“He says there are a great many components that will not fit me.”
“Fit you?” Emil was puzzled.
“They are not meant for a ship of my class,” she clarified.
“Oh.” His mind raced and he realized the components might have something to do with the missive in his hands. “Give me five.”
“Understood, Emil,” the vessel replied. “I will relay the required delay to the Chief Islaris.”
“Please do,” he told her and dismissed her momentarily as he opened the satchel.
A small, metal-edged box sat inside it and he frowned. His expression deepened to almost a scowl when he saw the finger-sized indentation in the center of its lid.
“This had better not kill me,” he muttered and placed his index finger in the middle.
The resulting sting as a needle pierced his skin did not come as a complete surprise. For a minute, the box remained closed and inert before a light flashed green above the indentation and the lid released with an audible click.
The box proved to be a small computer with a keyboard for playing what was already installed on its drive. The inside of the lid was a viewscreen, and Emil positioned it so BURT and Tempestarii could see what was on it.
V’ritan’s face was not a surprise.
“Good evening, Emil,” the Meligornian Garghilum Afreghil greeted him. “I’m afraid I need your services on a matter of some urgency but I’m certain you will find the task a welcome one.”
Somehow, he doubted that but he listened as V’ritan continued and tensed at the Meligornian’s next words.
“Stephanie is back.”
“What?” he demanded but pressed his lips together as the recording continued.
“No one is to know—not even your crew—but the Knight is damaged, which is why I have sent you so many extra parts the Tempestarii will not need.”
He paused the recording.
“Tempestarii?” he called.
“I am here,” the ship replied. “What are your orders?”
She sounded calm but he detected a slight tremor in her tone.
“Get me Islaris.”
“He is waiting on the line, Captain,” the ship replied and a screen on the other side of the room went live.
The man in the display took a moment to register he was live, then stiffened to attention. “Sir?”
Emil didn’t know what his expression said, but Islaris seemed anxious to hear whatever he said next and ready to act on it the minute he ended the call.
“Continue unloading and put it somewhere accessible. I don’t want to have to go digging for it.”
“Aye, sir.” The man glanced over his shoulder, and he guessed they weren’t the only ones privy to the call. He was about to turn away but the captain wasn’t finished.
“And put a second crew on it, Commander. I need that stowed in double-quick time. We have places to be.”
Islaris was saluting when Emil cut the call and turned back to V’ritan’s recording.
“The rest of this recording is mostly for Stephanie. You will already know the details of what is going on with Earth and the Regime, as well as Dreth and Meligorn, and in some respects, will know things of which I still remain blissfully unaware.”
The Garghilum Afreghil paused and his eyes clouded with concern as he thought about what to say next.
“Go over it with her as you bring her back. Tell her we’re working on a strategy and welcome her input, but make sure she takes the time to digest it. Don’t let her go off on her own and certainly not before speaking to us.”
Again he paused, and his expression shifted from concern to somber in one swift move.
“I warn you, she has come and she is pissed.” He stopped and fixed Emil with a solemn stare. “It is time, old friend. You need to make that choice."
The screen went dark and left Emil frowning at it. Finally, he closed the computer and stowed it in its satchel.
“There was never a choice to be made,” he told an absent V’ritan. “I was merely waiting for justification.”
His expression set in quiet determination, he moved away from the table, slung the satchel over his shoulder, as he added, “Now I have it, I’ll not let her down.”
He lifted his head and addressed a silent ship.
“Tempestarii, set up a time for me to get rejuvenated. It might have to wait until after we get there, but—”
“Your normal sleep time will suffice,” the Tempestarii interjected, and he nodded.
“Good.”
He headed to the door.
“All right, Mr. Oh-so-mighty David Thomason,” he told the distant Regime head. “Your days are numbered.”
Down in the loading dock, the crews worked swiftly. Some raised voices in brief greetings as the second shift arrived to work alongside them. Others were so focused on the task they barely noticed the extra help until they turned for their next load.
When the first hold was cleared, Islaris called a break.
“Ten minutes, folks. Stretch, grab a bite, and hit the heads. Whatever you need to do, get it done. The captain needs things shifted as fast as we’re able.”
They nodded, but those who would have continued to work were quickly pulled back.
“Take a break,” they were ordered. “You’ll work faster for the rest.”
It was a hard truth to accept, even when they knew it was true, but they complied reluctantly. The mess crew’s arrival with hot drink and food made it easier, and an invitation was extended to the Meligornian crews.
Some joined them, mostly small groups rotating off shift, and the Meligornians on the Tempestarii’s crew list were alerted that they had guests. The concourse became an impromptu meeting place for the crew to mingle with the visiting crews and learn news from home.
When Islaris signaled the break’s end, the two shifts were joined by a third. Word had spread that the captain needed things done double-time and the crew was determined to see if they could push that to triple.
While any chance to talk to different faces was welcome, the loading crews couldn’t stand aside and do nothing while their colleagues worked. The Meligornian holds emptied swiftly.
As the supply crew worked to stow the supplies, the mingling continued. Emil went through the lists and noted which of his Meligornian crew were being rotated off and who would replace them. All were names he knew and who’d served before.
Some had served on the Knight and all had taken multiple cruises on the Tempestarii. They were all experienced mages with combat experience and training. V’ritan was preparing for war and making sure Tempestarii and Knight had the best people to wage it.
The captain felt a thrill of excitement as he went over the lists again.
Yes, all experienced people, he decided, and solid. Not a flighty one among them.
His gaze settled on the four names at the bottom of the page and his lips thinned into a sad smile. Moving through the surveillance feeds, he watched as a tight knot of Meligornians used the buzz of activity on the concourse as cover to move four humans discreetly into a side corridor.
They’d be settled in quarters and would keep to themselves, but their roles were vital to the mission to come. The escort returned to the concourse alone and circulated to make sure no one had noted their activity.
“Did you see that?” he asked Tempestarii.
“Of course,” she replied. “What concerns you, Emil?”
“I need to be sure no one else noticed,” he told her.
“I will listen for signs,” she assured him.
“Thank you, Tempest.” With that matter taken care of, the captain leaned back in his seat, his brow furrowed in thought.
It was another hour before Emil returned to the bridge. He said his farewells to the Meligornian ships and placed one hand over his heart as each captain took their leave.
The bridge crew and Dreth security team mirrored the gesture to show respect. When the last visitor cut his transmission, he
tracked the small flotilla until it transitioned.
“Scans?” he asked and waited until the scan team replied.
“All clear, sir.”
The captain made a show of studying the scan results while he gathered his thoughts. The crew waited, alert for whatever he had to say next.
When he raised his head, he found every gaze focused on him.
“We have a new operation,” he told them. “There is a ship we need, but it’s been badly damaged, and the Meligornians have asked us to bring it back. The first nav point is as follows…”
He gave them a transition point and added, “Bounce us through three points when we arrive and make sure our tail is clear.”
No one argued or pointed out that the chance of them being followed in an empty system was non-existent.
They’d been followed from empty systems before, so they wouldn’t protest the need for caution.
As he settled behind the captain’s console and sent a call through to the supply team, the bridge crew pondered what ship might be so far out. No one they knew could be so far from home.
Ex-admiral Amaratne settled into a seat in the mess with the cowboy beside him. John was about to offer to find them coffee when his tablet chimed.
He gave a guilty start and pulled it out.
“I have to go,” he told them. “I promised Ivy I’d meet her when she came out of the pod.”
He took two steps toward the door and stopped.
“I’ll be back soon,” he promised.
“We’re not going anywhere,” Amaratne assured him, leaned back in his seat, and closed his eyes. “Not for a very long time.”
“It was a long walk,” his companion added, although John knew the droid couldn’t possibly be tired.
He hesitated a moment longer, then decided that Roma and Remy could take care of them as well as he could. Besides, uncle or not, the cowboy should know how to operate a coffee machine, right?
The sound of the door as he let himself out made the old man open one eye. “Is he gone?”
EBURT chuckled. “He is gone.”
Amaratne sat a little straighter. “What comes next?”
“Next?” the android asked. “Well, I thought I’d introduce you to my nephew and niece.”
“Oh?”
“Well, they are BURT’s children.”
“But…I thought you…”
The cowboy’s face showed surprise and consternation. “You thought I was BURT? Did Stephanie not tell you of the switch?”
He shook his head. “Last time we spoke, I was Navy.”
“Then I assume she did not tell you that BURT was also the CEO of One R&D,” EBURT continued.
Again, the man shook his head. “I thought that was you,” he said gloomily. He shrugged. “Not that I blame her. I was commanding the Navy at the time. Looking back, that answers so many questions.” He paused and frowned. “So, how did you come about?”
“BURT’s activities, and his sentience, became difficult to hide,” the cowboy replied, “and when the Navy began to suspect the existence of a sentient AI, he had to find a way to escape.”
Amaratne’s eyebrows rose. “He was the rogue AI?”
The android smiled. “He was.”
“Navy Intelligence almost turned themselves inside out looking for him,” he exclaimed, but his surprise rapidly gave way to understanding. “I don’t blame him for hiding. Considerable trouble was brewing over the matter of what to do when the rogue was found—and what it might mean if AIs were recognized as sentient.”
“Were sentient,” his companion corrected. “Stephanie recognized him as sentient.”
“So she helped him escape.” Amaratne nodded with understanding. “I can see that, and I don’t blame her. Tell me—”
“She designed a matrix capable of holding BURT, and he created me to take his place so the Federation would not suffer in his absence.”
“But he made you sentient too,” the ex-admiral pointed out. “Wasn’t he worried you’d be discovered as a sentient?”
The cowboy shook his head. “I did not do the same type of research and was far less likely to be discovered.”
“And then Intelligence had to turn its attention elsewhere.”
“Correct. They looked elsewhere and I was able to complete the final phase of BURT and Stephanie’s project before I terminated my activities.”
“This?” Amaratne indicated the complex around them.
“This,” the cowboy confirmed.
“And by terminated, you mean…”
“I had a reason to say I was not sure if I would return. After our last meeting, I hid this body in a bunker under the Paris cargo center and shut all my activities down.”
“But what about the Federation needing an AI?”
“BURT and I created a non-sentient one to take my place. We considered it unlikely that the circumstances leading to his sentience would recur.”
“You mean Stephanie, don’t you?” Amaratne asked as he put two and two together.
He landed squarely on four, and his companion nodded.
“His first encounter with her led to him questioning his activities, his relationship with the Federation, and the way they prevented him from effectively carrying out his prime directive. Seeking to better fulfill his purpose led to his transition to sentience.” He paused and tilted his face to the ceiling.
“Roma tells me the girl is emerging from the pod. Perhaps we can leave this discussion for another time? I would like you to meet my nephew and niece.”
Amaratne nodded.
“RM013 and RM018, this is Yudhanjaya Amaratne. He once directed the Federation Navy and was one of Stephanie’s greatest allies.”
Amaratne blushed reflexively. “BURT…”
“EBURT, if you please,” the AI corrected. “One day, you will meet my brother in person. It would be best if you knew the correct designation.”
“EBURT,” he replied, “I was only one ally and not a very good one at that. In the end, I ran away.”
“You made a tactical withdrawal,” the cowboy told him. “If you had not, you would not have been available to come to her assistance now.”
“But—”
“She will understand.” EBURT overrode him gently. “In the meantime…”
“Yes, by all means, RM013 and RM018…” Amaratne frowned. “Did I hear the boy use another name when we arrived?”
“Remy?” EBURT asked.
“Ye…or Rem, something like that.”
“If you will pardon the interruption,” Remy said quickly. “John calls me both.”
“And you are?” Amaratne inquired.
“I am the entity designated RM018,” the AI replied, “but John insisted I have a name.”
The ex-admiral darted his companion an amused look. “He is very much like her,” he noted.
“Yes. If my older brother had not already had a name-like designation, I believe Stephanie would have found a human designation for him as well.”
“And you are called EBURT,” the old man concluded. “You know, we should fix that.”
“Fix it?” EBURT asked. “Why?”
“Because it’s confusing,” he explained. “The E has to stand for something.”
“It is meant to designate Earth since I am his counterpart on this world.”
“We can’t call you Earth,” Amaratne told him. “How about Edward?”
EBURT was silent as he processed that.
“You may call me Ted,” he decided finally.
The ex-admiral’s jaw dropped. “But that doesn’t start with E.”
“No,” the newly dubbed Ted replied, “but it rhymes with ‘Ed’ and is the designation given to one of history’s more famous cowboys.”
“But—” Amaratne sputtered, only to have EBURT-Ted hold up the headgear he’d worn when they first met.
“And I like this hat.”
The old man made a helpless gesture with his hands.
“Of
course,” he snarked. “Why not? After all, the hat is the most important thing here.”
“As such a fine hat should be,” the AI responded cheerfully. “We’re agreed, then. I am Ted.”
Setting the hat aside, he focused on Amaratne and said, “You have met RM018, called Remy by humans.”
“Does he run this facility?” the ex-admiral wanted to know.
“Remy?” EBURT gave the younger AI a nudge when he didn’t answer immediately.
“I…do not. That task falls to my sister, RM013.”
He gave the compound’s AI a nudge, and she spoke while she kept a wary eye on EBURT.
“You may call me Roma,” she told the elderly man. “John does.”
“This facility needs two AI’s?” Amaratne sounded startled.
Remy caught the subtle signal from her to answer.
“No. My facility was discovered by the Regime and I initiated its self-destruct sequence to prevent the technology from falling into their hands.”
“That is a shame,” the ex-admiral told him. “What will happen to the area you were looking after?”
The AI imitated a human sigh. “It will more than likely slowly revert to wasteland,” he said and a short silence followed.
“What does the RM stand for?” Amaratne asked to change the subject.
“Remediation Measure,” Roma told him before her counterpart could respond. “There are twenty of us—nineteen of us—situated around the world.”
“What will you do, now, Remy?” Amaratne asked.
“I intended to assist wherever I was needed,” the AI answered and directed his attention to EBURT, “but now, I will assist my uncle in whatever tasks he assigns.”
“The first of which is to help Roma recalibrate her protocols to ensure her next visitors do not receive the same welcome,” EBURT instructed. “I would not like to see what happens if she greets Stephanie as she did me.”
Amaratne snorted and his eyes glinted with amusement. “It would be entertaining,” he noted.
“By entertaining…” Roma began.
“I mean, it would not be pretty, and you would be short a few droids and a main gate, after which her ship would wish to speak to you.”
Michael Anderle - [Heretic of the Federation 03] Page 6
