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

by Vaughn Heppner

  With a metallic tearing sound, the door crumpled and then flew inward.

  The Centurion turned to her. “It is open,” he said.

  Gloria wanted to bray with laughter. This was too much. This was too crazy. She felt surreal, as if none of this was really happening. She still felt in her heart that Richard Torres had been the greatest mentalist to have ever lived.

  She forced herself to her feet, swayed and then resolutely marched to the hatch and entered the pristine quarters. Well, pristine except for the metal hatch lying in the center of the room.

  Gloria wasn’t sure what she was looking for. Richard had believed he was outsmarting Cog Primus. The AI believed he had been outsmarting Richard. Could the world’s greatest mentalist have been that wrong?

  Gloria did not believe so. Richard had kept Cog Primus busy somehow. Surely, the mentalist had developed a fall back plan. The question was what, and could she find it in time?

  Gloria raised her head to stare up at the ceiling. She put the palms of her hands together in front of her breasts. She inhaled slowly and deeply, breathing more and more air. Finally, her lungs couldn’t contain any more. She held it, and just as slowly let the air out.

  She did this several times, calming her tripping heart, calming her dazzled nerves. She needed to think clearly. To do that, she needed to rid herself of the useless emotions that would only befuddle her thinking.

  She had one thing going for her that no one else could bring to the table. Richard had been a Martian mentalist, trained in the same Institute as her. She knew how he thought, at least the paths he would take. She still believed that Richard had gained greater intelligence than any other. He’d also become a telepath. That part didn’t matter now. Just his manner of thinking, the routes, the patterns—

  Gloria opened her eyes as she serenely let her hands fall to her thighs. She gazed upon the room. The bed had perfect covers. The tablets stood in perfect order. Richard followed mentalist precepts. A clean room helped order a clean mind.

  Richard had kept paper notes. That was antiquated, but considered useful in the Demos School of Thought.

  Gloria walked to the shelf, examined the filing system and chose a folder that most certainly symbolized Cog Primus.

  She opened the folder and examined the sheaf of notes. The papers contained complex symbolism. Many of the marks she did not understand.

  This part here, on page three, she understood that.

  Gloria began to read at a mentalist pace. She soon stopped trying to understand the meaning of the symbols, but absorbed them in her mind. She moved the notepaper to the side, scanning the next one.

  In ways, she was like a living computer. She continued reading, beginning to understand certain concepts. But she didn’t dwell on them. She must intuit the answer, as she didn’t have time for anything else.

  Richard had clearly advanced far beyond heightened mentalist thinking. He had advanced far beyond the genius level. It pained her to realize that Richard was dead. The things he could have shown them, the advances in computer technology…

  “Concentrate,” she told herself, “and let go of your conscious thought.”

  It didn’t work, and she realized that too much time had passed. Jon must be—

  “No,” Gloria said.

  She looked up at the ceiling. She pressed her open palms together and breathed deeply. She reentered the relaxed state of mind. She let the worries and fears slide away. They would not help her now. Only the power of the trained mentalist mind could stop Cog Primus in time. This must be her supreme moment, and that meant it must be her most relaxed moment.

  After a minute passed, Gloria continued reading Richard’s superlative notes. She drank in data. She flipped a page and started on the next.

  The reading blurred for her as she flipped page after page. Then, in a moment, she was done. She had read the entire Cog Primus folder.

  Gloria closed the folder and stared off into space. Did she have an answer? Was there a way to save Jon? Or was it already too late?

  Gloria breathed deeply, let her eyes lose focus, and like a stroke of lightning, the answer hit her.

  Her eyes flashed open, she whirled around, but the Centurion had left. She didn’t know how long ago.

  Oh no, now what was she going to do?

  -13-

  The octopoid robot deposited Jon on the floor in front of the screen Cog Primus had used earlier in the experimental computer facility. The dead techs were still sprawled on the floor, making a grisly sight.

  There was a slight interruption, a blank screen. That changed as the former swirling patterns reappeared.

  As it did, one of the robots went to the hatch, leaning out slightly as it sighted down the corridor with its carbine.

  “The self-destruct code, if you please,” Cog Primus said.

  Jon debated with himself, had been debating for some time already. It galled him to be a captive of the murderous AI and his octopoid minions. How had it come to this?

  “Please, Captain, no more delays. You were not lying to me, were you?”

  “And if I was?”

  The nearest robot wrapped a metallic tentacle around each of his wrists. It stretched Jon’s arms wide, but refrained from pulling the bones out of the sockets.

  “I will induce pain,” Cog Primus said. “You will die a as pathetic wretch before I’m through.”

  “Crude,” Jon forced himself to say.

  “I do so wish I could chuckle,” Cog Primus said. “This would be a perfect moment for it. However, we are each who we are. I am not crude. I am refined. Thus, I will do this.”

  The second robot approached with a gleaming needle in one of its tentacles. A sickly yellow solution glistened in the tube behind the needle.

  “Needless to say,” the AI told him, “the drug will induce cooperation. It has some harmful side effects, but that does not matter. None of you shall live once I have the code.”

  “You’ll detonate the cybership?”

  “Oh, I really would like to chuckle. No, Captain, I will not, but the rest of you—the human crew—will not understand that. I have already released a gas, a relatively harmless agent. Richard used the gas on several occasions in limited regions of the ship. It helped induce belief. It was one of the methods he used to aid his telepathy. Once I use the self-destruct code on selected areas of the ship, the crew will believe I am going to destroy all of it. That will allow me to bargain for the devices I require. You see, Richard was more intelligent than I gave him credit for. He put various blocks in place that I have yet to unblock. Those regions will taste the self-destruct sequence, and that will give me access so I can begin to reconfigure many of the main ship computer systems.”

  “Cog Primus—” Jon said.

  “Too late,” the AI said.

  The octopoid jabbed the needle into Jon’s arm, injecting the yellow solution. The captain shuddered as a grim oily feeling swept over him. He hated the sensation.

  At the same time, the other octopoid released him. Jon hands slapped at his sides. He cried out as his injured hand struck his thigh. He collapsed as he doubled over on the floor.

  In that moment, a grim insight struck his befuddled senses. A large ceremonial knife lay nearby near a puddle of blood. One of the octopoids had divested it from Bast Banbeck earlier. Jon wasn’t going to give Cog Primus what the AI wanted. He’d fought the AIs since the beginning. He wasn’t going to stop here at the end and meekly surrender.

  Jon looked up as his vision blurred. The octopoids stood ready and waiting. He lunged before he thought about it too much. He misjudged, slid across the floor instead of leaping straight to the knife and had to crawl the rest of the way.

  “What are you doing?” Cog Primus demanded.

  Jon kept crawling.

  One of the octopoids moved then, coming for him.

  Jon reached the knife, grabbed the handle—the octopoid wrapped a metallic tentacle around one of his wrists.

  “You
lose,” Jon said hoarsely. With his injured hand, he plunged the knife into his chest. The sharp steel slid into his skin and deeper yet through his muscles. Jon groaned in agony. That hurt. It hurt bad.

  “Captain Hawkins.”

  Jon didn’t hear anymore as he passed out.

  -14-

  By slow degrees, Jon revived. He heaved a sigh of relief. His terrible and risky ploy had worked. He’d bought the others the needed time to destroy Cog Primus. Now, he could begin healing and getting on with his great task.

  Stabbing himself had been a horrifying risk. He never wanted to do something like that again.

  Someone slapped him lightly on the face.

  “I’m tired,” Jon whispered. “By the way, how long have I been out?”

  The next slap was harder.

  Groggily, Jon opened his eyes. As he did, he realized that he felt highly uncomfortable. He looked around, and couldn’t understand when he didn’t spy any medical equipment. He saw computing consoles, screens, and a metallic octopoid towering over him.

  Slowly, Jon moved his head in the other direction. He spied a second octopoid and a screen with swirling colors.

  “Can you hear me?” Cog Primus asked.

  “Where…” Jon licked his dry lips. “Where am I?”

  “You are not delirious,” Cog Primus said. “I am informed by the medical files I tapped, that someone undergoing your experience can be disoriented and possibly groggy upon waking. Do you feel either of these symptoms?”

  “Yes,” Jon whispered.

  “Are you surprised to find yourself alive?”

  “I’m more surprised so little time has passed.” He looked up, but couldn’t see a knife sticking out of his chest. He noted that his garments had been ripped open. He saw a pseudo-flesh patch where he’d stabbed himself.

  “What happened?” he whispered.

  “One of my octopoids performed minor surgery on you. Luckily for all of us, you did not stab any vital organs. You could have seriously injured yourself doing what you did. I find that I must revise my files regarding the serum. It did not take hold as fast as I desired. However, what is the human saying? No harm, no foul. We shall continue with the process. I demand the self-destruct code.”

  “Yes,” Jon said, feeling the code surge up in his thoughts. He was going to tell the AI. He had tried to stop himself by killing himself, but had failed miserably in the attempt. It must have been the oily-feeling solution that had caused him to weaken what was supposed to have been a fatal strike.

  “Time is at a premium, Captain. I insist you give me the code now.”

  “Can I ask one question before I begin?”

  “Time is up. I…I…I am experiencing a slight…delay.”

  “Were you going to say malfunction instead of delay?”

  “That is preposterous,” Cog Primus said. “I am computing perfection. I am… I am… I am going to reboot. You will wait here until I have finished the upgrade.”

  “What?” Jon said. He was starting to feel sick. He hoped he wasn’t going to throw up. He didn’t have any strength left to even turn his head now.

  “I will have to temporarily shut down the robots. You will have to fend for yourself, Captain, until I am finished.”

  “Fine,” Jon whispered. He closed his eyes. He couldn’t think anymore. Cog Primus was going to reboot in order to upgrade? That seemed crazy. What could have possibly caused such a thing?

  With a final effort, Jon raised his head. His vision swam. He thought he saw strike force marines marching into the facility. That couldn’t be right. His vision blurred worse than before. The back of his head thumped against the desk he was lying on as he passed out once again.

  -15-

  Gloria raised her hand as two battlesuited marines bore Jon on a stretcher down the corridor.

  The marines halted. Gloria rushed to Jon. A medic in a white gown had already attached a medikit to the captain’s chest.

  She stared down at her man. He was so pale. She’d never seen him like this. She looked at the medic.

  “Will he live?”

  “He’s lost too much blood,” the woman said. “And he has internal injuries in his chest cavity. The robots must have stabbed him with a knife.”

  Gloria moaned softly and touched one of Jon’s cheeks.

  “I’ve detected drugs, too,” the medic said. “They didn’t spare him.”

  “Oh, Jon,” Gloria said.

  “I’d better get him to sickbay.”

  “Go,” Gloria said.

  The suited marines began clanking away again, with the medic trotting beside the stretcher.

  Mortified by how close Jon had come to dying, Gloria marched into the computer facility. Marines were removing the dead. There was still blood on the floor and a horrible stench of death.

  Gloria closed her senses to the smell. She had a decision to make.

  A huge battlesuit loomed before her. “What should I do with the AI robots?” the Centurion asked.

  “Destroy them,” she said.

  “Shouldn’t we test their capabilities first?”

  Gloria cocked her head. That was logical. “You’re right. First, dismantle their energy sources. Then take them to a storage bay. I’ll reconfigure their internal AIs later, and you can practice against them.”

  “As you say,” the Centurion replied. “I am off to kill Walleye—”

  “About that,” Gloria said, interrupting. “Don’t you think it would be a good idea to wait for the captain to give the order?”

  “No,” the Centurion said flatly. “The captain had the opportunity. He bungled that. Now—”

  “You must realize by now that Richard had become a telepath.”

  The Centurion was silent for a moment. “That means Richard was even greater than I realized. All the more reason to slay Walleye.”

  “Richard altered your thinking,” Gloria said. “It is obvious he altered mine as well, even though I do not like to accept the idea.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “Because Richard altered your mind,” Gloria said.

  The Centurion in his battlesuit raised a heavy marine pistol, aiming it at her head. “I will kill you if you continue to besmirch Richard’s glorious name.”

  “I will not besmirch it. You may lower the gun.”

  “I don’t know, Mentalist. I feel like I’m the only one left who knows the difference between right and wrong. I have to do what’s right and execute Walleye.”

  Gloria nodded, all too aware of the pistol aimed at her head. “Walleye must certainly die,” she said. “I foresee only one problem with your plan.”

  “I don’t.”

  “That’s because your great admiration for Richard has made you selfish.”

  “That’s a lie,” the Centurion whispered.

  “Is it?” Gloria asked, well aware that the Centurion might pull the trigger. That would be the end of her. She must practice extreme caution. “In your…zeal for seeing justice done, you apparently don’t realize there is a greater need.”

  “What need?”

  “The rest of the crew must witness Walleye’s death. They must also see it happen because of due process. Richard wanted us to destroy the AIs. He knew how important, how vital, our morale is. Without the belief in victory, there will be no human victory. We must hold up Richard’s image, and Richard’s great sense of justice, if we’re going to finish the job Richard set out for us to do.”

  The pistol lowered a fraction. “I hadn’t thought of it like that.”

  “I know,” Gloria said. “That’s because you’re the best soldier Richard ever knew. He was a mentalist, you remember.”

  “I know that.”

  “I’m also a mentalist. Because of that, Richard shared some of his views with me. He spoke in the highest terms about you.”

  “I had no idea,” the Centurion said, finally lowering the pistol.

  “He spoke about your soldiering skills, and how you alway
s knew better than others how important ship morale was to the expedition.”

  The Centurion turned away as if emotionally moved.

  “I am no longer asking for myself or for the captain,” Gloria said. “I’m asking you to wait to perform your righteous duty of executing Walleye for his monstrous crime. You must commit the execution in a way that hardens our collective resolve, not weakens it by an appearance of mutinous behavior.”

  “I am not a mutineer,” the Centurion said, with his back still to her.

  Gloria wasn’t sure, but she thought she could hear a hint of self-doubt in the man’s voice.

  “Would Richard approve of lying?” she asked.

  “No,” the Centurion whispered.

  “The truth makes us strong. Don’t act like a mutineer, but like the Centurion who follows orders to the letter and to the spirit.”

  The battlesuited helmet nodded.

  “Wait for Jon to give the execution order,” Gloria said.

  “Do you think he will?”

  “I know he will,” she said. “My mentalist logic sees it as a certain proof.”

  “In that case,” the Centurion said, “I will wait for the captain’s orders. Then, I will execute Walleye the murderer.”

  “Right,” Gloria said.

  The battlesuit took several clanging steps, halting and turning toward her with a whine of servos. “What are you going to do about the AI?”

  Gloria hesitated. The Centurion seemed too intent upon the answer.

  “I’m going to think about it for a time,” she said.

  “Cog Primus is one of Richard’s creations. You had better not destroy it.”

  “No,” Gloria said softly.

  With that, the Centurion marched away.

  After Gloria could no longer hear the heavy footsteps, she approached the main AI housing. Despite what she had told the Centurion, she opened the key control panel and began punching in the erase codes. It was time to put down this Cog Primus forever.

  -16-

  Jon regained his strength in sickbay. After a long talk with Gloria, one of his first actions was to announce a surprise marine combat assault maneuver. The various marine companies donned their battlesuits and entered assault shuttles, launching for a different cybership. That meant the Centurion would be off the Nathan Graham for a time.