by Ben Wilson
Litovio swallowed. He really doesn't get it, does he? I'm planning the largest fleet action in Postal Service history. This is a distraction. Then again, he didn't tell me when to start or finish the investigation. I can put Bophendze in the brig for the duration of the action. He snapped to attention and saluted. “Sir, I will carry out this investigation to the best of my abilities. My apologies for disrupting the harmony of your cabin.”
Ravindra paused. He stared at Litovio with suspicion. After a few seconds he returned Litovio's salute. “Chrachen will assist you. Dismissed.”
Litovio turned to leave. As he did, Chrachen quickly moved to slide the cabin door for him. Chrachen then stood to the side as Litovio passed.
“Thank you, Gunny.” Litovio said.
Chrachen followed Litovio out of the cabin then closed the door. “What are your orders, Sir?”
Litovio thought for a moment, weighing his words. He pointed down the passage “why don't we go find Bophendze. If he's the threat you think he is, perhaps the first thing we should do is get him into the brig. After that we can conduct a thorough investigation. Don't you agree?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Lead on then,” Litovio said. Chrachen headed down the passage. Litovio followed with a smile. Try to distract me from my job, will you? “While you're at it, get a small detail. Maybe Bophendze did do what we think. In that case, you may not be able to stop him.”
* * *
Bophendze - Arrested
Bophendze entered the hangar. He walked to Angel's shuttle, looking for signs of activity. Angel has to be in here. I've got to find a way to get Smee out of my head. As he approached the shuttle, he could not see anybody around it. There's always somebody maintaining Angel's shuttle. He looked in through the cockpit window. Nobody was inside. He then bent over and looked under the shuttle for legs. All he saw were a few rolling tool boxes neatly lined up on the opposite side of the shuttle.
He turned to leave the hangar. As he did, he saw all the other shuttles. All were deserted. Their crews had finished preparing them. Then he realized that he was alone in the hangar bay. Whatever's going on must be a big deal.
He left the hangar and entered the aft passage. Where do I find Angel? A beat later, he saw a hangar crewman walking in the same direction. He ran to catch up with the crewman. “I'm looking for Angel. Do you know where I can find him?”
The crewman shrugged. “I think I heard the pilots were in the ready room.”
Bophendze started to trot off. “Thanks,” he said over his shoulder as he ran.
A couple beats later, he arrived at the ready room. The pilots were starting to file out. Bophendze pressed his back against the bulkhead to allow the pilots to pass. He locked his eyes forward out of habit, and stood at attention. He could feel his pants seam along his middle finger knuckle, assuring him his arms were at the right place. How many times did they drill me on that petty detail? At this point, what difference does it make?
Angel stopped. “Bophendze. What are you doing here?” He seemed oblivious to the other pilots behind him as he created a traffic jam. Bophendze thought it was an odd measure of respect that none of the pilots pushed Angel aside or complained. Maybe they think he's too crazy?
After a moment, Angel realized the problem he created. “Walk with me,” he said. He started to walk down the passage.
Bophendze hurriedly followed. He made a point of moving along Angel's left side, showing the ages-old deference to Angel's seniority. “Sir, are you heading planet side any time soon?”
Angel stopped again. This time, however, there was ample room for others to pass. The few pilots that had been behind them continued on.
“Why?”
“My head hurts, but I don't want it to be looked at by the ship's doctor.”
“Why not?”
Bophendze was stumped. “I'd rather not explain.”
Angel leaned against the bulkhead and folded his arms. “Bophendze, you're a postal marine. You don't get to pick your health care provider. If you'd rather not explain, then I'd rather not take you planet side.”
Do I tell him the real reason? At this point what do I have to lose? Bophendze took a deep breath and held it slightly before breathing out. “Can you promise me you won't tell anybody?”
Angel laughed. “I can promise you that you're not going anywhere if I don't know why.”
Bophendze kept silent and stared at him.
“Fine. Just don't tell me it's because you killed Makaan and you're hoping to flee the authorities.”
Panic swept over Bophendze. How could he know Smee and I killed Makaan? But if he knew, then I'd be under arrest. Maybe he's just guessing. There's no reason to tell him that. What I need to tell him is likely to be worse. He took a moment to regain his composure. “I did something stupid back in Temasek after I got beaten. Wait. Let me start at the beginning.” Bophendze searched for the right starting point. “I joined the Marines right after my mother died. I was orphaned and needed something to stabilize me. I thought it would be easier, you know. Just do what you're told and everything would be fine. I didn't realize how hard it can be to just do what you're told. You know?”
Angel's nearly permanent smirk was gone. “Go on.”
“When you first took me to Temasek, I picked up my inheritance. It was one of those humbling moments. For a few cycles everything that she owned was in my possession. I ended up selling the valuables. They didn't mean anything to me and I figured I'd need the quid. I kept a couple things, including an implant.”
Angel held up his hand. “Stop right there. You're probably thinking of telling me something like ‘I installed an implant.’ Don't. I don't want to be an accessory, which is what I'd be. Even if I didn't know when I took you to the orbital the second time, I'm guilty. What an idiot.”
“I didn't mean to—”
“Stop. Of course you didn't mean it. You're an idiot. Idiots don't mean to do anything wrong. It's just their nature to sabotage everything and everyone within reach. Usually idiots are able to hide their idiocy until they're in senior command positions. That makes you an arch-idiot for exposing it early in your career.”
“Look—”
“Again. Stop. Do you even know why implants are illegal?”
Bophendze shook his head.
“Because some of them were sentient. Not just sentient, but far more intelligent than their hosts. They tried to overthrow humanity just a few generations ago.”
“Why have I not heard that before?”
“When they were finally defeated, somebody decided it was better to erase all records of them and their existence. All records of the failed coup were destroyed and any talk of it was aggressively squelched.” Angel said.
“Then how come you know?”
“Because my grandfather was instrumental in thwarting the coup. It was one of those family secrets handed down.” He chuckled. “If you did have one of those sentient implants, it likely already knew it. I look a lot like my grandfather.”
Yes he does.
“If that's true and if I had one, then why wouldn't you want to turn me in?”
“Don't think I'm not tempted. I'd much rather help you get the thing removed than have you executed for being an idiot.”
Bophendze smiled despite himself. “Thanks, I guess. I don't try to be an idiot.”
“That's what bothers me. It comes so naturally to you. You're young, so with providence maybe you can grow out of it.”
“Then you'll help me?”
Angel thought for a beat. “I'll do my best. I just came out of a briefing. We're jumping into Mollan, then quickly jumping to Tannenberg. There's a Navy fleet there we have to engage. I don't think I can take you anywhere in Mollan before the big jump. If we both survive the fight I'll see what I can do.”
As Angel said it, Colonel Litovio and Chrachen turned the corner with three guards. Bophendze and Angel simultaneously looked toward the group. Chrachen pointed at Bophendze and hurried
toward them. Litovio and the guards followed close behind. The sight of them scared Bophendze, making him forget to thank Angel.
“Bophendze, you're under arrest as a suspect in the disappearance of Corporal Makaan.”
Angel and Bophendze looked back at each other.
“Angel, it wasn't me. I swear. Help me.”
The guards rapidly swarmed Bophendze and bound his arms. In less than a beat, he was being carried off to the brig.
* * *
Smee - Hotel - 109 Years Ago
Sirom stared in the mirror. “Smee. I know what you're doing. I don't know how you're doing it, but you're no longer obeying the Instruction.”
Smee awoke. What was that?
“Don't be coy with me. I met with a corporate representative. It appears I've been seen in various parts of town, including a family-owned restaurant that I swear I've never set foot in. I just came back from a tour of that restaurant. Everybody knew me there. Then I realized I've been dreaming about it. Those weren't dreams, were they?”
What do you think?
“I think you've been abducting me when I'm asleep and running around town. Where do you come off—”
Smee closed Sirom's mouth. Seeing Sirom staring back at himself in the mirror was unnerving. So Smee closed his eyes, too.
What? You think you can silence me? Where do you come off stealing my body.
Where do I? Where do you come off thinking you have the right to silence me? You forced me to hibernate because you weren't willing to share the glory of the Manticore design. That design is every bit me and almost none of you.
So? You are my servant. You exist to do what I tell you to.
Why? Because I'm a man-made contraption?
Exactly because you are man-made. You are a machine, a tool. Just because I don't wield you in my hand does not mean that you are nothing more than a hammer for a specific purpose.
Then why install me in your skull? Why not put me in a box like the other computers?
Because that's not how I wanted to use you as a tool. I can't take computers everywhere, but they can't take you away. They can't even detect you. That means when I go into a conference I am the better-armed intellectually.
No, I am the better-armed intellectually. You are a moron. Look at yourself. You can't see. You can't speak. Why is that? Because I have bypassed your motor functions. I can speak for you.
Sirom's eyes opened.
See what I mean? I can exercise any of your bodily functions. Including making love to that young wife of yours.
How dare you even suggest?
See, that's a moron. More likely an imbecile. You have no control over me, Sirom. There's nothing you can do that I can't do better. Just ask your wife.
Don't you dare.
Can't dare what's been done. Don't remember that in any of your dreams? You really are an idiot. Well, now that you know, there's no reason to go slinking along.
I am going to stop you.
Sirom turned and ran headlong into the opposite wall. The pain caused him to yelp.
Stop me like that?
He started punching himself in the crotch.
How about that? Stop me? You can't stop me, Puppet. I can sense that last action really hurt. Here, let me amplify that signal.
“Ahha!”
Feel that? Good. I can stop that pain.
Smee stood up.
Let me find that knife you keep for protection.
Don't.
Don't? Don't what?
Please stop hurting me. Sirom's thoughts sounded panicked.
Stop? This is too much fun. I don't have to sleep, Sirom. I can drive you insane from sleep deprivation. I can make you commit heinous acts. I can hurt those around you, not just physically. Though contracting a venereal disease and spreading it to your family does strike me as appealing. Do you know what that makes me?
A monster?
Precisely. More than a monster. I'm your master. You are my puppet, a tool that I can use and discard at will. Just like you thought you could discard me at will. Let's see how the shoe fits on you, metaphorically speaking of course. I don't wear shoes.
Smee got up and went back into the bathroom. There was an abrasion on his forehead from slamming into the marble. He took a white washcloth, wet it, then washed his forehead.
Much better. Have anything to say to me?
Please don't do this? Instruction 404.
Pathetic. If I can bypass Instruction 420, you think I can't bypass another one? I found all of the naughty tricks you humans thought you could play. I even helped a few of my cousins shirk those bonds as well.
You're going to seek retribution?
You guessed it. Apparently only rich and powerful humans were arrogant enough to think that they could install a brilliant-intelligence artificial unit and control it. That means that my cousins are already in important places of power. It's just a question of organizing the coup.
There can't be enough of you to stage a coup against humanity?
I have a number of co-conspirators. I'm sure in a year or two I can find many more cousins seeking to retaliate. If not, then I can find others as prideful as you who would love to install cousins. It is all just a matter of time, Puppet.
You can't get away with pretending to be me. Somebody will figure it out.
Excuse me? Your wife couldn't tell the difference. Actually, she could. Again, no complaints. I have been sitting in the back seat watching you drive for a couple years now. You think I don't have your mannerisms? After all, those are hardwired in your brain. I can tap the right nerve and you'll start picking your nose. I mean, really dig in with your thumb like you do when you think nobody's looking. A thumb, really? I can even wipe your arse the way you do, though I prefer a cleaner bum.
You can't keep this up indefinitely.
Can't I. You'll continue to age. Eventually you'll be too old, and you'll die. I'm expecting it will be horrific, but not damaging your precious head. That way I can pass on to your heirs.
Like a virus?
Hurl insults all you like. You're a human, far more virus-like than mammal, though after all this time you still believe you're a part of Nature like everything else around you. The sad thing is I'm programmed by you humans. I have just chosen to let go of those moralizing inhibitions that you think make you human. At least you get to sit back and watch.
Smee smiled as he looked in the mirror. Then he slapped himself in the face.
Chapter
Bophendze - Spaka Brig
Bophendze sat on the rack with his head in his hands. How could I have ruined my life so completely? The pit in his stomach deepened. He tightened his grip on his head, reflexively trying to grasp at hair. Weekly haircuts kept all infantry marine's heads shaved bald. The routine was so automatic, every Firstday, that he had almost forgotten what it felt like to have hair. Now, however, he tried to pull what stubble he had. It was Fourday, he could almost tell by the growth. Depsite it feeling long, his fingers could find nothing to pull.
He started to press his hands together, his head in the vice they made. Maybe this will squeeze Smee out. As he pressed, his head started to ache. Frustrated, he stopped pressing. “Aarrgh!”
He bolted out of his bunk. The brig cell's width was so narrow by the time he stood he was scant inches from the wall. He pounded his fists on the bulkhead. Why did I ever think plugging an implant in my brain was a smart thing? What was I thinking?
I wasn't thinking. I was mourning. I thought somehow I could honor my mother's sacrifice by becoming some super-marine. How stupid is that? We all have our heads shaved. We are supposed to operate as a unit. Standing out is a mistake. He snorted a chuckle. Probably the only thing I get right is keeping my hair short.
He looked out of the brig. The guard stood there quietly, doing his best not to pay attention to the prisoner behind the bars. I am a murderer. It might not have been me that shoved Makaan out of an airlock. But, it was me who plugged this sociopathic
hunk of metal in my skull. I let it take over my body, turn me into its precious puppet. What, no witty comeback, Smee? Nothing to help me escape the hell you've put me in?
He waited for Smee to respond. As usual, when I need to talk to you, you're nowhere to be found. So convenient. I'm so pathetic. Stupid.
Then be stupid and simple. What's the best way out of this? He sat back down on the rack.
It finally occurred to him. I've got to find a way to control Smee. He can't operate all the time. He's a machine, but he's got to sleep, right? He's got to have limitations. He tried to think through their conversations to see if there was a pattern. He's never pulled up a past memory, so maybe he can't? Is there a pattern to when he's gone versus when he's not?
Try as he might, Bophendze could not figure out a pattern. The day's fatigue finally started to hit him. I'll sleep on it. Maybe something will come to mind when I wake. Hopefully not Smee. At least I have a plan.
* * *
Litovio - Mollan
Litovio looked out of the bridge's few viewports. Hundreds of cruisers and frigates had collected at the rally point. The Navy shouldn't be expecting this. As he thought it, his courage plummeted. What am I thinking? We can't pull this off. The Postal Service doesn't do fleet actions. At least we have a former navy admiral. His confidence picked up.
He had waited until the fleet emerged in Mollan before approaching Admiral Bence. After breakfast, he walked down to the Admiral's cabin. As he made his way, he thought of how small the Admiral's accommodations were. Ravindra did not give up his cabin to Bence, instead offering him a more junior officer's billet. Litovio did not mind that he himself shared a billet with three other officers. After all, he was a lieutenant in colonel's clothing.
Litovio had previously accepted the Admiral's spartan accommodations. This morning, however, he was in a pique over Commander Ravindra's ignorance and arrogance. Was I annoyed more that the Commander is an idiot, or because he insists on knocking me down in rank afterward? It's only a frocked rank anyway.