A.I. Battle Station (The A.I. Series Book 4)

by Vaughn Heppner

  “A custom?” asked Benz.

  Bast wondered if the Premier could tell that he was lying. There was no such custom. It was only that Bast had begun to grow curious about Vela. There was something strange going on aboard the Gilgamesh. He hadn’t visualized it or smelled a hunch. That’s how a Sacerdote said such a thing. It was just a feeling. He felt as if something watched him covertly from the shadows. He could feel his nape muscles tighten at times. It almost seemed—and this was preposterous—it almost seemed as if someone were eavesdropping on his thinking.

  “You were saying?” the Premier asked.

  Bast stared at the smaller humanoid. It took the Sacerdote a moment to remember he’d talked about a custom that did not exist.

  “It would be tedious to explain,” Bast said. He wasn’t a liar by nature, thus quick lies did not jump to his lips. In such a case, the less said the better.

  “Why would this custom help?” Benz asked.

  “Do you not say, ‘God bless you,’ when someone sneezes?” asked Bast.

  “Oh,” Benz said. “Yes. I believe it’s a medieval custom. Back then, people said it so the soul wouldn’t fly out of the mouth as one sneezed. Frankly, I don’t believe they truly believed that, as I don’t believe medieval people were fools. But I see what you mean.”

  Benz massaged the back of his neck.

  “I’m bushed,” the Premier announced. “Do you mind if I call it a night?”

  “Not at all,” Bast said. “A sound mind is critical to our success. We still have time until we meet the two cyberships.”

  “Till tomorrow,” the Premier said.

  Bast nodded, waited until Benz closed the hatch, reached into a deep pocket and withdrew a small hand analyzer. The Sacerdote walked around the room with the analyzer until he found a small bud under a computer table.

  Bast did not touch the bud. Instead, he set up a thumbnail-sized device under it. He clicked it on. The unit did not seem to do anything, but it beamed an invisible cone of silence around the bug.

  Only then did he extract a different article from another pocket. It was a small hand communicator with an inbuilt scrambler. Bast believed the Old Man had convinced Jon he should take it…just in case. Now Bast was grateful for the Intelligence Chief’s suspicious nature. He switched it on, waited a moment—

  “Bast?” Gloria Sanchez asked out of it.

  “Something is off,” Bast said uneasily as he looked around the science lab. He felt the sense of scrutiny again.

  “Do you want to come home?” she asked.

  Bast hesitated. What should he say? A feeling that he should stay aboard the Gilgamesh permeated his thinking. He frowned. For some reason, that did not feel like his thought. That struck him as most odd, most odd.

  “Bast?” asked Gloria.

  An evil premonition tightened the back of Bast’s neck. The sense or feeling that he should stay aboard the Gilgamesh became something more, something sinister. He heard actual whispering. He didn’t hear it with his ears but in his mind.

  Stay aboard the Gilgamesh. Nothing is wrong here. Stay aboard the Gilgamesh.

  Bast closed his eyes as he exhaled slowly. He began to focus on a difficult mathematical formula from his youth. He ran through numbers and formulas, adding, dividing…

  The voice faded as Bast concentrated.

  With his unusual Sacerdote mind, he put the ongoing formula in the forefront of his thoughts. This was difficult and took extreme concentration. The ability came from his youth training, an old custom from a time—

  Bast shook his head. He would not think about the ancient custom or the reason it had come into existence. No. He concentrated on the mathematical formula. As he did, it dawned on him that Gloria had called his name several times.

  “Yes…” Bast said slowly. “I need a…a break,” he finished. “I’m tired, so very tired. A few days recuperation in my quarters aboard the Nathan Graham should revive me for a renewed second effort back here.”

  “I’ll tell Jon,” Gloria said. “You take care of yourself, Bast.”

  “You are not to worry,” Bast said. “I am…I am fine.”

  He shut off the communicator, glad he no longer had to talk to Gloria. He put more effort into the difficult mathematical formula as he put the comm unit in a pocket. He moved to the thumbnail-sized device, shut that off and put it away, too.

  The sense of scrutiny still hovered nearby. That scrutiny possessed intelligence. The idea of that horrified Bast. Yet it triggered an old, old story from his youth. He remembered Temple training from that time. They all had to go through it. He’d been better at it than most of his crèche mates.

  Bast sat on the floor and maneuvered his huge legs into something a human would have called a yoga position. He calmed himself and moved his hands and arms into a special position. The massive Sacerdote breathed deeply as he did more than simply calm himself. In his mind, he ran through an ancient litany.

  All the while, with the forefront of his thinking—

  The scrutiny vanished. It simply left.

  Bast continued to breathe deeply. He focused as he let the mathematical formula shield go. He closed his eyes and mind-spoke the ancient litany. Sacerdotes had an inner ability they had never shared with another race. In times of great stress and loneliness, they sought to connect with other Sacerdotes in a spiritual way.

  Bast sensed risk on his part by doing this. He had a good idea what had caused the scrutiny. There was someone aboard the Gilgamesh with the ability to shimmer.

  Once, long, long ago, the Sacerdotes had faced a hidden race that could shimmer. The war between them had been bitter. It had also taught the Sacerdotes to use their minds in strange ways. Those ways usually brought madness to the practitioner. The madness always brought murderous brutally in its train. Thus, after the bitter war against the others, Sacerdotes quit attempting to develop that part of their minds.

  The old memories remained, however. And since it had happened once, it could be that other races would be able to use the shimmer. Thus, the Sacerdotes had kept their abilities alive in case of a terrible need.

  Bast knew what he had sensed. He now attempted a projection, wondering if this hidden intelligence was the reason for Vela Shaw’s disappearance.

  -25-

  Benz paced as he slow motion juggled his anti-psionic helmet. He didn’t want to go talk to Magistrate Yellow Ellowyn just yet.

  That was the Seiner’s title and name.

  Things hadn’t gone as planned. For the past two weeks, as the flotilla raced from deep space in-system, he and Bast Banbeck had tried to improve upon the AI virus. So far, they had made a few minor improvements, but nothing that would fool a computer system that understood the principles behind the first virus.

  Bast had hit the nail on the head. They needed Vela’s insights. Unfortunately, Vela was still in a coma after the intense surgery that had barely saved her life. Guilt at her condition ate at him. Guilt at playing this double game also bothered Benz. He wondered sometimes if the Seiner played a more subtle game than he did. He’d survived the most ruthless political system on Earth. He had begun to believe that the Seiners were many times more ruthless than any Social Dynamist. A world of telepaths…

  Benz clutched the anti-psionic helmet against his chest. Several days ago, he had finally allowed Ellowyn to begin probing Bast Banbeck. She did so from a special chamber while others carefully observed her while wearing anti-psionic helmets. At all times, Benz wore a tiny device on his coat. It looked like a lapel button. In reality, it detected the psionic waves of the Seiner if directed at his mind.

  The making of the device was due to his genius and intense study of her psionic abilities. He’d run a battery of tests on the Seiner as she projected her thoughts. The mental prowess that had brought about the breakthrough had mandated continued playacting while with Bast Banbeck. All of Benz’s considerable intellect had gone into understanding the Seiner. There would be time enough to turn his intellect on
the approaching cybership AIs—he hoped.

  The device on his chest meant he would be aware if the Seiner attempted any of her tricks on him. He’d studied what she did through the use of carefully calibrated AI instruments found on the cybership. He’d convinced the Seiner—while he wore his old anti-psi helmet—to instruct him in some of the various pieces of equipment he’d found.

  The AIs stole from many races. In that way, each cybership was like a packrat’s nest.

  Benz shook his head. He needed to do this now. He had to speak to the Seiner, and yet… Was it right to use a telepath against his allies? Wasn’t there something fundamentally dishonest in doing this? Sure, he’d played hidden games back on Earth. He’d jockeyed for position. At first, he’d done so just to survive. Then he’d seen a way to grab total power. He hadn’t been able to keep that power. Grabbing power was often easier than keeping it.

  It had a source. He hadn’t pinpointed the source of the guilt in him. Yes, he felt guilty about Vela. But that wasn’t it completely. There was something missing, something he wasn’t seeing…

  Benz stared at the improved anti-psionic helmet. With an oath, he shoved the helmet onto his head. He didn’t want to do this and he didn’t know why. He bit his lower lip, delaying.

  Finally, Benz squared his shoulders and marched to the hatch. It was time to begin the next phase of the operation.

  ***

  The hatch shut behind him as Benz entered the Magistrate Yellow Ellowyn’s working chamber.

  It was much cooler in here than Benz liked. He’d forgotten to wear a heavier coat again. It was also decidedly muggy in the chamber. The Seiner liked it cooler and damper than humans did.

  She wore garments, hiding the worst features of her blue fish-scale skin. She splashed in a tank of cold salty water. When she swam underwater fine slit gills appeared along her neck. Benz wondered why he’d never noticed those before. The gills—

  Benz shuddered. He didn’t like the gills. He wondered if that was a xenophobic reaction on his part. Did he hate aliens or just Seiners?

  Benz blinked as he thought about it. No. Hate sounded about right. He hated Magistrate Yellow Ellowyn. Yes, he downright hated the telepath. In fact—

  His right hand twitched. He wanted to hold a gun. He wanted to pump lead into her. Watching her floating lifelessly in the water—

  “No,” Benz whispered. What was wrong with him? Why did he have these murderous thoughts?

  He found the Seiner watching him.

  She dove underwater, swimming around the tank.

  Had she truly been watching him?

  Get a grip, Frank, he told himself.

  He needed more sleep. That’s what was wrong. He was getting grouchy. Still, he wasn’t totally convinced that was correct. He didn’t feel like murdering people—or aliens—when he was grouchy. He felt like biting their heads off, metaphorically speaking, but that was it.

  “Magistrate Yellow Ellowyn,” he said.

  She swam underwater, but he saw her turn. She stared at him and started for the surface.

  How could she have heard him if she was underwater? Did sound carry better in salt water?

  She surfaced, swimming to the edge of the pool, pulling herself out of the tank and standing on the deck. Water dripped from her clothes. Wasn’t she uncomfortable like that?

  She moved to a chair, making squelching sounds as she did so. She sat, regarding him, waiting for something.

  Benz cleared his throat. It dawned on him that she wouldn’t have to hear underwater if she could read his mind. Yet…that would imply that the anti-psionic helmets didn’t work. Had she pretended they worked so she could control him with greater subtly?

  “Did you read Bast Banbeck’s mind?” Benz asked.

  “He is difficult to ‘read,’ as you say.”

  “Why?” asked Benz.

  Ellowyn made a vague gesture.

  “Some minds have greater social coherence,” she said. “You might call it a hive mind, I suppose.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “There is a community gestalt among some species. They think alike. They seek social unity with each other.”

  “Humans are like that?”

  “To a degree,” she said. “Some individuals are more difficult to comprehend than others. You call those kind loners. They have their own modes of thought. You must understand. We have studied you humans. It took time for us to comprehend your mind patterns. A few of you do not…think along communal lines. Those lack a hive mind, as we say.”

  “Do I have a loner…mind pattern?”

  “No,” Ellowyn said.

  “Does anyone among us?”

  She glanced at her hands.

  “Who’s the loner?” Benz asked.

  “Jon Hawkins,” she finally said.

  Benz shook his head with some confusion. The heavier helmet made that a more exaggerated motion.

  “I don’t understand,” he said. “You told me earlier that you couldn’t read that far. That you needed proximity to read alien minds.”

  “I did say that, yes.”

  “Were you lying?” asked Benz.

  “That would be one way to say it. Another would be that I wasn’t yet ready to talk to you about Hawkins.”

  “Wait a minute. What else have you lied about?”

  “What is it that you seek, Premier?”

  “What?” Benz asked.

  “The question is simple enough. What do you seek?”

  Benz slapped the side of his helmet.

  “I’m wearing this,” he said. “I’m immune to your telepathy while I have this on.”

  The Seiner made a steeple of her blue fingers as she examined him.

  A cold feeling sprouted in Benz’s gut. Something was off.

  “Why are you grinning like that?” he said.

  “We are about to readjust the situation, Premier. You see, you have badly miscalculated. You have misunderstood several facets about Seiners. Your original helmet did block me. It wasn’t a permanent situation, but a temporary one. A lesser Seiner could not have coped with your ingenious device. Alas, for you, I am not an ordinary Seiner. I am the greatest of my kind. I am a magistrate yellow.”

  Benz turned toward the door.

  “Stop,” she said.

  To Benz’s horror, he found that he could no longer move.

  “Turn to me,” she said.

  He did, his sense of horror growing by the moment.

  “You understand so little,” she said in a soft voice. “Back at the Solar System, the Inoculator Prime went up to your ship from Mars. You killed him but not before he primed your mind. I’m unsure how to explain it to a non-telepath.”

  The Seiner shrugged.

  “Perhaps the best way to say it is that he mapped your mind for me. He put up signposts in your mind, the better for the next Seiner to adjust to your peculiarities. Your special heightening has made you more difficult to control. I speak about the enforced intelligence brought about by your machine. I have a handle on that heightening now. The helmet was a good try. It blocked me for a time. I decided to pretend to hate the idea of trusting you.”

  She smiled in a sinister way.

  “My pretense comforted you,” she said. “My action gave me time to worm through your helmet’s defenses. It is now quite ineffective.”

  Benz opened his mouth.

  “Don’t speak,” she said. “Continue listening.”

  Benz nodded.

  “I believe Bast Banbeck wants to return to the Nathan Graham for a time. That is fine. He can go. I’m not yet ready to make my master move. We must eliminate the approaching cyberships and take over the battle station. I’ve been working on a wonderful solution for that. You actually gave me the idea. I have been—”

  Her smile became downright evil.

  “Never mind what I’ve been testing,” she said. “I have stumbled upon the great solution. It is quite amazing really. I will use you for a long time, Premie
r, as you have some useful traits. Hawkins will have to go. He is a mule, in our lingo. I doubt I could control him as I’m doing to you. He is truly unique. I’m not sure why. I’m sure I don’t care to risk finding out. Yet…he still has a few uses left…until I capture the battle station that is.”

  Benz stared at her in silent horror. How could he have been so wrong about her?

  “I will answer you,” she said. “You do not understand telepaths. You do not realize our full potential. I am the greatest Seiner. Now, I will extract full advantage for our race. You helped slaughter my people on Mars. Now, you will provide me the human bodies so I can strip the AIs of their wondrous weapons.”

  Benz stared at her.

  “Why do I tell you all this?” she asked. “Simple. I am enjoying your horror, Premier. It is quite delicious. You are going to have to pay a most heavy price for what you did on Mars. Until then, you will suffer in silence, knowing that you could have killed me once. After I’m done, I am going to leave you humans naked before the machines. Is that not delicious, Premier?”

  Benz raged inside, hating this feeling of helplessness and despair.

  -26-

  Jon was in a rec-room shooting pool as the Nathan Graham flashed past the farthest gas giant. It had rings like Saturn but was blue like Neptune. Soon, the flotilla would begin to brake, with the cyberships slowing their fantastic velocity.

  Jon had played plenty of pool on Titan in New London. He hadn’t been a shark, but one of his best friends had been. The—

  A hatch slid up.

  Jon rose from his bent over posture.

  “Bast,” he said with delight. “I didn’t realize you’d come back. How…”

  Jon stopped talking. He’d come to know the Sacerdote well enough to recognize unease on the big lug’s face.

  Bast nodded his Neanderthal-like head, lumbered into the rec room and picked up a pool stick.

  “You want to play a game?” asked Jon, surprised. He’d been trying to get Bast to play for quite some time but without any luck.

  The Sacerdote didn’t answer as he moved closer. He set his stick on the green felt and put his hands on the edge of the pool table. Then the big guy began to pant.