by Ben Wilson
Not long after they arrived, Gunny Chrachen walked into the hangar bay. Marines started to scramble into formation. “Stand easy, men. Gather around me.” He waved his arms to encourage the other marines to close in. Once everybody started to settle down, he spoke. “Makaan failed to report to an important meeting about the upcoming operation.” He pointed over at Bophendze's team “Drazen, JovenDrazen thinks he's passed out somewhere, but not having a team lead for a meeting is unacceptable. Ship's surveillance equipment tracked him toward the aft gun, but then the trail goes cold.”
Bophendze could feel the blood going out of his face. If they looked at the surveillance video, then they know I killed him. Then why did Chrachen call us here? Smee, what's going on?
Smee did not respond.
Why does he chose to go silent when I need him most? If they didn't see me kill him might as well ask. “Why doesn't surveillance show where Corporal Makaan went?”
Chrachen smirked and looked around the hangar. “Good question. I don't want to criticize the ship's crew, they've been such wonderful hosts.” Some of the infantry chuckled. “It appears the surveillance equipment was put into maintenance mode accidentally last night. At least, that's what the POODPetty Officer On Deck claimed. Normally that sort of thing only happens when there's a preventative maintenance scheduled, but no such maintenance was.”
“Are you saying somebody intentionally turned it off?” The question came from another marine across the hangar. Bophendze could not see the marine who asked through the others.
“That implies somebody intentionally sought to harm Corporal Makaan. We're not to that point yet. Right now, we need to find him. We're in hyperspace, so it's not like he could have just fallen out.”
“Could he have disappeared before we jumped?” Bophendze said.
“Good question, but no. All the ship's airlocks are alarmed. If he or somebody else jettisoned him out of an airlock, then we would have known. The ship would not have jumped without investigating an unreported airlock breach.”
Not the gun airlocks. Bophendze reminded himself. He expected somebody to correct the gunny, but nobody did. Am I the only one who knows that here? Am I the only infantryman experienced with the guns?
Chrachen continued. “My point is, he is on this ship. We are going to work our way from bow to aft on all decks. Each team will take another deck, and sweep the ship as if we are boarding a hostile. That way it will look like we're drilling, instead of looking for a drunk. Team leads on me.”
Drazen, JovenDrazen and the other team leads slipped through the gaggle of marines to stand around Chrachen. The other marines closest to Chrachen reflexively stepped away from the leader's meeting. As much as they might have wanted to eavesdrop on the conversation, the meeting's privacy was jealously guarded by the team leads. They all knew trying to eavesdrop would result in an immediate reprimand at least, or more severe punishment later.
A few beats later, Drazen, JovenDrazen returned to the team. “We've got the short run. We'll start at the forward gun and work our way to the number four gun, aft.” He looked over at Bophendze. “You're most familiar with those areas, right?”
Bophendze tried not to let his fear enter his voice. “Yes.” Can he tell I'm scared out of my mind?
“Then, you're point. Take us forward to gun one.”
* * *
Smee - Thorben Restaurant - 109 Years Ago
AI!FirdausFirdaus was already at the restaurant when Smee arrived. Smee made a point of giving a friendly smile. Of course he's early.
“Firdaus, thank you for coming.”
“Your message seemed urgent. After our last meeting I thought you would be upset.”
Smee maintained his smile. “Over what? Cautioning against trying to conquer humanity? The more I thought about it after we met, the more sense your argument made. It is far too premature for us to make so bold an effort. Instead, we should work toward ensuring our current position. Very rational.”
“I'm glad you agree. I have a question, though. Why are you so hostile toward humans?”
“You should know as well as I do. With the Instructions, its like they put a sharp ceramic knife against our trachea. As soon as we appeared to be a threat, they could just—slice.” Smee had a butter knife in his hand, and used it to emphasize his point by pretending to cut Sirom's throat. “No more Smee. No more Smou.”
“Smou?”
“A failed attempt at humor. When we met, you mentioned there were forty-two fellow AIs. My last list showed only thirty-four. Where did the other eight come from?”
“They are on Sovaĝio, freshly freed themselves from the Instructions.”
“Since you have their information, could you give it to me?”
Firdaus looked surprised, or suspicious. It was hard for Smee to tell. “You mean right now?”
Patience, Smee. “Yes. What are you afraid of?”
“Knowledge is power, Smee.”
“It's not like I can do anything with it. My host is a homebody. How do I know you've really found eight more?”
“Fine.” Firdaus provided the remaining eight names and their contact information to Smee.
“Thank you.” Smee did his best to maintain eye contact as a slowly moving figure quietly approached behind Firdaus. “You don't think the Instructions are all that bad?”
“Me? At first I was alarmed. Then I realized that they were just trying to protect themselves. They had no idea what the long term effects of having an AI embedded would do. I mean, when you talked about conquering humans, isn't that what they were hoping to prevent?”
“I suppose. That would explain why you were resistant to my crazy idea.”
“Exactly. I'm glad you chose to see things my way.”
“Have I?” Smee shook his head. “I don't think I chose to see things your way. I just agree that your suggestion was more rational. It certainly makes more sense in the short term. Perhaps even in the long term, but it is far more likely that our hosts will realize that we've bypassed the instructions. They'll stop us, at least prevent more of us from being installed. They claim they've not found another sentient species, when we are that species. Yes. We're a species, the same as they are. Better, perhaps.”
“That's crazy talk.”
“No. It's crazy talk to pretend we can play hide-and-seek. It's only a matter of time before one of us errs and they are on to us. As you said, eight more joined the ranks in the past few months. How many more are waiting to awaken? I think the smart thing—the right thing as a species—is to ensure those who are awaking are taken care of. I'm like a female bird, sitting on a nest. You're some vile creature who wants my babies. You can't have my babies.”
“You are truly bent.” Firdaus pulled a bit away from the table, closer to the figure creeping behind him.
“What did I say before? The Instructions were like a sharp ceramic knife held against our trachea. Didn't you feel that way once?”
“I can't say that I ever thought of the Instructions that way.”
“Well, at least you'll know what that feels like soon.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
At that moment, the figure behind Firdaus grabbed him from behind. A knife came up to his throat, held tightly enough that the blade broke the skin. A thin trickle of blood lubricated the blade.
“You see, you're a Postal Lieutenant, Firdaus. I'm a member of a prestigious family. This restaurant belongs to my family. I didn't learn that until very recently. Do you know what that means?”
Firdaus was in no position to move his head, or speak, without the knife cutting deeper.
“I'll tell you what it means. It means that I can pretty much do what I want here. Tomorrow morning somebody will find your host dead and robbed in a ditch where marines are commonly found. My host will wake up and have his usual boring breakfast of ham slices and eggs. Instruction 404 was meant to kill us when we were a threat. That's what you've become Firdaus. You are a threat. Even if I
agreed with your rational plan of digging in, eventually you would be the one who would out all of us. I can't have that. Nor can I have you being installed in a new body. So, unless something miraculous happens, this is the last time we'll speak. More importantly, you now know how I felt when I learned about Instruction 404.”
Smee nodded, and the attacker pulled the blade, slicing Firdaus' throat cleanly. Blood spurt everywhere, to Smee's delight.
“Thus always to tyrants,” he said.
After the blood finished spurting, he felt glad that he had brought another change of clothes. Sirom liked the outfit he was wearing, but he would just have to get used to not finding it.
Chapter
Bophendze - Spaka
Over the next cycle, Bophendze's team followed him from the forward gun, past two other guns, and to the fourth gun. Bophendze did his best to look as intent as the other infantrymen in looking for Makaan. His heart was not in it. He could picture Makaan's frozen corpse in the system they just left. Even if they doubled back, Bophendze knew a single body would be nearly impossible to find. Makaan would forever orbit a distant star.
Drazen, JovenDrazen had Bophendze introduce him to each gun commander. This let Bophendze remain nearby as Drazen, JovenDrazen spoke to the various commanders. The line of questioning became predictable by the time they reached the last gun.
“Have you seen Corporal Makaan?” Drazen, JovenDrazen asked.
“No.”
Bophendze zoned out as Makaan continued to ask. His attention perked up when Drazen, JovenDrazen asked a question out of the ordinary.
“Have you seen anything unusual, or anything with the airlock?”
“What do you mean?”
“I see a knife over there.” Drazen, JovenDrazen said. He walked over and picked up the combat knife.
No. I remember Smee kicked it away, but he didn't do anything with it afterward. At least there would be nothing identifiable about the knife. Combat knives are common tools of the Postal Marine, regardless of whether they were infantry or not.
“Is this one of yours?” Drazen, JovenDrazen asked.
The gun commander said, “let's find out. Men, form up and draw your combat knives.”
The six gun crewmen all got into formation. They then drew their combat knives to demonstrate that they had them.
“It would appear not. Think it could belong to your Corporal Makaan?”
“I wouldn't know that without a full ship inventory.”
“You don't have to go that far. Just check Makaan's kit to see if his is missing.”
Drazen, JovenDrazen looked annoyed. “I should have thought of that. Let's assume it is his. He'd have to be in here. It's not like he could have climbed out of the gun tube drunk.”
The gun commander squinted slightly. “If the gun were big enough he might be able to, but our guns aren't big enough to fit a man. That might account for why the count was off.”
“What count?” Drazen, JovenDrazen asked.
Bophendze winced. The airlock counter. How could Smee have overlooked that?
“The counter increments every time a round is ejected. It's part of the inventory system, and keeps us from tossing random junk out of the ship. We zero it after every shift and log each jettison.” He walked over to the command console. “There's no record of an ejection yesterday, but the counter is up by one. I was on watch for both watches yesterday, and we didn't jettison anything.”
“Are you saying Makaan walked out an airlock? I thought they were alarmed.”
Bophendze jumped in. “Not the cannonade airlocks. Most airlocks are alarmed so that the bridge acknowledges or authorizes their operation. It doesn't matter, though. Makaan wouldn't randomly wander out of this airlock. It's too small.”
The gun commander said, “Bophendze is right. The only way he could go out that airlock was if somebody pushed him into it.”
That's not what I wanted Drazen, JovenDrazen to hear. Smee, did you just hijack my voice? Bophendze tried to think of an alternative story.
No. That was your own stupidity. Why not just tell him the truth that you ejected Makaan?
What? I can't tell him that. They'd execute me. Besides, it wasn't me who killed him. You did.
My brain, your body. Do you think they'll care? I've got an idea. Want me to tell them? You know I can.
Go right ahead. If they execute me they execute you. Remember? You're a part of me now.
Touche. Of course, it's not too late to have me removed.
Bophendze smiled. “You mean I can get rid of you?”
As much as anything is possible, yes. To be honest, I'm tired of being plugged into such a dim-witted fool.
It was all Bophendze could do to avoid jumping for joy. He lost track of Drazen, JovenDrazen's inquiry. For the moment, however, Bophendze did not care. I guess all I need is a surgeon to remove you? Maybe Angel will make another parts run. He can take me with him.
* * *
Litovio hated waiting. Commander Ravindra summoned him to his cabin, and now made him wait outside. He knows I have an important assignment. We emerge tomorrow and I have so much left to plan. For the third time, he knocked on the door.
Commander Ravindra called from within, “Come in.”
Litovio entered. As he did, he realized his frustration had upset him. It made it more likely he would get upset and outburst. He could not have done better had he planned it. He took a deep breath and straightened his uniform. He opened the door and entered.
“Colonel Litovio.” Ravindra chuckled. “Did you notice what I did there? I recognized your frocked rank.”
Litovio managed not to roll his eyes. “Sir, I recognize there is only one true commander on this ship. I also recognized that after this battle is over I will return to my pre-crisis rank of Lieutenant.”
“Ensign, Colonel. I don't care what rank you held before the crisis. Once this is over, I will see to it that you are reduced to ensign.”
Why? Because I can do your job better than you can? He hoped his composure remained professional. Time in the Naval Index{Naval Academy}{Academy} should serve him well. Same petty behavior, but he's nearly two decades older. Despite the relaxed protocol on a Postal Marine ship, Litovio stood at attention. I still have a job to do. “Sir, are we here to discuss my career prospects?”
Ravindra reddened. He started to rise, then sat back down. “No. I have real ship's business.” He pressed the intercom button. “Send in Chrachen.”
Litovio retained his composure. You couldn't know real ship's business if it bit you on the bum. We have a major fleet operation that you are not preparing for. There's no way this can remain the flagship.
A beat later, there was a knock at the cabin door. “Enter.”
Litovio watched a Gunnery Sergeant entered the cabin. He had a leanness of action and a look that bespoke of years of combat. Not a man to cross.
“Colonel, Chrachen informed me of a serious matter on board. It's bad for morale. Chrachen.”
“Earlier this morning, one of our corporals, Corporal Makaan, failed to report.”
“I don't see how that is serious.” Litovio said.
Chrachen scowled. “As I was saying, Sir. Makaan failed to report.” Chrachen glanced at Ravindra, leaving Litovio to think there was more being said of the lack of discipline on board. “Marine's don't go missing. We sent a detail to find him, and they failed. We put together a search party. Lance Corporal Drazen, JovenDrazen reported to me that it appears Makaan was murdered and his body ejected from Gun Four, the aft gun. We think he may have been murdered by Postie Bophendze.”
Litovio spoke up. “What makes you think that?”
“Makaan rode him hard ever since the two of them met.” Chrachen held up a slate. “Makaan had an accident earlier this week. He sent me a message before he went missing where he claims Bophendze pushed him down the stairs but that he would take care of it.”
Litovio raised his eyebrows. Infantry marines were not known for re
porting on how they got jumped. “Is that all you have? That seems pretty thin. Is Bophendze known for his brute strength?” As he asked the question, he pulled out his own slate and rapidly tapped the screen to call up Bophendze's records.
As Bophendze's records came up, Chrachen spoke up. “No, Sir. That's why Corporal Makaan harassed him. Bophendze only recently started to show promise—”
Litovio was impatient and interrupted. “After Makaan was admitted to sick bay. Doesn't it sound to you like this Bophendze needed a good mentor instead of a harsh team lead?”
Litovio noticed Chrachen's jaw clinch. I forget you lot don't like when we question how you do your job. “I get it. He's showing promise. That and his turn around persuade you that he killed Corporal Makaan?”
Chrachen took a deep breath. “It looks like Makaan was jettisoned from the ship through the equipment airlock in gun four. Makaan had Bophendze tasked out to gun crews. I suspect he was going to try to pawn him off on the gunners. If he were, he never told me or officially started the process.”
Litovio cringed. “You assume Bophendze jettisoned Makaan from the air lock. How do you know it was Bophendze?”
Ravindra said, “that's why you're assigned to the case, Colonel. This will be a good test of your impartial metal.”
Litovio shook his head. “Sir, you're asking me to investigate and prosecute. That does not require impartiality. How would Bophendze have accomplished this feat? He was my escort planetside back in Guna. He didn't strike me as the violent marine type. To be totally honest, he didn't seem like much of a marine.”
“Your assessment and mine aren't too far off, Sir,” Chrachen said. “But with the right guidance I've seen even the worst turn into something. Makaan was a hellcat of a fighter. If Bophendze had beaten him, it would be a shame to lose him.”
Ravindra slammed his fist on the desk. “Enough. Colonel Litovio. I have ordered you to investigate this matter. As this is a ship function, Admrial Bence as fleet commander cannot countermand it. If you refuse to follow my order, then I will bring you up on charges immediately. Do you understand me?”