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

by Vaughn Heppner

  The Chief Arbiter now bent low, and saw a small needler resting against his shoe. He realized Major Benz had set down the gun and kicked it the short distance under the conference table to him, covering the noise by slapping the table.

  The Chief Arbiter reached down and palmed the rather hefty gun, setting it between his legs as he straightened.

  The implications were obvious. Benz was helping him. The major had just given him a weapon. But here was the question. Was it loaded? Would it fire needles? Was Benz trying to entrap him?

  Justinian did not think so. He and Benz were easily the smartest people in the chamber. Both of them must realize that Justinian had minutes to live, if that.

  The Chief Arbiter realized he had to act. The Premier had clearly decided on his death. He had to kill her to save his own skin. How could he shoot her, though, and remain alive in the face of her vengeful guards?

  Maybe that was Benz’s plan: the Chief Arbiter would kill the Premier, and the guards would kill the Chief Arbiter.

  Somehow, though, Justinian didn’t think that was the major’s goal. There were seven guards in the room. They wore chest plates and helmets, but lacked face shields. Discretely, Justinian glanced down at the compact needler between his thighs. According to the tiny ammo screen on the side, it had five hundred slivers as ammunition. Likely, it used a small, spring-driven ejector.

  There were five hundred shots and seven deadly guards. Could he kill them before they reacted? He could certainly kill several of them. But all seven? He doubted he could do it.

  That was before Major Benz shouted in alarm and threw himself backward. The incredible man fell off his chair onto the floor.

  Justinian twisted around in his chair, brought the needler up to his shoulder—hiding it the best he could—and aimed at the first guard. He hosed a dozen tiny steel needles into the guard’s face.

  The hissing needles made no appreciable sound in the hubbub of questioning people. Everyone wanted to know what was wrong with Benz.

  Justinian’s heart raced, but he had iron nerves from long practice. He killed the second, third and fourth guards before anyone noticed the elite bodyguards slumping onto the floor.

  Justinian straightened forward in his seat, keeping the needler close to the tabletop, making it harder for anyone to see. He killed the fifth and sixth guards. The seventh realized the Chief Arbiter was the killer. The last guard got off a single loud report. Then, two dozen needles smashed into his face.

  The guard’s gunshot had gone wild, and it had aided Justinian by blowing back his own second-in-command. The second-in-command had realized what the Chief Arbiter was doing and had attacked, lunging for his boss. The guard’s bullet had crashed into the man, thwarting his plan.

  Justinian surged to his feet as he propelled the dying second-in-command from himself.

  The Premier stared at him, white-faced. “Justinian,” she said.

  The Chief Arbiter shot her sixteen times in the face. She slumped onto the table, dead.

  Justinian backed away, and he issued stern orders to everyone else in the room. He herded them to a location away from any of the fallen guards and their weapons and away from the chamber’s only door.

  “There was a plot against Social Dynamism,” Justinian said in his coolest voice. “The Premier had sold us out to Jon Hawkins.”

  The others watched him, each of them surely realizing death was imminent.

  “That is why the news of the Nathan Graham came as a surprise to us,” Justinian said. “The Premier has known the cybership was going to leave Saturn for quite some time. She sold us out, keeping this knowledge to herself.” He took a breath before asking, “Who here wishes to be a Party hero?”

  Major Benz raised a shaking hand. “I do, Premier.”

  Justinian appeared to show surprise. “You are mistaken. I am the Chief Arbiter.”

  Benz turned to the Politburo members backed against a wall. “I would think the savior of Social Dynamism should be the next Premier. Who else could better led us than J.P. Justinian?”

  None of the frightened Politburo members said a word.

  Justinian shot the one he hated most. The man crumpled onto the floor.

  The rest of the people screamed, backing as far as they could from Justinian’s weapon.

  “You found another traitor,” Benz said solemnly. “Thank you, Premier, for your eternal vigilance.”

  Justinian gave the man the barest of nods.

  “I vote for J.P. Justinian as the new Premier of Social Dynamism,” Benz said loudly.

  “And I as well,” a female Politburo member said in a trembling voice.

  Soon, the others acclaimed J.P. as the new Premier, even as he watched them with his loaded weapon.

  Justinian knew he was going to have to strike hard and fast to consolidate his position. He still didn’t know why Benz had aided him like this. Without the major’s help, Justinian knew he would be dead by now.

  Should he kill Benz or reward him?

  For now, Justinian decided, he would reward loyalty. That seemed like the wisest course. Consolidating his new position would take weeks of desperate killing and political maneuvering.

  What was Benz’s game? The man was too smart, much too smart. But Justinian needed those smarts on his side to help him consolidate his new position of power.

  -9-

  Three days later, Justinian stood in the Premier’s Palace. He was exhausted, as he hadn’t slept since shooting the elite guards and the former Premier.

  His wet-work assassins had been busy indeed. Many had not rejoiced at his ascension to power. Many had attempted their own coups. Fortunately, enough hard-hearted people understood what it meant to take on J.P. Justinian. They had thrown in their lot with him.

  Those people included the old Palace Guard and the Party security teams. These, combined with his most trusted GSB operatives, gave him command of enough gunmen to cow the Politburo.

  They officially elected him Premier.

  One of the key moments had been the Marshal of Earth sending combat teams to many of the most important installations on the planet. The Earth Marshal had personally declared his support for Premier Justinian.

  “Sir,” a GSB guard said.

  Justinian whirled around as he reached for a sidearm.

  “I’m sorry to have startled you, sir,” the guard said at the door.

  Justinian glared at the loud-voiced fool. “It doesn’t matter,” Justinian said. “What is it?”

  “Major Benz has arrived, sir. He wishes to know when you would have time for him.”

  “Now.”

  “Yes, sir,” the guard said, disappearing as he shut the ornate door.

  Justinian moved to a grouping of heavily cushioned chairs in front of a fireplace. He would replace these soon. He didn’t like antiques like the former Premier had. He wanted modern, functional furniture.

  He sat down in one and rubbed his eyes. He was tired, his eyes hurt and so did his head.

  The door opened. The guard announced the major, and Justinian made as if to stand.

  “Please, Premier,” Benz said. “Don’t get up on my account.”

  Justinian sank back in the chair, motioning Benz to join him.

  The guard closed the door, and the major strode to the fireplace.

  “Help yourself,” Justinian said, indicating the wet bar.

  “Nothing for me, sir.”

  “Sit.”

  Benz smiled faintly and moved to the nearest chair. He sat, and he crossed his legs as he had before.

  The two hadn’t spoken since the fateful day.

  Justinian no longer rubbed his eyes and he refused to let exhaustion dull his senses. Here before him, he realized, was likely the second most dangerous person on Earth.

  “Why?” Justinian asked.

  “You’re more efficient,” Benz said, clearly understanding that Justinian had asked, “Why did you help me three days ago?”

  “That can’t
be the only reason,” Justinian said.

  “It isn’t,” Benz said. “The former Premier was an ideologue. She believed the nonsense about Social Dynamism.”

  “You don’t?” Justinian asked.

  “The more important point is that you don’t, sir.”

  Justinian stared at Benz.

  “Don’t worry,” the major said. “I’m not wearing a wire or a recording device. Your guards thoroughly checked me.”

  “If I were worried,” Justinian said in a silky voice, “you would be dead.”

  Benz did not reply, although he inspected his trousers and smoothed out a wrinkle.

  The man was antagonizing simply by existing. What was the major’s real motive? Not knowing worried Justinian.

  “Sir,” Benz said. “Now that you’re settling in—”

  Justinian raised a hand. “When it’s just you and me, we will speak directly to the issue.”

  “Yes, sir,” Benz said. “Since you’ve consolidated your position, enough, at least, to think about a few other things, I thought you might like an update on the Nathan Graham.”

  “I would.”

  “It has accelerated to a fantastic velocity,” Benz said. “That makes it rather easy to track as long as they keep accelerating. It appears as if the cybership is heading into the Kuiper Belt.”

  “Do you know why?”

  “I do not,” Benz said. “It’s possible there are alien devices in the Kuiper Belt.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “In the cybership’s initial advance to Neptune, it may have unloaded hardware. Some of my people believe the aliens may have dropped commando teams in the Kuiper Belt. There is a strange lack of reports and messages from Makemake, for instance.”

  “What does this imply to the military genius?” Justinian asked.

  “The Nathan Graham may be going to the Kuiper Belt to battle aliens. From all indications, Hawkins appears to want something out there. Why else would he leave the Saturn System in such a hurry? Why did he leave the system in such discord?”

  “Do you believe we should send a task force to Saturn?”

  “That would have been my original idea,” Benz admitted.

  “What has changed?”

  “The excessive velocity of the Nathan Graham,” Benz said. “Their greater speed is a daunting asset. We have nothing to match it. In fact, my former strategy will fail against their strategic-level speed.”

  “Explain that.”

  “It seems obvious,” Benz said. “If we sent a fast task force to Neptune, it would still take a year to reach the planetary system. The Nathan Graham could intercept the task force at any point in the journey. It seems clear that we must preserve our fleets by keeping them near strong planetary defenses. Even then, I’m not sure we can face the cybership.”

  Justinian rubbed his eyes. He was so tired. He removed his fingers from his eyes and focused on Benz.

  “We’re living at Hawkins’ sufferance then?” the Premier asked.

  “That is a possibility,” Benz said. “We don’t know how powerful the Nathan Graham’s armaments would be against a fortress planet like Earth. I think that might be a risk Hawkins doesn’t want to take yet.”

  “I don’t understand,” Justinian said. A phrase he’d seldom said to anyone in his life.

  “Are you familiar with the Great Captain Hannibal Barca?” Benz asked.

  “The Carthaginian who rode his elephant over the Alps into ancient Italy?” asked Justinian.

  “One and the same,” Benz said. “After the annihilating battle of Cannae, Rome’s legions lay dead on the battlefield. Hannibal’s soldiers reigned supreme in Italy. But Hannibal did not march on Rome to besiege the city and end the Second Punic War. Hannibal did not do so because while he was supreme on the battlefield, he didn’t have the numbers or the siege engines to circle Rome’s vast walls and take the city.”

  “And your point is what?”

  “It is one thing for the Nathan Graham to eliminate three battleships and force the rest of the SLN Saturn Fleet to flee. It is quite another to come close to Earth and its heavy defensives to use the alien gravitational beams against the surface. That would be like Hannibal’s besieging Rome. While Hawkins can certainly win any open fleet engagement at the moment, I don’t think he can conquer a heavily defended planet.”

  “That makes Venus, Earth and Mars safe, I suppose,” Justinian said. “But that leaves the Outer Planets exposed to his cybership.”

  “Agreed,” Benz said.

  “How does that help us defeat him?”

  “We might have to do what the Romans did to Hannibal. They outlasted him, slowly defeating Carthaginian forces in other theaters of action.”

  “Yet you distinctly said we can’t travel between planetary systems. The Nathan Graham can intercept our fleets at will.”

  “That isn’t exactly what I said, sir. I suggested that sending task forces to the Outer Planets is too risky. I think we can shuffle around ships between the Inner Planets, if we wish. The best time to do so would be now, while the Nathan Graham is engaged in the Kuiper Belt.”

  Once more, Justinian rubbed his tired eyes. “Make your point, Major.”

  “Yes, sir,” Benz said respectfully. “Hawkins has given us a chance to set up for round two. He has shown us one of his powers before he was able to use it against us. I suggest we enhance our secret forces between Uranus and Jupiter. Give your operatives leeway to recruit whoever can cause trouble. With the Inner Planets, we devise a siege strategy to hold onto what we have.”

  “You no longer believe we should concentrate all our ships in one place?”

  “Not if we wish to hold onto Venus and Mars.”

  “How are we going to win a war if Hawkins can unite the entire Outer Planets against us?”

  “I’m not sure we could win under those conditions. Thus, we’ll have to give him many guerilla fronts to fight, from the Uranus System to the Jupiter System. At this point, Hawkins has almost no ground troops. This we have in vast abundance. As he wages guerilla battles, trying to unite his planetary systems—given he survives what’s out in the Kuiper Belt—we’ll be constructing more warships, saving the ones we have and trying to unlock the alien technologies.”

  “You don’t think I’ll kill you here and now?”

  Benz smiled. “You asked me why I helped you. One of the reasons is that the former Premier feared my great intellect. You don’t. You also need allies, as most people desperately fear and hate you.”

  Justinian’s tired eyes burned like hot coals.

  “Consider what I just did,” Benz said. “Maybe for the first time in a long time, one of your subordinates told you an unpleasant truth to your face. I am honest, Premier. You lack honest subordinates.”

  “You’re dangerous, Major.”

  “I am,” Benz agreed. “But I’m not as dangerous as you, sir.”

  “Not yet,” Justinian said.

  Benz went back to smoothing one of the wrinkles in his trousers.

  “Are you suggesting I send you to Mars, perhaps, to coordinate the defenses there?”

  “I am at your disposal, Premier.”

  Justinian grinned wolfishly. “If you had agreed, I would have had you shot. I will keep you nearby, Major… Would you like greater rank?”

  “I would.”

  “Such as?”

  “Commander of the Space Forces,” Benz said.

  Justinian’s smile disappeared. “All in one leap, Benz?”

  The major shrugged. “I’m the second most efficient person on Earth. You need loyal and powerful friends. I could be the best friend you have, sir.”

  Justinian seriously doubted that. Benz was a tiger, a frightfully smart and ambitious man. What’s more, Benz was willing to take wild risks and do it calmly. He would promote Benz, but not quite to such dizzying heights.

  “I will promote you to Inspector General of Army Earth,” Justinian said. “That will give you a seat on the
General Staff. You will be my eyes and ears there, Benz.”

  “Yes, sir,” Benz said.

  Justinian searched for disappointment in the man. He did not see any. Could Benz have known he would never promote him to the Commander of the Space Forces?

  “We’ll talk again soon,” the Premier said. “Before you accept your new rank, I want you to head a special group to study the Nathan Graham. I want to know what Hawkins is doing and why.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Until then, Benz…” Justinian said, dismissing the man.

  Benz rose, saluted and marched for the door.

  Part VII

  KUIPER BELT

  +3 Years, 4 Months, 18 Days

  -1-

  Jon didn’t care for the role of being a goat in a tiger hunt. In the old days, hunters would tie a goat to a tree at the jungle’s edge. Naturally, the animal would complain loudly. Eventually, a tiger perked up its ears and came to investigate, soon eying the staked-out lure from the edge of the jungle.

  The frightened goat might jerk and pull at the rope, but it would have to remain rooted to its location.

  The tiger would stalk closer and closer, finally coming into range of the rifle in the hands of the hunter on the tree platform.

  Jon rode a flitter along a vast and rather empty corridor in the Nathan Graham. He’d used a hand communicator several times, speaking to his people. That was all for the express purpose of letting any nearby octopoids know where he was.

  The crew had destroyed two more octopoids so far, using this method. While it surprised Jon that so many alien robots had remained hidden in the cybership this long, he realized the logic of it. The Nathan Graham was massive, the crew was relatively few and the octopoid robots had the cunning of computerized rats.

  Since leaving the Saturn System ten days ago, the cybership had actually reached the edge of the Kuiper Belt, and Gloria had pinpointed the location of the NSN Destroyer Daisy Chain 4. The bridge crew had also spotted the AI missiles zeroing in on the vessel containing Walleye and June Zen.

  “Jon,” Gloria said from his earbud. The urgency in her voice alerted him. “You have to turn around. Do it at once.”