by C H Gideon
“I will look into this, I promise you,” Gorad told him, motioning toward the chair Reynolds had nearly knocked over. “Sit, please. We still have much to discuss.”
“Are you fucking kidding me? You think your agroprinters are worth losing the people I want to feed? That’s bullshit!”
Were Reynolds human, he would have felt the blood in his veins boiling. He was sure he still did—the oil, at least, pumping through his systems and threatening to light fires inside him.
“There is nothing you can do to determine the problem, Reynolds,” Gorad explained, which only lit the match under the Federation AI.
He darted across the room and snatched the Gorad android up by its neck. A quick twist snapped its robotic neck, and Reynolds hurled the twitching body into the wall alongside the table and its contents.
“You attacked my people, Gorad,” Reynolds shouted at the android body as it lay at an awkward angle, spasming. “That was no accident or error, that was an act of war on an Etheric Federation starship, you stupid Commodore Vic 20. Bethany Anne would carve her name in your ass cheeks for that.”
“This is not war, Reynolds,” the android went on, although its head was bent sideways. “Had I declared such, there would be nothing left of your ship or its people,” Gorad explained. “I did not.”
“Oh, and that makes it better, huh?” Reynolds snapped a kick and sent the android’s head flying. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
“I will find the culprit. It was clearly an error in the system,” Gorad told him, but Reynolds didn’t want to hear any more.
He spun and muscled his way out the door of the meeting room before charging off down the hall. As he ran toward the end of the moving walkway after he’d gotten outside of the building, he spied the Reynolds’ Pod streaking through the sky.
It landed in the street a moment later, its hatch popping open. He darted up the ramp and jumped inside. Jiya sat inside in the pilot’s seat, having been the first to be collected. A fearsome scowl distorted her features.
“That piece of shit,” she started, unable to get the rest of the words out past the growl.
“Get us back to the ship,” Reynolds ordered.
“What about the others?” Jiya asked, clearly hesitating to follow the order with her crew still there.
Reynolds dropped into the seat beside Jiya. “Gorad claims he did not declare war on us,” he explained. “That it was an error.”
“And you believe that fucker?”
“I do, oddly enough,” Reynolds replied, rational thought coming back to him now that the immediate danger had passed. “What does he have to gain by blasting Reynolds and killing our people? It doesn’t make any sense.”
“And that passes for logic?” Jiya barked.
“Of course not,” he told her, “but I do not believe he will go after the crew here on Grindlevik 3. He’s not out to hurt any of you.”
“No, he just wants to kill those aboard the superdreadnought.”
Reynolds grunted, knowing that it was a circular argument with Jiya. She wasn’t going to accept that anything but the obvious had happened—that Gorad had attacked—but Reynolds wasn’t so sure.
He couldn’t think of a good reason for the alien AI to attack them now, after letting them through security and onto the planet.
“So, what, we just leave them here?” Jiya pushed when Reynolds didn’t immediately reply.
Jiya was fuming, and while Reynolds understood, he thought something had happened that was out of Gorad’s control. He hadn’t meant to assault the Reynolds or its crew, but something had happened.
Reynolds needed to know what. He had to learn the answer, and the only way to do that was from his ship.
“Warn them to stay frosty and protect themselves as necessary,” Reynolds ordered. “And, more importantly, not to initiate any combat actions against the defensive ring or the Grindlovian destroyers.”
“You have got to be shitting me,” Jiya complained, though Reynolds was glad to note that the first officer had taken their earlier conversation about responsibility and the chain of command to heart.
Even though she disagreed with his decision and argued against it, she was already triggering the comm and engaging the Pod’s engines to return to the ship.
Reynolds waited as Jiya spoke to the crew remaining on the planet, and he was impressed by the restraint she’d shown while doing so.
She had only used some variation of “fuck” about fifteen times during the conversation and only once threatened to kill someone.
Progress.
As the Pod shot back toward the Reynolds, Jiya cut the link between her and the crew and turned in her seat to look at him.
“I don’t like this,” she told him.
“Neither do I,” he admitted. “If Gorad did this purposely—and I don’t believe he did—it was a serious miscalculation on his part. He will pay for it if that’s what happened, but I need to assess the damage before I make any rash decisions.”
“Three people missing is all you should need to know,” Jiya clarified.
“Unaccounted for, yes,” he replied, “but not yet proven dead.”
“Does that make it better?” she barked.
“Only minutely,” he concurred, watching the screen as the bright day turned to night when they broke through the atmosphere.
Superdreadnought Reynolds loomed ahead, and Reynolds snarled at seeing her venting atmosphere, the hull charred and buckled where Gorad’s destroyer had sucker punched them.
“I’m going to rip his diodes out his metal ass,” Jiya threatened, “and short-circuit all his capacitors.”
“Remind me to never piss you off,” Reynolds told her.
“Too late for that,” she replied, and Reynolds saw the fury that etched lines across her reddened features, her knuckles white on the Pod’s controls. She wasn’t going to let it go anytime soon.
And that made Reynolds’ job harder.
The agroprinters were important, and despite his bluff that he and the crew could eventually figure them out, he knew the technology was within reach if only he could say the right words.
Besides, he now felt a pang of concern about leaving the Grindlovians and Telluride in the hands of the alien AI, especially if there were glitches in his system bad enough to trigger an attack on the superdreadnought. If he was willing to fire on a Federation ship for no apparent reason, what else would he be willing to do?
Reynolds thought for a moment that the crew on the planet might be in danger, but the AI still refused to believe it was Gorad who had attacked. He trusted that the alien intelligence would protect Reynolds’ crew. It wasn’t logical, but Reynolds believed it with every fiber of his digital being.
Though he had to admit, nothing made any sense.
Gorad wanted what Reynolds knew, and putting his crew at risk wouldn’t accomplish his goal. Even a mentally challenged AI would understand that. While Gorad might piss Reynolds off by hurting his people, nothing that happened to them would force Reynolds to give in to Gorad’s demands.
In fact, quite the opposite.
Reynold would lash out with everything he had and lay waste to Gorad and all his creations were the alien AI to hurt any more of his people.
Reynolds was more than half-tempted to do that already. Then he could simply take the agroprinter technology and anything else they wanted from the planet.
The only problem was his uncertainty as to whether he could win a fight against all of Gorad’s automated systems without injuring any of the planet’s population.
Reynolds would be risking his own hide and that of his crew getting into a fight with the alien AI. Gorad wouldn’t be. He’d only be risking losing pieces of equipment he could easily replace.
Reynolds couldn’t do that with his crew, nor did he want to.
And that was when Reynolds realized that, despite it all, he’d handed the key to the negotiations to Gorad in his fury.
Reynolds smacke
d his palm into his head and groaned.
“If you want someone to hit you I’ll gladly volunteer,” Jiya told him, clearly still angry.
“I’m such an idiot,” Reynolds muttered.
“No arguments here,” she replied. “But pretend I don’t know that already and tell me why you think that all of a sudden.”
“I gave Gorad what he wanted just now,” he answered, shaking his head in frustration that he’d been so easily manipulated. “I showed him just how important my crew is.”
“Oh…shit,” Jiya mumbled.
She started to turn the Pod around to return back to Grindlevik 3, but Reynolds stopped her, setting a restraining metal hand on her arm.
“What the hell are you doing?” she complained. “You just implied Gorad would go after the crew, so why are you stopping me?”
“Those on the planet are safe, trust me,” he said.
“How do you know that?” Jiya asked.
“Because they are serving the people and teaching them things.”
“Maybe I’m missing something, but what does that have to do with anything?” she barked.
“Gorad actually cares, believe it or not. While he might seem distant, and that trait is bleeding into the Grindlovian society, I believe he does what he does for the people because he wants to take care of them. He wants to help them.”
“And?”
“And he needs to feel needed and important,” Reynolds continued. “Without the people here he’s nothing but a stranded AI with nothing to do but think and plot. He won’t risk anything happening to the Grindlovians or the Telluride for fear that he will become obsolete. That’s his greatest liability, I believe.”
“We’re not talking about either of those, though,” Jiya argued.
“But we are,” Reynolds corrected. “Because if Gorad dares to hurt any more of our people, I will nuke the ever-loving shit out of the planet and his people before he can take down the Reynolds.”
Jiya gasped, bolting upright in her seat. “You would do that?”
“If absolutely necessary, yes,” Reynolds admitted, though he didn’t like hearing that declaration come out of his mouth. “However, as of now, that exact scenario is only a warning I’ve sent to Gorad so we understand each other.”
“Whoa.” Jiya slumped into the chair, eyes wide and a sheen of sweat glistening on her forehead.
“Our crew on the planet is safe,” he assured her, motioning toward the Reynolds as they approached. “For now, get us aboard so we can check on the rest of our people,” he ordered. His voice was barely above a whisper.
Gorad had struck a grievous blow against his people, intentional or otherwise. Reynolds would have to retaliate somehow, or he’d lose the faith of the crew. They wouldn’t take the death or injury of their fellows lightly, and neither would Reynolds if he determined that Gorad had done this intentionally.
If that were the case, he needed to figure out how to pay Gorad back without costing them more than they’d already paid.
Reynolds was sure he’d think of something.
Chapter Ten
“Can you believe that?” Geroux asked, shaking her head in awe. “I sure can’t.”
The crew had gathered in one of the dining halls in the Telluride-controlled section of town, furious and worried and unsure of what to do.
Well, that wasn’t entirely true.
They knew what they wanted to do: kick Gorad’s metal ass.
Unfortunately, Jiya had ordered them to keep the peace.
Besides, it wasn’t as if Gorad was a living, breathing being. Yeah, they could trash his machines or tear down his buildings and break a bunch of stuff, but that would only hurt the Grindlovians and the Telluride.
“I can’t believe this,” Geroux repeated.
Maddox set a hand on her forearm as she fretted. “We know you can’t believe it, Geroux. You’ve said as much ten times or more. Please give it a rest.”
“But I really can’t believe it,” she said.
Maddox sighed. “I wonder if the Telluride believe in alcohol,” he said, glancing around.
“I concur,” Takal said, raising his hand for one of the servants to come over.
When one did, he asked them about getting drinks for the crew, and Geroux saw the sparkle in Takal’s eyes when he learned that they did have alcoholic beverages.
“I’ll take ten, please,” he ordered, then glanced at the rest of the crew. “What would you like?”
Maddox chuckled, holding up a finger to order one for himself. The others ordered while Geroux glared at her uncle until he finally looked away.
“Come now, child,” he started, “do not hassle me, please. If ever there was a situation that would be bettered by a drink, this must surely be it.”
“Commercials, weather above two degrees Celsius, and pretty much any day that had a cloud in the sky or didn’t were perfect excuses for you to drink,” she argued. “You don’t get to use this as an excuse to satisfy the addict in you, Uncle.”
“I suggest otherwise,” he told her. “Impending doom is always a reason to have a drink.”
Geroux sighed and raised her hands in surrender. “Whatever,” she told him, “but I’m not carrying you if you get so drunk you can’t walk.”
“I will do it,” Ka’nak announced, giving Takal a thumbs-up.
“Way to encourage him,” Geroux snarked, her hands trembling in frustration.
“I will be reasonable,” Takal assured her.
Geroux ignored him and waited until the Telluride servant had dropped off the drinks. At that point, she claimed an armful of them for herself to keep them away from her uncle.
He sighed and sipped the two she’d left him.
“What do we do now?” Ka’nak asked, swallowing a great mouthful of the drink he’d been given. “Do we just go about our business and continue to teach these people?” He shrugged. “Seems a bit daft, don’t you think? Who knows what’s going on above us?”
“Actually, we do,” Maddox clarified, tapping the side of his head where the comm and translator chip had been inserted. “We’ve got a direct line to the ship, remember?”
“You know what I meant,” Ka’nak argued, taking another gulp of his drink. “Whatever’s going on up there is all about action and reaction. We have no idea what the hell Gorad intends or how Reynolds will respond. That leaves us swinging in the wind down here.”
“Well, Reynolds did apparently threaten to murder everyone on the planet should Gorad try to harm us or anyone aboard the Reynolds, if that helps,” Takal said.
“Yeah, because him nuking the planet with us on it makes me feel so incredibly safe right now,” Ka’nak replied, shaking his head. He finished his drink and snatched one from Geroux. “I’m starting to think your old uncle had the right idea—get drunk and let someone else worry about all this shit.”
Takal motioned to the Melowi as if to agree and Geroux growled at him.
“Don’t you dare.”
Takal sighed and went back to nursing his drink.
“Excuse me,” L’Willow said, coming over to stand beside the group. L’Eliana, San Paget, and San Roche stood there with her, as well as a female Geroux didn’t know. “Forgive our intrusion, but we heard what happened to your spacecraft and crew.”
“You did?” Geroux asked, surprised at how quickly the news had traveled, especially given that Gorad controlled everything. “How did you learn about that?”
“Despite his control, Gorad does not restrict us,” L’Willow replied. “We have a robust news system that carries everything that happens on-planet and above to us without censorship. We have watched the transmission of your ship being attacked.”
“That’s…unexpected,” Takal muttered, staring into the empty bottom of his first cup.
“He showed you that he attacked our people?” Maddox asked, clearly unable to believe it.
“He showed us, yes,” San Paget answered, “but he has claimed he did not do this.”
“If you’ve seen the holo, then you had to have seen his destroyer attack our ship!” Maddox said. “How could this not be him?”
“Gorad has always been honest with us,” San Roche stated, trust evident in his expression. “If he says it was not him, I believe him.”
“Perhaps he’s too honest at times,” the unidentified Telluride said, stepping forward. “He also informed us of your Reynolds’ threat to annihilate all life on Grindlevik 3 should Gorad harm any of your people.”
Geroux sighed. Maybe the female was right. Gorad was clearly too open about what was going on, and the situation was likely to get worse should things escalate. There was only the handful of Telluride close enough to listen, and she waved for them to sit down.
“Reynolds was angry,” she said once they’d settled. “It is not his intention to kill anyone, nor is it ours,” she explained. “He said what he did to keep Gorad honest and the rest of us safe. He wouldn’t kill innocent people to get back at Gorad, no matter what he might have done.”
“Are you certain of this?” the female asked.
Geroux nodded. “I am,” she answered confidently, although she had to admit that maybe she shouldn’t be speaking for Reynolds.
He was a war machine, fully capable of backing his threat. Geroux hadn’t known him long enough to be absolutely certain that Reynolds wouldn’t do something so extreme, though she believed he wouldn’t, based on her discussion with Jiya.
It didn’t seem like the Reynolds she knew.
“Your people are safe,” she closed with, deciding not to second guess herself and say more than she ought to.
“That is good to know, for I would be obligated to do something were I to think the threat was valid,” the female replied, nodding to Geroux. “I am L’Sofee,” she added.
“Are you the leader of the Telluride?” Maddox asked.
She shook her head. “We Telluride have no designated leaders, each of us being equal among our kind and others, but I am often called upon to speak for our people.”
