The A.I. Gene (The A.I. Series Book 2)

by Vaughn Heppner

  “Target the last battleship,” Jon said. He glanced back at communications.

  “The fleet admiral is still attempting to hail us, sir.”

  Jon inhaled, but he did not respond. He was starting to think about New London. His first worry that the alien cannons wouldn’t work had proven groundless. Would the next fear be as worthless, or was he about to lose all his childhood friends in the next few minutes?

  Minutes passed as Jon’s fear intensified. Command was a lonely position.

  At last, the third SLN battleship blew apart.

  “Open hailing channels with the fleet admiral,” Jon said. He straightened his uniform and looked up at the main screen.

  Now we see, he told himself. Now we see.

  -6-

  Fleet Admiral Chang regarded him with cold fury. That wrecked the beguiling quality to her eyes.

  Jon feared for New London Dome. He couldn’t back down now, though. His old friends’ lives depended on it. He had to show strength. Still, that might not be enough to save their lives.

  “You have sealed their—”

  “Fleet Admiral,” Jon said sternly, cutting her off.

  Her head swayed as if he’d slapped her.

  “I have a condition for your continued survival,” Jon said.

  Her cheeks colored. She inhaled heavily and exhaled just as hard. What was wrong with her? This seemed like a different person.

  “Condition?” she finally said. “You speak of conditions.” Chang gave a wild laugh that stopped abruptly. She leaned toward the screen. “How dare you speak about conditions after slaughtering my daughter?”

  A cold feeling swept through Jon. How could he have known? Did she mean an actual daughter? This was bad.

  “My daughter was the first officer on the Stalingrad. You killed her, you murderer.” Chang laughed again, sounding demented. “Do you think New London Dome will survive now? Speak, Outlaw. Try to persuade me to let your old friends live while my daughter is dead.”

  Jon didn’t know what to say. How could one bargain with—?

  He shook his head sharply. This wasn’t about any one individual. This was about humanity. If he couldn’t maintain the needed hardness, he needed to step aside for another commander.

  “You killed your daughter,” Jon said in a clipped voice.

  “What?” Chang’s eyes boggled. “You dare to tell me that? I’m going to enjoy my next action.” She raised her hand theatrically.

  “If you do it,” Jon said, “every Solar League warship in Saturn System will die. Every governor, every arbiter, every person in their families will die. That I promise you.”

  “What do I care about that?” Chang sneered. “You already killed my daughter.”

  “Maybe you don’t care. But I bet the First Director does. Does he wish to die hideously, with his corpse dangling from a city post?”

  Conflict raged on Chang’s anguished features. Her hand hovered in place above the button.

  “Put me through to the First Director,” Jon said.

  “You will speak with me,” Chang hissed. “I control the task force. Thus, I have the power here.”

  Those were possibly heretical words for a Social Dynamist. The Solar League rulers had always shown great caution toward their soldiers, worrying about giving them too much authority or leeway.

  Social Dynamism controlled the Solar League through the Party. The Party kept control of the government through a simple process. The Party and the GSB kept a tight leash on the military. The military was like a giant crocodile, ready to devour anyone trying to stand in its way. By leashing the crocodile—the military—with two leashes, the Party and the GSB could keep the croc from turning on either one of them. The military then ensured that no one had the strength to topple the Party from power.

  It was doubtful that the First Director of Saturn or the GSB personnel here would care for the fleet admiral’s boast about having the power. Chang was right, and that could cause the others dread if she acted on it.

  “You have the power?” Jon asked.

  “Yes!”

  He nodded. “Very well,” he said. “I’ll give you the condition.”

  “Speak, Outlaw. I want to see you try to reason with me.”

  “I have demonstrated the Nathan Graham’s power,” Jon said. “As I told you earlier, I can flick your fleet out of existence. You see now that it’s true. If you wish to save what’s left of your command, and save the First Director’s life and the GSB personnel, you must leave the Saturn System.”

  “Just like that?” asked Chang, mockingly.

  “Just like that,” Jon agreed.

  The fleet admiral shifted slightly, cocking her head as if listening to someone on her bridge. Her eyes seemed to shine afterward.

  “I could conceivably accept your condition,” Chang said. “First, I will detonate New London Dome.”

  Jon shook his head. “If you obliterate New London, the deal’s off. I’ll destroy your fleet and slaughter every Solar League person I can find.”

  “That is an outrageous boast.”

  “No,” Jon said softly. “You saw what just happened to your three battleships.”

  Chang stared at him as her chin lifted. “You demonstrated your resolve, Outlaw. It cost me my daughter. I, now, will show you that Social Dynamism has twice your resolve. New London dies today.”

  Her hand descended toward a switch or button outside of Jon’s view. Before it reached the dome’s death-knell, shots rang out.

  Pieces of the fleet admiral’s green uniform blew outward from her chest. Blood gushed a second later. Her hand swung uselessly at her side, and a confused expression twisted her features. Her eyelids fluttered, and she pitched forward out of sight.

  A large black-uniformed woman stepped into view. Her jacket had blood-red buttons and blood-red shoulder boards. She had a large florid face and held a big gun in her hand. Smoke trickled from the barrel.

  “I am Arbiter N.K. Kharkov of the Flagship Gromyko,” she said. “I have the authority to speak with you from the First Director of Saturn System. Would you please repeat your terms?”

  Jon nodded, stunned by the bloody coup. It seemed the Prince of Ten Worlds had political cunning after all. He hadn’t expected this. He wondered if the alien thought-patterns in Da Vinci had foreseen such a move.

  “Vacate Saturn System,” Jon said. “Take every arbiter and GSB representative with you. There mustn’t be any reprisals or killings from now until you’re gone. If you meet those requirements, I will let you accelerate away to Earth.”

  The large arbiter stared at him. She holstered her gun. Finally, she nodded. “By the authority granted to me from the First Director, I accept your terms.”

  Jon wasn’t sure what he should say, so he merely nodded.

  The arbiter made a motion to someone. A second later, the screen went blank.

  Seemingly, Jon had won his point.

  We’ll see, he thought.

  -7-

  Five days later, the last SLN spaceship accelerated with a hard burn for Earth. None of the ships had attempted a tricky maneuver.

  During the proceedings, Jon had been in contact with the Saturn System’s former political people—those that remained. The GSB had released them from internment. The others had died long ago, some during the initial conquest several years ago. Some had died before firing squads. Others had perished in the brutal reeducation camps. Those left were mere skeletons in most instances.

  As the SLN fleet fled from the Saturn System, the old order slowly began to reassert itself.

  In many Saturn cloud cities, in orbital habitats and moon domes, chaos reigned. People rioted. They smashed shops, burned government buildings and took long lusted-for revenge against collaborators.

  “The Social Dynamists did this on purpose,” the Neptunian told Jon.

  Jon sat inside a brig cell with Da Vinci. It was Spartan quarters, with a cot, a sink-toilet unit, and the barest of amenities. Da Vinci
sat on the cot, with his knees thrust upward, and his skinny arms wrapped around his knees.

  Jon sat on a three-legged stool, tilted back, balanced on one leg, with his shoulders resting against a cell wall.

  “The GSB will have wanted to keep their hands clean in this,” the Neptunian added. He spoke with authority, with the thought-pattern echoes of the Prince of Ten Worlds.

  “Any suggestions on how we can bring about quicker order?” asked Jon.

  “Yes, but I doubt you’ll approve.”

  “Tell me.”

  “Pick a place, preferably somewhere important,” the Neptunian said with a smirk. “Make a broadcast. Tell the people of the Saturn System that you loath disorder. If the riots do not stop immediately, if the various cloud cities and habitats fail to elect and follow a voice today, you will begin destroying the orbital platforms, cloud cities and moon domes one by one. Give them a five-hour ultimatum. Then, destroy the targeted location as an example.”

  “How will I know if they’ve all fully agreed to my terms?”

  “You don’t worry about it,” the Neptunian said. “You destroy the targeted location no matter what they do.”

  “They’ll see me as capricious.”

  “No,” the Neptunian said. “They’ll see you as an iron-fisted dictator, someone who demands instant obedience. It is better for the populace to fear you than to love you. One must wait for love to bubble up from a heart. One can induce fear rather easily. Just like my race, yours listens to the one holding the whip, not to those offering them flowers.”

  Jon looked away. That’s how it had worked in the gang world. Was that really how it worked in the rest of the real world too? “If most of the Saturnians fear and hate me—”

  “You don’t understand,” the Neptunian said, interrupting. “You won’t always whip them. This is your starting position. You can induce love later, when you’re stronger. To begin, to cement your authority, they need to fear and obey you. No one can successfully rule unless the populace obeys. If you wish to defeat the AIs, you need a compliant base. If your threats are meaningless, the people will stampede over you.”

  “You must have been a harsh ruler.”

  “On the contrary,” the Neptunian said. “After the first million heads rolled, I ruled a peaceful empire except for one unruly planet. Those people always chafed at the reins. But theirs was a snowy, mountainous world, producing hardy trappers and tough miners. They thirsted for independence and killed many of my officials.”

  Jon blinked several times. It seemed to him the echo had grown stronger in Da Vinci. The Prince had greater will than the former thief did. What was he going to do with the conflicted Neptunian over the long haul?

  Jon stood.

  The Neptunian stared at him, and he shivered. Moments later, Da Vinci whimpered.

  “Why are you doing this to me?” Da Vinci pleaded. “Why make him stronger? You should help me.”

  “I need his cunning,” Jon said.

  “He’s a mass murderer. You can’t trust him. He’s just leading you along. You don’t realize—”

  Da Vinci’s head lurched forward, with his neck muscles stretched like cables.

  Jon sighed, wishing there was some way to help Da Vinci.

  Finally, as if the strain was too much, Da Vinci lay down on the cot, closed his eyes and went to sleep.

  Jon quietly exited the chamber.

  ***

  Jon issued the edict to the Saturn System colonies. Five hours passed. Then, to his surprise, leaders began calling him, telling him they had already dispatched former police or gang members into the streets to quell whatever rioting had continued.

  The Nathan Graham braked as it came nearer Titan. Jon had broadcast that he’d destroy the Torrey Habitat orbiting Saturn as his first example. It was a luxury station, and it happened to be where the Social Dynamists had made their headquarters. No doubt, the place held many hidden collaborators.

  “It’s time,” Jon said heavily.

  “Captain,” Gloria implored.

  He’d put her back to work, but hadn’t yet spoken to her privately, as he’d promised to do.

  Jon regarded her. He could see the anguish in her eyes. Slowly, he turned from the main screen and approached her.

  “Do we have to go through this again?” he asked her quietly.

  “No,” Gloria said softly. “I respect your authority. I thought about what you did earlier, relieving me from duty. It was the correct decision and action on your part. I was acting on my emotions then. I’m…I’m sorry, Captain.”

  Some of Jon’s tension abated.

  “But I think you’re making a mistake this time,” she said even more softly. “I think the Prince’s ways are accurate to a point. Most of the Saturn System people are trying to restore order. They’ll admire you for that.”

  “I need them to jump when I give an order.”

  “I agree,” Gloria said. “But you also want them to think of you as merciful. You want people to give their best effort. If they believe that all you are is an iron-fisted dictator, they won’t work as hard as otherwise.”

  “People work plenty hard for the Solar League.”

  “That’s my point,” Gloria said. “Each SLN ship has arbiters and GSB personnel onboard to maintain compliance. You seem to love ancient history, with your quotes from Sun Tzu and all that. The ancients supply us with an easy example of what I mean. Some nations used slave rowers in their war-galleys. They whipped men to row even unto death. Those ships could never compare in speed, maneuverability and training to free rowers who fought for love of country. A free man who is willing gives more effort than a slave forced to his task.”

  “And your point?” Jon asked.

  “We need a Solar System of free people in order to face the AIs. We want those free people because they’ll fight harder in the end. They’ll give humanity a greater chance for victory.”

  “Only if we can harness them,” Jon said.

  Gloria nodded in agreement.

  “At this point, I need to show the Saturnians my iron resolve.”

  “You have already shown them,” Gloria said. “You backed off the Solar League by destroying three of their battleships. Don’t mar your political image as the liberator by murdering an entire habitat. Let the people see over time what kind of man you are. Believe me, in the long run, you’ll be glad you did it this way.”

  Jon nodded to indicate he’d heard her. He walked back to his place near the main screen. It seemed like a long journey. He put his hands behind his back, thinking hard.

  Finally, he sighed. “Take the grav cannon offline,” he said. “Inform the new leaders that I applaud their hard work. Because they have done so well, they have earned a few more hours for the other habs to do likewise.”

  The tech crew smiled to each other, letting out their collective breath.

  Jon didn’t know if he’d made the right move or not. He’d driven off the Solar League. He’d quelled most of the riots. Now, could he govern the Saturn System long enough for them to repair the Nathan Graham? And could he keep SL spies from ruining humanity’s chance against the AIs out there?

  This was going to take a lot of hard work.

  Part IV

  SATURN SPACE DOCK

  +1 Year, 10 Months, 6 Days

  -1-

  The Nathan Graham orbited Saturn just beyond the outer ring, which ended at 140,000 kilometers. The one-hundred kilometer vessel slowly circled the jewel of the Solar System at 150,000 kilometers.

  Vast scaffolding enveloped the giant vessel. The scaffolding helped the tens of thousands of space-workers who were repairing the ruptured hull. Tugs and haulers constantly approached the space-docked warship. They came from the huge factories orbiting Saturn and from factories on and around the moon Titan. They brought armor plating, wiring, coils, decking, bulkhead replacements and thousands of other items and material to help repair the alien cybership.

  Inside the ship were as many as
one thousand techs working at any one time. They repaired and replaced much of the damaged interior materials. At the same time, they struggled to understand much of the alien technology. The things they did understand—the specs—soon found their way into the ether, transmitted across the Solar System to SL receiving stations.

  In its size, its extraterrestrial technologies and in its very alien-ness the Nathan Graham was power. By itself, the giant vessel could probably take on and destroy the combined Solar League Navy. It could certainly wreak havoc against the living spaces and thus the people in the Saturn System.

  There were problems, however, huge, next to insolvable problems for the owners of the captured alien vessel.

  The Black Anvil Regiment had accepted one thousand, nine hundred and fourteen recruits in the past year, rejecting three times that number in the process. The regiment had carefully run scans and background checks, and gone through intensive interviews with each want-to-be mercenary. Most of the accepted recruits had known someone on the Nathan Graham to vouch for them. That had been one of the chief reasons Jon had chosen the Saturn System. He wanted reliable people onboard. What good were recruits if he couldn’t trust them?

  Unfortunately, even with intense caution, there had been plenty of mistakes and three attempts on Jon’s life. The last attempt had come the closest to succeeding. Jon now had a new scar on his left pectoral, a gouge put there by a regular knife. Had it been a vibroblade, he would probably be dead.

  The regiment had close to three thousand people. Jon, Gloria and the Old Man had also recruited two hundred and eighty-nine techs to help run the warship and to repair systems later. Finally, the Old Man had built an Intelligence Service. He had fifty-eight hardcore personnel, many of them from his former dome on Titan.

  The loyalty of the regiment, the techs and the intelligence personnel seemed good. Still, logic dictated some bad apples. Thus, Gloria and the Old Man, with advice from the Prince of Ten Worlds, had implemented safeguards aboard the ship.