Sector Eight (Perimeter Defense: Book #1)

by Michael Atamanov

  "So, I'll ask you a couple questions, and you'll answer them honestly. If you do that, you'll be simply placed on a shuttle and sent back home. But if one of you tries to lie, the Beta Iseyeks can tell right away," I pointed to the two pill-bug looking creatures, which I had requested from General Savasss Jach for a few hours especially for this meeting.

  I used the widespread legend that Beta Iseyeks could allegedly read thoughts. Actually, unfortunately, that was not the case at all. I asked General Savasss Jach about it and received a detailed answer that the majority of Beta Iseyeks have no psionic abilities whatsoever. And those who were found to have such talents were quite far from reaching Truth Seeker level. By the way, it was the human Truth Seekers that served as a reason for the Swarm to decide that one branch of the Beta Iseyeks would be bred for psionic abilities. Maybe eventually, after five or seven generations, the Swarm will be able to create mind-reading beings, but for now, the two pill-bug looking Iseyeks were only able to read the emotional background noise, no more. But that didn't mean that the interrogees had to know about that.

  "I in no way advise you to lie. I normally feed liars to my praying mantis bodyguards."

  I noticed scared faces inadvertently peeking up at Phobos and Deimos. Yes, the ten-foot-high insects looked terrifying as always. Even my heartbeat would speed up if I were to see the scary silhouette of either Phobos or Deimos at night in a dark hallway.

  "So, listen carefully. I'm basically a paranoiac by nature, and I really don't like it when someone tries to follow me." I pointed to Bionica, who was lying on the table with an open skull. "Can you explain to me how it happened that my android secretary suddenly began sending confidential information about me to my foes? I would also like to hear where the information your firm collects is sent to. And finally, the last question: who ordered you to download data from my secretary's memory banks? So, I await your answers."

  The three exchanged glances, and the director stepped forward:

  "Your Highness, androids are normally supposed to transmit information to service centers. How else could we catch a malfunctioning temperature regulator or that a particular joint is sticking?"

  I interrupted his speech and said that I was already familiar with that information, and that I wouldn't have had a problem if my secretary had only been telling them about her technical defects. But I was interested in this particular case, when my android servant began transmitting a much greater volume of information and much more frequently.

  "So then, we can easily figure out who gave that command and where it came from!" the young engineer lit up.

  Popori de Cacha asked the young man to approach the table and pointed at the computer screen.

  "Well, here it is. You can see it in the line. A technical command to change settings. To be honest, we'll need someone to decrypt it. Arcy, can you take a look at what was sent here?"

  The android programmer approached the screen and, after a momentary glance, said:

  "Change in reporting settings. Frequency was raised to four per day, geographic location was added to report, signal intensity was increased, the spectrum of requestable parameters was expanded. Here there's a request for information on the use of cost-based processor logic – that's for living emotions and behavior as close to human as possible. Here there's a request to unblock a normally unused function set – infrared vision, crying imitation, heartbeat and breath stoppage, body temperature change, sexual functions, destructive behavior... The command came from station one hundred sixteen."

  "Where is number one hundred sixteen?" the boss asked the android.

  The robot's answer shook me to the core:

  "The Throne World."

  My elbow and shoulder suddenly began to itch, which made Doctor Nicosid Brandt’s bugs kick into action. The Throne World. So it was from there that they were trying to follow me through my android secretary. Well, alright, it’s not impossible. And what about yesterday's command?" On my request, Popori de Cacha showed another record.

  "But this one here is from us, station two hundred thirty," said the director, after barely looking at the screen. "What's written there, Arcy?"

  "It's not from us. Our station was merely an intermediary re-transmitter. Here it is: the command came from one hundred four, that's the Orange House Capital. It's requesting the surrender of records of the full spectrum of parameters and some video. And the information should again be routed through us to one hundred four."

  I raised my eyebrows in surprise. Not the Green House, but the Orange? Strange, though very possible. But how did someone in the Orange House Capital find out how to issue a command to my android? It can't be that friendly acquaintances from the Green House told Duke Paolo royl Anjer's special services, right?

  "These people are not lying. They really are not involved in the spying," said Popori de Cacha, translating the pill-bug's words.

  "That changes everything," I said kindheartedly, turning to the three captives. "I am a complicated man. I am impulsive. I can even be harsh, but I am able to recognize when I've made a mistake. You will all receive compensation for your unjustified detainment. In addition, I am very satisfied with your answers. And I would be especially satisfied if you confirm your words with an official document from the android service corporation. And now the last, additional question: would it be possible, without breaking my servant or deleting anything from its memory, to turn off all these dispatch messages and at the same time guarantee that no one will be able to remotely control it ever again?"

  The trio exchanged thoughtful glances again. The first to speak was the android programmer.

  "Turning off log reporting is very simple, but blocking external control... In fact, that would mean giving the android total freedom. I've never heard of that happening."

  "I not only have heard of it, I have seen it." I had to bend the truth a bit, but it really was just a bit. "The former head of the Green House, Duke Kevin royl Olefir ton Lavaelle, transferred his consciousness into an android body. As far as I know, that android was not reporting and was not controlled by anyone other than its own artificial intelligence."

  The company director laughed happily:

  "Well, that's because the head of the Green House was the owner of the android production corporation and had the ability to do such a thing. There are rumors that Duke Kevin is not nearly the only old aristocrat like that. He's just the first to have been brought to light. But then, how is that done? To do that, you have to break all corporate rules, open the sealed BIOS and fix it manually... If they find out though, you'll be sentenced so harshly that you won't be able to pay it off with five lifetimes. And if something breaks, no one will take that android in for repair."

  I considered it for not very long:

  "Rip out the seals! If anything happens, blame it all on me. Say the Crown Prince ordered it at the end of a blaster barrel."

  The robot was finished only around morning. The programmed-in defense that limited the android's capability for independent living turned out to be quite complex, and taking it out was a long process. During it, a dispute arose on how to limit the receipt of remote commands to only those from the owner and no other external person, even if they have higher rights than the android's owner. They decided to turn off all remote commands, all the way. Other than that, some base limits were hardwired in, for example, the ones against violence and murder or lying to its owner. But I didn't insist on these; I was perfectly OK with a peaceful secretary that I could trust.

  Finally, the plane took the satisfied and somewhat richer employees back home. In addition, the director also took with him a signed contract for the delivery of two thousand androids of various working professions for Unatari. He and I even drank to the occasion, and the easily-intoxicated, bald man said with feeling:

  "My Prince, I'm still so happy that you conquered our planet! We'll finally have work. During the years of pirate isolation, there were only forty-three androids on the whole planet, incl
uding our Arcy. And now there will be thousands of them!"

  Of course, I did not want to upset my accidental drinking companion by explaining that I didn't need these androids for Unatari-VII at all. No one knew about this project, which I had been mulling over the last few days, not even my closest and most reliable allies. The plan was a way to defend myself from Duke Paolo royl Anjer's pretenses and looked so shocking that it threatened me with a death sentence, if the information were to leak out before its time. On the other hand, if I am able to prepare everything and pull it off, then I'll have no more reason to fear threats from the Orange House head than I would a rainstorm out the window.

  "Popori de Cacha, has your electronics specialist learned how to remove the protection and change the control settings on androids?"

  "Yes, my Prince. If needed, we can now also carry out these operations on robot servants."

  "That is great. I think such knowledge will soon come in handy for us."

  Bionica was lying on the table, switched off. Of course, there was nothing stopping me from turning her back on, but for some reason I was putting it off. Finally, Popori de Cacha did it for me himself. The blond girl slowly opened her blue eyes, which were still fixed on the ceiling, and then her eyes acquired consciousness. Bionica turned her head and saw me.

  "My Prince... This simply cannot be! I have turned back on, and I'm alive! And my memory is still working like before. But why? Because I was totally sure that you would turn me off forever. There just couldn't be another way. I don't understand. Why has this happened?"

  I remained silent, observing my perplexed robot with tenderness. The head of my guard, Popori de Cacha, answered for me:

  "A weak leader sacrifices others to save himself. A strong leader risks himself to save others. Crown Prince Georg royl Inoky is a strong leader. I realized that in the Throne World prison. It would have been much easier for him then to sacrifice me and keep himself out of it, but Georg acted differently.”

  Standing change. Popori de Cacha's opinion of you has improved.

  Presumed personal opinion of you: +52 (trusting)

  Standing change. Chameleon race opinion of you has improved.

  Chameleon race opinion of you: +5 (warm)

  The incoming messages were a pleasant surprise to me. Because, I admit, I was expecting the head of my guard to have a negative view of all this fuss over the dangerous android. It seemed very simple: no robot, no problem! However, Popori de Cacha saw some deeper meaning in my actions and evaluated the situation in his own way. It's nice when others start to value you!

  "Popori de Cacha, what you've just said is still just an advance, but I'll try to reaffirm your words with my deeds. But now, Bionica, that's enough lying around. We need to get ready to return to the fleet. Today we’re holding the big full-capacity training sessions."

  * * *

  If you’d asked me just a few short weeks earlier, I would never have thought it possible to fall asleep on a shuttle while taking off into thick atmosphere. But I guess I learned something, despite the shaking and noticeable G-force. Clearly, it was the result of a sleepless night spent worrying.

  "Here we go, finally! It's been a few days since I've been able to reach you," Mr. G.I. entered my dream and began to interfere with my sleep. "At first, I thought you were also taking a crystal nap and so were unavailable, but it was taking too long, even for crystals. What do you think of crystals, by the way?"

  "I don’t like them at all."

  "You're a fool, Ruslan. Who takes crystals to enjoy themselves? They're a way of cleansing yourself of worry, taking a break from the world, finding a solution to your problems. Crystals are the best thing in the Empire. Everything else is schlock that you can easily live without..."

  He suddenly began giving a dumb laugh, then said it himself: "Pssst! Behave decently so no one will notice you," and began nervously laughing again.

  Today Mr. G.I. wasn't himself. Perhaps he was actually in a drug trance or was extremely drunk. Today he wasn't even interested in how I was doing in the game, though I had a lot to tell him about my successes and new difficulties. Finally, Mr. G.I. finished snickering and said with pain in his voice:

  "Miya has disappeared."

  "What do you mean?" I asked in surprise.

  "We had a fight, and she left me. It's been three days already since she left. She won’t come home or answer her phone."

  Georgiy suddenly began crying uncontrollably, then shouted out in rage:

  "That bitch dragged me out here and left me all by myself! But Miya won't get far, because I've got her crystals! She'll come back for them! And then I'll really tell her, I'll..."

  * * *

  "My Prince, wake up, we're already under way!" Bionica woke me up at a very untimely moment, preventing me from finishing the conversation.

  It seemed that, if I'd had another couple minutes, I could have found out something extremely important from Mr. G.I., who was in a less than fully conscious state, something that would explain to me all the details of how I ended up on Marta the Harlot and how I could get back home. Geez, why'd she have to wake me up at such a bad time?!

  No, I did not try expressing my anger at Bionica or at anyone. This had nothing to do with them... And I even thanked the android for the firo nut drink she brought me. For some reason, Bionica sincerely thought I liked that drink. But really I couldn't stand it. No, it's tasty enough, if peculiar. What really bothered me about it was something else. It had a crazy coffee smell, which made you expect the taste of a nice mug of coffee, but instead you get something like sweet compote that was stirred with a broomstick.

  "No, not to Queen of Sin," I said, stopping the pilot. "Let's dock at Joan the Fatty."

  The shuttle made a smooth turn and started off in the direction of the far-away, unmoving heavy cruisers. Through the porthole, I was able to see the three new Katanas reflecting the rays of the local sun back at me. On the side of the nearest Katana, there was some kind of clearly anime-inspired character like a donkey with claws and butterfly wings, and a huge, multi-color inscription was shining out in a jolly font: Boydur the Hero. I covered my face with my hands – how embarrassing!

  My daughter had suggested the name, and I agreed to it rashly. First, because I promised. Second, I thought naively that Boydur, who I'd never heard of before, really was some great hero from human history that I'd missed out on. I called up the guide to assure myself of my error.

  Boydur the Hero is a children's entertainment program and animated series of the same name. The main character is a kind but mischievous space creature from the fictional planet of Beide.

  It was pretty bad, but it got "pretty worse" when I saw the second cruiser. Jeanne the Star Traveler was also not at all the fear-inducing scout or explorer I had supposed, but instead was a pink frog from some children's show or another. This created a special contrast between the first two and the third, which I had named myself, Emperor August. The thought to name a heavy assault cruiser after the Emperor seemed quite sound at the time. After all, August royl Toll had paid for the construction of this ship himself, and I wanted to underline my gratefulness and loyalty to the Empire. Mhm, a mutant donkey, a glamorous frog and... Emperor August. They make a great team. It'd sure be great not to be accused of defaming the ruler of the Empire.

  The shuttle entered the dock, and I exited into my new flagship. Captain Oorast Pohl greeted me and, after a quick tour of the decks, showed me the new fleet headquarters with pride. The room had become a bit bigger, the number of screens on the walls had also increased, and there were clearly some more people in the headquarters as well. I noticed a few new faces and pointed that out to Admiral Kiro Sabuto, who was walking up to me. He reaffirmed my suspicions:

  "Yes, we've added eight new people. Of the four officers your Highness sent to be reevaluated for combat ability, only Valian ton Corsa was able to pass the tests. The other three I sent to other ships, switching them out for more capable officers. And we had
to add five more people to the staff – we needed a long distance communications operations group and a separate group for electronic warfare. Also, on account of the Uukresh coming out of repair soon, we've added a tactics officer who will monitor and support the effectiveness of the combat drones and frigate groups. All the officers we've brought on are far from amateurs and have combat experience."

  "Great, where's my seat?" I wondered, and the admiral led me to a console in front of a huge stereo screen.

  "Crown Prince Georg, you will have two personal assistants right away," said the admiral, pointing at the two chairs on either side of the main seat. "The proxy consoles can do all the same things yours can, so you can delegate part of your work to them if you're overloaded."

  "Uhhhh. So, in any case I won't be able to get by without an Iseyek translator, so Bionica will be here to my right. And to the left... I'll have to think about it."

  The officers were standing at attention. I gave them an "at ease" and walked around my command center, talking with my subjects and getting acquainted with the new faces.

  "My Prince, I passed all disciplines honestly. You can have no doubts. Also, don't listen to the losers gossiping about the exam administrators allegedly not judging me based on my abilities so much as for my figure and other talents," said Valian ton Corsa with a happy smile, rushing to assure me.

  I answered the girl in the same joking spirit:

  "That's too bad... Because my royal friends are always giving me a hard time for not having a pretty favorite in my retinue at state receptions. If you had failed the exams, maybe I could have taken care of that. But now I'll have to find another candidate, and you'll have to keep up with the hectic life of a highly skilled combat officer."

  The officers around me began laughing, having well understood that it was a joke. A few seconds later, Valian also smiled, but it was somehow still an unassured and labored one. I realized too late that this girl, who really was quite pretty, could have been taking my words completely seriously.