the Martian saw or couldn’t see. Vela was dead. What else mattered? Life had just lost its savor. His dearest had died in a holocaust of gravitational fire.

  “I’m putting this on the main screen, Premier,” Graz said.

  Benz had no plans to look up at the main screen. Vela had just died before his eyes. The AIs had tormented her—if would appear for the sole reason of trying to break him emotionally. Well, this time, the AIs had reasoned correctly.

  Members of the bridge crew gasped in what sounded like amazement. One person shouted savagely, as if in glee. That made no sense.

  Benz still did not look up at the main screen. He had never said good-bye to his darling. He would never get to put flowers on her grave. The AIs had ripped his love from him, tormented and then blasted her from space while she communicated with him.

  Benz was too spent inside for rage to grasp his heart. He lowered his head as his shoulders shook. Vela, Vela, Vela, you are gone, my darling. You are forever—”

  “Yes!” a crewmember shouted, pumping a fist into the air. “Yes, yes, yes, die you freaks!”

  Benz could not help himself. He looked up at the screen, and the sight astonished him. One of the AI cyberships detonated in a glorious fireball of destruction. But what was this? The other two AI cyberships beamed the exploding vessel. They must have caused the annihilation.

  With tears still streaming down his face, Benz turned in surprise to Commander Graz. “What happened?” he whispered.

  Graz had a stern, triumphant look on his narrow face. “I was hoping you could tell us, sir.”

  Benz frowned. His mind didn’t seem to be working. None of this made sense.

  “Maybe you drove them mad, Premier,” Graz said. “Your software attack with the following override code was a new wrinkle to the anti-AI virus. This is amazing.”

  Benz wiped tears from his cheeks. What was amazing? What was Graz babbling about?

  “You have sustained a terrible personal loss, sir,” Graz said. “But you have also found a critical weakness in the AIs. Why, Premier, this means we can dare to face an AI fleet. We can attack them, beaming the virus first and your software addition later. Afterward, they will go mad and destroy each other. You may have just found the key that will win the war, sir.”

  Benz turned back to the main screen as his frown intensified. Huge trails of hot exhaust from the remaining cyberships’ ports grew to gigantic size. The two vessels were decelerating hard.

  The premier pointed at the screen. “The last two are still intact. We’ve won nothing.”

  “That is odd, isn’t it?” Graz said. “Why did they fire on the…?” The commander’s voice trailed off.

  “On the ship that murdered Vela?” Benz finished. “I don’t know. I don’t understand this.”

  “We have to figure out what happened, sir.”

  Benz studied the remaining cyberships. Did he really have to figure it out? He was too spent inside. He had lost his love forever. He would now return to his lonely existence, one in which he outthought everyone to a vast degree.

  “My love, my love,” Benz whispered. “Sweet enteral dreams to you, darling.”

  Benz slumped back against command chair. He was mentally, physically and spiritually exhausted. With a soft groan, he pushed off the chair and headed for the exit.

  “Sir?” Graz asked. “What are your orders, sir?”

  Benz didn’t bother answering. He was done for the day. He was going to sleep, maybe forever.

  “Sir,” Graz said, louder than before. “What are your orders?

  Benz stopped and looked at the vulture-shouldered Martian. “Do what you think best, Commander. I’m going to bed.”

  Benz resumed his slow step, soon leaving a silent bridge.

  Commander Graz looked around. He felt terrible for the premier. Seeing his common law wife die like that…it had taken the soul out of the man.

  “What are we going to do, sir?” a thin Martian pilot asked.

  Graz straightened, studying the main screen. He saw three XVT missiles launch from one of the cyberships.

  “Where are those missiles headed?” Graz asked.

  Soon, the weapons officer informed him that the missiles were headed for the derelict Hercules.

  Graz nodded. They had saved the Hercules’ crew. There was nothing they could do to save the vessel. If they weren’t careful, the last two AIs could still attempt to destroy the Gilgamesh.

  “Head for the in-system battle station,” Graz told the pilot. “We can’t do anything more until we repair our damage. The only place we can do that out here is the station.”

  “Yes, sir,” the pilot said, putting in the new coordinates.

  “Give us maximum burn,” Graz added. “We want to get out of here before the AIs change their minds.” The commander looked at the others. “We survived,” he told them. “We survived due to the premier’s brilliance. He’s a great man.” Graz cocked his head. “That is all. Now, get back to your duties. We have a long way to go before we’re safe again.”

  -18-

  More than seven hours away at light-speed, Richard Torres continued to study the Cog Primus personality in a specially sealed battle-station computer. He’d beamed an altered copy of Cog Primus at the enemy cyberships some time ago, leaving him with the original. Well, the original backup, that is.

  None of the station personnel, including Richard, knew anything yet about the fight between the AI cyberships. The knowledge was still more than six hours from reaching the station sensors. Thus, they slept, ate and worked, oblivious to what had happened out at the system edge.

  Richard had refined a simulator for the AI personality and was testing a new theory when it happened to him. The mentalist was hunched over the console, analyzing Cog Primus’ various decisions when a stray thought caught his attention.

  I’d lick her tits first.

  Richard sat up, surprised. The thought was unwarranted and unlike any he’d had before. With the idea came a startlingly erotic image.

  He glanced around the large computer facility and zeroed in on a technician. The kneeling man was installing a new unit, but he wasn’t working on that now. Instead, the tech gazed lustfully at a passing woman with a delicious manner of walking and a well-endowed frame.

  She’s hot.

  The thought brought a second mental image, this one of the technician and the woman naked and entwined in love.

  Richard shook his head.

  He’d had intuitions while growing up on Mars, ones that had proven remarkably accurate as to what particular people would do. But he’d never read someone’s thoughts before.

  Sitting back, Richard considered what that meant. Could it have been a fluke? Or was something happening to him? Clearly, he was thinking faster and deeper than he ever had before. The earlier session with the brain-tap machine had proven that. His amazing insights into Cog Primus were another piece of datum.

  The mind reading just now might not be a fluke. It might be another ramification of his increasing brilliance.

  He concentrated on the technician, but got nothing more from the man. The tech had turned away from the woman and was now concentrating on his work.

  Maybe lustful thoughts were stronger and thus more easily read.

  Richard looked around, staring at each person in turn, trying to hear his or her thoughts.

  Nothing, he told himself.

  He was about to turn back to his console and Cog Primus, when he chanced to notice a marine entering the chamber.

  Next time he talks to me like that, I’m going to kick him in the balls.

  The marine was thinking about his sergeant, about not only kicking the sergeant in the groin, but once the man was down, kicking him in the head until the sergeant was dead. The idea pleased the marine, who had just undergone a harsh chewing-out from the sergeant.

  “Trouble?”

  Richard whirled around. The huge Sacerdote towered over him with a lo
ok of concern on his Neanderthal-like features.

  “Uh…no,” Richard said.

  “You’ve been sitting like a statue for some time,” Bast said.

  Richard grinned. “I’ve been lost in thought.”

  Bast had huge eyes, and they seemed to peer into Richard’s innermost thoughts.

  “I’ve been meaning to ask you, Bast. What was telepathy like?”

  Bast’s huge face closed up.

  “Oh,” Richard said. “That’s a sore topic. Sorry.”

  “I will leave you to your musings,” Bast said.

  “I meant no harm in the question.”

  Bast studied him, nodding a moment later. “I need a beer, maybe a couple of them.”

  The huge Sacerdote turned away, lumbering off.

  As Bast left, Richard concentrated on the Sacerdote. He tried to read Bast’s mind, but came up blank.

  Richard went back to work on the computer, but his heart wasn’t in it. He kept thinking about the possibilities of real telepathy. Finally, he said to heck with Cog Primus and went to his quarters.

  Lying down, Richard kept thinking about what was happening to him. He was clearly getting smarter. He could see the answers to problems that would have stumped him in the old days. Now, he could read minds, sometimes, at least.

  How can I strengthen that?

  Telepathy had to be like any ability. The more one used it, the stronger it became.

  He fell asleep thinking about that. Maybe that’s what caused the strange dream. He saw an alien in a large ship’s chamber swimming in a specially built pool. She had fine blue fish-scales on her delicate humanoid form. There were barely visible gills along her neck. She had narrow eyes like a cat and hated the humans on the cybership.

  Richard groaned in his sleep.

  She was a Seiner. Oh yes, of course, she was the Magistrate Yellow Ellowyn. She seemed to be concentrating as she cast outward with her psionic powers.

  In the dream, Richard was also aboard a cybership, a different one. He was in his room, drinking in her thoughts, listening to her promises of greater mental power. He agreed to let her modify his mind. What he’d forgotten, though, was that she told him that he would forget about this “conversation.”

  I don’t want to forget, he told her.

  A secret smile played upon her lips. There may come a time where you desire to practice your new power. Would you like to use your mind like a weapon?

  Most certainly, I would.

  It might entail risks.

  In the dream, Richard thought about that. What kind of risks?

  Of a small nature, the Magistrate assured him.

  Yes. Tell me how to become great.

  She did just that.

  In the dream, Richard listened closely. Afterward, the dream lost its intensity. On his bed in his quarters, some of the strain left Richard’s sleeping body.

  Three hours later, he stirred and woke up. He felt groggy, as if he needed to go back to sleep and recharge.

  Richard didn’t remember the dream, but he felt uneasy, as if there was something he needed to do.

  He got up, ate a snack he’d stashed in his drawer, puttered around his quarters and thought about reading something light. He picked up his tablet and began checking his selections.

  Suddenly, Richard’s head jerked up. Another erotic thought impinged upon his thoughts. He saw a naked woman and the lustful thoughts that accompanied her image. The process went on for time.

  Abruptly, Richard realized a fellow crewmember was viewing pornography in his quarters. With a directed thought, Richard nullified the desire. Such viewing interfered with his mentalist concentration. Thus, he never allowed himself to indulge in the hedonistic porn practice.

  Richard did not know it, but several corridors from his chamber, the space marine looking at his porn tablet suddenly lost interest, clicking it off. Instead, the man decided to watch an action video before he turned in for the night.

  In his own quarters, Richard sat on a chair in concentration. It had happened again, the mind reading. He also recalled that he needed to seek the Seiners on Earth. He needed to see them sooner rather than later. He could make things happen faster here if he could use his mind like a Seiner. He obviously had psionic abilities. How could he sharpen them?

  Richard snapped his fingers. Bast had developed his latent psionic abilities. If he recalled correctly, all Sacerdotes had the ability to bring their psionic powers to the forefront.

  Clearly, he couldn’t ask for Bast’s help for a number of reasons. But there were other Sacerdotes he could ask: those within the station’s brain-tap machine.

  It was time to go back down to the brain-tapper. Richard grinned, even though there was a small mouse of worry in the back of his mind. The concern had something to do with letting another mind tell or force him what to do.

  The idea that an alien controlled him, in any manner, was absurd, of course. Thus, Richard purposefully shoved the worry aside as he began to plot how he was going to do this.

  -19-

  In the darkness of a medium-sized chamber, Richard sat under the metal helmet of a brain-tap machine. He’d already selected a memory and switched on power. Soon, he soaked up knowledge regarding the secret Sacerdote psionic-gaining process.

  Bast Banbeck had undergone that process a few months ago, giving him the psionic abilities to help defeat Cog Primus when the AI had been in control of the battle station. Richard kept learning, and he saw that there were critical differences between Sacerdote and human brains. Those differences might be too large to bridge in order for him to use the Sacerdote psionic method.

  The selected memory droned on, but Richard had partly tuned out. This wasn’t going to work. This wasn’t the—

  Richard sat bolt upright as a brilliant insight struck him. He was going about this the wrong way.

  He shut off the memory, removed the helmet and switched on his tablet-generated light.

  He used the selector dial, choosing a Seiner memory. There weren’t that many in the machine. There was one, however, from a Seiner magistrate, the only kind that could help him.

  At the last minute, Richard hesitated. Could this be dangerous? Possibly.

  I must guard against the magistrate’s personality overtaking mine. I must remain in control of my mind.

  The thought brought further worry. The mouse of fear was back again. It wouldn’t let up this time, trying to tell Richard that he was being set up.

  Set up by whom? he asked himself.

  That was a stupid thought.

  With the brain-tap helmet on his head, Richard reached out to the power button. But look at this. His hand was shaking.

  Decisively, he turned on the machine.

  Memories from a Seiner magistrate struck him like a leopard dropping upon a dog from a tree. It attacked, attempting to overpower his personality.

  Richard, however, was no ordinary human. He was a mentalist.

  The battle of wills grew hotter. Richard struggled to overcome the hostile identity of the magistrate. She seethed with hatred and emotional strength of will. She used erotic images to attempt to weaken him. No. Richard refused those. He was a mentalist. He wouldn’t allow emotions or lust to overcome his strict logical thought process.

  Finally, through teary eyes, Richard’s watched his shaking hand press the shut-off button.

  He gasped for air, and was astounded to find his garments drenched with sweat. What had just happened?

  He removed the helmet and staggered out of the forbidden chamber. He forgot the caution that had helped him sneak into this part of the station, walking as bold as you please down the corridor.

  A muscular space marine showed up. The man had heavy sideburns and a flesh-padded forehead. He was scowling.

  “You’re in a restricted area,” the marine said, drawing a sidearm. “You’re coming with me.”

  “That I am not,” Richard slurred.

  The bigger man scoffed. “Oh yes, you are
.”

  Instead of engaging in a shouting contest, Richard lowered his head. I’m not here, he thought. You don’t see me. You don’t even remember me. You are all alone.

  “What’s the matter with you?” the marine demanded. “Are you drunk?”

  Richard became frustrated. This should have worked. Why didn’t it work?

  “You little punk,” the marine said. He holstered the gun and grabbed Richard by an arm.

  Suddenly, the marine’s mind seemed to open up to Richard like a flower to a bee. Richard buzzed into the mind, looking here, checking there. He realized that he now knew how to tweak certain brain centers.

  I am not here, Richard told the marine. You cannot see me. Go back to your post.

  The big marine frowned. One second, he was staring at Richard. The next, the marine seemed to peer right through the small mentalist.

  The marine let go of Richard’s arm. That didn’t change anything, though. The marine would not look at Richard. Instead, he frowned, scratched his neck and finally shrugged his muscled shoulders.

  “Must have heard a mouse,” the marine muttered.

  The marine kept muttering to himself as he headed back to his post.

  Grinning hugely, Richard watched the marine go. He possessed psionic power. He also seemed to know some things that had appeared in his mind with no reasonable explanation as to how they had gotten there.

  What Richard didn’t understand was that some of the magistrate’s memories now lived deep inside him. The Seiner was sealed off from his conscious mind, but there was no doubt that she had some connection to Richard’s id. How that would play out in the coming days and weeks…was anyone’s guess.

  -20-

  Soon enough, the long-distance images of the AIs fighting amongst themselves and destroying a fellow cybership reached the battle station. That began a frenzy of analysis, long-distance communications with Commander Graz and the amazing discovery that the surviving AI cyberships fled into hyperspace.

  Gloria, Bast and Richard spent hours debating the situation. Surprisingly, Richard tired first, claiming his head ached.