A.I. Battle Fleet (The A.I. Series Book 5) Read online

  “How do you mean?”

  “What kind of foe could not only resist the AIs, but attack them? An extremely powerful one. I think this is evidence of…”

  Jon smiled grimly as he peered at each person in turn. “This is evidence that we’ve stumbled upon an interstellar war. Whatever the AIs are, they’re not all powerful. Perhaps, they’re not even the dominant party.”

  “Jon, Jon,” Gloria chided. “You’re jumping to wild conclusions. You can’t know any of those things, not with certainty. All we know is that every planet in the star system has been obliterated.”

  “I never said know for certain,” Jon replied. “I asked for theories. Well, this is my theory.”

  “To be useful, theories must accord with the facts,” Gloria said. “We need more facts before we postulate such outlandish theories.”

  Jon sat straighter. “That’s the other reason we’re meeting. We must decide what to do next. We haven’t found any sign of life, mechanical or otherwise.”

  “A moment,” the giant Sacerdote said. “Are you suggesting the AIs are alive?”

  Jon shrugged. “I suppose not. They do act as if they’re alive, though.”

  “They are machines,” Bast said. “Machines are not alive.”

  “Perhaps,” Jon said. “I’ll rephrase my idea. We haven’t spotted any of the machine intelligences or aliens. There’s no sign of Cog Primus and his vessels. If he came here, I suspect the AI already left.” Jon pursed his lips. “We could have passed each other in hyperspace.”

  “Given that Cog Primus was here and that he returned to the rogue planet,” Gloria said.

  “Right,” Jon said. “Should we continue heading in-system? Should we decelerate and accelerate back the way we came? Or should we head to another of the possibilities we considered checking earlier?”

  No one spoke up.

  “I know our cognate Cog Primus thought the Lytton System as the most likely destination—”

  The Centurion slammed a fist on the table.

  “Do you have a problem?” Jon asked darkly.

  The small, bald soldier paused. “I didn’t mean to interrupt you, sir. My apologies.”

  Jon nodded.

  The Centurion turned to Gloria. “You shouldn’t have erased the AI. We need its expertise. You lied to me. I don’t forget such things.”

  Gloria looked away, although her face said nothing.

  “We went through a difficult time before,” Jon said. “We all did things we wish we could change. Let’s forgive and forget so we can forge ourselves into an unbeatable strike force.”

  “How can we trust liars?” the Centurion asked bluntly.

  Jon’s features became pinched. “You were not in your right mind then. To be blunt, you were acting irrationally.”

  The Centurion frowned.

  “I wanted our Cog Primus destroyed,” Jon said. “I might as well tell you my new rule. Do not suffer an AI to live.”

  Bast straightened. “There you go again, sir. A computer is not alive.”

  “It’s a saying,” Jon replied. “It comes off the tongue easily, and everyone understands my meaning.”

  Bast glowered, seemed as if he was going to say more, but closed his mouth as he brooded.

  “The AIs are tools,” the Centurion said. “All tools have their uses.”

  Jon’s chest heated up as the Centurion continued to slander Gloria. He almost shot off a hot retort. He counted to three, instead, and silently reminded himself that a soft answer turns away wrath.

  “We use tools,” Jon said slowly. “But we must remember that Cog Primus has always caused us trouble, has he not?”

  The Centurion finally nodded stiffly.

  “While the cognate Cog Primus might have proved useful at present, the cost would likely be too high. That’s why I’m glad Gloria erased him.”

  The Centurion opened his mouth.

  Jon held up his right hand. “Let’s not bicker over what might have been. Let’s work with what we have. I see no evidence of Cog Primus, the one we’re chasing. I see no evidence of any cyberships or alien vessels. We could stay and possibly discover more. Or, we can try to do what we came out here to do: find and destroy Cog Primus before he lets the cat out the bag that humans not only survived the AI assaults but have gone on the offensive.”

  At first, no one spoke as each looked to see if someone else would say something.

  Bast finally exhaled loudly. “The question gives us our answer. We must go to the next likely star system and hope to catch Cog Primus there.”

  “Thank you, Bast,” Jon said. “Any other suggestions?”

  Gloria looked around before she said, “I agree with Bast. We have an agenda. Let’s stick to it before we worry about anything else.”

  Jon waited, but no one else spoke up.

  “I agree,” he said finally. “Since we have no new evidence, I’m going to use the cognate’s second suggestion. Does anyone disagree?”

  No one did. Thus, the strike force had a new destination.

  -4-

  The next destination was BD-7, a binary star system 34.6 light-years away from the Lytton System. That would mean over a month of travel through hyperspace to reach it.

  First, though, they had to turn around. During the three-week turning maneuver, the techs scanned the Lytton System, studying the destroyed planets. They especially searched for spaceship wrecks. Had there been space battles? Were there any clues as to what had pulverized the planets?

  Gloria made a daily trip to the bridge, inspecting the latest findings, noting them and seeing that nothing had changed. The rest of the time, she retired to Richard’s former quarters. Mechs had repaired the hatch. She pored over his notes, trying to understand the heightened thinking, especially the papers he’d written at his highest intelligence levels. Sometimes, it felt as if she was going to get it. The feeling always passed as Richard shot off in some new, heightened direction.

  “It’s frustrating,” she told Jon two weeks into the turning maneuver.

  They were relaxing in a spa, soaking in hot water.

  “Richard became Icarus,” she said.

  “Who?” asked Jon.

  “Icarus was a Greek. He made a pair of wings, using wax to hold the feathers. With the wings, Icarus soared into the heavens. He flew too high in the end, and the sun melted the wax, causing the feathers to fall off. Icarus then plunged to his death.”

  “How is that like Richard?”

  “The flying,” Gloria said. “That represents his heightened intellect. He soared above regular mentalists. His thoughts, his ideas, the possibilities—I’m sad he died.”

  Jon looked over at Gloria in her white bikini. She was so smart. Yet, she had such a hot little body. He laughed, rolled toward her and took her in his arms.

  “You’re not listening to me,” she complained.

  “I am,” he said, pressing her delightful body against his.

  She tried to continue talking. He kissed her. She hit him in the shoulder. “I’m telling you something important.”

  “I know,” he said, kissing her again.

  “Jon.”

  He plunged underwater, pulling her with him. She struggled in his arms. He held her for a count of three and then surged up. She gasped for air.

  “Why you—” she said.

  He grinned as he kissed her more, stroking her back, but holding her tight, so she couldn’t get away. Finally, the tenseness left her body. She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him back.

  This was more like it. He needed more times like this. Finally, he pulled away. “You’re beautiful,” he said.

  She smiled at him.

  They kissed more, before settling back to enjoy their time in the spa.

  Finally, later, Gloria said, “Are you ready to listen to me?”

  Jon was back to lying against the spa, with his arms resting outside the water. He gave her a lazy grin.

  “I was telling you about Richard,
” she said.

  “Why bother? He’s dead. He screwed with all of us. He was on his way to destroying all of us.”

  “How can you say that?” Gloria asked.

  “You’ve said it.”

  “No I didn’t.”

  “You told me he was become greater than a genius. His thinking approached that of God. I don’t buy it that a man can get that smart, but suppose you were even half right.”

  “That’s what I’m saying. His papers prove his genius.”

  “That’s why he had to die,” Jon said. “Can you imagine a super-genius living with us peacefully?”

  “Why not?”

  “You’re the mentalist. You should know that people so different from each other can’t stand each other if they’re forced to rub shoulders all the time. I read a study somewhere. Maybe the colonel gave it to me back in the day. People have a difficult time understanding someone two deviations in IQ from them. Dumb people think smart people are stupid in all kinds of ways. Smart people think dumb people are retards.”

  “Jon! You’re not supposed to say that.”

  He shrugged. “What’s true is true. People as a whole hate being around others that are too different from them. Like likes like.”

  “That’s pithy,” she said sarcastically.

  He smiled lazily. “I’m a dome rat, remember. I lived on the bottom. I had to recognize reality for what it was. To survive, I couldn’t lie to myself. The rich hang out with the rich. The athletic hang out with the athletic. Mentalists normally hang out with mentalists. It’s the way it is. Try to change it, and you are guaranteed trouble. The bigger the differences between people, the greater the trouble when forcing them together.”

  “What about you and me? We’re different.”

  “You’re the hot babe. I’m the man in charge. That’s the most likely combination there is.”

  “So love means nothing?”

  “There’s that, too,” he said, smiling at her. “And we’re both smart.”

  “You think pretty highly of yourself.”

  “So do you.”

  “I’m a mentalist.”

  “I’m Jon Hawkins, successful soldier of fortune.”

  “Fine,” she said. “So, what does this have to do with…?” Gloria’s lips twisted thoughtfully. She looked away as her brow scrunched up.

  Several minutes later, she regarded him. “I see what you mean. Richard was too many deviations above us, especially in the end. I can understand a few of his earliest concepts. Most of them, though, sail higher over my head than Icarus could have flown. I suppose we were the Neanderthals and he was a superior sort of Cro-Magnon. We would have been like animals to him in the end.”

  “Crazy, huh?” Jon said.

  “No,” Gloria said. “It was sad. He was doomed. There was only one of him and billions of us.”

  “There was only one Walleye, too.”

  Gloria gave him a penetrating look. “What are you suggesting about Walleye?”

  “He’s a mutant. His mutation saved us. Luckily for all concerned, Walleye’s mutation hasn’t changed him so much that we can’t all get along.”

  Gloria became thoughtful, noticed Jon looking away, and splashed him with spa water.

  “Why you,” he said, lunging at her.

  Gloria giggled, and she giggled even more as he caught and kissed her.

  “My,” she said, “you’re not a dome rat, but a wild stallion.”

  “I’ll kiss to that,” Jon said, while holding his woman tightly.

  -5-

  The Nathan Graham led the other cyberships. The strike force had a made a long, looping turn throughout the edge of the Lytton System. The engines were offline now as the giant vessels coasted on built-up velocity.

  They were finally headed in the right direction. Now, it was simply a matter of getting far enough away from the nearest gravitational object. As none of the planets remained, the strike force had to avoid the gravitational force of the star.

  Jon was on the bridge, talking to Captain Kling of the Sergeant Stark.

  “My people have tried to figure out what happened to the excess mass,” Kling said. “Is the radiation the residue from some enormous destruction of matter? That’s our best guess. Whoever destroyed the planets used a massive amount of anti-matter.”

  “That would take a lot of anti-matter,” Jon said.

  “You’ve hit on the main drawback to the idea,” Kling said. “Oh-oh, just a minute, sir. My sensor operator is flagging me down. Captain Kling out.”

  The main screen wavered, and Kling was gone. A moment later, the stars reappeared on the screen.

  “Sensors,” Jon said. “Anything unusual?”

  Senior Line Tech Morales sat at Gloria’s station. The wizened Martian had been talking to a tech assistant. “Do you have anything in mind, sir?” Morales asked.

  “Where is the Sergeant Stark scanning?” Jon asked.

  “Give me a second, sir,” Morales said. He manipulated his console, spoke softly into a comm and listened to a reply. Afterward, he adjusted. Morales tapped at his board and frowned for a long moment before finally snapping a word at his assistant.

  She bent over her board, dutifully scanning.

  “Should I look at this?” Jon asked.

  Morales glanced over his shoulder. “I’m not sure, sir. It may be nothing.” His head jerked back. “I take that back, sir. This is something. I just don’t know what it is.”

  Jon shoved out of the captain’s chair, hurrying to Morales’ station. There was a strange glowing area on the main console screen.

  “What is that?” Jon asked.

  “We’re trying to ascertain it, sir,” Morales said. “It’s several million kilometers away.”

  “Something glowing?”

  “The glow is false,” Morales said. “I put that there to highlight the area, or to highlight what’s happening out there.”

  “Which is?”

  “A…disturbance, if you will.”

  “What kind of disturbance?”

  Morales stared over his shoulder at Jon. “Are you ready for this, sir?”

  Jon waited.

  “A disturbance in the fabric of…reality, time and space. I’m not sure how to describe it.”

  “What?” Jon said, as an unwelcome sensation squeezed the lower end of his spine. “What does that mean in plain English?”

  “That was plain English, sir.”

  The glow intensified, and the area between the glowing lines seemed to rip apart. Behind it was nothing but inky, almost swirling blackness. Out of the swirling inkiness slid a massive tubular shape. Two others followed behind it. They looked like giant missiles, with bulbous warheads. On the end of the warheads were a forest of antennae.

  As the third missile—if that’s what it was—came out of the swirling inkiness, the rip in reality closed once more.

  Abruptly, the glowing quit.

  “The disturbance has stopped, sir,” the assistant said.

  “What stopped? What stopped?” Jon said. “Someone tell me what’s going on.”

  “Just a minute, sir,” Morales said. His leathery fingers played on the sensor panel. He stared at readings, tapped, stared at other readings. Finally, he swiveled around.

  Jon had to step back, as he’d moved too close as he peered over Morales’ shoulders.

  “Excuse me, sir,” Morales said.

  Jon waved that aside as he scowled.

  “Whatever caused the rip in reality,” the senior line tech said, “has stopped. It appears to be normal space now. What is not normal are the three massive missiles heading toward us.”

  “They’re several million kilometers away, you said.”

  “Right, sir,” Morales said. “Three million kilometers away, to be exact. The missiles have fantastic velocity, though, coming at us at five percent light speed.”

  “What?” Jon said.

  “They’ll be here in a little more than three minutes.”
/>   A thrill of fear swept through Jon. He whirled around, shouting, “Battle stations, this is not a drill. Everyone is to take up battle stations. Gunner,” Jon said crisply, “call up the grav batteries. I need a hot tube, and I need it now.”

  -6-

  The four cyberships headed out-system at a crawl compared to the three huge missiles barreling at them at five percent light speed. The enemy missiles traveled at 15,000 kilometers per second. That meant the missiles would reach the strike force a little less than three and half minutes after appearing.

  It was an astonishing velocity.

  All the grav cannons were cold. None had been warmed up for some time.

  That’s a critical mistake, Jon thought as he sat on his command chair. I got lazy. I can never let that happen again.

  A full half minute had passed. Those missiles were coming in hot.

  “How big are they?” Jon shouted at Morales.

  “Ten kilometers long,” the Martian said, “one kilometer wide. They’re huge, Captain, bigger than anything we have.”

  They weren’t big, they were monstrous.

  “Are those AI missiles?” Jon asked.

  “Don’t know,” Morales said. “There’s nothing definite yet.”

  Jon had a terrible feeling. What if these were the warheads that had obliterated planets? What chance did a one-hundred-kilometer cybership have when a planet exploded to one of those?

  “You don’t know that,” Jon told himself. “Think. Think— Missiles!” he shouted.

  “Sir,” the missile chief said.

  “Launch anti-matter missiles, one for each incoming monster. Target the beasts.”

  “Target a missile going five percent light-speed?” the chief asked.

  “Launch, launch,” Jon shouted. “Don’t give me excuses.”

  The missile chief grew pale. “I’m on it, sir.”

  “Sir,” Morales said. “The Da Vinci is moving out of line.”

  Captain Miles Ghent ran the Da Vinci.

  Jon stabbed a button on his armrest. “Ghent, Ghent, come in, Ghent.”

  “Sir,” a comm tech said.

  Jon looked at her.

  She pointed at the main screen.

  A harried looking Miles Ghent appeared on the screen. For once, the follower of Christ Spaceman didn’t have his mouth closed. His two prominent buckteeth showed. He also gripped his gold cross in his right hand, saying a quiet litany as he appeared on the screen.