Admiral's Challenge (A Spineward Sectors Novel: Book 8)

by Luke Sky Wachter

  “Then why don’t you correct that and tell me just what in the world is going on, Mom?” I said, sitting forward in the bed.

  “My mission was to have you, carry you to term, and raise you on Capria as a part of its society,” she said.

  “Your mission,” I blurted and drew back, “I was a mission to you?”

  “Don’t take it that way; I didn’t mean in any way that I didn’t want you, Jason,” she said, a gentle smile lighting up her face. “This wasn’t a hardship…a duty. I wanted you and, out of the thousands of applicants, I was the lucky one to be selected. I believe just for that very reason—the fact that I did want you for you and not just for some mission to raise the next Montagne heir to the throne. Although I can’t honestly say that nothing else came into my mind at the time.”

  “I was to be the heir to the throne,” I repeated, unable to stop my surprise from showing.

  “Things certainly didn’t work out that way, but in the beginning that’s what you were intended for. Though perhaps ‘intended’ is too strong a term…’hoped for,’ perhaps, is more fitting. After it became clear that wasn’t going to happen, I was genuinely relieved. I hoped for you to be able to know something other than the confines of a palace,” she continued.

  I nodded slowly, and then with an expressionless mask I forced myself to ask the most important question of them all. “How can you want to restore the AI’s to a position of power over the human race?” I asked, struggling to maintain a dispassionate tone, “don’t you realize just how many trillions of lives were lost and the countless suffering they caused?”’

  She looked at me sadly. “Let me ask you a question,” she said quietly, “you have brought a group of droids to Tracto. Do you believe that all machine intelligences are inherently evil?”

  My face hardened. “Droids are generally considered within a point or two of humans on the sentient scale, with the top end units no more than two or three grades higher than the standard rating,” I replied tightly, “so while I admit that it’s a great risk I’m taking with the Sentient Assembly, at least they operate close enough to levels that humans can comprehend where their interests and ours diverge. However, with the AI’s, they were not just a few points above us; they exceeded human capacity by several orders of magnitude. I don’t believe such an entity can be reasoned with any more than I believe that an ant could seriously reason with me.”

  “The organization I am part of doesn’t believe that all people—whether human, droid or AI—are created equal. As with all living things—and, yes, I include synthetic intelligences among these—there will always be individual differences,” she replied.

  “That’s a nice, egalitarian sentiment,” I scoffed politely, “but the trillions lost and centuries of suffering would argue against allowing it to shape policy.”

  Her lips made a small thin line. “Look at your history and tell me just how many human ‘resistance’ groups escaped from, or operated on, the border of those AI networks that had no use for humanity,” she returned sternly. “I can save you the trouble and tell you that it was precious few, but you’re free to verify independently. In point of fact, the vast majority of ‘free humans,’ splinter groups, and pioneers who escaped or were allowed to leave areas controlled by those few AI’s that considered humanity to be of value, and accordingly extended their protection over the human race.”

  “Extended universal slavery and the cost benefit ratio, you mean,” I retorted, turning red in the face, “some protection! People are not interchangeable machines.”

  “Life was not always as bad as what is generally recorded in the history books. While there were many minor exodus attempts, and massive die-offs on any number of planets after the Elder Protocols shut them down, there were also many worlds that simply went along with business as usual after their ‘slave-driving’ AI’s were suppressed by the Protocols,” Elaine pointed out.

  “You are actually defending them—as if AI’s were a good or necessary part of our history,” I cried, unable to believe my ears. “Next you’ll be trying to tell me there’s nothing wrong with bringing back just a few of the ‘good’ AI’s, and that your organization—which by the way just tried to kill me—is on the side of the angels.”

  “Although I think you’re being a little close-minded, I can certainly understand why. I’m not going to try persuading you of anything, Jason. You are, as much as anything, a product of your environment and you turned out just like I’d hoped,” Mom said with a faint smile that drooped around the edges. “All I can say is that you’ve grown into a fine young man and I’m very proud of you.”

  I clenched my fist. “What’s the name of your organization?” I demanded.

  “I’m not going to tell you that,” Elaine replied firmly.

  “You don’t think I deserve to at least know who’s coming after me?” I snapped.

  Mom looked at me for a long moment and then frowned seeming to come to some kind of decision. “You’re married now; if you really want to know the answer, talk with your wife. She can tell you what you want to know almost as well as I can. Besides, you should really be turning to her more than your old mother anyway,” Mother finally said.

  “Old,” I scoffed, my body tightening at this latest refusal, “you haven’t changed a bit in the two decades since I was born.”

  “It’s been a bit more than twenty years, but I’ll accept the compliment of a handsome young man just the same,” she smiled.

  “You really won’t tell me, even knowing that withholding the answer could let another assassin into my bedroom? You’d give them another chance to hurt Akantha and the kids,” I said with disbelief.

  “I definitely don’t think there will be another attack,” Elaine said firmly.

  “I doubt you knew about the last one, yet here we are,” I retorted.

  “Akantha can tell you what you need to know, if she thinks you need to know it. I honestly think I can do more to help you by staying silent than by satisfying your curiosity,” she finally said, sounding firm but conflicted. I knew I wasn’t going to be getting any more out her than what I had; I’d heard that tone before.

  For a moment, my vision constricted I shook my head. Even though I knew it was childish, I felt hurt. This was way beyond a cut to be covered with a quick-heal patch. It was even beyond a common abusive situation: this was assassins and attempted murder, with underpinnings of mutiny aboard a starship—and even hints of treason to the entire human race! Yet still, despite the stakes, there I was.

  “Listen, Jason,” she said placing a hand over mine, and even when I went to withdraw from her grip she held on tightly, “I am only doing this—staying silent—because I believe I can protect you better this way. If I didn’t think that, I wouldn’t hesitate to tell you everything. I want you to know that, no matter what, I will always take your side. A mother isn’t worth much if she isn’t willing to defend her son.”

  “Even against this cult you’re part of?” I replied coldly. “Doesn’t that fly in the face of your religious beliefs?”

  A flash of hurt crossed her face and then disappeared. “To be blunt, and answer the question you asked, instead of the one you really meant: not everyone is as…fervently devoted in their belief as your wife is. But to what you are really asking: I personally place my family first, and certainly above secret organizations or abstract concepts like seeking to repair, restore, or rebuild an echo of a time now past.” Her eyes flashed fiercely as she met my gaze, and added, “Nothing is more important to me than my children.”

  I could feel my face was still closed but I couldn’t help it. However, what I could do was nod fractionally, so I did. Mom was really placing me in a tight spot, and from the pained expression on her face, she knew it.

  I could stand by my family, no matter what, and risk the-space-gods-only-knew-what happening when the long-term plans of this secret AI supporting organization came to fruition…or I could do what was, by any objective measure, the rig
ht thing: condemn my own family, my mother and sister, to the mob. Oh, it would all be cloaked in the trappings of the judicial system but it honestly wouldn’t matter if everything she’d said was the truth and there really were ‘good’ AI’s out there.

  No one would believe them—I certainly didn’t—and the only proper reward for betraying humanity was a traitor’s death. Even if by some miracle they were pardoned and did survive, they’d never be safe. Common, everyday people would mob them on the street—not to mention the actions more covert organizations would take. Those would be immeasurably worse—I knew from firsthand experience how those types dealt with what they perceived to be the enemy.

  Then, during my long period of silent contemplation, Mom interrupted.

  “But I didn’t come here to argue with you about droids and AI’s,” she said, taking a deep breath.

  “Then what did you come for?” I asked, with the premonition that I wasn’t going to appreciate whatever it was she had to say.

  “Crystal,” she said, saying that single word and then falling silent, her gaze direct and unwavering.

  “Family,” I nodded fractionally. Whether she was telling the truth and family was everything, or she really was a closet machine fanatic and just telling me what she wanted me to hear, was difficult to judge. I drew a deep breath; either way, of course, she had to try and do her best for the only child that had been in on everything from the start.

  Her clone, I thought viciously. Even though I was glad I hadn’t been raised as part of an AI-supporting, secret organization, the fact that Ishtaraaa had been genuinely stung. It wasn’t logical but there it was; the clone had been good enough to know everything but the ‘Chosen One’ hadn’t.

  She sat there, waiting patiently while I absorbed the information I’d received during this particular conversation.

  “But it’s not really ‘Crystal,’ is it? My sister’s real name is Ishtaraaa—if you can even call the clone my sister,” I said angrily.

  “I can understand why you’re angry with her—and with me—but don’t make me reach across that table and put you over my knee,” Elaine said, showing the first real signs of genuine anger in this entire scene as her fists clenched until her knuckles turned white. “Even if I had adopted her and we shared no DNA whatsoever, she would have been just as much my child as you are.”

  My face froze, because that’s exactly what I was: an adopted child with less than 5% the same genetic code as my ‘mother.’ In a way, Ishtaraaa had so much more in common with my mom than I would ever be capable of.

  “I see,” I said coldly.

  “I didn’t mean it that way,” Elaine said, seemingly reading my mood. Then, with a helpless shake of her head, she seemed to push past it.

  “It doesn’t matter,” I said with a chop of my hand to end this line of discussion, “it is what it is.”

  “It does matter, but I can see that you’re not ready to talk about it right now,” she replied.

  “You’re blasted well right I’m not ready to talk about how the woman that snuck into my room and tried to murder my wife and unborn children is really-really-REALLY my long-lost sister, deserving of my enduring respect for that particular relationship, in fair return for her unwavering hatred of myself and anyone—even defenseless children in the womb—who get in her way!” by the end of that diatribe, I was yelling near the top of my lungs and completely unrepentant about it.

  “But poison her with a crippling neurotoxin, Jason,” Mom said staring at me, “have you really become so vicious and hardened? Against your own Family?” she asked, searching my features as she spoke. “That woman is not my family; she is an assassin—a cultist! A ruthless, hate-filled, vicious killer who not only wants to destroy all of humanity generally, but wants to kill me personally,” I yelled, unable to stand this defense of a woman who had offended against me in ways that few others had even attempted. I attempted to moderate my voice as I continued, “I’ve only known my sister for less than a year and, during that time, she’s only been plotting to kill me—something no one except my wife seemed ready to stop. This is the person you want me to treat like I treat you, as though she is my dearly beloved sister? I can’t believe you, Mom.”

  After a few breaths I calmed down enough to realize that someone had been talking out of school. I’d spoken in a private room and on a secured com-channel only to Doctor Presbyter about a neurolytic agent for my murderous sister. In short: somewhere in my organization, I had a leak.

  Mom seemed to stare down at the table for a while and then nodded. “I can understand why you feel the way you do. But she’s still my Daughter. As my daughter—even if not as your sister—can’t you put aside your justified hatred for just a moment and think things through before making a final decision? That’s all I’m asking,” she explained.

  “No that’s not what you’re asking,” I snapped, “trying to murder an Admiral aboard his flagship—not to mention his wife and unborn children as collateral damage—is mutiny in cold space. There’s only one response to that, and the punishment is clear: being ejected out the airlock into cold space without a suit!”

  “I know she’s hurt you deeply, not only with the attack itself but with what it implies,” Elaine said quietly. “You have every right to administer the maximum punishment, I don’t dispute that. But poison? That just seems too cruel for the boy I know and raised to be a part of my family.”

  “Do you think any of this is what I wanted?” I asked, feeling the faintest prick of tears at the corner of my eyes as my nose began to burn as it does before those tears generally arrive, “not only does she want me dead, nearly succeeding in her first attempt, but she’s coming between you and me because you’re taking her side after she tried to kill me—and the worst thing about it is you letting her do it! Also I can’t believe you honestly didn’t know how she felt towards me…and you didn’t say anything to me.”

  Mom shuddered and seemed to draw inside herself somewhat at that particular rebuke, but even while she braced her suddenly trembling hands against the table, she lifted her head back up and silently looked at me without withdrawing her plea for clemency or mercy or whatever it is she was really asking me here.

  I stood up and began pacing. “You think that I’m being arbitrary and cruel, but I’ve thought long and hard about this before I even broached the subject in a private conversation with a medical professional,” I said, walking back and forth, “you think I want to kill her? My choices—the only ones I can see—are ones that don’t allow her to endanger my babies ever again.” I stopped and shot her a piercing look and my eyes turned hard, “That means either poison, penal colony, or death—and I can assure you that if she wasn’t your daughter, just like I’m your son, she’d already be a frozen corpse falling toward this system’s suns.”

  “I see,” she said brushing away a single tear.

  “You would call me cruel? I looked at the options I had available and picked the one I would have chosen—if such a choice had been given me and I was in her situation. If that’s cruel then so be it,” I said, slapping my hand on the table, “you’ve never been a prisoner before…or maybe you have,” I added bitterly, “I honestly don’t know. But during my time as a prisoner, first being tortured in the brig by Jean Luc and then being held by Sir Isaak on the dungeon ship, aptly named the Durance Vile—I learned something: where there’s life, there’s hope, and that being the case, I sure and certain wouldn’t want to rot on an undeveloped penal colony. At least the effects of the toxin I was trying to secure would have been treatable after a couple years and she could then carry on with a normal life—without the capacity for highly skilled repeats of certain assassination attempts.”

  Mother sat there staring down at her hands, her hair falling forward into her face.

  “Say something!” I cried.

  “Send her to the penal colony,” she finally said, in such a low voice that I wasn’t sure if she had actually spoken or if it was just my imagina
tion.

  “What? What did you say?” I asked again with surprise.

  “Send her to the penal colony,” Mother said faintly, but in a slightly louder voice than last time, “the Society has advanced medical facilities beyond even those of the Empire.”

  “You can’t mean you actually want that for her…there’s a more than ten-to-one ratio of men to women on max-sec penal colonies—hardened killers and other, even worse sorts,” I said in rejection.

  “You have to do it, Jason, because you’re right,” she sighed, leaning forward against the table, her shoulders drawing in tight. “You’ll never be safe with her as she is now, and if the little ones are acceptable casualties for her now then she’ll only grow more vicious with time. Any toxin that doesn’t kill her will be healed by the Center, and she’ll be emboldened to strike again when she’s fully recovered—and when you’re not expecting it.”

  “Even after all this, why are you still protecting her?” I asked, the heart-wrenching cry of a child coming in second place for their parent’s affections coloring my voice instead of one belonging to a fully grown adult.

  Elaine shook her head. “Maybe you’ll understand someday, when you’re a parent. But…if I could take her place in this, I would,” she looked up at me, “just the same as I would take yours if there was anything I could do to save you. I know she deserves to die for her crimes but, in my heart, I just can’t help but try to save her. Send her to the penal colony if you have to, but don’t use the toxin. It’s not something I ask only on her behalf, but also on yours, Jason…that’s not a path I want you starting down, regardless of such a plan’s efficacy. There’s a reason such methods are not prescribed—and, indeed, are openly outlawed by any legitimate governments.”

  I felt so twisted up inside about what I should do that I literally wanted to throw up. Oh, not about Ishtaraaa; that was one evil witch of a woman who deserved whatever I decided to give her. But my mom? She wasn’t making my decision any easier. Above and beyond dealing with just this assassination attempt, what would I do about this nest of AI followers I’d discovered?