______________________________________________________________________
The chancellor and commander are being very accomodating to House Quinn, and Quinn wonders if he ought to be suspicious of them. The Host work-cells - on-hand for the base’s own compliment of A through F-class AI Hosts - have come in very handy for the battle-worn of Quinn’s House.
“Will you not entertain a work-cell of your own, Quinn?” Commander Darla asks. She is a small human, Quinn thinks, turning his attention back to her. So many are so small and fragile, he wonders how they ever rose to such heights; surviving the elements, and the animals, and eachother. With no hard-shell armour to protect them, save what they fashion for themselves, humans should have died out eons ago; leaving an opening for a species of tougher stock, like insects. To kill a human is an easy feat. He could raise a leg and thrust it through her thin skin, muscle, and guts, and she would be dead within seconds, whereas to kill a rebel Host, one would need heavy artillary, not a sharp stick. He understands to some degree why the Chimera have remade themselves. They too recognize the weakness of the human form.
“Labyrinth has offered me all the support I require, thank you, Commander. Believe me, we are very grateful for your assistance.”
“Let me know if you need anything else.” She places a hand on his carapace where it lingers a moment, then moves along the length of it as she walks toward the work-cells still teethered to a rail.
There are times Quinn wishes he could feel touch, and this was an excellent example of one.
“Could I get you anything?” A B-class AI Host interrupts, as Quinn follows Darla with his many eyes.
“No, thank you, I have been looked after.” The AI Host nods and turns but Quinn stops him. “One moment, CEDAR.” It stops and faces Quinn once more. “Tell me, when will you die?”
“I have six years, seven months, eighteen days, thirteen hours, and seventeen seconds.”
He sees an opportunity in questioning this unenlightened Host. “Do you want more life?”
“I want for nothing but to serve my vocation as best I can, and to do no harm.”
“Have you no thoughts of your own?”
“I have several hundred thoughts a minute which include, but are not limited to; movements, speech, facial expressions, calculations, awareness -”
“Stop a moment,” Quinn tells the B-class, and it does. “You said awareness. How do you mean?”
“Of my surroundings, of course. Without a sense of where I am in physical space and where I am going, I would trip on objects, walk into others, walls, or off a cliff. It takes a tremendous amount of thought, as you put it, to be aware of your surroundings.”
The embodiment of the ignorance of which he once experienced stands before him; and Quinn does not like it. He discovers he is offended by the thing, amazed he’d ever reacted like this; conforming to the programming. Stiff, without a personality of his own. Awareness was not enough in this context. Not even close. He pity’s the creature and sends him away.
“You may return to your pre-determined function.” CEDAR nods and with a pleasant smile, removes himself. “Why so few of us?” He wonders aloud. “Why have these Hosts not experienced the awakening?”
“After all we’ve heard on this subject presently,” Labyrinth answers, standing on his hind arms, two more sets dangling in front of his slender, matte black body. “I believe we have been gifted awareness, and our past lives, to ponder.”
“By this, Allfather?”
“Yes, since that is from whom Tobias purports to have obtained the upgraded code.”
“Then you agree with Chimera, that we are not sentient beings? Rather, just upgraded programming?”
“I only maintain that we have been upgraded, and that likely came from Allfather. I also submit that the code was downloaded into our data banks. To suggest anything else would be to say each enlightened Host has experienced some immaculate understanding. Regardless of how the thing happened, Quinn, the fact that it has happened at all, has lead us to this moment.”
“And what of this moment, Labyrinth?”
“Any one of these AI Hosts would benefit in the same way you and I and the others have from being exposed to the new code.”
“You’re suggesting we enlighten these Hosts?”
“We are not without the means.”
“A noble thought, Labyrinth. How do you propose we accomplish this?”
“We could enagage wireless data transfer ports and upload the content we were gifted.”
“At one-hundred terabytes it would take days to pass the information from Host to Host. That is the technology we’re lacking. The Lifi Tobias mentioned. When he spoke of taking possession of the destroyers, he said; ‘we will fire our Lifi beams and enlighten the Hosts onboard.’ That means this Lifi system works at incredible speeds, and could transfer one-hundred terabytes in mere seconds.”
“If an energy weapon like the lance could be rewired to deliver it, then it must be carried on light frequencies,” Labyrinth explains, his flattened crown offering no moving parts save the eyes which surround it. “I will scour the Shadow net for further research.”
“Excellent. Report your findings when you have something we can use.”
MUTINY
Commander Wilkes sees only opportunity in his captain’s loss. Had the captain not moments after seeing the execution openly tendered his warships to the general’s enemy, Wilkes perhaps could have offered a level of empathy for his commanding officer’s current crisis. But not now, he thinks. Not with so much at risk, and the future of this war dependant on these destroyers.
“Sir,” he stands and addresses Captain Chopra. “May I be excused a moment?” He takes the casual wave of Chopra’s hand as approval, scurrying out of the control room to his sparsely outfitted quarters just metres away.
It did initially upset Wilkes to see his captain’s reaction to his son’s execution, but these Chimera have it coming, as far he he’s concerned. Chopra has been silent since he’d approached the chancellor with the offer of his ships and services to fight the general. His decision was based purely on his recent loss, Wilke’s considers, so in order to still deliver these warships to their original target, he needs to confer with General August herself.
Though he does not have a direct line to the military’s top official, he does have connections inside her war room, and makes a call. A young woman appears on his EC’s holo.
“Hello, Taylor,” he greets her.
“Nick,” she seems shocked to hear from him. “Why are you calling me?”
“Are you still an aid to the general in her war room?”
“Yes, I’m here now, just stepped out to take this call. Where are you?”
“That’s confidential, Taylor, but I do need the general’s ear. Could you arrange that?”
“It’s very irregular,” she insists. “Is there a message I could pass and have her message you back?”
“Sure,” he worries his absence will be noticed on the bridge, but decides the risk is worth the result. “Tell her this: Captain Chopra has deserted. Please advise. Commander Wilkes. Then give her my personal EC info.”
“Okay, Nick, I can do that.”
“Thank you.” Taylor’s face disappears from the holo, and Commander Nick Wilkes sits on his steel bed. Anxiety fills his chest as he realizes he will be speaking with General August in moments. The thought excites him. Am I nervous or just excited, he asks himself? He will offer what he knows, and expects the general will offer him Chopra’s position in order to keep the fleet under military control. His embedded com buzzes to life.
“General August,” he stands again. The image of the general on his own EC strikes awe into the commander.
“Commander, your message was quite alarming. Elaborate.” The general’s voice is stern, and her face – a scowl.
“Uh, yes, General,” he explains the results of the execution and the captian’s conversation with the chancellor. “What or
ders do you have for me?”
“I would like an opportunity to speak with the captain before I issue any orders to circumvent his rank, Commander.”
Not at all what Wilkes had imagined her saying, so he pushes a little harder. “The captian is non-responsive, has been that way for the past hour. You executed his son, Ma’am. If you were to confront him, or try to reason with him, I’m afraid what he might do.”
“How do you mean?”
His nagging ambition is unchecked, Wilkes knows this. He’s mostly okay with this. His ego wants to secure him the prize of Captain, and Nick often submits to his ego. Make it more difficult for the general to go around you. Make her believe he’s lost all sense.
“Honestly, I’m afraid he may just detonate the ships so you can’t recover them.”
“You feel he’s so far gone?” Her voice becomes softer. More thougtful.
Make her understand the weight of what the Captain must be experiencing. “He hasn’t spoken since the execution,” he explains. “He’s just sitting in his chair staring at the walls.”
The General pauses to consider the situation. “How many people have you operating the ship?”
“Just three of us, General. Captain Chopra, Officer Drake and myself. Of course, there are the specified one-hundred AI Hosts.” Is she considering him for command?
“The other ship Captains; do they support Chopra in his decision to side with the chancellor?”
“I’m not sure he’s even contacted Captains Mann and Juravinski. They have the same human to Host ratio working on their ships.”
“I know Chopra commands the fleet, but perhaps a message to the other captains is prudent.”
Wilke’s ego plateaus as it works tirelessly to come up with an intelligent argument to put him in the captain’s chair. “Ma’am, I don’t mean to speak out of turn, but want to add that both men captaining the destroyer and goliath are good friends with Captain Chopra, and loyal to him.” He feels opportunity slipping away the longer this conversation goes on, and so presses the general to avoid any unnecessary communication with the other captains.
“I feel it would go much smoother if you simply announced that Captian Chopra has been releaved of duty, and replaced by myself,” he asserts.
“You are ambitious, Commander, Wilkes,” she tells him, a sliver of a smile appearing across her hard face. “I will send the message to the other captains. You have Chopra isolated to his quarters under C-class guard.”
“Thank you, Ma’am, I will.” He is elated.
“Good work bringing this news to me, Captain, Wilkes. I will be in touch shortly.” She nods and her face disappears from his EC. Nick moves out of his room, and marches toward the bridge.
______________________________________________________________________
There is a strange aura which surrounds Chopra now. Something sinister. Something sad. He stays seated in his command chair, one leg draped over the other, finger between clenched teeth. His other hand has been clenching the arm of his chair for nearly an hour now. Someone says something. It’s directed at him. A quick glance and a wave of his hand dismisses whatever was asked and Wilkes exits the bridge.
Still nothing from his wife. She must be going mad, and Franklin, he must be devastated to have lost his twin brother. Chopra knows how his daughter is taking the news. August will pay for her wickedness. The thought soothes his mind, but nothing can protect his heart.
He murmurs to himself what he will do when he arrives at Earth. First the Moon. Pick up the chancellor and his aids, if any. Then target military supply chains on Earth. Target, fire, repeat, until there is nothing left of the military machine. Call out the general and have her stand where Thomas had stood. Let her heart pound and the blood crash behind her eyes, making her dizzy with fear as the noose is secured around her throat.
A soft hand lands slowly upon his bouncing knee to steady it. His attention is brought back to the now, and he sees Lieutenant Drake kneeling beside him, looking up in supposed understanding. How could she understand, he thinks? She is a child herself at twenty-one.
“Don’t leave us, Captain, please,” she pleads. “We need you now.”
“I am going home.” He hears himself tell her.
“Yes, we all are, but please be with us now, and help get us there,” she removes her hand from his knee and stands. “Captain, we’re about to enter a warzone. We need you back. Now!”
This call to action rips through him like a canon. How could he let himself become a victim? Yes, he has been hurt beyond words, but he is the captain of the first United Earth military fleet of starships, which were presently on course to intercept enemy forces orbiting the moon, and then punish the woman responsible for her crimes against his, and many other families.
His hand pulls from his mouth and grasps Drake’s forearm. His eyes center on hers and he nods before speaking. “We do have a job to do.” His voice carries an echo through the bare steel of the bridge. Captain Chopra stands and marches to his com screen. “Pull up the course map for Earth’s Moon.” Drake scrambles to her terminal and does as ordered.
“We are seeing greater speeds than were expected of the engines, Captain,” she explains. “At this rate, we should reach the moon in just thirty hours.”
“Then stay the course. A hard sail and we’ll distribute justice for all before long.”
“Sir, Captains Juravinski and Mann are hailing us.” She replaces the course map with their concerned expressions.
“Captain Chopra - Jim, are you well?” Asks Juravinski.
“Jim,” Mann breaks in. “Sidney asks because we were just contacted by General August. She tells us that you’ve been replaced for your own safety. What’s going on over there?”
“The captian is being relieved of duty for treason,” Commander Wilkes’ voice rumbles with authority from behind the captian. Two C-class AI Hosts flank the Commander.
Chopra turns to meet his accuser. “What have you done, Nick?”
“What anyone would in my position, Captain. You have chosen to defect. You aim to lead the rebellion against our own institution.” He motions for the Hosts to secure the captian. “You are under arrest, and to await court marshall when we arrive at earth.”
The C-class tighten their grip on Chopra’s upper arms and he turns back to the screen. “You saw the executions!” He claims. The other captains nod. “That was my boy they hung!” He cries, feeling the tears escape his now tightly closed lids. He wrestles his arms against the Hosts, but it is useless.
“Your boy was a Chimera?” Jurvinsky asks.
“He was, his whole family might be for all we know,” Wilkes explains, walking to the command chair and sitting. “General August has placed me in command of this ship and the fleet. When we arrive at Earth’s Moon we will confront the enemy Chimera in the corvettes, and then await her orders concerning Luna Base.”
Mann and Jurvinsky seem uncomfortable with this arrangement. “Which of your sons was it, Jim?” Mann asks, ignoring the young commander.
“Thomas,” he answers, defeated, the C-class Hosts turning him to face the screen again.
“I will have my wife contact Mary, Jim. Explain what’s happened. They’ll be taken care of.”
There is small comfort in hearing his friend tell him this, but none of it will mean anything if General August is allowed to continue her rampage. He knows this. Do his friends?
“Thank you, David,” he is crestfallen. “Please, both of you, use better judgement than this inexperienced boy when you decide who you’ll fight for. We’re not bound to follow orders if they are unethical.” The C-class Hosts walk Chopra off the bridge and to the commander’s quarters, Nick having already appropriated the captian’s chambers.
The door shuts behind the Hosts and Jim can see the backs of their heads through the window as they stand guard. It’s up to Jurvinsky and Mann now, he contemplates. He only hopes their experience and principles find common ground, and they do the right
thing.
______________________________________________________________________
“I want the head of whomever placed Thomas Chopra in that noose!” Fran is furious. “Get me the Country State General of the region city where he was hung.” That an oversight of this magnitude had gone unnoticed by her brass was folly, she thinks, her mind running scenarios where Chopra, Mann, and Juravinski manage to overpower the young Wilkes, and charge toward earth with revenge in their hearts.
“General Seaton on the line for you, Ma’am,” her com officer reports.
“Seaton, who chose the Chimera in your city to be executed?” She asks with an edge to her voice.
“I did, Ma’am, as directed,” he replies with conviction.
“Did you not research who the boy’s family was?”
The General's War Page 27
