by C H Gideon
“What does your giving him a virus do for us?” XO asked.
“A lifetime of jokes is what it does for us, XO,” Tactical replied. “Imagine the possibilities.”
Reynolds sighed.
Geroux ignored Tactical, turning to answer XO. “It’s a hack program. All Reynolds has to do is get close to any console connected to the security system, sync up with it, and blam, we’re in. We can then find Jiya and use the system against Lemaire. We’ll have total control over his compound’s security.”
“Once we have that, we can go in and get her back,” Maddox finished, clearly seeing the potential in Geroux’s move.
“Then that’s what we’ll do,” Reynolds said, taking one last look at his new body.
“Don’t worry,” Takal comforted. “It will be here waiting for you when you return. I’ll even work to improve it while you’re gone.” He raised his flask in a mock toast.
Reynolds grunted. “Fine. Beam me down, Scotty.”
“Who’s Scotty?” Geroux asked, glancing around. “Is there another AI here somewhere that I don’t know about?”
“Kids these days.” Reynolds sighed. “Let’s do this before I change my mind.”
Geroux didn’t hesitate, sending Reynolds back down the rabbit hole.
The first of the guards hit the ground with a thud, Jiya spinning to whack a second in the side of his head with her shin. He grunted and staggered backward, falling over as his equilibrium gave way. She made ready to punch the third when a familiar voice called out, stilling everyone in the room.
“I wouldn’t touch her if I were you.”
She spun to see Reynolds clambering to his feet, his Jonny taxi body reanimated. She grinned and glanced at her father, who had circled back around to his seat, a couple of his men shadowing him.
“Oh, you’re in for it now, Dad,” she told him, chuckling all the while.
Reynolds stumbled over to the table and placed his hands on it, palms flat. He met the president’s glaring eyes.
“I presume this console is linked to the compound’s security system?” he asked, gesturing toward the viewscreen with his chin.
President Lemaire laid his hand on the screen and smirked, tapping a few keys. “Of course it is, and now you’re going to regret having come back here, alien. The rest of my security forces will be here in seconds.”
As Jiya stared at the two, Reynolds met her father’s smirk with one of his own. A crackle of static sounded in her head, and she realized her comm had just come back online.
“I’m in,” Geroux’s voice said through a clear channel. “System’s all yours, Reynolds.”
Jiya bit back the urge to laugh as she realized what had happened.
Lemaire grunted a moment later and tapped the console again, his eyes widening when nothing worked the way it was supposed to. He tapped the screen again desperately. His guards edged around the table.
“Ah, ah, ah,” Reynolds chided, wagging a finger at them. “Stay where you are, or I’ll let Jiya continue to whip your asses.”
She grinned and moved beside Reynolds, placing herself between the AI and her father’s men.
“In case you haven’t realized it, Mister President, I’ve assumed control of your compound’s security systems,” he told Lemaire. “Not only do your men not know you’re in danger, but they are locked out of the room. The three guards you have here are hardly enough to keep me from you should I decide to do something untoward.”
“You wouldn’t dare!” Lemaire growled, but the look on his face was far less certain than the words.
“I would dare, but I’d rather not,” Reynolds replied. “I’ve no interest in harming you, Mister President, but I also have no interest in letting you hold my first officer captive. I will do what’s necessary to free both of us. This has also confirmed that you are not to be trusted. Shame, that. You’re going to regret being such a flaming asshole.”
“The compound’s shields are down,” Geroux said over the comm, which Reynolds broadcast over a speaker so the president and his men could hear it. “We can bombard the place at your command, Reynolds.”
The president leaned back in his seat. He glanced from Reynolds to Jiya and back again, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “You won’t fire upon us,” he said in defiance. “You might control my security system, but my men will respond accordingly as soon as the first barrage begins. They will—”
“They will do nothing, Mister President,” Reynolds answered, cutting him off. “I could wipe this place from existence within a single heartbeat. The only reason it hasn’t happened already is that you’re Jiya’s father, and her sisters are still here in the compound.”
Jiya stiffened at that thought, but Reynolds waved at her to relax.
“I’ve got them located on the security systems,” he told her through the link. “They are in a safe location on the other side of the compound, unaware that anything is happening.” He motioned to the president. “Now, we have something to discuss before things get out of hand.”
“You don’t consider this as ‘out of hand?’” Lemaire asked, waving his arms around.
“Shuttle’s on the way,” Geroux said over the private comm.
Reynolds shook his head. “No, this is perfectly in hand, I have to say. Now, be reasonable and stand down. Let me leave with Jiya, and we’ll pretend this never happened.”
“Never happened?” Lemaire shouted, leaping to his feet. “You come here issuing orders and threatening to destroy my compound, and you presume to walk away without consequences?”
Despite the grumbling of his guards, Lemaire stomped around the table to stand face to face with Reynolds.
“You’re an alien menace, coming to Lariest and threatening its rulers. Do you truly think you will get away with this?”
Reynolds shrugged. “In reality, I’m only threatening you,” he answered. “My XO has been in touch with the Toller and Melowi governments, informing them of your attempt at kidnapping my first officer and me.” Reynolds leaned forward into the face of the president. “Both have offered their support in the matter, and, should something untoward happen to you or your administration, both nations have offered to provide assistance to the people and will gladly step in to take control of the country.”
President Lemaire stiffened. It was clear to Jiya that he believed every word the AI told him.
“Shuttle’s on the ground, Reynolds,” Geroux reported.
After a quiet moment during which Lemaire appeared to struggle to catch his breath, he returned to the couch and flopped down. His cold black gaze settled on Jiya.
“You would let him do this to me?” he asked.
“You’ve done this to yourself, Father,” she replied, giving him a curt nod. “We came here in peace, offering the Marianas people an opportunity to advance their sciences for little more than food and supplies and a place to dock between missions. You elevated this into a personal vendetta against me and my success. This is all on you.”
She growled, “You always held me under your thumb. Kept me from joining the military, kept me from living a meaningful life that differed from what you wanted.” She jabbed a finger in his direction. “I’m not a child anymore, and I’m sure as shit not your slave, so if you want to know if I’ll let Reynolds here blow the compound to dust, then my answer is yes. But that’s not what I want.”
She righted the chair and flopped into it across from her father. “What I’d prefer is to not upset the balance of Lariest. I want my sisters to be safe here, and the burial place of my mother to remain sacrosanct.” She drew in a deep breath, letting it settle into her lungs. “Let us go and agree to our terms and all will be forgotten, if not ever forgiven,” she told him.
“You are so very much like your mother,” Lemaire said, the words coming out behind a snarl. They were clearly not meant as a compliment. “You understand nothing, believing the lies your heart and gut tell you as if they were gospel.” He shook his head and waved a
hand toward the door. “Go, but know this, Daughter. You will never be welcome here again. You can park your alien ship in space and bleed the Toller and Melowi dry for all I care, but if you or your Jonny android ever set foot upon Marianas soil again, I will have both of you executed.”
Jiya rose to her feet and glared at her father. His words resonated in her head, and she hated what he’d just told her. She’d run away more times than she could count, but there was always an option to return no matter how uncomfortable it might have been. Not any longer.
Rather than think about what she might be leaving behind—her sisters, the memory of her mother, the place she was born—Jiya stomped off without a word.
This was what she’d always wanted, if not exactly how she’d wanted it to go down, so there wasn’t any point in arguing. Her sisters would be looked after, and they’d always been more like their father than their mother anyway. They’d be okay, and that was all that mattered.
Reynolds caught up to her out in the hall, and the two walked toward the courtyard where the shuttle had parked.
“That wasn’t so bad,” he said, grinning.
“Nope, not bad at all,” she replied with a grunt. “I can never come home again, never see my sisters, never visit the burial place of my mother, and we’ve made an enemy for life of Marianas. Not bad at all.”
“That’s the spirit,” Reynolds told her, patting her on the back. “I’m glad you can see the bright side of things.”
She groaned, not even bothering to reply.
“While you’re down there,” Takal’s voice said over the comm, interrupting them, “would you mind a slight detour? I mean, we’ve got the place locked down, right?”
“It’s not like we’re on a shopping trip, Takal,” Jiya told him.
“I promise this will be worth the time spent,” he argued. “We’ll get no better opportunity than this.”
“I’m not bringing you a Happy Meal,” Reynolds replied.
“I have no idea what that is,” Takal admitted. “I just need you to stop by my lab really quick. There are a few things there we could use.”
Jiya sighed, and Reynolds shrugged.
“Fine, but you’ll owe me,” Reynolds answered.
“As if I don’t already,” Takal mumbled.
“So true,” the AI said with a grin. “Let’s do this.”
Jora’nal sat before the altar in Thra’kal, the Temple of Life, and prayed. His voice rose in the empty temple like the hum of bees, fading as he offered the last of his supplication to Phraim-‘Eh and the other gods.
He always preferred coming to worship in the middle of the night, believing the silence brought him closer to the gods. The waft of heady incense filled his nose, and he breathed it in deep, letting the musky scent invade his lungs.
He exhaled slowly, wisps of smoke billowing from between his lips. His body was comfortably numb, a gentle tingle invading his limbs. The hours spent in worship had layered him in peace and serenity. He felt as if he were one with his god, the universe splayed before him.
Jora’nal stretched his arms toward the mosaic-tile ceiling and brought them down slowly, synching his breath with his movements. As his clasped hands settled into his lap, he sent the last of his nightly prayers out into the air.
“You asked, he answers,” an ethereal voice said.
Jora’nal started and clambered to his feet, his legs swaying beneath him. A shadowy figure stood just meters behind the altar, shrouded in the gloom of the temple.
“Who are you?” Jora’nal asked, surprised at how easily the man had crept up on him in the empty temple.
“I am Gerish, the Voice of Phraim-‘Eh, the echo of his wishes,” the figure answered. “And you are Jora’nal, are you not?”
Jora’nal stiffened at the mention of the god’s name, eyes narrowing in uncertainty. “How do you know me, stranger?”
“I know you through your prayers to him, our lord Phraim-‘Eh,” the figure answered. “You speak to him nightly, and I am the vessel of his wisdom.”
Jora’nal inched closer to the cloaked man, desperate to see his features, but there was nothing beneath the frayed hood. A wavering shimmer met his gaze, blurring the features beyond into a wash of colors that made his eyes ache. Jora’nal stepped back and turned his gaze away. A knot swelled in his guts.
“Forgive me, Gerish, but how do I know you are who you say you are?” Jora’nal asked.
What appeared to be a smile formed in the blur of the stranger’s features. He spread his arms to the sides and, to Jora’nal’s surprise, rose into the air until he hovered a meter above the tiled floor of the temple.
“It is I,” a bellowing voice boomed, “Phraim-‘Eh, who speaks to you through this vessel, child Jora’nal.”
Thunder rumbled outside, and the temple shook with its roar. Wisps of smoke rose from the altar and danced serpentine in the air. A pool of crimson liquid formed on the stone of the altar, swirling around and around until rivulets of blood ran over the edges and stained the tiles.
“Do you doubt your god?” the voice asked, and Jora’nal felt its presence bearing down on him like a storm in the deep desert.
“No, lord, I do not,” Jora’nal confirmed, dropping to his knees and averting his gaze.
Silence followed his proclamation, and Jora’nal spied the sandaled feet of his god’s messenger as he returned to the ground.
“Our lord is pleased,” the figure said, his voice returning to that of Gerish once more. “Phraim-‘Eh has a mission for you, one of grave importance. Will you be his messenger?”
Jora’nal’s breath caught in his throat, but he nodded, then forced himself to speak. “I will, in this and all things.”
“Then rise, child,” Gerish told him. “We have much to discuss.”
Chapter Nineteen
Five days after they’d returned to the superdreadnought, Jiya stood in the mess hall and stared across the room, amazed at the flurry of activity. The quick stops at the Toller and Melowi capitals after they’d been released from her father’s compound had been quite fruitful.
XO had organized a recruitment drive, Jiya the face of it, and both nations had flooded them with willing applicants. Geroux had scanned each and every one of them, linking into local law enforcement systems to ensure the would-be crew members weren’t spies or criminals. They hadn’t even bothered to recruit in Marianas, knowing for sure her father would try to slip someone unsavory onboard. She’d had more than enough of the man and his machinations.
The Melowi and Toller people scrambled around the hall, organizing and packing away the food supplies both nations had provided in exchange for Reynolds’ knowledge.
Both countries had been generous once they’d seen what the AI had to offer, and there was so much stuff that Jiya wasn’t sure where it would all fit. She learned how truly large the ship was when supplies were directed into massive storage bays that she hadn’t realized existed. She knew so little of the ship. She wondered how long it would be before she would be able to see it all.
She watched in appreciation as not only were rations carted into the galley, but fresh fruits and vegetables were, too, an assortment of delicacies from across the planet that even Jiya hadn’t seen before despite being raised in what amounted to a mansion.
“If you’re done overseeing the complicated job of food storage, I could use you on the bridge,” Reynolds said over the comm, a bite to his voice. “Right now.”
Jiya sighed. “On my way.”
They’d left orbit almost immediately after loading everything—the food, med supplies, the special metals V’ariat promised, and a wide assortment of other equipment and materials—and had been running the quadrant search Reynolds had devised to hunt down Kurtherians.
So far, they hadn’t had any luck finding the first clue as to where the enemy might be hiding, or if they were there at all.
Jiya knew that was a big part of what was frustrating the AI. After the drama of their kidnapping, he�
��d expected to fly off and begin his mission, but nothing had been as simple as that.
She marched down the corridors, dodging the new crew members wandering through the ship, trying to find their duty stations and gain familiarity with the massive superdreadnought.
As she passed the admin quarters, she spied several of the meeting rooms filled to bursting with recruits. Helm, Comm, Tactical, and XO oversaw their training, each personality doing its best to bring the crew up to speed before they made contact with anyone else. When would the crew be ready to tackle combat? As the first officer, she suspected that was her question to answer.
While everyone they’d brought onboard had had some sort of military or commercial ship training, the SD Reynolds wasn’t like any other craft they’d ever seen or operated. That meant everyone needed to be taught the intricacies of their jobs. Fortunately, the AI’s personalities could multitask tirelessly and get it done in huge swaths, training after training occurring one after another, recruits filing in every hour on the hour.
As Jiya strode onto the bridge, she was glad the AIs were saddled with that task and not her or the other crew.
“About time,” Reynolds muttered.
Of course, the mundanity of it all wore on Reynolds’ last nerve, only adding to the irritation of his not finding an enemy to take it all out on.
“Aye-aye, Captain Crabs,” she answered, snapping a sarcastic salute. “I’m here.”
Reynolds, in his new android form—Takal had just begun to layer the special metal frame onto the skeleton—looked like a furious chrome angel of death. His shiny skull was perturbing, and when his expression didn’t change, it only made the effect worse.
The look on his face was downright terrifying.
“Give us the bridge, Maddox,” Reynolds snapped, waving for the ex-general to leave.
Maddox mouthed, “Yes, sir,” and rose to his feet.
“Why’s he have to leave?” Jiya asked. “Just because you’re grumpy doesn’t mean we all need to suffer for it.”
