A.I. Battle Fleet (The A.I. Series Book 5) Page 13

“I will make the recorder-hunting sensors sweeps myself,” Richard said.

  “That will increase our odds for success,” Gloria said. “But will that ensure—?”

  “Mentalist,” Richard said, interrupting. “Are you questioning me?”

  Gloria blinked several times before smiling sheepishly. “No,” she said demurely.

  “Captain, what is your opinion?” Richard asked.

  “We must destroy all the recorders,” Hawkins said. “That is a brilliant idea. I order it done.”

  “Now,” Richard said, “we can continue the meeting and—”

  “A moment,” Bast said ponderously, interrupting. “Gloria was correct. We may not be able to destroy all the recorders. Thus…we should leave drones behind.”

  “That might be a mistake,” Gloria said. “Any surviving drones might accidently attack other cyberships later. Such an action would cause alarm among the AIs.”

  “Less alarm than tattletale recorders,” Bast pointed out.

  Gloria cocked her head. “Yes…I agree.”

  Richard’s eyes narrowed as he focused on her.

  “But—” Gloria said, as if the words were torn from her, “what does Richard think?”

  Hawkins slapped the table. “Mentalist, what do you think about Bast’s proposal?”

  “I deem it wise,” Richard said blandly.

  “Ah-ha,” Hawkins said. “Do you hear that, Bast? I order drone launches.”

  “Are there any further objections?” Richard asked.

  No one spoke up.

  Walleye couldn’t believe it. Somehow, the mentalist had gained psionic powers. The man was controlling the meeting. When Richard focused on someone, that person often changed his or her view to suit the mentalist. How Richard Torres had come to acquire psionic powers, Walleye did not have a clue. It must have been a latent thing, however, because otherwise, Richard would have detected the Seiner last voyage.

  Could the mentalist have been a Seiner ally?

  Walleye played with the idea as the meeting continued.

  “We will destroy the recorders,” Richard was saying, “and we will launch drones afterward. I think twenty should be sufficient. I will reprogram each drone computer before launch. That will ensure they find any remaining stealth recorders.”

  The others sat stiffly, as if they had become automatons. Walleye made sure to sit just as the others did.

  “Now, this brings us to the most important decision of all,” Richard said. “I have given my Cog Primus detailed and thorough simulations. I have run the tests many times. Clearly, if anyone can predict the AI, it is me. Does anyone disagree with that?”

  No one did.

  Richard continued acting and speaking in his new authoritative manner. As he did, Walleye thought about what he was seeing.

  The mentalist wanted confirmation from the others, even though he already controlled each mind. He clearly loved being in charge, to have everyone listen to him boast and brag about his awesome acuity. Richard positively reveled in the meeting, in telling all of them how this would go.

  “I’ve decided we should head to the Lytton System,” Richard said in a didactic manner. “In many ways, it is like the Allamu System. I know a few of you believe we may not have accurate data concerning the other star systems, but I think that’s false. Obviously, that means I think we found a correct stellar chart in the Allamu Battle Station computers. Taking the computer simulations as a whole, my Cog Primus chose the Lytton System seventy-two percent of the time.”

  “He did not choose it all of the time?” Hawkins asked.

  Richard frowned, staring at the captain. “I did not give you leave to speak,” the mentalist said softly.

  “I’m sorry, Richard,” Hawkins said. “Will you…” the words trailed away.

  “That’s not good enough,” Richard said. He stared at Hawkins, and the mentalist paled as he did so.

  The captain also paled as beads of sweat formed on his forehead. Hawkins began panting. “I’m. Sorry,” he said, the words seemingly torn out of him. “Will. You. Forgive. Forgive… Me?”

  “Oh,” Richard said. “Will I forgive you for your rude outburst just now?”

  The captain nodded.

  “I will,” Richard said. “You seem contrite. You won’t do it again. That’s what asking forgiveness means, you’re not going to repeat the same wrong action.”

  “Yes,” Hawkins said, still panting.

  “Good,” Richard said, smirking. “Excellent, in fact. Now, as I was saying, the Lytton System makes the most sense. Cog Primus will raid it, attempting to use the anti-AI virus on the Lytton Battle Station. In such a fashion, Cog Primus will gain a dockyard. There, he can repair his cyberships and begin building the New Order Fleet.”

  “That is utterly logical,” Gloria said. “What gloriously precise thinking, Richard. You are the greatest mentalist of the age.”

  “You are too kind,” Richard said.

  “No. I mean it. Your logic is flawless. Your manner of insight shows great genius.”

  “Hmm,” Richard said. “I hadn’t looked at it like that.”

  “I cannot believe that,” Gloria said. “Surely, you are aware of your greatness.”

  Richard examined the fingernails of his right hand. He blew on them, buffed them against his chest and leaned back in his chair. “You know, Gloria, I believe you’re right. I am great.”

  “The greatest,” she added.

  Richard smiled. “I think the rest of you should acknowledge my brilliance.”

  The others fumbled over each other in proclaiming his marvelous genius. Hawkins and Bast Banbeck, however, resisted.

  Walleye had been among the first to shout the mentalist’s genius.

  “Sacerdote,” Richard said, pointing at the green-skinned giant. “Do you have something to add?”

  “I…” Bast rumbled.

  “You must conform,” Richard said. “You must state the obvious.”

  “I am…dizzy,” Bast said. “I am—” The Sacerdote’s eyes became huge. “No,” he said, in terror.

  “Yes,” Richard said, squinting at the huge alien.

  Bast closed his eyes, groaned, and suddenly pitched backward to slam against the floor.

  Gloria jumped up.

  “Leave him,” Richard said. “He’s unconscious. He deserved that. He resisted me—” The mentalist stopped talking, quickly scanning everyone. He stopped at the captain.

  Hawkins was on his feet. His hand was on the butt of a revolver and seemed to be attempting to draw his gun.

  “Tut, tut, Captain,” Richard said. “That is unkind and ungracious. I am trying to save humanity.”

  Hawkins opened his mouth.

  “You possess an uncommonly stubborn mind, Captain,” Richard said. “You have resisted too long, though. This might hurt your brain. This might stunt your genius. But I can no longer allow your spite to hold me back. I am going to assume command of the strike force. I am the greatest. I am in charge anyway. Thus, I should hold the titles.”

  “Richard the Great!” Walleye shouted. “Let us praise Richard the Great! He is the noble one. He is the genius of the expedition. If we don’t know something, Richard can figure it out for us. Let us cheer him.”

  The others began to cheer.

  “Interesting,” Richard said. “Do you really mean that?”

  Walleye led the cheering again. “He should be our admiral. We should all swear eternal allegiance to him.”

  “Richard! Richard! Richard!” the others cheered.

  “Let us crown him king,” Walleye said. The mutant slid out of his chair and held his hands high as if saluting the mentalist.

  “Now, now,” Richard said.

  “You are mighty and glorious,” Walleye said, as he approached the mentalist.

  “Sit back down,” Richard said. “This is…this is getting out of hand.”

  “We love you, Richard,” Walleye said, with a crazy smile pasted on his face, all the whi
le approaching closer.

  “Did you hear me?” Richard said. “I said, ‘Sit down.’”

  Walleye did not sit. Instead, he darted toward Richard.

  “What’s wrong with you?” the mentalist asked.

  Walleye drew the hardened plastic stiletto, surged closer and stabbed. Richard blocked the blow, although the plastic tip cut his forearm so blood spurted.

  The mentalist shrieked at the cut. He threw himself off his chair, rolling onto the floor. He kicked at Walleye. The mutant nimbly dodged the lashing feet.

  “Sit down!” Richard screamed. “Obey me, you freak!”

  For the first time, Walleye felt a thread of force tickle against his mind.

  “No,” Richard panted. “You’re an unnatural. Why haven’t I detected you before this?”

  Walleye closed in a second time.

  “Help me!” Richard shouted. “Stop Walleye. He’s gone insane.”

  A cybership captain stood and tried to grab the mutant. Walleye ducked under the arm and sprinted at Richard. The mentalist screamed, trying to push and brush Walleye away. The mutant cunningly tripped Richard so the man sprawled backward onto the floor.

  “Stop him! Stop him!” Richard screamed.

  Before anyone could reach Walleye, the mutant slammed the stiletto. The plastic tip drove through Richard’s jacket, passed the protective rib cage and slammed home inside the Martian’s heart.

  Richard shrieked one more time.

  Walleye twisted the stiletto. He yanked it out and jabbed it in again as hard as he could.

  Richard vomited blood. His eyes blazed with terror. “You!” he croaked.

  Walleye yanked the stiletto out once more, lunged across the body and stabbed the mentalist in the throat.

  At that point, as several hands grabbed Walleye at once, the Martian mentalist died on the conference room floor.

  -7-

  Jon couldn’t believe what had happened. Mentalist Richard Torres was dead. Walleye had slain the expeditionary force’s great hope. Now what were they going to do?

  Medics had already removed the body and cleaned up the gore. Most of the assembled personnel had left per his orders. Bast Banbeck stood to the side, facing a bulkhead. The Sacerdote refused to even look at Walleye. It was clear the big lug wanted to rip the mutant apart with his bare hands. The only other person in the room was Gloria. She had been weeping, desperately trying not to, but still sniffling. She also would not look at Walleye.

  The mutant sat in a chair with his hands cuffed behind his back. It was all Jon could do earlier to keep the others from murdering Walleye. Jon had kept greater control of his emotions because…because…he wasn’t sure why. Something in him screamed for Walleye’s blood, preferably in the most gruesome manner possible.

  “This is an outrage,” Bast rumbled, with his back to them.

  “Agreed,” Jon said. He’d put his gun on the table in easy reach. If he kept it at his side, the temptation to blast Walleye away was too strong.

  The mutant kept looking at the table. No one could tell what he was thinking.

  “I don’t understand you,” Jon told Walleye.

  The mutant looked up. He did not seem contrite in the least. He seemed calculating.

  “Without Richard, I’m not sure we should continue the expedition,” Jon said. “Who can keep tabs on our Cog Primus?”

  Walleye said nothing.

  “Is that going to be your defense?” Jon asked. “You murdered our great hope and refuse to say a word?”

  “Murderer,” Gloria hissed between her teeth.

  “Is your behavior normal?” Walleye asked.

  “Filth!” Gloria hissed, whirling around and approaching the mutant with death in her eyes.

  “Gloria,” Jon said sharply.

  She halted, although she wouldn’t look at him. “It is not logical that you have allowed it continued life.”

  Jon cocked his head, scratching it a moment later. “Bast, is Gloria right?”

  “Kill the mutant and be done with it,” the Sacerdote rumbled. “You are a soldier. It is time to do your duty as a soldier.”

  “Something seems off,” Jon said.

  “Ha!” Gloria said. “That he still lives—”

  “She’s emotional,” Walleye told Jon, interrupting her tirade. “How often has your mentalist been this emotional about anything?”

  “Silence!” Gloria raged, rushing the mutant, trying to rake out his eyes.

  Walleye kept dodging and weaving even as he sat on the chair. Finally, Jon rushed forward and physically lifted Gloria off the floor.

  “Stop,” he said into an ear. “This isn’t like you. What’s happening?”

  Gloria struggled harder until she burst out weeping.

  “How many times has Gloria wept openly before others?” Walleye asked.

  Jon stared at the mutant. Her weeping did seem wrong. “Listen to me,” he told her. “I need you… I need you on the bridge. This is a delicate time.”

  Gloria twisted in his arms. “You’re going to let him live. That’s wrong.”

  “No, I’m not,” Jon said. “I want to think of the best way to execute him. We have to purge the collective hurt. That will take some thought.”

  Gloria searched his eyes. “If you need more ideas, ask me. I can think of plenty.”

  Jon released her and watched her go. Only after the hatch shut, did he return to his spot at the conference table. He stared at his gun. Should he just shoot Walleye and be done with it?

  “We could boil him in oil,” Bast suggested.

  “What?” Jon asked.

  “As a fitting form of death,” Bast said.

  “Why do you want to kill me?” Walleye asked the Sacerdote.

  The giant alien faced the mutant. “You are a vile murderer. You killed our great hope.”

  “Has Richard always been our great hope?” Walleye asked.

  “Since the beginning,” Bast said.

  “Is that true?” Walleye asked Jon.

  “This is unseemly,” Bast said. “He should not query us. We should query him until the blood runs from his ears.”

  “I want to put a bullet in your brain,” Jon told Walleye.

  The words seem to have no effect on the mutant. He actually smiled faintly.

  “He mocks us,” Bast said.

  “I mock myself,” Walleye said.

  “This is illogical,” the Sacerdote replied.

  “I thought all I had to do was kill Richard and the rest of you would come around,” Walleye said. “Now, I realize he changed your thinking.”

  “Insanity!” Bast shouted. “Do you think the mentalist could practice psionics?”

  “I know it,” Walleye said. “The mentalist bewitched you all.”

  “I will not listen to this travesty,” Bast said. “My blood boils with rage. I want to stomp him to death. How can you abide his lying tongue?”

  “I don’t know,” Jon said. “I already told you I want to put a bullet in his brain. Something stops me, though. It’s a sense of wrongness. Something is off here. Walleye…I feel as if I’ve spoken to him lately.”

  “Why was I in the meeting?” Walleye asked.

  “I…I don’t know,” Jon said.

  “Check the logs,” Walleye said. “You summoned me.”

  “Liar,” Bast said.

  “Check,” Walleye said. “Prove me a liar.”

  Bast turned imploringly to Jon.

  The captain shrugged, took out a hand communicator and called a tech. He asked for a log check. In another minute, the tech reported a text for Walleye to come to the conference room to join the meeting.

  “Who ordered him to come?” Jon asked.

  “Uh…you did, sir,” the tech said. “You texted him.”

  “Thank you,” Jon said. “That is all.” In a state of astonishment, he lowered the comm.

  “Well?” Bast asked.

  “I summoned Walleye to the conference chamber,” Jon said.

/>   “Impossible,” Bast said.

  “I have a theory,” Walleye said.

  Bast snorted in derision.

  “You used to be a philosopher,” Walleye said. “We worked together on the Gilgamesh—”

  “I never worked with you,” Bast shouted.

  “Is that true, sir?” Walleye asked Jon.

  The captain stared at the comm unit as if it were poisonous. Finally, he picked it up and made some checks. Once finished, he stared at Bast.

  “Well?” Bast asked in a scoffing way.

  “Walleye joined you on the Gilgamesh. You two killed the Seiner there.”

  Bast stared at Jon. Slowly, his Neanderthal features transformed. He twisted around to glare at Walleye. Finally, he scowled heavily and began to pant.

  “It isn’t possible,” Bast rumbled.

  “Remember I had a theory?” Walleye asked.

  “I do,” Jon said. “What is it?”

  “Something happened to Richard. Maybe if you check, you’ll find that the mentalist had latent psionic abilities. I’m sure that would show up on mentalist tests at some time in his past. Maybe the Seiner unleashed Richard’s powers.”

  “Deliberately?” asked Jon.

  “I don’t know,” Walleye said. “Maybe something leaked from her mind. Maybe something leaked from Bast’s mind during his…change. What do we know about psionic powers?”

  “Precious little,” Jon said. “Okay. Suppose Richard gained what you said he did. We can check Martian records once we return to the Solar System.”

  “Such a vile murderer should die much sooner than that,” Bast said.

  “We can always kill him,” Jon said. “We can’t bring him back from the dead, though. Waiting won’t hurt us.”

  “Unless the mutant escapes us,” Bast said.

  Jon laughed. “Bast, come on. Where can he run?”

  The huge Sacerdote thoughtfully rubbed a cheek.

  “Right,” Jon said. “We can put Walleye on ice in the brig. Later, once we’re back in the Solar System, we can check the mentalist training facilities. If it proves that Richard had latent powers…” He looked at Walleye. “That still wouldn’t prove Richard’s guilt.”

  “I don’t pretend to understand what’s going on,” Walleye said. “But I do know all of you are acting much differently. You used to hardly be able to stand the mentalist.”