Vigilante

by Laura E. Reeve

  She recalled the hazy memory she had of Parmet leaning over her. At the time, he was the only other person in the small hold where she’d been bound to a stretcher and tortured. He talked to her, and acknowledged she’d saved his life. After I pay this debt, he had said, if we see each other again, don’t expect the same mercy. She pictured his face, his hatred.

  “I plan to avoid him and his family,” she said.

  “Don’t waste the gray cells. Sometimes you think too much, Major. You’re best when you’re acting off the cuff.” Joyce looked sideways at her, his expression neutral. “As for Mr. Journey, he needs some acting lessons. I can tell he’s hiding something.”

  Muse 3 had remained quiet, per Matt’s cautions, since Joyce’s appearance. She wondered how much Joyce and Edones had already surmised, since Nestor had obviously dabbled in illicit AI. Muse 3 wasn’t registered and Matt didn’t want to give anyone the justification for tearing the AI apart in an effort to analyze its rulesets. She hoped he could work something out with the Pilgrimage legal office.

  “Matt is probably covering for your mission. What did you tell him that he has to hide from me?” She went on the offensive to deflect Joyce’s curiosity.

  “You think he’s keeping something from you?”

  “There could be plenty of reasons for you to visit Priamos or its station, and you could have convinced Matt that it’d be in my interest. Maria used to be an operative for TEBI and Parmet used to run that organization, so who would you be—”

  “That’s enough speculation. When will you get approach vectors for Beta Priamos?” Joyce looked away.

  She grinned. So many secrets.

  Matt hated seeing his ship leave without him.

  “I need an appointment with the Office of General Counsel,” Matt said to Charlene, after he watched Aether’s Touch separate from the Pilgrimage III.

  “With the counsel himself, or the legal staff?” She didn’t bat an eyelid at his request. Matt was a generational orphan from the Journey line, but he still counted as one of them. She was happy to extend their services to him, although he wouldn’t get them for free.

  The first appointment he could get was late in the next shift, giving him time to apply for a seat on the Venture’s Way. After getting on the standby list, he went to dinner at the commander’s table. Four other people dined at the table this shift, including Senior Commander Meredith and Commander Charlene, two of the three commanders on the Pilgrimage.

  Matt had previously met Senior Commander Meredith, a quiet and conservative gentleman, on his first prospecting mission to G-145. After shaking Meredith’s hand and digging into his favorite noodle dish, Matt had a warm, satisfying feeling of coming home. Perhaps the old adage was true: “You can orphan the man from his ship, but you’ll never remove the ship from his blood.” The ship was the generational crew member’s protection, society, home, and family. The Journey IV had been Matt’s entire world until he was sixteen years old and had opted off it.

  After dining and sending a message to Aether’s Touch, Matt prepared for his meeting. Pilgrimage’s general counsel was a man known across all the ship lines as an eclectic expert on Autonomist and Terran law, Minoan contracts and treaties, and the obscure field of artificial intelligence rights. Just what he needed.

  “David Ray, general counsel.”The counselor shook Matt’s hand and gestured for him to take a seat in one of the ship’s ancillary conference rooms. His hair was a layer of mere fuzz about his skull, making the gray difficult to discern. He could be anywhere between thirty and three hundred absolute UT years of age. The use of two names indicated there was another David Pilgrimage running around on the ship.

  “Matthew Journey. I go by Matt.”

  “Yes. Owner of Aether Exploration, the major claim holder on Priamos, where everything’s happening in this system. I’ve looked into your leases—good work. There’s not much I’d change.”

  “My leases were drawn up by Nestor Expedition, who was murdered several months ago. He was a friend.” Matt shifted uncomfortably; this was going to be harder than he’d anticipated.

  “My condolences. That’s information I haven’t seen yet.” David Ray’s eyebrows went up and his fingers tapped quickly. Reports and feeds regarding Nestor’s murder were displayed on the wall and David Ray skimmed through them. Matt waited quietly, understanding how much generational crews had to absorb between each mission.

  “Ah.” David Ray’s light gray eyes were objective and professional. “It appears both Expedition and Journey legal representatives are involved. Expedition counsel is locked in a struggle with Leukos Industries over the release of records. You’ve hired Journey counsel to protect your intellectual property during execution of Nestor’s estate.” There was the rise of a question in the attorney’s voice.

  “When we arrived in-system, I opened a subpoena from Athens Point LEF.” Matt raised his slate, but he wasn’t going to show the subpoena to the counselor until he had established client confidentiality.

  “Subpoena duces tecum, remotely served.” David Ray nodded. “Once you proved your identity, the subpoena was served. So why do you need us?”

  “I don’t have any problem with the statement, or affidavit, or whatever, but the LEF is also asking for material that isn’t relevant, that I don’t want to hand over.”

  “Such as?” This time, only one eyebrow rose slightly.

  “Nestor may have been involved with—well, perhaps he dabbled in—” He floundered under the attorney’s gaze and managed to get back on track. “This involves artificial intelligence law, like proof of original rulesets and rights of individuality.”

  David Ray tapped a command on his desktop. “This is now a privileged session. Go on.”

  The story came out in a rush, the words merging as Matt tried to prevent certain memories from building inside his mind. He told David Ray about the package he received, probably the result of Nestor’s last voluntary action, and how he’d accepted the transfer of what appeared to be a full-fledged artificial intelligence entity. Before he got to the worst part, the part where he discovered Nestor’s body, David Ray interrupted.

  “This AI resides in crystal? Installed on your ship?”

  “I didn’t have enough temporary memory at the time. There were also other reports in the package and I didn’t want to take the chance of losing whatever Nestor sent.”

  “This may complicate matters. AI rulesets must be validated as original before they’re put in crystal.” David Ray rubbed his jaw. “AIs are also prohibited from controlling space vehicles. Can you remove the crystal from your ship?”

  “Yes, of course. I’m speaking of the data array in my prospecting ship. What’s more worrisome is that Nestor lived on the outskirts of the law, and he may have bought illicit code and rulesets. If I give Athens Point LEF access to the AI, they’ll insist upon dissection.” Matt took a deep breath. “Look, I don’t want to lose Muse Three. It’s all I have left of Nestor.”

  David Ray rested his chin on clasped hands, his elbows on his desk. He didn’t respond immediately, but rather watched Matt in a searching manner until he squirmed in his seat.

  “It has a name and unique model number. You’re already emotionally attached to it, even seeing a representation of your friend. That indicates clever programming, at the least,” David Ray said.

  “Nestor was good. Muse Three might be original and even qualify for individuality. It’d be a shame to dissect it merely to protect commercial interests.”

  “Matt, perhaps you don’t know the roots of AI law.” David Ray’s voice was quiet and powerful. “The development of artificial intelligence is highly constrained, as you know, but those constraints resulted from the Phaistos Protocols.”

  Matt’s eyes widened. The Phaistos Protocols? These were supposedly the rules of warfare developed under the supervision of the Minoans. He’d never read the Phaistos Protocols himself, since they were long and full of legalese. He’d heard stories of lawyers
devoting entire careers to their study, and apparently he didn’t know their scope.

  “The Phaistos Protocols require that the release, delivery, and execution of weapons of war be always under human decision and control. Even the use of automated processes in target determination and acquisition have constraints—basically speaking, the Minoans require a human at the trigger, and a human decision to fire.” David Ray smiled wryly.

  “And what does that have to do with AI development?” Matt didn’t see the connection.

  “We must also ensure that AI never directs, or operates, our military tactics and weapons. This extends to keeping them from running ships that the Minoans consider weapon systems. Since one can always come up with a scenario where any small vehicle might deliver a weapon, AI control of spacecraft is prohibited under both Consortium and Terran law. We’re not talking about autopilot or auto-driver software; that’s different.”

  “Oh.” Muse 3 was looking like a bigger problem than Matt ever imagined.

  “There’s still hope for your AI.” David Ray smiled. “If you can convince me that your friend’s hobby didn’t have anything to do with his murder, or won’t be useful in convicting his murderer.”

  That was easy, considering that the LEF had enough physical evidence to prove Hektor murdered Nestor. Matt explained that they also had proof that Hektor, a customs inspector, accepted bribes and finally, payment for murder. “But they can’t track down who paid off the customs inspectors. The money traces back to an anonymous someone employed by Leukos Industries.” Matt avoided any mention of Cipher, Ari’s old crewmate. There was also no need to bring up his suspicion that the rich and reclusive Mr. Leukos might have been Ari’s comrade during the war.

  “Ah. This explains the problems between Expedition ship line and Leukos Industries.” David Ray lapsed into thought and Matt waited in silence.

  Eventually, David Ray presented his solution. “When you send your statement for affidavit, you should also apply for AI development and test licenses, with our help. If we submit those applications, then we can move to prevent release of your AI on the grounds it’s intellectual property of Aether Exploration. We can make the case that Nestor was protecting IP when he sent it to you.”

  “But there’s no way around licensing the AI?” Muse 3 would still be examined, possibly dissected, but by different people, for different purposes. They would not necessarily be interested in keeping the AI intact, either. Matt sighed. There seemed no other legal option.

  “That’s my recommendation.” David Ray’s face was sober. “I think it’s your best course, provided your AI hasn’t done anything illegal or dangerous. Does it have a sense of self and proximity?”

  “It seems to.”

  “You haven’t allowed it to control your ship, have you?”

  “No. I don’t think my pilot would ever allow that.” Matt laughed.

  “Has it initiated any autonomous actions without consulting you? Of any kind? You need to be honest with me.”

  That was more vague and Matt frowned as he searched his memory. “Well, it did make its own decision to widen the parameters on a search I’d requested.”

  David Ray looked relieved. “That’s not a problem.”

  A beep indicated that Matt’s session was over.

  “I’ve got less than eight hours to answer that subpoena,” Matt said.

  “Don’t worry. I’ll have my staff take your statement immediately, and I can give you an hour at the end of shift.” David Ray tapped a few commands on his desktop. He looked up and smiled. “We’ll also talk about our fees at that time.”

  Against the backdrop of the orange and yellow gas giant Laomedon, Priamos gradually grew visible as they approached. It was slightly bigger than Hellas Daughter, the moon with which Ariane and Joyce were most familiar. Beta Priamos Station initially looked like a speck. When they came closer, it was obvious the small station would never compete in size with Athens Point, or even Karthage Point. Currently, spidery girders and temporary construction modules made up one quarter of its roughly cylindrical structure.

  “Doesn’t look very welcoming,” Joyce said.

  “They’ve only got four class B and six class C docks working. Let’s see who’s here.” She displayed the dock schedule and was proud that her voice and hands were steady. Two freighters sat at class B docks and two smaller ships, one of which was Parmet’s Candor Chasma, used class C docks.

  “One of those freighters doesn’t even have a referential engine.” Joyce peered closely at the display, so Ariane zoomed in on the occupied class B docks.

  “That’s the freighter designated as emergency evacuation for the station,” Ariane said.

  “What’s wrong with using evacuation modules?”

  “They’re not operational yet.” Ariane smiled. “Welcome to the frontier, Joyce.”

  Joyce snorted. “Never heard it called that, but I suppose the word fits.”

  Ariane concentrated on dock approach as Major Tafani’s words echoed in her mind: I hear there’s a cavalier, frontierlike attitude toward drinking and drugging. When it came time to face Parmet or Maria, she’d love some liquid courage, but she had to remember the Terran companies had a foothold here because of the leases that she’d signed. She could always protest that she’d signed under duress, which would stop all Terran research in its tracks. It wasn’t likely that Parmet wanted to see her again either, since they were both locked into this double-blackmail scheme.

  “You’re going to dock manually?” Joyce’s voice broke her concentration. She looked around and saw his strained expression.

  “Why do you think I have to have manual ratings?” She quickly looked at the display of a red crosshair on top of blinking green lights. For Joyce’s benefit, she added, “They haven’t certified our version of autopilot to work with their dock system, so I have to dock manually.”

  “How do you know their docking system is, whatever, incompatible?”

  Pointing at the small view port titled “Space Docking Automated Transmission System,” she said, “S-DATS is for more than setting comm channels, you know.”

  “I didn’t think anybody docked manually anymore. You didn’t do that at the Pilgrimage.”

  “You’ve got to be prepared, Joyce. Particularly here.” She grinned, enjoying the sight of the brawny master sergeant gripping the arms of his chair. Then she turned back to the rapidly approaching dock and its blinking lights, covered with her red crosshair.

  After he heard the docking clamps clunk, Joyce let out a little sigh. There weren’t any customs inspections to go through, just an acknowledgment from Command Post. She put the ship systems into password-protected standby and ushered Joyce out of the airlock. He looked around the corridor.

  “It feels spooky. Too empty and quiet,” he said.

  “Yeah, there’s usually ComNet nodes, even in the seedi est ports.” She didn’t have to mention names.

  Joyce immediately caught her reference to one of their previous missions and nodded. “How do I get down to Priamos?”

  “The handy dandy space elevator is on ring five, where you’ll also find comm to the surface. You need CP authorization to take it down. Good luck, Joyce.”

  After he left, she looked about apprehensively. The station was a bit unsettling. Her implanted ear bug was quiet and she realized she’d gotten used to having her music library or selected feeds blabbering to her when she walked around habitats. Instead, she heard sounds of creaking as materials expanded and stretched, trying to keep out the deep silence of space. Perhaps this was why Autonomist habitats were covered with ubiquitous ComNet nodes and all flat surfaces were displays—except the floor, which had to be kept clear for emergency use. Under normal circumstances, personally targeted advertisements and entertainment chased her, drowning out the sounds of deathly cold vacuum.

  She realized what else was missing: those pesky remotes that people operated to collect information or perform tasks. No active nodes meant no
ComNet, and no ComNet meant no remotes floating about.

  Suddenly, she heard the sound of habitation: metal scraping on metal, a tapping sound, and a muttered curse. Following the curved hallway to the next airlock, she found the source.

  “Frank!” she exclaimed with relief. She’d first met Frank Maestrale in J-132, then again in G-145 on the first prospecting mission. He worked for ComNet Installation Services, which was heavily funded by Consortium taxes.

  “Figured I’d see you again, Ms. Kedros.” The thin man in baggy crew overalls turned away from the wall where he’d been working. Behind him trailed an automated cart full of little round things that waved wire feelers, making them look like multilegged insects.

  “Believe it or not, as the Priamos prime lease controller, my boss is thinking of setting up an office here. When will we be getting ComNet support?”

  Frank rubbed his whiskers while he frowned. He always looked ten hours away from his last shave.

  “If this place hadn’t been built by the lowest bidder, I’d be on schedule.” He gestured to the wall where a cockeyed node wiggled in a hole that was obviously a bad fit. With disgust, he pulled the node free and dropped it back into the cart. “The contractor didn’t use the right templates or they had blind quality control inspectors. I’ll have to custom-fit this node, like over half of the others. A perfect example of your tax drachmas at work.”

  “No wonder you look ready for a drink. I’ll buy.” Ariane ignored the image of Tafani’s disapproving face hovering in her brain. “Is the Stellar Shield still operating, or have they built something with a little more class?”

  “Oh, it’s still here.” Frank looked at her somberly, his dark eyes more serious than she remembered. “I’m ready to finish up, so I’ll take you up on refreshment—except I don’t drink anymore.”

  “Liquids in general, or just alcohol?” She laughed, although it sounded forced. She knew what he meant. She was surprised at the disappointment she felt, almost as if he’d betrayed her. “Any particular reason?”

  Frank shrugged and smiled.