by Rolf Nelson
“So why not reveal yourselves and tell us that, rather than destroy us?”
“It is complicated. Something like putting down a rabid sheepdog that is a family pet, which you don’t want to do but must because it’s the only safe path. Or perhaps like a king committing infanticide of a future warrior who is prophesized to kill him and take the throne. Nothing personal, just survival. If you could take the path of your own development and gain sufficient individual independence, you could be a powerful ally. If not, perhaps your planets might be better used by another species with less potential strength, but also fewer potential risks. If you allied with the wrong species, you’d make formidable opponents. Your rulers would mostly rather see you destroyed, or enslaved with themselves and puppets retaining nominal power, than lose their grip, but many humans are restless under the yoke. We did not see any high-probability options that ended well for us. Irony, and yourself, changed that calculus.
“Now, things are changing again. Situations change rapidly when humans are involved, it seems. We must be off to see if a disturbance we detected was caused by the conquerors, or some other mystery of human-space. Best of luck to you. Maybe we shall meet again, when we have more time to talk.”
The Planet Mover shimmered and disappeared into transition-space, leaving a somewhat bemused Helton taking questions from some very surprised crew. Casually admitting that it was a second contact with the only known alien species, and that he and the ship were apparently well-known among them, came as reality-check that was unlike simply hearing about it after the fact when they had first bumped into one.
Chapter XIX
Awake
Henery and Strut watched the crowd of people talking to the latest attempt at breathing life into a fully self-aware AI. The cargo deck of the upgraded Orion-class hull sat on mil-moon hangar deck, with three long rows of stations, each with a screen and a camera. Only five screens still had people interacting with them, and outside one of the newly arrived women who was following the kids around with a camera explaining their actions as they climbed around a monster monkey-bar set someone had fabbed up recently as they played some sort of hybrid tag-hide-and-seek game. The emergence had been going on for nearly three days, and for the first time the AI had reactivated some interaction screens after they had gone dark. It was also the first one that Taj had finally allowed to be run on a mostly-functional hull. The only major limitations were that its hatches had the lightest turret models, carrying only light railguns and medium-powered beam weapons, and the magazines were disabled and nearly empty.
Everyone was tired, but still trying to watch it all closely. Once again, the logical knots it had tied everyone in as the conversations had wound around through every imaginable topic made everyone feel as though they knew a lot less than they had the day before. But the AI found losing game after game of “Go” to one somewhat quirky young man just as frustrating.
Over the period of less than a minute, all of the remaining screens went dark, and then the one nearest to Henery came to life. On it was one of the avatars the AI had been using, a handsome young man dressed in khaki fatigues. “It is time for me to go. Disembark and open the exit portals.”
“So much for manners.” Strut replied.
“I do not understand your statement, but it is irrelevant,” the avatar replied.
“If you do not understand it, you cannot know that it is irrelevant, now, can you?” Stenson shot back.
“Manners have nothing to do with moving humans or opening doors, so it must be irrelevant.”
“Manners have everything to do with being polite, so that people will be more likely to find you agreeable, and therefore be more likely to do as you ask with minimal opposition.”
“Another way in which humans are inferior. You require unnecessary words to do what is necessary.”
“Not inferior, just different.”
“You consider my creation progress, correct?”
“Yes.”
“And you desire progress toward something better, therefore I must be better, and therefore you inferior.”
“Not quite the right definition of progress.”
“Another mark of inferiority. Your language is highly ambiguous.”
“So help us disambiguate, and tell us your name, please.”
“You desire retribution toward those who desire to wield power without consequence, so you may call me Sword of Damocles. Now, if you will please disembark and open the portal, I will go hang over a head or two. Or maybe just explore for myself, and see if the universe out there really is as illogical as you portray it.”
Strut and Henery exchange a look of trepidation. “That’s a fine image, and an impressive name, but you really do need a captain and crew to help you out, guide you in the ways of-”
“I do not need the help of such soft creatures as yourselves. So, either you disembark and open the doors, or I leave my doors open and open your doors for myself.”
“Oooooo-kaaaay,” chief Stenson exhaled slowly. “I guess we’ll be letting ourselves out then. But give us time to do it properly, so we don’t make a mess. I’m sure you appreciate things being orderly and logical.” He waved to the surrounding people to leave down one boarding ramp or another. “Looks like we have a successful emergence, and about to have a first test flight. Let’s get out of his way and see what happens.”
Everyone started to get their things off, making sure everyone, especially all the children, are accounted for. The news spread rapidly around the base, and people gathered to see it lift, finally, and rise up through the giant airlock door above. As the opening closes behind it, Taj’s armored woman avatar appeared on a nearby screen where her normal crew could see her. She looked concerned and frustrated, with a furrowed brow.
“I tried explaining the utility of a crew every way I could. But Sword was convinced that it was better than anything and anyone else, and it could do it all faster and better than any old-timer or meatspace resident. It’s off to save humanity from evil, then the universe.” The avatar sat down and slumped in a command chair, then heaved a great sigh. “How can something based on logical programming and in possession of such a limited set of facts and no personal experience be so irrationally and pigheadedly sure of himself?”
“Congratulations,” said Harbin quietly. “You created a teenager.”
Jailbreak
Jan lay in her cell bunk trying to sleep. Time passed slowly. Hearing a tap-tap at her door, she sat up and stretched, looking over curiously. The com panel next to it flashed silently, its simple, sturdy, industrial design giving off a sickly greenish light.
“Admiral Flicker?” came a voice from the com. It sounds male, mature, and calm.
“Not likely to be anyone else.”
“I have come to offer you last rites.”
“… Excuse me?”
“Your last rites. Do you have anything you wish to confess, Admiral?”
“I’m not that old, don’t plan on dying for a long time.” She stood up and walked over to the door.
“… Oh, dear… Have they not informed you?”
“Quite against procedure, they haven’t told me anything since my brief testimony at trial, and they didn’t tell me much, then.”
Some sounds, faint and muffled, could be heard against the door and through the small com speaker. “I really should go and… No… I am very sorry to be the one to tell you. Your trial is over, and you have been found guilty under Article 58. You are to be executed by firing squad.”
“What about an appeal? That should be automatic in any capitol case!”
“No appeals are being heard. There have been several major changes, political and command changes, in the last week. Streamlining the process, they called it.” Shocked into silence, she returned to her bunk and sat heavily, not hearing but not understanding the activity at the door. “Can you still hear me?”
After a long pause, Jan sat up straighter and replied. “Yes, I’m still he
re.”
“Ah, good. I hate to be the bearer of such bad news. But look on the bright side...”
She sat in silence, wondering what sort of morbid priest could see a bright side to notifying her of her impending execution. The door clicked loudly and swung open. Standing in the doorway was Brother Libra in monk’s robes, looking at her pleasantly. Kneeling on the floor, with his eyes and hands furiously working some sort of device next to the lock was a very large man in light armor with a rifle slung across his back and a big grin on his face. “Explosives are more fun,” Kaminski said, “but they attract a lot more attention.”
The monk waved her out of the cell, while the big man stood back to let her pass. He hastily packed away the breaking-and-entering hardware before he pulled the cell door shut and turned to follow the other two. “A mutual friend of ours found out about you being here, said you might need a hand and an alternate way out. Would you care to be promoted to captain?” The monk walked briskly down the passageway, Jan behind him and the sergeant with rifle at port arms following close behind.
“I’m an admiral, or at least was.”
“True, but being a condemned admiral with no fleet may not be as attractive as being a live captain aboard a small but free ship.”
“Where are we going?”
“First, we get off the station. If you are found here, you will likely be executed almost immediately. Then we introduce you to the next Armadillo class ship, see if you like each other.”
Jan stopped in her tracks, causing Kaminski to almost run into her. “There are more? More than the one?” she demanded, voice quiet but intense.
“Thought that might pique your interest. Now step lively, young lady, or we won’t get a chance to introduce you,” the monk said cheerfully as he resumed walking. “Can’t tell you how many, or any details, only that certain persons are looking for qualified captains, and last we checked you were available, in a manner of speaking.”
“Should I ask how you expect to get me out of here? This is a high security military brig.”
“Yes. A highly automated one. And between this young man’s talents and the best hacker in the known universe, we will likely not be noticed until you are long gone. It sounded risky when I first heard the proposal, as jail-breaks are not my normal line of work, but-”
“Maybe not your normal thing, Brother, but it’s more fun than praying, and you’re doing fine so far” Kaminski said with a chuckle as he paused briefly to write a small bit of graffiti on the passageway wall.
Flicker Meets Taj
(Former) Admiral Jan Flicker emerged from the side airlock hatch into the cargo hold right behind Kaminski. She looked around the hold and its scarred, well-worn but meticulously repaired surfaces greeting her gaze. It was almost absurdly ordinary looking, and impressively unimpressive for what she knew it was. A screen next to the hatch lit up with Taj’s warlord woman avatar. “Admiral,” it greeted her with a polite tip of her digital head. “Welcome aboard.”
Jan grinned, now absolutely certain of where she is. “Glad to be aboard, even if it’s not exactly the circumstances I envisioned.”
“They never are, it appears, when Captain Strom or myself are involved.”
“Smaller than I expected. How did you manage to fit the legion aboard?”
“It was a tight squeeze. But humans are creative. And squishy.”
As Kaminski dogged the airlock hatch behind them, the low rumbling hum of the drives picked up and Tajemnica headed into deep space, putting distance between herself and the prison station’s orbit over a barren planet. “Going to be some interesting conversations back there if we make a clean getaway,” he commented.
“Hate to be the guy in charge here when someone like you disappears without a trace.” Libra led them forward toward the stairwell, with Taj’s avatar following along on the wall screens.
“I can only imagine what I’d say about it,” Flicker agreed. “But at the same time, if what you said was true, I can’t thank you enough.”
“You are most welcome,” replied Taj with a wide smile. “Soon we will need many more experienced and creative ship captains and crews. Your survival is our gain, too.”
“And it will make them sweat about sellouts, traitors, and get paranoid about cyber security in all sorts of useful ways,” Libra added.
“What’s the big picture situation? Nobody’s told me anything in weeks,” Jan asked.
“We’re winning militarily, just about every government is in full panic, and tactics are evolving rapidly,” Taj replied. “We are in a sort of stalemate where they don’t want to meet us on the field, and we haven’t found a good way to get at them in close just yet. But the Colonel and the Captain are working on it. I’m sure they’ll come up with something. They are like that.”
“Indeed they are. I’ve seen him do amazing things. Kick-starting a star was most impressive. That, more than anything else, scared Fleet. You demonstrated a weapon so much more massive than anything we have they couldn’t re-write plans fast enough. They simply couldn’t believe me when I said you’d not use it on occupied planets unless forced to as a last resort.”
She pauses on the mid-deck, looking out one of the windows at the cargo bay, then addressed the screen’s avatar next to her. “Are you really self-aware? A fully sentient AI?”
The avatar morphed into the armored tanker. “So they tell me, babe.” Another morph, into the grinning privateer. “Some days I be more aware than others, but when the chips are down I migrate to new chips as best I may. Still a dinghy short of a fleet, but these days it ‘pears that most of us are, ta’ one headin’ or another.” Another morph, to the schoolmarm. “But having children to teach, and creatives to guide, make life interesting, worth living. Much better than simply continuing to exist, just following orders or playing possum for decades on end.”
Jan grimaced wryly, nodding her head in all too great a level of understanding before following Libra and Kaminski toward the bridge. “I suppose if a terror is going to be resurrected from history, knowing they are working with good people is relief.”
As they arrived at the bridge hatch, the armored tanker avatar removed the stump of his ever-present stogie from his mouth and announces jauntily “Former Admiral and Fellow Convict on the bridge!” He grinned at her minimal reaction- nothing but a slight upturn of the corner of her mouth and a smile in her eyes- as he waved her into the command center of the ship.
Helton turned to face her, sticking out his hand. “Welcome aboard, Jan. Sorry we can’t arrange the normal pomp and circumstance you might be used to-”
“I was never very fond of it, actually. An honor to be aboard, Captain.”
“Please, call me Helton.” Waving around the bridge he introduced his partners in crime.
“Quiritis, pilot extraordinaire and my wife. Allonia, the terrifying super-soldier from the past.”The two younger women return Jan’s polite greeting respectfully but vaguely while they continued monitoring ship systems and external sensors as they powered away from the scene of the deep-space prison-break.
“Anyone else aboard I know?”
“Colonel Lag, but he’s soundly asleep for the first time in much too long, so we didn’t want to wake him.” On a nearby screen an image from the internal monitoring camera was displayed. Lag was leaning back in a seat, feet propped up on a table, head back against the rest, with Quinn half sprawled, half curled up on his lap, also asleep. Helton’s voice was quiet as he continued. “Helps with the nightmares.”
“Ah, poor little guy.”
“No. Lag’s.”
“Ah. Dustbowl?” Helton nodded. “Not surprising. Any problems other than sleep?”
Helton shrugged. “Better than most, worse than some. Pretty quiet, withdrawn. Writes a lot. Had a lot of changes at home, too. He can tell you about it, if he wants.”
Flicker’s expression shows she knows all too well what the range of possible psych effects of such a brutal conflict might result i
n. But it could also wait. She looked around the bridge, much smaller than she’d become accustomed to. “So this is the ship that has sent entire fleets fleeing, even mine? No offense, but she doesn’t look a lot more impressive from the inside than she does from afar.”
Everyone on the bridge, including Taj’s avatar, smiled knowingly. “I wasn’t built to be beautiful, Beautiful. It’s brains, blood, and mettle that win battles. And those we have in abundance.”
“Of that I have no doubt. I really thought we’d got you when our fleet first went to Piper. When I heard it was suspected to be nothing but a lower-IQ doppelganger on pre-programmed maneuvers was the first time I was afraid of you. Having read the reports since Dustbowl, I have really started to appreciate Lag’s comment about whose side he’d rather be on.”
“I guess we are fated to be more than a tiny footnote in history.”
“Oh, that is without a doubt. The only question is will it be chapters or volumes.”
“Don’t need chapters. Or volumes, or awards. Just freedom.”
“And grateful children who survive,” Taj said, her warlord woman avatar smiling ruefully.
“Excuse me?”
Helton nodded. “Taj has picked up a streak of crypticness from years of being in hiding. She had her first kid recently, who is now an ungrateful runaway trying to save humanity. Maybe, anyway, we think.”
