Walleye stepped back, although he didn’t turn around and present his back to him.
“Am I to follow you?” Methlan called.
“If you’re tough enough,” Walleye said.
The taunt burned. As he frowned, Methlan stepped into the chamber with several brig entrances around him. Walleye sat on a stool. There was another stool across the way from the mutant.
“Am I to sit?” Methlan asked.
“If you want to,” the mutant said.
“What if I want to stand exactly where you’re sitting?”
“Are all the people of Janus House as stiff-necked as you?”
“What you determine as stiff-necked, we nobles of Janus House call pride. But the answer is no. Not all those of Janus House are of the High Race. You would likely be a menial on my world.”
“Guess it’s lucky I’m not there, then.”
“Wrong. It would be a great honor for one like you to see true brilliance. Why have you brought me here?”
“Thought you could use a change of scenery. But if you’re in a hurry to go back into your cell…”
“There is no need for threats.” Methlan moved to his stool, sitting erectly as befitted his exalted rank.
Walleye tapped a foot on the deck. The stool was low enough that his short leg could reach that far. He seemed to be waiting.
Methlan could wait as well…if he wanted to. But he did not desire to wait. He desired action.
“Well?” the prince said.
“Well, well, well,” Walleye said. “We’re almost to Senda. We’re braking even as we speak.”
“Have you scanned the dwarf planet?”
“Plenty of times. Haven’t spotted a thing so far. I think the robots are underground. If they had satellites up, those are gone too. Have they watched us draw nearer? Seems likely. I’m not sure how to smoke ‘em out before the big ship arrives.”
“I see. You demand me to slave for you, to draw your iron from the fire—”
“Methlan!”
The prince scowled. “Speak. What is on your mind?”
Walleye regarded him and then actually chuckled.
Methlan found the sound deeply annoying.
“I have to admit,” Walleye said. “You did a great job of hiding your true identity before.”
“Are you saying this in order to exalt yourself over me?”
“What’s that even mean?”
“If I did a splendid job hiding my true identity, it stands to reason you did an equally great job in piercing my disguise. Thus, you have exalted yourself at my expense.”
“It sounds like Janus House was pretty competitive.”
Methlan searched for the insult in the words. He could not find one. Could Walleye be more devious than he perceived? Did the mutant insult him in a way Methlan could not detect? That was a galling thought.
“I could use your competitive spirit against the AIs,” Walleye said.
Methlan squinted at the mutant. A thought occurred, one he hadn’t considered before. “You do not know the ways of Janus House.”
“You got that right.”
“If you would forebear with your studied slights and insults, I would like to make a point. Perhaps it could ease the tension between us.”
“Yeah? That sounds good. Tell me.”
“I will speak, but not because you order me like a dog to the harness.”
Crinkle lines appeared on Walleye’s face. It almost seemed as if the mutant strove not to laugh. Perhaps he misread the mutant. Perhaps the fear in Walleye facing him alone like this produced pain that the mutant strove to control.
“In Janus House, if one makes another his captive, he becomes the other’s slave. Any action after that point is slave action. If you believe I will do as you tell me to, you believe that I am no more than your slave. You have proclaimed me a dog of the lowest order.”
“That wasn’t my intent.”
Methlan nodded. “That is what I’m trying to explain. Your ways are so inferior. At times, they are below my understanding. I have come to realize that you do not think of me as your lowest dog.”
“I don’t.”
“You aren’t demanding these things of me…but…” Methlan stopped because he was at a loss.
“I need help, your particular competiveness to help me beat the AIs,” Walleye said. “Maybe we can even figure out a way to survive the cybership’s coming.”
“I would not do this as your slave.”
“I get it. You’re trying to get me to free you first.”
The possibility had never occurred to Methlan. Could these humans be that weak? The possibility almost shamed him. How could he have let such weaklings capture him? It was beyond understanding.
“I’m not sure Captain Hawkins would agree to letting you wander the ship at will,” Walleye said. “So here’s what I’ll do. You are still officially in the brig. But, and this is a big concession on my part. I’ll come get you myself, allow you to change into your uniform and you’ll join me on the bridge.”
“As your slave?”
“No,” Walleye said, “but as a crew member under my command.”
“And after?”
“I’ll return you to the brig.”
“What is my official status then?”
“In the brig, you’re a prisoner. On the bridge, you’re a crew member.”
Methlan frowned. “The two are at odds.”
“It all depends on how you look at it.”
“I do not understand.”
“I got that,” Walleye said. “But maybe you don’t understand because you’re of the High Race. What we’re doing is called a compromise. It’s something humans do so they can get along. Not that I think you’re human, mind you.”
“You consider me to be one of the High Race?”
“When you’re on the bridge,” Walleye said.
“You will obey me, then?” Methlan asked in wonder.
“All right,” Walleye said. “I gave it a try. I could use your help. But if you’re going to be a prick all along the line, forget it.”
“But you claimed I was of the High Race.”
“Yeah, you’re high all right.”
“Is that an insult?”
“Methlan, why don’t you think about surviving first? A dead man doesn’t dream. He don’t do squat. The cyberships are here. One is coming for us. You’re never going to fulfill your revenge because you’re too hung up on your station, too filled with pride. If you can’t bend just a little to meet me halfway, then to hell with you.”
“Fighting words,” Methlan said, standing. “This I understand. Your duplicity was cunning. I almost believed you. Now, you have shown your spirit.” He frowned, turned away and squinted thoughtfully. Walleye had spoken of the end. Lying on a cot until death claimed him—
Methlan faced his jailor. “I will work the bridge controls in my uniform. But I have a condition. You must allow me to exercise daily in the gym.”
“Fine,” Walleye said. “You can lift if you want. I don’t care about that.”
Methlan forced himself to remain bland-faced. He would let Walleye think of him as a slave, as a servitor. But he would use the gym to remain fit as he plotted his revenge. Such deception on his part was allowed under the codes of Janus House. Maybe, just maybe—
No! Methlan would not even think it. When the time came, he would act with resolve and purpose, using this body to its full capacity.
Maybe he could pull a reverse and change everything…
-4-
Jon Hawkins sat on his captain’s seat on the bridge. The bridge wasn’t in the exact center of the Nathan Graham. The gutted AI chamber had that honor.
He’d captured the cybership. He’d torn a planetary system from the Solar League and convinced another to join them. The Neptune System had begun to rebuild, even though they had a fraction of the people since the dreadful battle against the original AI vessel.
The Neptune, Uranus and Saturn
Systems had created an accord. Now, that accord might mean nothing. The warships built to defend their freedom…
Jon watched the bridge crew around him. He looked up at the main screen.
The Nathan Graham slid through the open hangar bay moon-doors. The cybership left MK2. What had Unit 52-9 called the moon: a production unit?
That was about right. MK2 was likely the greatest production unit in the Solar System. It had greater building capacity than the Saturn System had shown. It might even have more than the Earth System. Each of those industrial nodes could advance greatly if they received some of the robo-builders from the cargo holds.
Jon leaned back in his captain’s chair.
A few people had volunteered to remain behind on MK2. Jon had turned them down. He needed everyone. The Nathan Graham always seemed to be short of hands. The automated systems would defend the moon. Maybe the coming cyberships could disrupt that through alien software. That even seemed likely. But that probably didn’t matter in the end. Maybe an easy victory like that would help the alien AIs retain their contempt for humanity.
Yeah. Once the other AIs saw his vessel, they would know the humans had captured it. That should cause the AIs to rethink their position. But Jon had dealt with these alien computers long enough to realize they had vast reserves of arrogance and contempt for their biological victims.
He was counting on that arrogance. An easy victory for the attacking cyberships at MK2—
Jon exhaled. The endless possibilities and the penalties for being wrong had begun to wring him dry.
“We’re clearing the moon doors,” Ghent informed him.
Jon used the armrest panel on his chair to redirect the main screen. He brought up a rear image.
The one-hundred-kilometer vessel cleared the giant doors. There was little space to spare around the giant spaceship.
Jon changed views to examine the cybership’s hull armor. It was new, hard and fully intact again. All the ship’s grav cannons were in working order. Tens of thousands of heavy drones and missiles filled the cargo holds. The matter/antimatter engine had been fully repaired.
“With your permission, sir,” Ghent said.
Jon looked up…nodding.
Ghent was working his board.
Once more, Jon switched views. He sat back as he viewed the main screen. The great moon doors ponderously began to close. At the same time, the fighting platform from Makemake hove into view. The platform would fight in tandem with the moon. Giant guns and cannons dotted MK2’s surface.
If the alien software failed to corrupt the automated systems, the cyberships might have to slug it out with the moon fortress. If the fortress damaged an enemy vessel…
Jon wasn’t sure if he should set up automated self-destruct orders. Hurting an enemy cybership might make the AIs more cautious. That would be bad for the big picture.
The truth…he trusted the aliens to have something that could wipe out the moon fortress.
Gloria had suggested the cyberships must be working in accord with AI protocols regarding the annihilation of a biologically infested star system.
“How do you figure,” Jon had asked her.
“Three cyberships showed up,” the mentalist had said. “Why three and not one?”
“I don’t know.”
“It strikes me as protocol. If a cybership fails to report after a given length of time, the cyber High Command sends a three-ship flotilla to investigate. That would suggest the cyberships are loaded for war and with possibly greater weapons than previously shown.”
“Because they’re entering a star system that has defeated a previous cybership?”
“Correct,” Gloria said.
It made sense.
As Jon studied the screen, the Nathan Graham used low engine power to crawl away from the moon, leaving Makemake. The ship had taken a terrible pounding here. Now, it was hale and whole once more.
Two hours clicked away.
“We’re clear of MK2 and Makemake,” Ghent said. “The moon’s automated defenses are working. MK2’s missile launch tubes are ready. We are aimed at the Saturn System.”
“Show me the cyberships,” Jon said.
The main screen flickered for only an instant. Teleoptics showed the two cyberships. They had begun slight braking maneuvers, increasing their visibility.
“What about the other one?” Jon asked.
The screen changed. A lone cybership moved toward Senda. At the same time, the Daisy Chain 4 maneuvered toward an orbital insertion of the dwarf planet.
“It’s time to leave,” Jon said. “Mr. Ghent, begin acceleration. We’re leaving Makemake and heading in-system.”
“Aye-aye, Captain,” the Tech Chief said. “We’re beginning acceleration…now.”
-5-
The Daisy Chain 4 slid toward a Senda orbital insertion. The destroyer looked lopsided with the huge Hercules drone attached to the vessel’s left underbelly. Even so, the almost fuel-less destroyer maneuvered easily.
Senda, despite being outside the Kuiper Belt, was similar to other dwarf planets. Water, methane and nitrogen ices containing tholins covered the surface. Due to the tholins, Senda was one of the reddest objects in the Solar System. It was almost as red as Mars. Two small moons, which seemed to be uninhabited, orbited the dwarf planet.
During the insertion maneuver, Methlan sat at his station on the bridge. He scanned the moons and the nearing planetoid.
“I still detect nothing,” Methlan said.
Walleye avidly studied the main screen, saying nothing.
Fifteen minutes passed.
“We have entered orbital stability,” Methlan said.
“What about the cybership?” Walleye asked.
Methlan used his board to study the distant vessel. He shook his head. “The enemy vessel seems passive, Lieutenant. I detect no missile or drone launches.” He looked up. “We’ll be out of the cybership’s line-of-sight in four minutes.”
Walleye laughed sharply as he rubbed his throat. “That will feel good, even if it only lasts for a little while.”
“You sensed a blade against your throat?” Methlan asked.
Walleye turned to him. “Come again?”
“You rubbed your throat,” Methlan said. “You rubbed it as you mentioned the cybership. It has been like a knife pressed against our throat. They constantly threaten.”
“That’s a good analogy. I like it.” Walleye snapped his fingers. “Now we have to find the AI outpost. We need to take it out while we can.”
Methlan returned to his sensors.
The lone destroyer orbited Senda. Its sensors searched the ices sheathing the rocky underworld. The vessel made a total of four circuits.
On the bridge, Walleye scowled fiercely. “The robots are hiding from us. We have to start searching for them in earnest. Let’s use a few missiles. Methlan, are there any heat sources whatsoever?”
“I have found two. Those I’ve scanned relentlessly. In my estimation, they are cryovolcanoes. Their heat is a relative term, as they’re hotter than their surroundings—”
“Got it,” Walleye said, interrupting. “June, I want you to find radio leakages, any—”
“I’ve searched for those during every orbital circuit,” June said. “There’s nothing. This is a cold dead world.”
“Something here sent signals to the cybership,” Walleye said. “We have to find that.”
“The AIs on Makemake used crawlers,” Methlan said. “Could the robots on Senda have done likewise?”
Walleye grinned as he snapped his fingers. “You hit the nail on the head. Search for tracks.”
“Tracks on the ice?” Methlan asked, sounding dubious.
“Do you have any other pressing engagement?”
“Lieutenant,” Methlan said, bristling. “I am your prisoner. But I cannot stand for this mockery.”
“What mockery?”
“The implication I will return to my cell if I refuse to follow your orders.”
Walleye stared at him. He stared longer. “Noted,” he said, at last.
“I do not understand.”
“You stood up to me, Methlan. You’re cleverer than I realized. I mocked you, thinking to do it slyly. When you realized that, you stood up to me. That impresses me.”
Methlan’s chest puffed up. A feeling of dominance swelled in him. This was most interesting. The idea of a prisoner making demands—humans were weaklings indeed.
“I won’t mock you anymore,” Walleye said. “But I still want you searching the ices for signs of crawler tracks. I did some checking before.”
June cleared her throat.
“Okay, Luscious, you told me. Why not tell Methlan.”
“The weak methane absorption bands indicate that the methane on Senda’s surface is ancient,” June said. “That means it isn’t freshly deposited. Senda is too cold for methane to evaporate from its surface and fall back later as snow, which is what happens on Triton and Pluto.”
“Right,” Walleye said. “I know this is a long shot. But none of us has anything else we can do. Find the crawler tracks, Methlan. Everything depends on it.”
Without a word, Methlan turned back to his station, beginning a long and tedious search for possible crawler tracks down on Senda.
***
Seven and a half hours later, a red-eyed Methlan looked up from his board. “Lieutenant, I may have just discovered tracks.”
Walleye’s chin had been resting on his chest. He raised his head and rubbed his eyes as if he’d been sleeping.
“What did you say?” asked Walleye.
“Surface tracks, Lieutenant. They’re down there just as you suspected.”
Walleye slid off his chair, walking toward the main screen. “Put it up there, please.”
The “please” astonished Methlan. He grinned to himself, feeling in more control of the situation by the minute. The humans needed his technical prowess. He was beginning to realize he might use his usefulness to pry his way into command. He might not even have to kill Walleye to assume authority over them. That was a heady realization.
The image on the main screen changed. On the starlit surface of Senda, crawler tracks appeared. The tracks had scratched into the ice. The crawler must be heavy.
A.I. Assault (The A.I. Series Book 3) Page 14
