A.I. Assault (The A.I. Series Book 3)

by Vaughn Heppner

The same could not be said for June Zen. She was a long-legged prize, wearing silver, tight-fitting pants and a stylish jacket. She was the destroyer’s navigator-slash-comm officer. Methlan knew she was beautiful because his body responded to her presence. That was another reason he found Walleye annoying. How could the beautiful June Zen choose the short mutant over him?

  Methlan had always been vain regarding his good looks as the Prince of Ten Worlds. He had bedded thousands of beauties in his time as supreme ruler. He’d worked hard with the clay of Eli Gomez. The lean muscles rippling under his tech uniform and the stylish hair he kept waxed should have caught her admiration by now.

  Methlan had always disliked a female’s loyalty to her mate. In the past, if Methlan had wanted to rut with a female, he most certainly did so. Having to restrain himself was proving difficult. And this was only the third day of the journey.

  “Tech,” Walleye said curtly.

  Methlan tore his gaze from June Zen. As he did, Methlan realized this was the third time Walleye had called for him.

  “Yes, Lieutenant,” Methlan said.

  “I want you to bring up the alien vessel on our screen. Do you think you can do that?”

  Methlan resented the tone of command in Walleye’s voice. The little mutant seemed as if he resented Methlan’s study of June. Was the mutant one of those jealous kinds? Methlan had often wondered how he’d died the first time in his ten worlds. One of his theories was that an upset mate had tracked him down for rutting with his woman. It seemed obvious that a woman should always rut with the best man. In Methlan’s mind, that had always been himself.

  “Tech,” Walleye said.

  “At once, Lieutenant,” Methlan said. He began to manipulate his panel.

  The destroyer’s control cabin was much smaller than the Nathan Graham’s bridge. It had a command chair and four consoles. Two of the consoles were empty. The augmented automation in the ship mandated less oversight. At the same time, the robo-builders had constructed less powerful computers than otherwise. Hawkins had decided that none of the SFF ships would have computers susceptible to self-aware cyber software.

  Methlan used passive sensors, gathering light-bearing data concerning the Senda-launched vessel.

  “It’s coming up on the main screen,” Methlan said.

  The main screen was the only screen on the bridge, except for the small, individual console screens.

  A round vessel appeared on the main screen.

  Walleye sat forward so his butt was no longer on the seat but pressed against the edge. That way, his short legs could reach the deck. The mutant appeared to study the alien vessel.

  “What do you make of it?” Walleye asked.

  Methlan had been observing the round vessel. He noticed the torpedo ports and the radar-like dishes that indicated grav cannons. There appeared to be two of them.

  “The color of the exhaust indicates a matter/antimatter engine,” Methlan said. “The ports—” He went on to explain his other observations, finishing with: “It is a fighting vessel. But the round shape and its mass, and the lack of greater tubes or cannons, indicates to me that it likely has a hyperdrive. If that is so, the alien vessel can leave the Solar System. Using hyperspace, it can likely reach another star system in a short period of time. We must destroy the vessel before it can summon cybership reinforcements.”

  Walleye had turned to face Methlan. The mutant was no longer leaning against the command chair. He was standing, and he did not appear amused.

  “I wasn’t asking you,” Walleye said. “I was asking June—the navigator.”

  Methlan might have apologized, but the insult was too much and, he was certain, too studied. Why had Walleye let him talk so long if it was a mistake? Methlan realized the answer. The little mutant meant to demean him in the female’s eyes. Methlan understood the tactic, as he had often done it himself in the past.

  “We have a problem, tech. We may have a big problem, you and I. I haven’t decided yet.”

  Methlan swallowed his excessive pride and managed to bow his head.

  “I think you’re an arrogant prick,” Walleye said. “I don’t know why Captain Hawkins pushed you onto me. Maybe you hid your true self from him. I see it, though.”

  What was the little freak saying? Did this Walleye mean to say that he understood Methlan had gained control of the pathetic human? If that was so, he had to kill the freak. That would mean killing June Zen, too. Methlan was reluctant to do that. He wanted to sleep with her for a time. He could dispose of her after that.

  “Navigator,” Walleye said. “Could you please step outside?”

  June rose, looking worried.

  She must realize I can squash her freakish lover.

  “Please don’t hurt him too bad, Walleye,” she said, touching one of the freak’s stumpy arms.

  “What?” Methlan said. “You can’t be serious.”

  June faced him. “I don’t like you staring at me all the time. You can’t keep doing that. Walleye will kill you if you keep it up.”

  “Me? He thinks he can kill me?”

  “Let me take care of this, Luscious,” Walleye told her.

  June nodded. Then, her long legs ate up the distance. The exit swished open and she departed the bridge.

  -3-

  Methlan swiveled around and stood, staring at the little freak. The mutant did nothing else. He just stood there, waiting.

  “Well?” Methlan asked.

  “Your trouble is you lack patience.”

  Methlan thought about the last few weeks, the last few months. He’d shown tremendous patience. Was this going to be the freak’s method, spouting untruths? Under the long sleeves of his uniform, Methlan flexed his forearms. They were as hard as steel these days. That had come about through patience as he waited for the results of his strenuous labor.

  “Your other problem is arrogance. You reek of it. Your arrogance is going to get you killed.”

  “By you?” Methlan sneered. “I can’t understand why Hawkins gave you command of the ship.”

  “Easy. Captain Hawkins recognizes…competence.”

  That angered Methlan. He opened his mouth, and he noticed Walleye casually put a hand inside the buff coat.

  Something about the motion recalled an old memory. It had happened in the citadel of Janus House. A cutthroat of House Ares had infiltrated the citadel. The long-limbed fellow had casually reached into his jacket, withdrawing a named dagger. Methlan had been a child at the time. The cutthroat advanced on Methlan’s grandfather from behind. Young Methlan had shouted a warning, but it was already too late. The cutthroat moved fast at the end, reaching his grandfather, using the dagger to slice the old man’s throat. That had brought the guards to alert. Before they could stun and incapacitate the cutthroat, the killer had uttered a victorious cry and plunged the coup dagger into his own heart. Whatever revenge the cutthroat had yearned to achieve, he had fulfilled. By doing so, he brought greater nobility to House Ares.

  The memory stirred something deep in Methlan. That brought about a swift reevaluation regarding Walleye and this time and place.

  I have been a fool, Methlan realized.

  In some manner he hadn’t foreseen, the emotions of Eli Gomez had retained power over his thoughts. It had been subtle, slowly twisting Methlan’s thought-patterns into the body’s old routines of feeling. Methlan had felt the emotions and used his own memories to give a reason to this feeling.

  It was time for iron self-control. June Zen had wonderful legs and a perfect butt. That should not sway him from the chosen path.

  Methlan’s head snapped up. He viewed Walleye more dispassionately than seconds ago. He recognized the coiled tension in the mutant. This man was a killer. He could be a merciless killer, giving few cues as to what he was about to do. That in itself made Walleye dangerous.

  “I have erred,” Methlan said. Despite the distaste of the action, Methlan went to one knee, bowing his head. “I crave your pardon, Lieutenant.”
/>   Walleye said nothing.

  Methlan looked up. He couldn’t fully read the mutant. It was those eyes, and the way Walleye could keep his features blank. It was hard to know what the little man thought. That was a considerable power.

  “What just happened?” Walleye finally asked.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “You just stood there with a glazed look.”

  “I must have done that as I recognized my error. As you say, I have a problem with arrogance. Sometimes, though, I understand that I have become presumptuous.”

  “You’re speaking differently, too.”

  Methlan realized he had made several errors regarding Walleye. Would he have to kill the mutant this early in the mission? That would make everything more difficult. He did not fear Walleye. He just realized he needed a peaceful crew if he was going to achieve his goal.

  From now on, Methlan swore to focus single-mindedly on his goal. That goal was no longer slaying Jon Hawkins, although he would if given the opportunity. No. The goal was to gain power in order to free the Ten Worlds from the hated cyberships. It was possible that none of his people or house survived. Yet, perhaps some had. Those of the Ten Worlds were hardy individuals.

  “I have decided on formality with you, Lieutenant. I will not stare or lust after your woman. I will accept your orders. I have erred, and I am willing to change.”

  Walleye’s features did not change. Finally, though, the mutant nodded. He slid back into the command chair.

  Methlan realized that was it. The confrontation was over.

  Walleye pressed a switch in the chair. “You can come back in,” he said.

  The entrance swished open, and June Zen stared within.

  Methlan gave her a polite nod, pretending to ignore her exceedingly pleasing features as he turned back to his board. He’d lied in one particular. He would fantasize about her. But that was all he’d do for now. He promised himself many good times with June Zen, but only after he killed Walleye. He would not kill Walleye until the journey neared its completion.

  -4-

  The days passed as the destroyer accelerated swiftly like the Nathan Graham had once done during its voyage from the Saturn System to Makemake. Unfortunately, the AI vessel they chased accelerated almost as fast as the destroyer did. The AI vessel seemed to be headed for the inner Oort cloud.

  The Oort cloud was 50,000 to 200,000 AUs from the Sun. That made it much farther than the Kuiper Belt or the scattered disc, which was in the region between them. The cloud was a great spheroid in the outer reaches of the Solar System. Icy planetesimals were the primary objects scattered throughout the cloud.

  A few hardy souls had traveled into the distant region, but very few. There was supposed to be a fabled outpost or two in the inner cloud, but neither Walleye nor June, nor anyone at the base at MK2 knew those places’ reputed whereabouts.

  The people in the Kuiper Belt had been the latest frontiersmen. In Earth terms, the few souls in the Oort cloud would compare to the fur trappers in American colonial days.

  “We’re staying well clear of Senda,” Walleye announced one day.

  “I’ve been watching the dwarf planet for some time,” Methlan said from his station.

  “Have you spotted anything suspicious on or around it?”

  “Nothing so far,” Methlan said. “Still, I suspect the remaining Senda robots are using teleoptics to watch us. It’s possible they’re attempting to maneuver stealth mines into our path.”

  “It’s what I would do,” Walleye said. “We’ll have to make adjustments. I’m going to give Senda an even wider berth than I’d first intended.”

  It took engine power to veer away from Senda. The maneuver allowed the fleeing AI vessel more of an edge, as it gained a bit more separation from them. However, the maneuver would probably save the destroyer from any stealth mines originating from a Senda robot factory.

  “If a mine takes us out,” Walleye said, “that scratches the mission. Better to lose a little time than lose the ship.”

  Two weeks later, they passed Senda, giving the dwarf planet a twenty-million-kilometer wide berth. No mines exploded before or beside them. No rays beamed up from the dwarf planet’s surface. No missiles suddenly began accelerating at them. Maybe Senda was empty. Methlan still couldn’t spot anything, not a trace of energy or radiation leakage on the dwarf planet. Maybe all the robots had left on the fleeing vessel.

  In time, the weeks stretched into a month. In order to keep their minds active, they played games, watched vids, read and studied space through the destroyer’s scopes. They pointed the teleoptics in-system, at times. According to what they saw, no Solar League fleets maneuvered between the major planets. The few messages from Hawkins reported that work continued apace inside MK2 on the Nathan Graham.

  The destroyer no longer accelerated. It had stopped some time ago. Now, they were traveling on their massive velocity alone. The AI vessel ahead of them also used its velocity. The destroyer moved faster, but not greatly so. The distance between them had narrowed from 231 AUs in the beginning to 153 AUs and closing. That many AUs was a little less than four times the distance from Pluto to the Sun.

  Several days later, Walleye held a meeting on the command deck, just himself, June and Methlan. During the passing weeks, Methlan had learned to get along better. He had a feeling Walleye didn’t fully trust him yet. He’d come to believe that the mutant didn’t trust anyone, maybe not even June Zen.

  “I knew the journey would take us into the great depths,” Walleye said, “but our risks rise the farther we go. I don’t dare use more propellant to accelerate us, as that means we won’t have enough to decelerate and later accelerate back in-system. This is as fast as we dare go out-system.”

  “I agree,” June said. “But does that mean we stop? We were willing to sacrifice ourselves before to save humanity. Shouldn’t we still do that?”

  “There’s a problem I hadn’t considered before,” Walleye said. “Once we move in too close—whatever the AIs think that might be—what’s to stop them from accelerating again? They don’t have to slow down like we do, and they don’t have to save fuel for a return journey. They just have to send a message, I would think, to another cybership in a different star system.”

  “We should launch the drones now,” Methlan said. “Maybe they’re almost to the hyperdrive region. Maybe they can suddenly enter hyperdrive.”

  “That’s an excellent point,” Walleye said. “The question is, how many drones do we launch?”

  “May I ask a question?” Methlan said.

  “Certainly.”

  “Why wouldn’t we launch all three?”

  “On the face of it,” Walleye said, “that’s the right decision. But as I dwell on the problem, I realize I don’t like leaving myself defenseless.”

  “We have other armaments,” Methlan said.

  “The three Hercules drones are our only true offensive weapons. Remember the old adage: the best defense is a good offense.”

  “I suppose,” Methlan said. “Yet, I ask again, why hold anything back? Once we destroy the AI vessel, we have completed our mission.”

  “Have we?” Walleye asked. “I’m suspicious. Aren’t the AIs logical? Maybe the first AI ship is a decoy. That’s the other reason to destroy it sooner rather than later.”

  “I have seen no second AI vessel,” Methlan pointed out.

  “Of course not. The second vessel would be a stealth ship.”

  Methlan thought about that. He finally shook his head. “I do not agree with your analysis, Lieutenant.”

  “June?” asked Walleye.

  “I trust your instincts,” she told Walleye. “My mind says that Methlan is right, but I chose to trust you over either of us.”

  “You’re putting the burden on me, aren’t you, Luscious?”

  “I don’t mean to,” she said.

  The mutant studied the main screen. “We’ll launch two drones. I’m keeping one in reserve.”

>   “But…” Methlan said. Walleye turned to face him.

  Methlan calculated fast. Should he kill Walleye? It seemed far too soon for that. Besides… He shrugged in the end. “Two drones could be enough. It is a gamble, though.”

  “What isn’t?” Walleye asked.

  Methlan said no more.

  “All right then,” Walleye said. “Let’s prepare two drones for launch.”

  ***

  The racks opened on top, making a metallic racket. Soon, the big drone drifted away. It had the same relative velocity as the ship. Side-jets rotated the drone in the correct direction.

  Methlan finished the computer check and informed Walleye.

  The lieutenant activated the drone from his command chair.

  Outside the destroyer, the drone’s massive thrusters heated up. Soon, the matter/antimatter engine roared. The exhaust tail lengthened as more power erupted from it.

  The drone accelerated rapidly. By the time it was accelerating at 80 gravities, they released the second drone.

  Despite the massive thrust and brightness, the two drones quickly dwindled to mere specks on the teleoptic scanner.

  They watched the AI ship far away, a tiny moving dot in space. The vessel did not begin accelerating again, although it also did not decelerate. The AI ship did launch several missiles. Those missiles decelerated hard. They had the same relative velocity as the AI vessel. By decelerating, they lengthened the distance between them and the AI vessel. That meant those missiles would reach the chasing drones much sooner. They would also be traveling much slower than the drones.

  “We’re going to be searching for a stealth vessel all the time now,” Walleye declared. “The AIs might think we’ve shot our wad. That might make them careless.”

  “And if the two drones fail to destroy the AI ship?” Methlan asked.

  “We still have the one left.”

  “By that time, it could be too late for the drone to reach them before they enter hyperspace. You have gambled with humanity’s future, Lieutenant.”

  Walleye stared at Methlan. He kept staring until finally Methlan realized he had to turn away or kill the mutant now.