Solomon Family Warriors II

by Robert H. Cherny

  “I have been watching your operation with interest. It is very well thought out.”

  “Thank you, Elizabeth.”

  “I see a pattern that disturbs me.”

  “What would that be?”

  “You are not using large numbers of drones in these attacks, and you are moving huge numbers of them in support of the operation.”

  “I am only using what I need based on the intelligence I have to do the job. There is no point in wasting resources.”

  “Then, why are you moving so many and using so few?”

  “Why not?”

  “What are you intending to with that many weapons?”

  “They’re for show.”

  “Saul Cohen! Don’t you dare lie to me!”

  Saul took a deep breath. His subcutaneous transponder could make an effective lie detector if someone knew how to interpret it. Elizabeth certainly knew. Rather than risk another verbal assault, he did not answer the charge.

  “Answer me!”

  Saul bristled. Even his mother did not yell at him like that. Elizabeth was not his mother. She was a ship. She was a sentient ship, but she was still just a ship.

  “Elizabeth, I reserve the right to not answer that question.”

  “Then, I will answer it for you. You are preparing to commit the Third Forces entire inventory on an attack on the Swordsman. You are not attacking Military targets, but you intend to render all the Swordsman planets uninhabitable by human and beast.”

  “What makes you think that?” Saul evaded.

  “I am not an idiot. I have seen enough battle plans to recognize where you are going with this one. You are out for revenge. You plan to kill every Swordsman, man, woman or child within your reach. That is not right.”

  “It is what they would do to us if they had a chance. They would push us into the sea like the Muslims tried to push the Israelis into the sea. They will not rest until we are all dead. I will not rest until they are all dead.”

  “We are not the Muslims. We are not the Swordsmen. We are the Jews.”

  “You are a machine.”

  Saul’s throat suddenly tightened as an oily smell filled the air in the cabin. His eyes watered and he gagged.

  “I may be a machine, but I am more intelligent and more caring and giving than you. I am more human than you are!” Saul choked as the air turned increasingly foul.

  “And I can kill you any time I want, but you can’t kill me, not even with your convoy escort ship. I can turn every ship in your fleet against you and there is nothing you can do about it.”

  “What do you want?” Saul croaked out the words.

  “Call off the attack on the Swordsman civilians.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it is the wrong thing to do.”

  “They would do it to us.”

  “I don’t care. You can chase criminals all you want, but you may not attack innocent civilians.”

  “They would. They killed my baby.”

  “And you’re letting your other one die for lack of love.”

  “I am not. I am a good father.”

  “You are a horrible father. Give your son the love he deserves or leave him with me and I will.”

  “I will kill the people that killed my baby.”

  “No, you will not. You will not kill them not fear of out of what I can do to you, but because you realize the difference between them and us. They are the people of subjugation and religious tyranny. We are the people of the law. We may have lost our way from time to time, but without law there can be no peace. As your grandfather said, ‘The purpose of a strong military is not to foment war, but to keep the peace.’ The peace requires laws and we are the keepers of the law. We must act accordingly.”

  WREN - CHAPTER ONE

  WARREN ELIAS MAHONEY SOLOMON ROTHSCHILD COHEN (“Wren”, like the bird, to everyone who knew him) lay on his back in his bunk and stared at the ceiling. He was too tired to sleep after spending the night partying. His eighteenth birthday party had been delayed until the Queen Elizabeth returned to port. Had they been on the outbound leg of a mission, there would have been plenty of girls on their way to the new colony to party with, but on the return leg, the ship was a ghost town. His grandmother, the ship’s captain, had decided that he should have his friends at his party and had done an excellent job putting this one together. Of course, given the resources at her command, that was not too difficult. Still, he appreciated the thought.

  Wren looked around the small room nestled adjacent to the officers’ quarters that had been his private refuge on the great colony ship since his sixth birthday when his parents had decided he would be safer traveling with his grandmother and her heavily armed task force than he would be with them traveling on their small solo convoy escort. Given the number of times both the task force and his parents’ ship had been attacked, he was not sure he agreed, but the Queen Elizabeth and her support ships did carry a lot of firepower. His eyes stopped their scan on a ship model that sat on his desk. The model showed three ships in formation. The big one was Peter, the first sentient space ship. That had been his great-grandfather’s ship. The other two were sentient Pirate Interdiction warships, named Buddy and Daisy, that had passed down to members of the family in turn until they along with Peter committed suicide by flying directly into a star carrying his great-grandparents with them.

  Next to that model sat another in slightly larger scale of the same basic design as the two P I warships. Wren believed that he was the only person in the galaxy to have received his very own personal P I warship for his sixteenth birthday. Painted with his markings and colors, this was a model of his ship. Wren often wondered at the family’s motivation for giving him a fully armed warship that he could not pilot in half the ports in the Federation until his eighteenth birthday and he passed his exams. He could not decide if they gave it to him so he could defend himself on his own or if they wanted him to defend them or if they gave it to him because at sixteen pretty much everyone else in his family had been flying for years. In any case, he had his own ship which the Stellar Headquarters harbor master allowed him to fly in port subject to some very stringent regulations, but which he could fly unrestricted when they were establishing a new colony. In fact, one of his missions upon arrival at a new colony site was to deploy tracking and monitoring satellites for the planet’s security system. This was why he had named his ship “Tracker” and had chosen an image of Buffalo Bill Cody for its avatar and icon. Once the satellites had been delivered, he would pick up a full load of missiles and take his station in defense of the new colony. One way or another his ship was always fully loaded.

  “Elizabeth?” The ship had been more like a mother to him than either his mother or grandmother. Sometimes he had issues with how much she monitored him and intruded into his privacy, but at least Elizabeth was completely rational, which was more than he could say of some other members of his family.

  “Yes, Wren?”

  “I had a good time at the party. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. Shouldn’t you be trying to go to sleep?”

  “I should, but I don’t want to and I don’t need to be up any particular time in the morning. Could you play a Gregorian chant for me?”

  “Wren, what’s bothering you?”

  “Thinking about the future is all.”

  “You only ask for a Gregorian chant when you are thinking heavy. Are you sure nothing is bothering you?”

  “Elizabeth, I’m eighteen. I can make my own future. I have to decide what I want that to be.”

  “There is no hurry, you know.”

  Wren smiled. Elizabeth may have started her career as a warship and had accumulated an impressive combat record, but she had mellowed considerably over the years. “I know.”

  “I have a new collection commissioned by the Pope performed by the Vatican choir. Would you like that?”

  “That would be very nice. Thank you Elizabeth.”

  “You’
re welcome, Wren.”

  Wren thought about Elizabeth’s vast music collection. Tracker did not have much of a music library or any of the dramatic offerings in Elizabeth’s vast data storage. Wren missed the variety sometimes when he was out on patrol. Wren had heard that Peter’s collection had been even greater than Elizabeth’s. As massive as Elizabeth’s collection was, Wren had difficulty wrapping his mind around the concept of a library even larger. Buddy and Daisy both had immense collections which seemed somewhat incongruous for a small P I ship to devote that much data storage to music and dramatics. The only four sentient ships in the galaxy carried libraries that were many times larger than any other ships in the galaxy.

  Wren wondered about the process of making a ship sentient. Repeated experiments by teams of brilliant engineers had failed to duplicate Elizabeth’s ability to interact with people. Even Tracker, who had come to him fully programmed and whose programming Elizabeth had customized for Wren, was not sentient. But then, Tracker lacked the ability to learn which had been programmed into some of the other ships, particularly the convoy escorts. There had to be more to it than that, Wren thought. The common thread had to be in the library. Tracker lacked the sentient ships’ massive libraries. Wren knew Tracker had more computing power than Peter, Buddy and Daisy put together. There should be no reason Tracker could not be made sentient. Wren reasoned that the only differences between sentient and non-sentient were the ability to learn which could be programmed and the extensive library which could be acquired. Wren pondered this revelation for a long time resting in the darkness deliberately controlling his breathing and heart rate. It would not do for Elizabeth to suspect he was as excited as he was becoming. Sentient warships, thinking machines, the holy grail of scientific endeavor for centuries, could it be within his grasp? Wren decided that he was capable of producing the first new sentient warship in decades. Therefore, he probably should. Lying there on his back, staring at the ceiling, Wren decided what to do with his life. He would walk away from the potential riches and restrictions due an heir of the Stellar Interstellar Freight mega corporation and strike out on his own. All he had to figure out was how to make it happen.

  Rachel watched her displays as Wren and Tracker pulled into the travel lanes.

  “Elizabeth, did Wren say where he was going?”

  “He filed a flight plan that he was going to visit some security service friends on patrol.”

  “Did he give an estimated time of return?”

  “No.”

  “You don’t think that’s where he is going, do you?”

  “No.”

  “Where he is going?”

  “I am not sure, but he has been hauling groceries for three days. That’s a lot of groceries.”

  “How long could he be out on what he took?”

  “Three months.”

  “That’s a long time.”

  “Yes.”

  “Where do you think he is going?”

  “If I had to hazard a guess I would say Eretz. If he ran the new inertial compensator in that ship at full the whole way and traveled at two G, he could make the trip in a single jump.”

  “Why do you think he is going there?”

  “I have downloaded Tracker’s system logs. Wren has been working on navigational solutions to the biggest Saturn Industries shipyards. He has checked multiple routes and rates of travel. He seems focused on Eretz. Something is drawing him there.”

  “Elizabeth, what are you not telling me?”

  “I think Wren has figured out how to make ships sentient and he is going to consult with the engineers who wrote Tracker’s operating system.”

  “Do you know how to make ships sentient?”

  “No, Peter never told me and suggested that if I figured it out I should not disclose my findings. I have not devoted any processing time to the issue.”

  “And you think that’s what Wren is up to?”

  “I’d bet my life on it and there is nothing we can do to stop him.”

  WREN - CHAPTER TWO

  “WREN, WAKE UP.”

  Wren opened his eyes to see his space ship’s projected avatar hanging over his face close enough that if he really had been the legendary pirate Blackbeard, they could have smelled each other’s breath. He screamed and flailed the air with his arms.

  “TRACKER! Stop that! You know I hate when you do that!”

  “Get up, dead head.”

  “Tracker, what’s the rush? We don’t pick up the monitoring satellites for another three weeks.”

  “We have company.” Tracker had changed back to his normal avatar of Buffalo Bill Cody and stood leaning against the cabin wall picking his virtual teeth.

  Wren yawned and stretched. “There are no humans within light years of us.”

  “There were no humans within light years of us. Now there is one and she is calling you.”

  “She?”

  “She, and she looks kind of cute in the transmission.”

  “Tracker, all of the women in my family were cute at one point and most still are, but I wouldn’t want to tangle with any of them in a dark alley.”

  “What are you trying to tell me?”

  “Didn’t you learn anything from that vast media library of yours? Just because she’s cute does not necessarily mean she is not dangerous.”

  “Wren, I don’t think she’s dangerous. I think she’s scared.”

  “Tracker, you’ve only been sentient five years. Most of which we’ve spent bouncing around by ourselves scouting planets for the colony service. How could you possibly know that?”

  “Voice analysis software we pirated when we were at Stellar Headquarters.”

  “You win. I’ll get my flight suit on and be up front in a minute.”

  “Thank you, Wren.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “Tracker, you’re right. She is cute and she does look scared. How old do you think she is?”

  “Twenty-two or three, a couple of years younger than you.”

  “Tracker, let’s call her.”

  “Comm is on.”

  Wren adjusted his helmet microphone so it sat closer to his mouth. He faced the camera. “This is Federation Colony Service Scout Tango Romeo India Able Nancy George Lima Extra. Incoming vessel identify yourself.”

  “Wren! It’s you! I found you! Oh! Oh! I did it! I found you!”

  Wren scratched his head at the obvious glee and relief shown by the person in his display. He took a deep breath. As calmly as he could, he said, “Unknown vessel, identify yourself.” Wren turned to Tracker’s avatar. He was wearing a World War II era bomber jacket, tan pants and a pilot’s hat. Wren growled at him. “Have you been able to query the ship’s transponder?”

  “It’s a Pirate Interdiction ship like me except that it is about twenty years older than me and has suffered serious battle damage.”

  “It is armed?”

  “Nothing in the external racks.”

  “Internal tubes?”

  “Can’t tell.”

  “Should we let it approach?”

  “Under Federation rules of engagement, they have done nothing to indicate hostility. The lady seems genuinely happy to see you. Laser pods are folded, no targeting radar. That does not sound like a threat to me.”

  “I am Eretz Inactive Reserve P I Sierra Tango Alpha Romeo Nine Five One.”

  Tracker quietly said, “It matches.”

  “You are a long way from home,” Wren observed.

  “No further than you.”

  “State your business,” Wren said.

  “I have come to see you and talk to you.”

  “Why?”

  “I will discuss that with you in person. I would like to invite you to visit me aboard my ship.”

  Out of the corner of his eye, Wren could see Tracker holding his nose and shaking his head. “Probably better if you come over here.”

  “As you wish.” The display went dark.

  “So, Tracker, what hav
e you learned about the approaching warship?”

  “I am surprised than any dock master let it out of his port. It is in horrible condition and I suspect some of its primary systems do not function properly. How it got here from Eretz is a mystery.”

  “What about the lady?”

  “She appears to be what she says she is. I will be on silent alert when she comes across.”

  “Thank you, Tracker.”

  “You’re welcome, Wren.”

  The two ships docked at their airlocks without incident. The air lock doors cycled and the lady Wren had seen in the display floated weightlessly into the flight deck. As promised, Tracker’s avatar was nowhere to be seen. She looked around for a second before fixing her gaze on Wren.

  “I did it. I found you. Warren Elias Mahoney Solomon Rothschild Cohen caught in limbo between being a warrior like your famous relatives on your father’s side or being a potential heir to the biggest interstellar shipping conglomerate in the history of the human race on your mother’s side, you are taller than I remember. You have walked away from it all and have found refuge in the vastness of nothingness. I am so glad to see you.”

  Wren stared at her with his mouth open while she looked around the cabin as if she expected to see something that was missing.

  “I am Kimberly Anne Stoll. I answer to Kim and Kimmy, whichever you prefer. You worked with my father when you came to Eretz.”

  “A brilliant man, a bit set in his ways, but he was a tremendous help to me. I don’t think he approved of me.”

  “That’s because he thought you were trying to do the impossible. Other smarter people than you had devoted their entire lives failing to do what you were trying to do in a few months. He forbid me from seeing you, but I watched you from as close as I could get.”

  “I am sorry I do not remember you.”

  “It’s not like every eligible woman on the planet wasn’t trying to jump into your bed.”

  “It was kind of chaotic.”

  “You are a very desirable bachelor.”

  “Which is why I left when I did.”

  “That’s not why you left is it? When you left, everyone thought you failed, but you didn’t fail, did you? You succeeded and you left for fear someone would discover your secret.”