What the bot was doing with the clothing was not the problem.
The clothing was.
As I opened my mouth to yell for Skippy, the bot took two folded items of clothing from the basket. They were a bra and, I think the other thing is called a ‘bustier’? Kind of like a corset or a girdle, with a bra on top.
Well, duh, of course the bra was on top, don’t know why I had to mention that.
Anyway, the bra was yellow with lace and maybe pretty flowers. Clearly not something intended for everyday wear under a uniform top, unless I truly know nothing about women.
Actually, forget what I said. I do know nothing about women.
The bustier? It was pink and had those little straps that hold up stockings, and that I was sure was not every-day wear under a uniform.
Damn, the women aboard our ship were having a lot more fun than I was.
Or maybe they just wanted to feel like they could have fun, so far from home.
It was not any of my business who that intimate apparel belonged to.
It was my business what the hell it was doing in my cabin.
Before I could yell for Skippy, Simms caught my eye. The glare in her eyes had been replaced by a twinkle. “I am not judging, Sir.”
I could feel my face turning bright red. “Simms, those are not-”
“But,” she giggled and Reed snorted. “If you want to get that bustier fastened, you need to really suck in your stomach.”
“I don’t think the bra will fit either,” Reed observed.
“Skippy!” I roared at him.
“Oh for-” he grunted. “What is it this time?”
“Why are ladies’ garments being put into my cabin?”
“What? Hmm. That is odd.”
“Ya think?”
“Oh. I meant what you said is odd. Seriously, who says ‘ladies garments’?”
“Answer the question, please. Is this the ship’s AI screwing with me?”
“Sadly, no, because that at least would be entertaining. Nope, this is a simple error, a mistranslation of the laundry classification system I installed in the bots. Those lacy things belong to-”
“Do not tell me! I do not want to know.”
“Why does that-”
“Because if I knew who owned that stuff, I will think of it every time I see her. I don’t want that, and she sure as hell doesn’t want that.” Crap. Actually, considering how small our crew was and the size of the clothing, I could guess who those things belonged to.
“Oh. Got it. Ok, I am retasking that bot, sorry,” he laughed. “About that.”
Simms shook her head with slowly, exaggerating the gesture for effect. “We have a new ship. But the more things change, the more they stay the same.”
“It’s kind of comforting,” Reed observed. “No matter what happens, we can count on Skippy to make us laugh.”
“As long as you are not laughing at me, Reed,” I tried to frown sternly at her, spoiled by the corners of my mouth curling upward.
She drew herself upright at attention. “Never, Sir.”
“Colonel?” Simms asked. “This has been fun, but can I see the bridge now? I want to get started right away.”
“Uh, sure.” That let me off the hook for continuing the conversation. I did notice she had said ‘We have a new ship’. Not ‘You have a new ship’. Jennifer Simms was not happy to be away from Avalon, back racing desperately across the galaxy, across multiple galaxies. She was happy that I had approved her beau Frank Muller to be added to the Dutchman’s crew. I had used the excuse that he was familiar with the hydroponics gear, but the real reason was that him being with us, even on another ship, made Simms happy. They could visit each other while the ships were recharging jump drives in interstellar space.
Having Frank Muller with us made her happy. Considering that we were facing the imminent, inevitable and unstoppable destruction of Earth, it was good to see that somebody had found happiness.
Simms walked away with Reed, as I watched the bot removing lingerie from my cabin, making sure Skippy did not leave any of it behind.
Did I trust him?
No, I did not.
Reed led the way. “Ma’am, you heard about our killer bedsheets?”
Simms looked at the pilot sharply. “Those have all been replaced, right?”
“Yes. We all have sheets that are inert.”
“And?”
“And, I don’t know about the rest of the crew, but I have been sleeping in sweatpants on the floor of my cabin.”
“Wonderful,” Simms frowned. In addition to fighting nearly every species in the galaxy, she now had to worry about fighting their own ship. “I heard the previous crew used bioneural implants to control the ship, and floated in suspensor fields on the bridge?” Simms asked as they walked toward the bridge. She noted the passageways had signs in English attached to the walls, providing warnings and directions.
“That’s what Skippy told us,” Reed confirmed. “We’re stuck using their backup physical controls, and seats. At least these seats aren’t tiny like the ones aboard the Dutchman.”
Simms glanced behind her. “Are all the cabins that big?”
“No. The Colonel is using the cabin that belonged to the previous captain. But they are all nice, bigger than some hotel rooms I’ve been in.”
“Reed,” Simms halted and looked around to be sure no one could overhear. “How is he?”
“The Colonel?” ‘Fireball’ Reed thought for a moment. “Best as can be expected, I guess. He’s still on top of his game, if that’s what you’re worried about, Ma’am. On our last mission, he kept us together, kept us focused, after,” she looked down at the deck. “You know,” she said, not wanting to talk about how they had lost most of the crew in a few searing seconds. “The problem is, when the Colonel is trying to think up ideas now, it’s not about saving the world. He knows that is impossible now.”
“Then what is our mission out here, Reed?” Simms knew the answer, she wanted to know if her chief pilot understood the facts.
Reed had an immediate answer, because she had thought a lot about the subject. “Delay the inevitable attack against Earth, however we can. Save as many people as we can, if we can. Then,” she jabbed a finger toward the exterior bulkhead. “When that is over, make those MFers out there pay, big-time.”
CHAPTER SIX
We left Avalon behind, headed back toward the Milky Way. What exactly we would do when we got there, I still had no idea. I didn’t know what we could do. I sat on the edge of my massive bed, but didn’t make a move to take my clothes off.
“Hey, Joe,” Skippy called. “You getting some rack time?”
“I don’t think I’m getting any sleep tonight,” I admitted. Supposedly the bed and sheets were safe, but I was still sleeping on the floor.
“What’s wrong?” His avatar shimmered to life on top of a shelf across the cabin.
“Seriously? Everything is wrong.” I would have added an implied ‘duh’ to my tone of voice, expect Skippy was too clueless to understand sarcasm that subtle.
“I know that, Joe. I meant, what is bothering you right now?”
“There’s no way out of this,” I stared down at my boots. “In the past, we always had at least a faint hope that, if we had a crazy enough idea and a whole lot of luck- Plus the awesomeness of you, of course,” I added to feed his enormous ego. “We could get out of whatever mess we were in at the time. We had hope, you know? Not this time. No matter how many clever ideas we dream up, no matter how awesome you are, this ends with Earth destroyed, and a tiny group of humans hiding out beyond the galaxy, trying to survive. Even then, if the Rindhalu or Maxolhx really do have an Elder AI working with them, not even the Sculptor galaxy will be safe. This is game over. The end of all things. And there’s nothing I can do about it.”
“I’m sorry, Joe.”
“It’s not your fault, Skippy.”
“Um, if it helps, I may have an idea,” Skippy offered.
My he
ad jerked up to look at him, daring to have a tiny glimmer of hope. “What is it?”
“No,” he teased. “I shouldn’t tell you.”
“Come on, Skippy. I’m dying here. Tell me.”
“Really, I shouldn’t. Forget I said anything.”
“I’m not forgetting.”
“Joe, it’s crazy. Sorry I mentioned it.”
“Skippy, all of our best plans are crazy. Spit it out.”
“Ok, but remember, you asked for it. We can’t stop the Maxolhx, not all of them.”
“Yeah, so?”
“So, I was thinking we could get them to destroy themselves, sort of.”
“Uh,” I was beginning to suspect that his crazy idea might be on my level of crazy thinking. “How do we do that?”
“Well,” he whispered, making me lean in to hear him. “How about this: we get the Maxolhx to- No, it’s crazy.”
“Skippy! Get them to do what?”
“Get them to kill John Wick’s dog?”
“Oh for-”
“I know. Too violent.”
“You ass,” I had to laugh, and tossed a pillow across the cabin at him. It passed right through his avatar, bounced off the bulkhead and fell to the floor.
“I was trying to cheer you up.”
“You, uh,” I laughed again. “You did that. Thanks.”
“Joe, do I have to remind you that you need your mind to be fresh, or you are useless as a commander? The best thing you can do for the crew right now is getting a good night of sleep.”
“I wish that could happen.”
“It can. Look in the upper drawer next to the bed. There is a bottle of pills I had fabricated.”
I pulled out the bottle and glared at it skeptically. “Sleeping pills?”
“No. These pills contain a small amount of nanomachines, that will stimulate your natural sleep cycle. They will quiet your untidy monkey mind, so you can sleep.”
“Oh.” What the hell, I thought. He was right, I needed a solid night of sleep. Taking one of the pills that were the size of a sesame seed, I swallowed it. “Thank you, Skippy.”
“I’m trying to help, however I can. Joe, I am just as upset as you about the situation. For all my awesomeness, for all I brag about my awesomeness, I can’t protect one single planet of monkeys. I can’t even get this ship’s AI to behave. This is deeply humiliating. Most of the time, I am waiting for the mush in your skull to generate an idea that I can work with. But you’re right. This time, no idea ever is going to save your people.”
“This conversation is not helping me get to sleep, Skippy,” I mumbled as I pulled my boots off.
“Sorry.” He dimmed the lights in the cabin, and his avatar faded away. “Good night.”
My zPhone alarm beeped to wake me up, at the proper time. Since my bedsheets tried to kill me, I always kept my trusty zPhone with me. When I slept, it was in a pocket of my sweatpants. The other pocket had a folding knife that I kept razor sharp. Next to me on the floor was a razor-sharp combat knife and another zPhone. Frey had seen me requisitioning a combat knife from the STAR team lockers, and she gave me an approving nod. Other than that, we never mentioned the incident.
“Oh goodie, you’re awake!” Skippy’s voice was way too cheery for so early in the morning.
“Coffee,” I mumbled, wiping sleep away from my eyes.
“Sure thing. Before that, I have to talk to you about-”
“Co-ffee.”
“Ugh. Is that all you care about?”
“Right now, yes.”
“Dude, seriously?”
“You once told me you can create a subroutine to say ‘Monkey’ until the end of time? That’s my brain right now. Coffee coffee coffee coffee coffee-”
“All right! Please shut up. Jeez Louise, you are a major pain in the ass. There is a bot rushing coffee from the galley right now.”
“Great. I’m going to splash water on my face. It had better be here by then.”
It was. A bot scurried in on creepy spider legs, carry a hot cup of coffee, as I was patting my face dry with a towel. “Ah, that’s better,” I took a sip and waved for the bot to go away. Carefully, I sat on the couch, ready to jump up at any moment. Skippy said there was no danger from the couch, but he was not in danger from furniture. Also, I could feel the couch’s soft material adjusting to my weight. At first, that had been a nice feature, now it creeped me out. “What’s up?”
“Are you awake yet? I don’t want to repeat myself.”
“I’m awake enough,” I mumbled as I slurped coffee.
“Ok. Joe, I discovered why I, Skippy the Magnificent, the Most Awesome of All Awesomenesses-”
“Yeah, yeah, and all your other official titles. Protector of the Realm, Defender of the Weak, Ruiner of Karaoke Night, Asshole of the Universe-”
“Are you mocking me?” His avatar scowled from on top of a cabinet.
“Sorry. Go ahead.”
“Anywho, despite my incomparable incredibleness, I have not been able to get a Maxolhx AI to do what I want. It has been a deeply humiliating experience. Until now. I recently- And by recently I mean one hour, six minutes and thirteen seconds ago- Ugh. I wanted to wake you up to tell you the great news, but-”
“But that would have been a bad idea. What is this great discovery?”
“Joe, I am not supposed to be able to control another AI! That is one of my built-in restrictions. See? It is totally not my fault!
Maybe I wasn’t fully awake. “That doesn’t make sense, Skippy. You have controlled other AIs many times. That’s how we took the Flying Dutchman. And you have hacked into AIs of the Kristang, the Ruhar, the-”
“Yes, yes. Those were not really AIs, Joe. Those were just, um, fancy toasters. The AI of this ship is the first one smart enough that it triggered my restrictions. Truthfully, I think this ship’s AI is kind of on the edge of being too dumb to activate my restrictions, but-”
“Why would you have a restriction against controlling other smart AIs? The Maxolhx didn’t even exist when the Elders left the galaxy.”
“The restriction must have been intended to prevent me from controlling other Elder AIs, Joe,” he explained patiently.
“Oh.” Maybe the coffee hadn’t taken effect yet. Or maybe I was just stupid. “Oh! Why?”
“I don’t know, dumdum.” He was irritated with me. “It’s like all my other restrictions, I don’t know what the intent of the Elders was. My guess is, an AI who can control other AIs is a major threat, because there is no check on its power. Eventually, one AI could control and subsume all the other AIs, and have absolute power. The Elders didn’t want to risk that happening.”
I nodded, while thinking that still did not answer my question of why the hell the Elders cared at all about what happened in this galaxy. Why did they leave Sentinels behind? Why did they leave Guardians in the Roach Motel, to keep grubby lower species from screwing with their stuff? It was maddening not to know. If it was maddening for me, it must absolutely drive Skippy crazy. “Great, glad you figured that out. How does this help us?”
“Us? It helps me, Joe. It explains why I can’t do something that I totally should be able to do. Why are you so selfish? It’s alllllll about you, isn’t it, Joe? Everything has to be about little Joey, or he-”
“Whoa, sorry,” I waved my arms and sloshed coffee on the couch and floor. He was so pissed at me, he didn’t bother to complain. “What I meant is, now that you know the real source of the problem, does that help you slap this ship’s AI into behaving?”
“Oh. Yes, actually. I can’t do it just by shear willpower.”
“This changes your plan?”
“Um, a little. Willpower wasn’t working anyway, and I didn’t know why. Now I do. I have made small adjustments to my approach. It’s working, Joe. I think it’s working. In fact, we should be ready for a test this afternoon. Tomorrow morning at the latest.”
“Does this test involve me going into an airlock, and seeing if the ship’
s AI blows me out into space?”
“No. Although, oooh, that would be-”
“A terrible idea, right?”
“Oh, um, yes,” he agreed hastily. “The test will involve me allowing the native AI to think certain ship systems are vulnerable, and seeing if it attacks.”
“That actually does not sound like a great idea, Skippy.”
“It is totally a brilliant idea, numbskull. I said it will think that systems are vulnerable. It will not really have access to those systems. The purpose of the test is to see what happens. Will it respond to commands, or will it cooperate like a nice AI?”
“This afternoon, huh? Hey, how about we use the time to practice evacuation drills? You know, send the entire crew over to the Flying Dutchman, as if we’re having to abandon the Valkyrie?”
There was silence. Then, “Are you saying you lack confidence in my abilities?”
“No, of course not.” My mind scrambled to think up a good lie.
And I got nothing.
“Joe, that is hurtful. Also, we can’t evacuate the people in the medical bay.”
“Oh, yeah.” Technically, that was not true, because there were pods that were designed for transporting personnel who were undergoing medical treatment. He was right that it was best not to test those pods on real people. “Ok, how do we handle this test?”
“We do not do anything. I will take care of everything, with Nagatha’s help. The good news is, because this ship’s AI thinks way faster than a monkey, the test should only take a few moments in monkeytime. You go, I don’t know. Do whatever monkeys do. I’ll let you know when I have results.”
“Good morning, Sir,” Simms stammered through a yawn as she walked into my office, carrying an extra-large mug of coffee. Because of the difference in the natural sunrise-sunset schedule at the colony on Avalon, and the artificial day we kept aboard our ships, it was early in the morning for her. Her sleep rhythms were disrupted also because a day on Avalon was less than twenty-two hours long.
My own experience, living for extended times on Camp Alpha, Paradise and Gingerbread, told me how rough it was adjusting to days that were shorter or longer than the standard twenty four. On worlds with shorter days, the missing hours were supposed to be taken out of work time, so people could sleep their normal six or eight hours. If the local day was longer, typically people split the difference between work and sleep. But once your body made the difficult adjustment to an unnatural day-night cycle, it was rough changing again, even if that change aligned with what people had grown up with.
Valkyrie (Expeditionary Force Book 9) Page 9
