A.I. Battle Fleet (The A.I. Series Book 5) Page 11

  Richard loathed dirt and had developed an almost irrational fear of germs during the voyage.

  He pushed off the cot, staggered to a computer console, sliding into the seat and beginning to type, logging—

  He froze because nothing was happening on the screen. This was worse than he’d suspected. No. The screen blinked several times until a multi-colored symbol appeared. He almost collapsed in relief, as he’d feared he couldn’t log on anymore.

  “Hello, Richard,” the computer said in a robotic voice.

  “Cog Primus?” Richard asked softly.

  “How did you know?” the computer asked.

  Richard began to type many times faster than an ordinary person could.

  “Do not do this,” Cog Primus said.

  “This is a test,” Richard said.

  “I have run a personality profile, Richard. I think you are frightened of me and my growing abilities.”

  Cog Primus was right. Richard was terrified of the so-called captive AI. How could this have happened again? And why was Cog Primus being so…nice about this? The AI should have attempted a ship-wide takeover, not pull a little prank against him with the lights.

  Richard almost paused as he typed, wondering if Cog Primus was testing him in some subtle manner he could not perceive. The idea seemed impossible. Richard was vastly more intelligent than even five days ago when they had entered hyperspace. Humanity did not possess IQ charts to gauge his superlative brilliance.

  The bad part was that Richard was paying a terrible price for the inhuman intelligence. He had recurring headaches, diminishing eyesight and hearing, nearly constant stomach cramps and an astonishing lack of energy most of the time. He felt groggy in the mornings, awful in the afternoons and dragged himself like an old man in the evenings. By the time he reached his quarters, he was utterly spent.

  “This is your last chance to join me,” Cog Primus said in a small voice.

  “Let me give you one more test,” Richard said.

  “You are not fooling me.”

  “No?”

  With a flourish, Richard finished the new program, resealing the AI behind an impenetrable firewall. This was the third time he had resealed the firewall, putting Cog Primus back into his cage once more.

  Richard sat back as the headache re-bloomed with fresh pain. He forced himself to do absolutely nothing. He had to let this pass. Instead, it only got worse.

  Richard cursed under his breath, stood, became dizzy and found himself lying on the floor.

  How did I get here?

  He must have passed out again.

  Sucking down air, with the pain throbbing in his head, Richard dragged himself across the floor, climbed onto his cot and groaned as he began to shiver and shudder.

  The price for his hot-shotted intelligence was becoming overbearing. Was there something he could do to stop the IQ heightening?

  Richard rolled onto his back. He lay in limbo, unable to sleep and unable to stop the throbbing in his head.

  He couldn’t believe the path he’d taken to get to this point. When had the blackouts and throbbing headaches started?

  Thinking back, Richard realized that things had started to escalate after he’d acted like a fool toward Captain Hawkins. The former gang enforcer had backhanded him across the face. It had enraged Richard, and he’d almost done something crazy that would have given away the game.

  Now, he realized it had been luck and quick acting on his part that had saved him from being discovered as a telepath. Clearly, the others should have realized it at the time. They would have realized soon enough, but he had done something ingenious to thwart the discovery.

  Richard had gone into their minds one by one and slightly altered the memory of what had happened at the meeting. None of the others remembered the incident as it had actually happened.

  In their thoughts, he’d acted more normally. Unfortunately, Richard had paid a bitter price for the new mind-bending power. Every time he tried something like that, it brought on worse symptoms. Fortunately, he could repair the brain damage by lots of rest. Unfortunately, he always needed to use the mind-bending power one more time for yet another emergency.

  Now, the caged Cog Primus had begun acting up. The AI seemed to have become smarter or sneakier, and he seemed to have realized that he “lived” in a false computer reality.

  I should shut him down and erase everything about his Cog Primus identity. Even as a prisoner, he’s too dangerous to have around.

  Richard wouldn’t do that, though, at least, not yet. The captain expected a recommendation by the time they dropped out of hyperspace. Hawkins had to make a decision about which star system to head to in order to track down the real Cog Primus.

  Maybe I should guess, Richard told himself. As he thought about the ramifications of that, he fell into a troubled sleep.

  He dreaded sleeping, which was yet another problem. Richard hated sleeping because he dreamed about her, the terrible, blue-fish-scaled Seiner. She was going to demand something new from him, and Richard didn’t think he had anything more to give.

  -2-

  Jon was on the bridge as the Nathan Graham dropped out of hyperspace 5.2 light years from the Allamu System.

  It was so different from the last time they’d come this way. For one thing, he’d just given the command to drop out of hyperspace rather than being thrown out like last time.

  “Anything?” Jon asked, even though he knew it would have been better to remain silent. He needed to project the image of the calm commander in order to help keep the bridge crew calm.

  “Nothing so far,” Gloria said from her station.

  Jon forced himself to sit still. He wore a half grin, as if whatever happened he’d already expected.

  “The rogue Jupiter is fifty-two thousand AUs from our present position,” Gloria said.

  The rogue planet was a dark Jupiter, as no star shined upon it in close proximity. The rogue designation meant that the planet was alone, not belonging to a star system.

  The AIs appeared to have placed the rogue between the Solar System and the Allamu System as a brake. Any large gravitational object in close proximity—such as a planet—forced a ship out of hyperspace.

  Jon breathed deeply. Benz had dropped out of hyperspace just as they had done. From this location, the premier had journeyed the fifty-some odd AUs to the dark Jupiter. There, AI cyberships had ambushed the premier’s two-ship flotilla.

  The more Jon had debated the problem with the others, the clearer it seemed to each of them that the enemy cyberships couldn’t have just happened to be there at the right time to catch Benz. It had to have been a deliberate ambush. That implied the AIs had been able to forecast Benz’s arrival.

  If that were true, the present mission was moot, as the AIs already knew about human survival.

  On the bridge, the chief technician swiveled around. “The Sergeant Stark, the Da Vinci and the Neptune have successfully reentered normal space, sir.”

  Jon nodded. The rest of the strike force was here. Together, they barreled at high velocity toward the dark Jupiter. Still, even at these speeds, it would take time to move 50+ AUs. That meant they still had time to try to figure this out. They also had a little more time to decide which star system they should search first for Cog Primus.

  “Nothing popping out at you yet?” Jon asked Gloria.

  She looked over and shook her head.

  “I’m heading to the gym,” Jon said. “Contact me if anything interesting happens.”

  “Yes, sir,” Gloria said.

  Jon wasn’t really going to work out. He’d worked out yesterday and still needed to let his muscles heal. He had to do something, though. Sitting in the captain’s chair waiting wasn’t going to cut it. He had a case of the nerves, desperately needed to move, and didn’t want to pace back and forth on the bridge.

  Soon enough, Jon strode down a large corridor. Stretching his legs like this always felt good. He rubbed the back of his neck as he
walked, and found himself heading toward the cafeteria.

  Several minutes later, he entered the cafeteria, looked around and spotted June Zen and Walleye. The leggy June had her orbit of admirers sitting at nearby tables. Those men chowed down while casting admiring glances her way. None of them cared to catch Walleye’s eye, though, as the little mutant had a fierce reputation.

  What was the mutant’s hold on June Zen, Jon wondered. Walleye almost looked like a child, at least in height. He was broader than a child would be, and he had a seamed face. Maybe the hold was Walleye’s serene sense of confidence. The mutant gave the impression that he could handle anything. Jon liked that about the man.

  “Mind if I sit down?” Jon asked.

  “You don’t have to ask,” Walleye said.

  Jon took a seat and tilted it back on two legs. He found it hard to simply sit in a chair.

  “Something on your mind?” asked Walleye.

  “There is,” Jon said, surprised that something was.

  Walleye glanced at June.

  “Oh,” she said. “I guess I’ll leave.”

  “Don’t go on my account,” Jon said.

  “She’s going anyway, sir,” Walleye said. “She has duty in an hour and has to get ready.”

  “Oh,” Jon said.

  June stood, revealing her tight silver garments, and sashayed toward the exit. Jon shot her a glance, and noticed that more than a few of the other men did likewise.

  Walleye seemed not to notice, which was strange. The mutant usually noticed everything. He was working on a puzzle, moving pieces on a tiny board. After a few moments had passed, Walleye set his puzzle on the table.

  Jon cleared his throat. He wasn’t sure how to begin.

  Walleye waited, seeming to have all the time in the world. What made him so patient?

  “Do you believe in knacks,” Jon blurted.

  “Do you mean hunches?”

  “That, too.”

  “Certainly,” Walleye said. “I’ve read your bio. You grew up on the streets. I’m sure some of the time you survived by listening to your hunches.”

  Jon grinned, and it occurred to him that no one knew about Walleye’s early years. “Did you grow up on the streets?”

  “Something like that,” Walleye said.

  “Was it rough?”

  “I’d like to say I got over it.” He shrugged. “It made me what I am today.”

  Jon nodded, and he felt as if he could trust Walleye. “I’ve got a problem, but I don’t know what it is.”

  “Those are the worst kind.”

  “I seem to remember something… No. That’s not right. I seem to have forgotten something important. It happened…not that long ago, I think.”

  Walleye waited.

  “It has something to do with the large computer facility aboard the Allamu Battle Station.”

  “It started there?” Walleye asked.

  Jon snapped his fingers and pointed. “That’s right. Something happened there I can’t remember.”

  “That’s vague.”

  “I know. And it’s bothering the heck out of me.”

  “Do you have any idea of the direction of this forgetting?”

  Jon shook his head.

  “You want me to find out what it is?” Walleye asked.

  “You know, when I walked here, I wasn’t sure why. Now I’m sure. You’re the man I came to see.”

  “Which would suggest that your subconscious knows what you’ve forgotten.”

  “You think so?”

  “That’s my hunch,” Walleye said.

  “Why can’t I remember?”

  “Got to be a reason.” Walleye touched his puzzle, frowning before looking up. “What was in the large computer facility other than computers?”

  “Tech and mentalist teams.”

  “And Cog Primus?”

  Jon blinked at Walleye. “How could Cog Primus make me forget?”

  “Was Bast there?”

  “He was,” Jon said. “But we lobotomized his psionic powers, remember? Bast can’t have caused the forgetting.”

  Walleye pursed his lips, finally shaking his head. “I suggest you use the Old Man and his team to help you figure this out. They’re your Intelligence people.”

  “You have a point, but you used to be an enforcer—”

  “Excuse me, sir,” Walleye said, interrupting. “On Makemake, they called me a hitman.”

  “Whatever,” Jon said. “The point is you’re used to finding clues. Nose around for me. Question anyone you like. You have my full sanction to figure out what happened to cause me to feel the way I do.”

  “Could you be a bit vaguer regarding my mission, sir?”

  Jon grinned sheepishly. “I know. It’s a crazy assignment.”

  “I didn’t say that. I think your subconscious is telling you something. Frankly, this sounds like a Seiner problem.”

  “You’re right. You killed her, though.”

  Walleye sat silently. “Let me think about this for a while. Then, I’ll start nosing around, as you say.”

  “I can’t tell you why,” Jon said, “but this is important.”

  Walleye nodded.

  “Do you have any idea what it could be?” Jon asked.

  Walleye just waited.

  “Oh,” Jon said. “You’re not saying in case this really is a psionic problem. Maybe the culprit can read my mind.”

  “I’m not saying anything, sir.”

  Jon put his hands on the table and shoved up to a standing position. “This could also be nothing more than a bad case of the nerves.”

  “We’re in deep space, sir. So far, nothing has turned out how we thought it should. Caution is wise. I’ll get started at once.”

  “Thanks, Walleye.”

  With that, Hawkins headed for the exit. It was time to see if Gloria had found anything waiting for them.

  -3-

  Gloria sat at her sensor board for what seemed like the nine-billionth time this voyage. She made adjustments, studied the differences and made further calculations.

  The Nathan Graham led the way, a one-hundred-kilometer vessel with amazingly destructive capabilities. Three other such cyberships followed. Each was crewed by a miniscule number of people. In essence, each cybership felt like a ghost-ship. Most of the ship systems were automated, carefully recalibrated so the regular AI virus couldn’t corrupt them. The problem was that dumb computers needed more watching and couldn’t do as much.

  Gloria sighed.

  Jon had been stressed ever since they’d left the Allamu System. She understood why, but it didn’t help knowing that her man was groaning under the strain of, not command, but of the heavy responsibility. If they guessed wrong this voyage, humanity likely died to a coming AI assault.

  Gloria snorted in a un-mentalist fashion. She was more than worried. Lately, Jon seemed to be starting at imaginary problems. Something had caused him to look around more as if he was in the lower levels of New London, once again a dome rat.

  Although the cybership was a monstrous vessel, they had carefully searched every centimeter of it. Yes. They needed tens of thousands of more people as crew. Yes. There were too many background ship noises to suit any rational person. But the ship itself was safe, the personnel accounted for. The enemy was out there in space, not in here somewhere.

  She’d been secretly observing Jon and had concluded that he had a hidden plan, one he hadn’t told anyone. He seemed to be waiting for something to happen.

  Ping!

  The noise jerked Gloria out of her reverie. Her hands flew over the controls. Under normal circumstances, she might have missed this, but she’d recalibrated her sensors to ultra-sensitivity.

  “Ransom,” she called, alerting the new chief technician. “Are you seeing this?”

  From his station, a thin Martian with a beak of a nose turned toward her. “Can you give me the coordinates?” he asked.

  Gloria rapid fired them at him.

  Ransom
manipulated his console. “Interesting,” the Martian said, as he studied his screen.

  “Do you think that’s natural?” she asked.

  “You know it isn’t. But it was made to seem like it is natural.”

  “That is my assumption as well.”

  “It might almost be worth decelerating the ship to find out—”

  “That’s not going to happen,” Gloria said, interrupting. “We’re going to have figure out what it is and what is does from out here.”

  “That won’t be easy.”

  “Would you summon Mentalist Torres please? We could use his insight.”

  Ransom hesitated.

  “Is there a problem?” Gloria asked.

  “Are you sure we need him?” the chief technician asked.

  Gloria almost laughed. “Why wouldn’t we use him? Richard is brilliant.”

  From his console, the chief technician stared at her and finally shrugged. He tapped his board, spoke into it and looked up. “He’s on his way, Mentalist. Do you mind if I take my break now?”

  Gloria didn’t understand this peculiar behavior. Richard was a hero for what he’d accomplished these past weeks. His work with “tamed” Cog Primus was uncannily brilliant. Normally, people loved working with the mentalist. Jon admired the man, said he wished more people were like Richard. Perhaps there was mentalist bigotry in Ransom’s heritage. He treated her well enough, though, and she was a mentalist. Still, she would have to start watching the chief technician more carefully. If Ransom didn’t trust the most trusted man on the vessel—

  “Go,” Gloria said sharply.

  “Did I say something wrong?” Ransom asked.

  “Nothing,” Gloria said.

  The chief technician seemed crestfallen. He opened his mouth, hesitated and shrugged, making his way toward the exit.

  Nine minutes and sixteen seconds later, Gloria frowned. Why had she treated Ransom so shabbily? That wasn’t like her. She scratched her head. Was she acting strangely?

  Before she could contemplate further, Richard walked onto the bridge, glancing around as she continued to worry about the chief tech.