For my part, I had to pin two more stars on each shoulder. Cord had decided that for this to work, I had to outrank Jonas. So now, I was Vice Admiral Val Kedron. I was certainly going up the ladder fast, I reflected. I was embarrassed rather than pleased, though. I'd earned none of the promotions.
Few people would have noticed anyway. I was spending all of my time on Cord’s yacht, the Rimrunner. A computer expert was making programming modifications and introducing me to the yacht’s artificial intelligence. The AI that ran the yacht was the most advanced I’d ever encountered; sometimes it seemed to border on sentience. Cord evidently felt the same way, since he’d given it a female voice and a name, Kaleen.
Introducing me to Kaleen involved more than a handshake. It took major programming and a lot of patience to add me to the people to whom she was loyal (making a total of two). She also had to be programmed to fulfill her end of the plan. Kaleen was a major, if not the major player in the plan.
The marine commando set off for Thaeron aboard a rim tramp.
A few days later, all was in readiness, and I could put it off no longer. I departed for Thaeron, alone aboard Rimrunner. Part of me was relieved to know that I’d no longer have to face bridge duty with Suli; another part was bemoaning that fact.
When he’d first come to the rim, Cord had done his homework. He’d heard that the rim was more technologically advanced than the rest of the Empire. He’d also noticed that rimworlders seemed to suffer from an inferiority complex despite their technological expertise.
With typical Cord imagination, he’d tackled both problems at once. He’d commissioned a rim-built ship to highlight the very best the rim could produce, with cost not a factor. He’d talked it up as something that he could take back to Prime, to show the Emperor.
Not surprisingly, it had worked. He’d challenged their abilities, and with cost eliminated as a factor, the very best minds on the rim had worked themselves ragged for ten years making sure that Rimrunner was the most advanced ship in the Empire.
She was smaller than a rim tramp, in keeping with her role as a yacht. However, she had a rim tramp’s reaction engines and gravity compensators. Her jump engines were much larger than those of the tramps were, and rivaled those of a cruiser. I doubt there was a ship in space that could catch her.
The crowning jewel of Rimrunner, though, was Kaleen. According to the computer tech working with her, Kaleen was the most advanced artificial intelligence in the universe. In fact, he claimed that there were ongoing arguments among computer scientists all over the rim over whether Kaleen was sentient. Since no one had come up with a way to establish true sentience, or even a mutually agreeable definition of it, the arguments threatened to go on forever.
I was in no position to judge. Therefore, I treated Kaleen as though she were one of my crew, one that happened to be a whole ship. Sentient or not, I try never to get machinery mad at me. I know how that sounds, but I’ve also seen equipment that functioned flawlessly for me try to kill people who didn’t respect it.
While we were still driving for our jump point, I decided to begin getting to know Kaleen without a computer tech as intermediary. “Have you computed our first jump, Kaleen?”
“Yes, Vice Admiral. We will jump in two hours twenty-seven minutes and thirteen seconds.” her voice was a pleasant contralto, but without inflection; dead.
“Can you estimate our time to arrival in Thaeron’s system?”
“Yes, Vice Admiral. I estimate ninety-two hours, plus or minus twenty-six.”
“Please stop calling me ‘Vice Admiral’. Tell me, does the imprecision of a twenty-six hour margin of error bother you?”
“It is the closest estimate possible. The large margin of error results from the necessity of applying Newtonian mathematics to a non-Newtonian continuum. I do not understand the term ‘bother’ in this context.”
I chuckled. “Well, us soft people are saddled with emotions, as I’m sure you’ve noticed. When we’re not satisfied with something, we find it frustrating; and frustration becomes a low-level irritation. Bother is a term for low-level irritation.”
There was a brief silence. “I believe I understand. I may experience something similar when I contemplate a problem without a complete solution. May I ask a question?”
“Sure.”
“You have instructed me not to call you ‘Vice Admiral’. Yet it is my understanding that Vice Admiral is a rank worthy of a certain respect. Is my programming in error?”
Damn! Oh, well, I asked for it. “No, Kaleen, you were not misinformed. Vice Admiral is a rank worthy of considerable respect. In my case, however, it is unearned rank. Therefore, I do not feel deserving of the respect, and your continual use of it as a form of address makes me uncomfortable.”
“I do not understand. Are you not performing the duties of the rank? Are you not therefore entitled to the title?”
I shook my head. “No, Kaleen, I’m not really performing the duties of the rank. At least, I don’t think so. The rank was conferred specifically to insure that I outrank Rear Admiral Jonas for this mission.”
"What form of address would you prefer?"
I thought about it. Ninety-two hours each way meant Kaleen and I would be interacting a lot. Besides, I was beginning to get interested in seeing just how human Kaleen was, or could be. “Well, let’s see. If what you wish to say relates to the business of ship operation or our mission, call me Captain. It’s the title I've had longest and feel most comfortable with. If what you wish to say is social or chat, call me Val.”
“Chat is conversation without purpose. Why would I indulge in such conversation, Captain?”
I chuckled again. “You’re indulging in it now, Kaleen. Chat is conversation without specific purpose or relation to immediate duties. It is, however, not purposeless. It is how we get acquainted with each other.”
“Did I then use an inappropriate form of address, Val? Are we not already acquainted? I have a copy of your dossier stored. Have you not seen my schematics and basic programming?”
I shrugged. “No, Kaleen, as a matter of fact I haven’t seen your schematics and basic programming; and if I had, I wouldn’t have understood them. But, there’s more to people than just their records. And don’t worry about using the wrong form of address. The rules are not hard and fast.”
Silence dragged. Finally, a tone that sounded hushed, timid! “Val, am I ‘people’?” Kaleen’s voice was no longer flat, monotonic. She sounded unsure.
Oh, Gods. I thought carefully. “That’s been a topic of hot conversation and argument by experts ever since you were built, Kaleen. To me, a person is defined as a sentient being. Of course, since man has been trying to define sentient for several thousand years without notable success, that may not be the easiest definition of a person to use. Are you sentient? I don’t know what the experts would say, but to me, if the question even occurs to you, you can answer ‘yes’.”
I sighed. “I don’t know if Cord would agree with me; I know that the computer techs wouldn’t — or, at least some wouldn’t. But to me, yes, Kaleen, you’re people.” I wondered how I was going to tell Cord that he’d have to start treating his ship’s comp as a person. Oh well, it wouldn't be necessary unless we both survived this mission — not a high probability.
I suspect that Kaleen actually was sentient all the time. On the other hand, perhaps I woke her up. Nevertheless, from that time on, her voice began developing inflection and cadence. The dead, mechanical voice was gone.
I no longer had to worry about how to pass the time. Kaleen bothered me unmercifully. She was like a five-year-old, with endless questions, most of which didn’t have answers. I finally had to tell her to shut up. That hurt her feelings, and she sulked for several hours. Between philosophical discussions, we played games. She beat me handily at Chess and other games requiring computational ability, of course, but she didn’t do nearly as well at Jask or other games requiring creative thinking — though by the time we arrived a
t the Thaeron system she was getting better. I had a feeling that when we got back, Kaleen was going to put an end to that sentience debate.
As the time to emergence ticked down, I briefed Kaleen. Cord and I had put together an IFF tape using fleet codes, identifying Rimrunner as a fleet auxiliary courier, and announcing the presence of a flag officer on board. “Make sure it’s running, Kaleen,” I fussed, “But stay ready on the inertial drive throttles. If they start shooting, we’ve got to run for it!”
“These instructions have already been given, Captain,” Kaleen replied, “All is in readiness, and both inertial drive engines and gravity compensators are fully functional.” Her tone was flat, formal. Kaleen was back on duty.
“Let's go over your instructions one more time,” I said. “We’ll only get one chance . . .” My voice trailed off as I realized that I was repeating myself for the dozenth time.
“Yes, Captain. If we are fired upon at the jump point, I apply maximum power to the inertial drives and drive at top speed for another jump point, while computing an emergency jump to the nearest system within jump range.
“If we are not fired upon, we should be escorted to Nemesis. We will have asked to speak with Rear Admiral Jonas, and to the best of our knowledge, he is presently aboard. Fleet Standard Operating Procedures call for us to enter Nemesis’ landing bay. SOP also calls for fueling and communication connections to be established immediately.
“You will board Nemesis, and engage Admiral Jonas in conversation. As soon as communication connections are complete, I will use the viceroy’s security codes to access and override all onboard computers, and broadcast the Fleet Admiral’s message over every band on every communicator in the system. I will also prevent Nemesis’ personnel from regaining control of comm and weapons systems.
“You will attempt to escape Nemesis and reboard, and I will run an evasion course to the secondary jump point.” She hesitated. “Captain, I estimate our chances of complete success at less than 25%, of your survival at less than 32%, and of my survival at less than 50%.”
“I know, Kaleen,” I replied, “but we will have bought Cord time he desperately needs. He’ll lose a lot more than one smart ship and a fat old man if Jonas attacks too soon. We have to try. How long ‘til emergence?”
“Ten seconds, Captain. IFF running . . . 5 . . . 4 . . . 3 . . . 2 . . . 1 . . .”
We popped into normal space. As we’d expected, Jonas had the jump point picketed. Nobody fired. When our IFF had been confirmed, the destroyer on duty established communication and escorted us in-system, while broadcasting an alert to Nemesis. As we threaded our way through the sown mines over the next day and a half, Jonas’ comm people tried to get me to talk about my mission, but I stood on my new rank and refused to speak with anyone but Jonas. I merely told them that Jonas was to meet me in the landing bay immediately upon my arrival. Jonas himself did not attempt to talk to me.
Kaleen had no problem sliding into Nemesis’ landing bay. I’d forgotten how huge a dreadnought was! Her landing bay held nearly a hundred fighters, but there was still sufficient room to have accommodated Rimrunner, Valkyrie, and three rim tramps.
Shields normally sealed Nemesis’ landing bay. The massive armored doors would be closed only in battle, after her fighters had been launched. Rimrunner slid through an opening in the shield, and settled to the deck. It actually took some ten minutes to repressurize the huge bay.
Dreadnoughts are the capital ships of the Fleet. There are only half a dozen of them, each a globe a kilometer in diameter. At full wartime strength, each could carry nearly a hundred Strengl and Wasp fighters, and they bristled with lasers and particle beam weapons. Two of them had defeated an entire fleet during the Horsehead Rebellion.
However, the Horsehead Rebellion had been four hundred years ago. Many of the younger Fleet officers, including me, thought of dreadnoughts as obsolete dinosaurs. They were also horrendously expensive, which is why the newest of them was some two hundred years old. Nemesis, at two hundred fifty, was one of the last ones built. Older officers like Jonas, though, regarded them as living representations of the Fleet’s power. Every time the idea of scrapping the dreadnoughts came up, the old guard rallied around and swore that it would mark the end of the Fleet’s effectiveness.
As I walked down Rimrunner's ramp, Jonas, a Captain, two Commanders and four armed marines awaited me.
Jonas had put on weight since I’d known him. He’d had a paunch before, but now he was positively obese, and even the minor exercise of walking across the landing bay had left him red-faced and breathless. The Captain, whom I assumed to be Jamin Van-Lyn, CO of Nemesis, was the opposite, thin to the point of emaciation. He also looked very nervous. Obviously, he was intelligent enough to be wary of the presence of a senior officer purportedly from Fleet HQ.
Jonas seemed unimpressed, however. For a moment, a puzzled expression crossed the florid features, and then cleared, to be replaced by obvious anger.
“I know you! Kedron! I knew that name was familiar! You're that jumped-up marine!”
I had to grab the initiative. I hoped Kaleen would hurry. I could see the service techs swarming over Rimrunner. “Atten-shun!” I roared, “Is this how senior officers are greeted on the rim?”
Jonas instinctively snapped to attention along with everyone else, and then forced himself to relax with a disgusted look. I narrowed my eyes, and took on a dangerous tone. “You have a problem with that, Admiral? I’d suggest you count the stars on my shoulder boards, and then count the ones on yours.”
“Bah!” he snorted, “I don’t believe it. This man's an imposter,” he told the marines. “Arrest him!”
I turned to the marines as they began raising their lasers uncertainly. “Arrest him!” I barked. “I have arrest warrants for Rear Admiral Jonas and Captain Van-Lyn for treason and mutiny, issued by Fleet HQ!”
The marines hesitated, while I silently prayed to any god that happened by to get Kaleen working.
“That’s ridiculous!” Jonas sputtered. “This man is obviously a pawn of Cord’s, here to spread dissension. I said, ‘arrest him’!”
The marines were confused. They looked at each other, and at the sergeant commanding the group, who wavered uncertainly. Just as he opened his mouth to speak, every speaker in the bay activated, and I breathed a sigh of relief.
“Attention all military personnel in the rim sector! This is an urgent message from Fleet Headquarters on Prime for all rim sector Fleet personnel. Stand by for an announcement from CINCFLEET!”
As the announcement began to repeat, Jonas whirled to one of the commanders behind him. “What’s that? Who authorized this broadcast?”
The commander gulped and punched frantically at his keypad. “I . . . I don’t know, sir! It’s taken over my keypad, too.”
“Well, stop it!” Jonas growled, then turned to me. “What d’you think you're playing at, Kedron?”
“Sir!” The commander pawed at Jonas’ arm in panic. “I can’t stop it, Admiral! It’s blanketing all frequencies, and it’s being broadcast system-wide using the comm satellites!”
Jonas whirled to confront me just as another, familiar voice began an announcement over the speakers.
“This is Fleet Admiral Chu-Lo, Commander-In-chief, Empire Fleet, addressing all Fleet personnel in the rim sector. Rear Admiral Micah Jonas and Captain Jamin Van-Lyn are relieved of their commands, and are to be considered fugitives from charges of treason and mutiny.” Though we couldn’t see it, I knew that the Fleet Admiral was appearing in vid on every receiver capable of receiving images.
Jonas looked stunned. “It’s a lie!” he shouted, pointing at me. “I’m not the traitor! He is! He works for Cord! He’s doing this!” Admiral Chu-Lo was still talking, but Jonas had heard enough.
I nodded. “I’m doing this,” I confirmed, “But the message is genuine. Maybe you'd better hear all of it before you do anything rash.”
“Arrest him!” Jonas demanded hysterically, “Shoot
him!”
The marines still looked unsure, but one of them began raising his laser, and I decided I’d been brave enough for one day. “Look at this!” I shouted. I tossed the flash grenade I’d held concealed in my hand, and squeezed my eyes shut.
The grenade went off, and the actinic flash penetrated even my closed eyelids. I reopened my eyes, spun, and pounded back up Rimrunner’s ramp. In the lock, I turned and looked back. The grenade had caught Jonas and the others. They were stumbling around, blinded. Jonas was shouting to the marines to shoot me, but they’d all been looking at the grenade. The lock slammed shut, and I scrambled for the bridge. “ATTENTION!” the Landing bay speakers began, “The landing bay will be depressurized in thirty seconds. Twenty-nine . . . twenty-eight . . . twenty-seven . . .”
As Kaleen continued counting down, service techs were scrambling for the hatches. Jonas’ group had begun getting some vision back, and two of the marines were actually shooting at Rimrunner. Their infantry weapons had no effect on the ship, of course. I suspected they were firing only because Jonas was screaming at them hysterically, and they wanted to be doing something. As Kaleen’s countdown continued, Jonas and the others finally broke, running for the hatches. Discipline be damned, Jonas was the last one to scramble through a hatch, with the countdown at “four.”
Precisely at “zero,” Kaleen disabled two of the shield projectors, and the outrush of atmosphere, assisted by our own maximum acceleration, blasted us through the resulting hole at more than four gees.
Chapter VIII
Rear Admiral Micah Jonas pressed his face to the small circular window in the hatch leading to the landing bay, puffing mightily and producing a steady stream of curses between puffs.
The Emperor's Conspiracy Page 11