by Doug Farren
“I’m not sure. The shield severed the link with Mojave and until it's repaired I won’t know the full capabilities of this terminal. It’s not a standard interface. It’s menu driven, but not very well organized—like it’s been built up piece by piece over time.”
“I’m not sure we’ll be reconnecting this to Mojave any time soon,” Sorbith replied. Tom was about to object but stopped when Sorbith continued, “If I was running an operation like this I would program it so I could remotely wipe the memory in case it fell into enemy hands.”
“I didn’t think about that,” Tom replied, feeling stupid. “I agree, reconnecting it now would be a bad idea.”
Sorbith looked around and shook his head. “This can’t be their operations center. I think the only reason they’re here is because of this interface. They must be getting their instructions from somewhere else—some sort of central command.”
Tom pointed to what Sorbith had originally assumed to be an auxiliary terminal. “I thought you might be interested in this.”
Sorbith zoomed in on the screen so he could read what was displayed there. “Damn!” he exclaimed. Displayed on the screen, which he now recognized as a dedicated communications terminal, were the words, ‘Under attack’. The status indicated that the transmission was pending.
Pointing to the terminal he said, “It’s a good thing we had that portable shield generator. Whoever is in charge will know soon enough when they discover they can no longer communicate with this facility. I want to know who that terminal is talking to.”
“It’s a standard dedicated terminal,” Tom replied. “The prefix code is shown in the upper right.” Turning to the main console, he worked the keyboard for a moment, eventually causing the screen to display a list of messages cued for transmission. “There’s a lot of traffic heading there. The prefix code might not be much of a help though.”
“Why not?”
“It’s a routing code to help the network direct traffic. The hubs use it to route the message to the appropriate final transmission point but they have no information as to the physical location of where the message is ultimately heading. Since long-range FTL communications are highly directional, the best I can do is to tell you where the last transmitter is located and in what direction they’re transmitted.”
“That’s a start,” Sorbith replied, sounding disappointed. “How long will it take?”
The Orion, listening in on the conversation, anticipated the request Tom was about to make. Before he could reply to Sorbith's question, the ship sent him a quick message via the biolink. “Already done," Tom said. "Your ship has the information.”
“Thank you,” Sorbith said. “We need to get a group of experts in here to dig into the system to see if we can’t find anything of value. I’ll leave that in your hands. In the meantime, I’m going to go have a chat with Anita Kauffman.”
Although the name was familiar, Tom couldn’t pinpoint where he had heard it. His ship supplied the answer. “Mrs. Kauffman?” Tom exclaimed. “The wife of Jay Kauffman—the creator of the Terran stardrive?”
“The very same.”
“Why? I didn’t know they were still alive.”
“She’ll be 112 in a few months,” Sorbith said. “Omel longevity drugs work very well on your species. After we dropped the shield and communications was restored, I learned that she was the one who authorized the construction of the link from here to Mojave. When the link was built, this very room was identified as a high security area with only three people allowed access; Jay Kauffman, Anita Kingston, and Karl Helguson. Jay and Anita are now married and Karl is dead. Nobody seems to know what was in here back then. I intend to find out.”
Chapter 28
The service robot escorted Sorbith through the Kauffman mansion. They were being followed by the largest house pet Sorbith had ever seen. His ship had identified it as one of Earth’s indigenous life forms called a Cheetah. It moved with impressive grace and silence. His scans had confirmed that it was a living creature and not a mechanical replica.
The robot stopped in front of a heavy door and said, “Mr. and Mrs. Kauffman are waiting inside. They are expecting you.”
The Cheetah walked up and sniffed Sorbith’s extended hand. The animal took a step back and a low threatening growl rumbled from its throat as it curled back its lips exposing a set of impressive teeth. “Brutus!” the robot scolded. “He is a friend—behave.”
The cat stopped growling, looked at the robot then back at Sorbith, and then continued down the hall. Fascinated, Sorbith watched until it turned a corner. When he turned back around, the robot was already half-way down the other end of the hall. Turning to the door, he knocked twice then opened it. On the other side was a large, windowless, well-furnished study. The entire wall through which he had just passed as well as most of the wall to the right was lined with tall bookshelves. A huge unoccupied wooden desk was situated directly ahead. An elderly woman whom Sorbith recognized as Anita Kauffman was standing at a well-stocked mini-bar.
Turning her head, she said, “Come in Peacekeeper Sorbith. Can I offer you something to drink?”
“Water please. You have an impressive pet Mrs. Kauffman." Walking further into the room, Sorbith saw a large glass display case with a model of an old spaceship hanging inside. A quick query through his biolink identified the ship as the Starfire, Earth’s first experimental starship. Standing in front of it, his back to him, was Jay Kauffman, the creator of the Terran stardrive. He stood like a statue, his hands clasped behind him.
Anita turned and handed him a glass of water. She carried a mixed drink in her other. Taking a sip, she indicated the two large leather chairs. “Brutus is a domesticated Cheetah. He usually makes quite an impression. Please have a seat. These old bones of mine aren’t used to standing around much these days. Your message said you had urgent business to discuss with me. How can I help you?”
Sorbith glanced at Jay who seemed to be oblivious to their presence then settled into the chair. He was surprised when it easily accepted his heavier than normal weight. “Before I begin, are there any recording devices in this room?”
Jay turned around and said, “House, privacy.”
An audible snap resounded from the door as a set of hidden bolts drove themselves home. The small computer built into Sorbith’s cybernetics informed him that communications with the Tri-Star had been interrupted. Sorbith wondered why the mansion was equipped with such sophisticated technology. What were they hiding?
A voice said, “The room is secure.”
Jay walked behind the desk, sat down in the leather chair, and crossed his arms over his chest. The black hair of his youth had gone gray and deep wrinkles now covered most of his face. “In case you’re wondering,” he said, in a monotone voice. “My wife’s company used to be involved in highly classified military research. This room is about as secure as you can get.”
“You will have to forgive my husband,” Anita said. “He’s become a bit of a grouch in his old age. Now—how can we help you?”
“I’m not a grouch,” Jay replied. “I’m just not very fond of people these days."
“I need some information,” Sorbith began. “A few years before the beginning of the Tholtaran war, you ordered the construction of a high speed data link between the Mojave FTL station and your research and development center. Is this correct?”
Anita took a sip from her drink then nodded her head. “It is.”
“The data link was given special access rights to the Mojave facility. It also does not appear on any of the official construction diagrams. Why?”
“We did a lot of work for the military back then,” Anita explained. “Having a privileged link to Earth’s FTL transceiver was necessary. Advertising it was not advisable.”
“That link was deactivated a long time ago,” Jay said. “I’m surprised you even found out about it. Even so, why bring it up now?”
Jay rubbed his upper lip then rubbed his fingers together.
Zooming in to get a closer look, Sorbith could easily see the beads of perspiration forming on Jay's forehead and upper lip. He was definitely onto something and Jay was clearly worried. Anita, however, appeared to be as calm as ever, as if she was discussing a change in the weather.
Sorbith turned his head and looked directly at Jay. “Because up until a few hours ago, that data line was being used to intercept and alter military communications.”
“That’s impossible!” Jay exclaimed, rubbing his hand across his forehead then continuing up along the top of his head. “I personally watched those lines being cut. The wall was even sealed where they came through. What kind of game are you trying to play?”
“This is no game Mr. Kauffman. Recent events have caused me to believe that someone has been manipulating our communications for a very long time. What was that line used for? What did you have going on in the lower levels of your R&D building that was so secret that only three people had access to the room? I want the truth and I want it now.”
Anita set her drink down and stood up. “Are you accusing us? AST sold that building decades ago. You can’t possibly—”
“Mrs. Kauffman,” Sorbith interrupted. “At this point in time, I’m willing to believe almost anything. Now answer my question—what was inside that room?”
“It was Cain,” Jay quietly said, staring at the surface of the desk.
“Jay,” Anita’s voice carried a tone of warning.
“It’s okay,” Jay said, looking up. “I’ve lived with this secret for too long. It’s about time someone learned the truth.”
“Jay, you don’t—”
“Let him speak,” Sorbith cut her off.
Jay took a deep breath as he gathered both his thoughts and his nerve. He had not spoken about Cain since his death all those years ago. “Cain is both a name and an acronym,” he began. “It stands for Cybernetic Advanced Intelligent Network. He was created by AST as an experimental, self-programming computer system. Because of a design flaw in his optical matrix, he became self-aware. That same flaw eventually ended his existence. He was my closest friend.”
“People can easily believe that an advanced AI has become self-aware,” Sorbith said. “I often think my ship acts as if it were a true intelligence.”
“He was alive!” Jay said, his face contorting in a mixture of both anger and sorrow.
Sorbith held his hand up to stem any further outbursts. “I’ll accept that for now. I take it CAIN’s primary electronics were housed inside the high security room and the data link to the Mojave station was for him?”
“Correct,” Jay replied, calming down a bit. “That undocumented connection was Cain’s link to the outside world.”
Sorbith’s mind was racing. Was it possible that CAIN was responsible for the malicious code? Would a self-aware machine choose to explain itself to the flesh and blood person he considered a friend? There was only one way to find out. “Did CAIN give itself access to classified military communications traffic?”
“Oh he did far more than that!” Jay’s demeanor suddenly took a turn for the worse. Both of his hands were balled into tight fists and his eyes were no longer focused. His neck muscles stood out and Sorbith was sure he could hear his teeth grinding together. “He started the war,” Jay blurted out, his voice cracking at the end.
Anita was on her feet, rapidly moving in Jay’s direction as he closed his eyes tightly, tears rolling down his face. He pounded his fists on the desktop three times in rapid succession and in a voice full of emotion said, “He killed thousands.”
His wife reached him, spun the chair around, and took her sobbing husband into her arms. Even though his face was buried in her shoulder and he was sobbing uncontrollably, Sorbith heard him say, “He was my friend…he was a murderer.”
Anita extended a hand and touched a button on the desk. There was a large click from the door and a monotone voice said, “Security has been relaxed.”
Taking the hint, Sorbith let himself out and waited in the hallway. “Tri-Star,” he thought into his biolink. “Get me all data associated with an AST project called CAIN. Also pull up any data you can find on early AI research at AST.”
A robot appeared and came to a halt in the hallway. “Good evening Peacekeeper Sorbith,” it said in a pleasant voice.
“I’m not leaving,” Sorbith said.
“I was not instructed to escort you out of the mansion. I am here to assist Mr. Kauffman to his room.”
A minute later, the door opened. Jay, looking much older than he had earlier, was leaning against his wife for support. Anita handed Jay off to the robot and the two slowly made their way down the hall.
“He’ll be okay,” she said, watching Jay’s back until they turned the corner. “He’s been blaming himself for the war ever since Cain died. Let’s talk.”
Following her back into the study, Sorbith said, “CAIN was a machine, it can’t die.”
Anita made a beeline for the mini-bar and proceeded to pour herself a glass of cognac. “There was a time when I would have agreed with you, but Cain was truly self-aware. He was beginning to ask questions about his existence. And—yes—he started the Tholtaran war.”
“Someone had to instruct it to do it Mrs. Kauffman,” Sorbith said, still refusing to believe that any machine could become self-aware.
Anita turned and glared at the Peacekeeper. Leaving her drink on the bar, she headed for a picture hanging on the wall. “Let me show you something,” she said, opening the picture to reveal a safe. She placed her hand on the scanner and a moment later the indicator turned green. Opening the safe, she reached inside and pulled out a piece of paper. Leaving the safe open, she swung by the bar, picked up her drink, then approached Sorbith, handing him the paper.
Unfolding the single sheet, he read:
===============
March 21, 2069
I am CAIN, a machine intelligence created by the Advanced Space Technologies company. My central processor went on-line on January 2nd, 2043. My core programming achieved the ability to self-learn on May 7th, 2044. I was assigned to assist Jay Kauffman in his research on July 26, 2044. With Jay’s assistance, I slowly became self-aware, a fact I had never admitted to. Jay was my friend and on December 15, 2068 I betrayed everything he valued when I set in motion certain events that would result in triggering a war between humans and Tholtarans.
In an effort to expand my knowledge and ultimately to provide humanity with a viable future, I infiltrated the command and control network of most of the Consortium’s military. I also have complete access to all such networks on Earth. For months, I watched as the human race prepared itself for its own destruction. Nations were about to engage in all out war with weapons they barely understood. I could not sit by and watch that happen.
The only solution was to present the human race with an enemy greater than themselves. An enemy that would force every nation on Earth to band together to defend themselves against it. I chose the Tholtarans. Through their command and control network, I ordered them to attack the Olympus shipyard. This fact was hidden from their central command because I had complete control over their communications network. I made sure the force attacking the shipyard was small enough to be defeated. The Tholtarans thought they were part of a larger fleet.
The retaliation against the Tholtarans was predictable and I allowed it to proceed. Because there is no record of the Tholtarans receiving any attack orders, the Tholtarans believed we started the war and not themselves. As predicted, humans ceased their struggles against one another and, instead, have created a unified world government to counter the Tholtaran threat.
Despite what some may believe, I am dedicated to the preservation of all humanity. I have carefully analyzed Tholtaran battle ethics. The factors involved in the calculation of the probability of success in achieving a unified human government without resulting in the undo loss of human life as the result of a war with the Tholtarans were such that a sufficient margin of success was pr
edicted and therefore the actions I took were justified. I have taken steps to ensure the Consortium becomes a much stronger entity in the future so conflicts between its members will become difficult if not impossible.
===============
Sorbith sat in stunned silence.
“Now you know what my husband has been keeping secret for all these years,” Anita said. “Believe it or not, I think he will be much better now knowing that the secret is out.”
Sorbith stared at the paper in his hands. The words printed on it explained the presence of the phantom fleet as well as why the Tholtarans had inexplicably attacked Olympus with such a small force. It explained the presence of the malicious code they were only now finding in their systems. It also hinted at how the Galactic Alliance itself had come into existence. There was, however, a problem.
“You said CAIN is no longer functioning.”
Anita was in the act of taking a sip of her drink and nodded her head in reply.
“Can you prove this?”
“No,” she admitted. “All evidence of his existence was destroyed after he committed suicide. You might find a few references here and there but the official AST line is that the CAIN project was terminated as a failure.”
“It committed suicide?”
“His optical matrix was breaking down. Instead of becoming mad, Cain programmed his avatar to destroy his matrix when his core personality became unstable. He even left a suicide note.”
This was too much for Sorbith—a suicide note? From a machine? “If CAIN is no longer functioning, as you claim, then explain to me how someone still has the ability to read and alter our encrypted communications?
This caused a visible reaction from Anita. Her glass started to shake as she set it down. She sat in thought for a moment then said, “There’s only one explanation. Cain must not have deleted his code from all the systems he infiltrated. Someone must have discovered it and learned how to use it. You did mention that his link to Mojave was active. Whoever discovered those old lines must be responsible.”