A.I. Assault (The A.I. Series Book 3)

by Vaughn Heppner

  “Give the orders, Port Admiral,” Benz told the man.

  They stood in the construction yard’s main control room, the operators locked away in a storage compartment.

  “I-I don’t dare do that,” the port admiral stammered.

  Benz poked the port admiral in the stomach with the barrel of a gun. “I admire you, sir. You have the makings of a martyr. You will go down as a hero of Social Dynamism. Good-bye—”

  “Wait,” the port admiral whispered, with sweat pooling on his face. “I-I’ll do it.”

  “Oh… Of course. I misunderstood you.”

  The port admiral mopped his face with a heavily braided sleeve. Then he made the call. The hangar chief on the other end seemed surprised. The admiral roared at the chief. Soon, the chief agreed. The admiral clicked off the comm and turned to Benz.

  “Let’s go,” Benz told the others. “Go ahead,” he told the marine colonel.

  The colonel leveled a big-barreled weapon at the port admiral.

  “No,” the portly officer said, sweating anew. “You promised—”

  A tangler shot webbed him. The admiral struck the floor with his side, tangled with sticky threads.

  “This is to keep you alive when the GSB questions you,” Benz said.

  The webbed port admiral blinked several times until understanding struck. “Yes, yes, thank you, Premier. I resisted and you tangled me. G-Good luck, sir.”

  “Because you mean it, I appreciate that.” Benz hurried down the corridor, the rest of his people following.

  ***

  The port admiral struggled hard in order to make it look as if he had resisted. The webs tightened until he could hardly breathe.

  Finally, a GSB detail found him. The woman—a major—ordered a gunman to spray the webbing.

  Soon, the threads wilted.

  “Up, up,” the GSB major told him. “You have a task to perform. Only you can do it.”

  “Let me at them,” the port admiral snarled. “The foul traitors took me by surprise—”

  “Admiral,” the major said. “Save that for your court martial.”

  “What is this?” he blustered. “I tried to take them down. The traitors—”

  “No more theatrics,” the major said. “Come, come, hurry to the board. Get it ready.”

  The port admiral remembered the codes. He had once been a missile officer. It all came back as he activated the construction yard’s defenses. At that point, the panel lit up with red lights. He hesitated, glancing sidelong at the impatient major tapping a foot.

  “Blast it to Hades,” he shouted. “Some of the launch systems have been sabotaged.”

  “Please,” the major said. “Only tell me about working systems. This is critical. Look out there.”

  The port admiral looked up at a screen. One of the major’s operatives worked the board. The rakish experimental ship had loosened its docking constraints. Slowly, it maneuvered for a space door.

  “How did this happen?” the port admiral said in a ponderous voice.

  The major eyed him closely as her gunmen stroked their weapons. “Can you destroy the ship?”

  The port admiral turned back to the red-lit board. Working the panel, cursing under his breath—

  Two of the red lights abruptly turned green.

  “It’s not a question of can,” the port admiral said. “Certainly I can—”

  “Do it now,” the major said.

  He glanced at her. “And destroy the construction yard with them? We could die in the blast.”

  The major seemed to reconsider the choices. “Wait until the ship clears the yard. We don’t want to unnecessarily damage State property.”

  “My feelings exactly,” the port admiral said.

  They watched the rakish vessel work its way clear of the space door and then the construction yard. Its engines glowed at that point. The experimental ship began to move faster.

  “Are you tracking it?” the major asked.

  The port admiral tapped his board for an answer.

  “Can you destroy it without damaging us?”

  “I can,” he said.

  “Do so at once,” she said.

  The port admiral tapped in the commands. He waited, hoping this worked. The major waited. The experimental vessel moved faster as its exhaust tail lengthened. Then, two missiles streaked after it.

  The port admiral exhaled in relief. He’d done it.

  The vessel’s auto-defenses engaged. Beams rayed the first missile, rendering it harmless as it drifted in space. The second missile slammed home and exploded, detonating other munitions in the spacecraft. The explosion was greater than expected. The blast, radiation and EMP struck the construction yard, blowing away part of the mighty but fragile structure. The control room shook, but held.

  “I did it,” the port admiral shouted.

  “We did it,” the major corrected.

  “Of course, of course,” he said. “We killed the traitors to Social Dynamism.”

  The major examined the continuing damage to the construction yard. At last, she shrugged. “That could not be helped. But since we destroyed the traitors, the new Premier will likely accept the damage to the yard.”

  The port admiral nodded vigorously, hoping that was true. He looked at the debris that had been the experimental vessel. He was more than a little surprised Benz had died so easily. Wasn’t the man supposed to be a genius of some kind?

  The port admiral mopped his face. It didn’t matter in the end. He was safe, and likely so was his rank. That was what really mattered.

  ***

  Benz slumped against his seat. The missiles had fired much closer to the construction yard than he had anticipated.

  “They truly hate you,” the marine colonel said.

  “They fear him,” Vela corrected.

  “I don’t know that either is true,” Benz said. “They’re covering their butts like everyone else. The question…”

  Benz saw the colonel watching him closely.

  He changed what he was going to say. “The question,” Benz said, “is how fast this stealth ship can go. We need to catch up to the fleet if that’s possible.”

  “If we go too much faster,” Vela said, “Earth’s orbital tracking will spot us.”

  “If we wait too long to announce ourselves as alive,” Benz said, “the fleet might change its mind. They have to know I’m alive so they’ll keep heading to Mars.”

  “True,” Vela said, staring at him.

  “What are your orders, sir?” the colonel asked.

  “Let’s get a little more separation from Earth,” Benz said. “I want greater acceleration. Nothing too brazen, but more than this.”

  The colonel stuck out a hand. “That was a clever ruse, sir. I would never have thought of switching ships. Better to get away fast—”

  “Than sneak out,” Benz said. “Well, it hasn’t worked yet, just so far. Now, Colonel, get me increased acceleration, please.”

  The colonel headed out of the compartment, hurrying to the piloting chamber.

  “What now, Frank?” Vela asked. “We’ve made it this far. But it looks like they’re finally shutting down the last of the Loki Protocols. Soon, Orbital Defense will start scanning more thoroughly. This is a tiny craft. I would wait until you have the fleet under your feet before making any big announcements.”

  “I know. We still have complications. The fleet has a head start on us. We’re going to have to let them know about us soon. And we’re going to have to let Hawkins know we’re still alive, and that the plan is still a go.”

  “When?”

  “I’m thinking,” Benz said.

  -7-

  Twenty hours later, Benz moved onto the stealth ship’s bridge. An acting captain sat in the control chair. She was a small black woman and stood at attention as Benz and Vela entered through the hatch.

  “At ease, Captain,” Benz said.

  He looked around. It was a small circular-shaped bridge with two
other seats.

  “Where are the others?” Benz asked.

  “Resting, sir,” the captain said. “Would you like me to get them?”

  “No… I was just wondering.”

  “Do you desire my chair?”

  “No, no,” Benz said. “Please, continue doing whatever it is you are doing.”

  “Monitoring the ship, sir,” she said.

  He nodded, moving to the nearer seat.

  “That is the comm station,” the captain said. She resumed her place in the captain’s chair.

  Benz kept moving until he sat on the other chair. He studied the controls.

  “That is scanning and—”

  “Thank you, Captain,” Benz said. “I understand.”

  “Of course, sir,” she said.

  Benz applied himself, using the sensor station, bringing up a Solar System space-chart. He pinpointed the Venus ships heading for Mars. He found the Earth Fleet easily enough. It was composed of over fifty capital ships, some of them the newest in the Solar League.

  There were a few newer ships still at Earth. Would their commanders follow his orders or those of the new acting Premier—or whatever the plotters had put in place?

  Benz didn’t bother with any other scans. Nothing headed out from orbital Earth after them. It would appear that the stealth ship had gotten away cleanly.

  The Premier sat hunched over the sensor station for some time, thinking, plotting velocities and vectors. He computed time. Then, he sat back and thought carefully. He glanced at Vela.

  She watched him sidelong and seemed concerned.

  “We can’t wait too long,” Vela said softly.

  Benz nodded in order to show he’d heard her assessment. He agreed. If they waited, the Earth Fleet ship captains and other higher personnel would start to become accustomed to his supposed death.

  Benz stood. The captain gave a soft exclamation. He’d obviously surprised her. He moved to the comm station. Vela stood aside.

  “Captain,” Benz said, without looking at her.

  “Yes, sir?”

  “Could you leave the bridge for a moment, please?”

  The captain hesitated before saying, “Yes, sir.” She stood. She stood a little longer and finally moved toward the hatch. She stopped there. It appeared she might say something. Instead, she ducked through the hatch, closing it behind her.

  Benz exhaled. He switched on the comm and directed the signal at the Earth Fleet. His hands hardly shook at all.

  “This is a risk,” he told Vela.

  She already knew that. She could compute the odds as easily as he could.

  The comm signal traveled to the Earth Fleet. In stellar terms, they were almost beside each other.

  A communications officer answered the hail. She belonged to the fleet’s flagship, Battleship Nikita Khrushchev.

  “This is Premier Benz. Put me through to Admiral Rowland.”

  “Sir? The Premier is—”

  “This is Premier Benz. You will immediately put me through to Admiral Rowland.”

  Silence answered him.

  Benz knew why. The comm officer must be thinking fast. Likely, she told Rowland that Benz was on the comm. The admiral would calculate. In truth, this was the moment. Maybe he should have called sooner. Maybe—”

  “Premier Benz?” Rowland asked. He was a gruff old space dog, a gnarled fighter who had made it to higher command despite the strictures of Social Dynamism.

  “I assume you’ve heard some strange rumors from Earth about me,” Benz said.

  “But… Just a minute,” Admiral Rowland said. There was silence again. The admiral came on a few seconds later. “We’re on a secure line. Is this really Benz?”

  Benz clicked on a visual, staring into the screen. Rowland’s worn face appeared almost as fast. The man looked like a hunchback from Victorian times, with a blob for a nose. His small size hid a fierce fighting spirit.

  “Premier, the Politburo has officially declared you a traitor.”

  “The GSB are up to their old tricks,” Benz said. “I’m in space. I’m following the fleet.”

  “Do you mind if I confirm that?”

  “I want you to.”

  On the small comm screen, Rowland manipulated controls. “Oh. You’re in a stealth ship, one of the new ones. It’s small. It doesn’t have much in the way of acceleration capabilities.”

  “The fleet has to stop accelerating. I need to catch up as fast as I can.”

  “Yes, Premier… In theory, I agree, of course.”

  “Then, give the order.”

  “Sir…” Rowland appeared to rethink his statement.

  “You know me, Admiral. You understand something regarding the power of my mind.”

  Through the tiny screen, Rowland watched him. Clearly, the old space dog was considering who would win the political fight. Benz was running away. He wasn’t going to be the political winner on Earth. The Politburo had already turned against him. Benz had to change the direction of Rowland’s thoughts.

  “The cyberships are coming,” Benz said in a flinty voice. “If the cyber-vessels win, humanity loses. If I beat them…my fighting admirals will be the heroes of the State.”

  “You’re playing hardball with me, eh Premier?”

  “Do you think those who tried to depose me will continue to agree with the alliance with Captain Hawkins?”

  “I haven’t thought about that.”

  “I have. I doubt they will. We won’t beat the cyberships without the Nathan Graham. Humanity needs me to be in control of the SLN space fleets.”

  “It’s always good when humanity’s and the Premier’s fate are the same,” Rowland said dryly.

  Vela looked up from the other station, signaling him.

  “Just a minute, Admiral,” Benz said. He muted Rowland.

  “Missiles,” Vela said. “Lots and lots of missiles have just launched from Earth’s orbital stations. They must have cracked your transmission. They know you’re alive.”

  Benz felt cold and small, and vulnerable. “The missiles are heading this way?”

  “At full acceleration for us,” Vela said.

  Benz compressed his lips. He nodded to himself and reengaged the comm. “Admiral, the GSB has illegally launched missiles at me. That should prove to you their desperation and their lunacy. I’m not sure if you’ve seen Hawkins’ psyche profile. He hates Social Dynamism and distrusts the Solar League. Despite that, I got him to trust me. If I die, that kills any chances of Hawkins and us working together. That means the cyberships win. I need you to decelerate and get ready to launch a massive antimissile volley. You’re going to have to cover me.”

  “If I begin deceleration, the fleet isn’t going to reach Mars as soon.”

  “I realize that.”

  “What if that means Earth Fleet fails to help the Nathan Graham in time?”

  “It’s better that we arrive late than not arrive at all.”

  “Even better to be on time,” Rowland said.

  “Damn it, man,” Benz said. “Begin deceleration and target the missiles. That is a direct order from the Premier.”

  Rowland searched Benz’s face. The old space dog turned away. He was obviously thinking. He was making the most important decision of his life, maybe of humanity’s life. Finally, he faced Benz again.

  “I’m going to order the entire fleet to decelerate, sir. Even so, this is going to be tricky.”

  “Right,” Benz said. “Good. You made the right decision.”

  “I hope so, sir. I really do.”

  -8-

  The Nathan Graham passed Neptune’s orbital path. The ice giant was presently a little over 30AUs from the Sun. Mars was a little more than 1.5 AUs from the Sun. Given the cybership’s relative position in orbital space and that of Mars, the Red Planet was approximately 33 AUs from the Nathan Graham. It was a tiny bit farther to the Earth Fleet, but not much. That meant a comm message at the speed of light took 4.57 hours to go from one location to t
he other.

  That was still much too far to have a regular back and forth conversation. That also meant that scanning with teleoptics provided data that was 4.57 hours old.

  Jon was on the bridge when Ghent discovered the missile barrage accelerating from Earth’s orbital stations.

  “What are they launching at?” Jon asked.

  “This is interesting,” Ghent said. He showed the Earth Fleet decelerating hard.

  “This doesn’t make sense,” Jon said. “They’re supposed to meet us at Mars. Are they changing their mind?”

  Gloria had watched the display in silence. She now spoke up. “I suspect we’re witnessing a political fight.”

  “Political?” Jon asked. “Those are missiles, not speeches.”

  “I understand.” Gloria paused as if collecting her thoughts. “I suspect we’re going to be in suspense for some time. We should probably suspend judgment about what this all means until we begin receiving messages.”

  Jon shook his head in frustration. Space battles took more patience than he had. They might have to wait hours before any of this made sense.

  The orbital-launched missiles seemed to concentrate on nothing. That nothing was before the Earth Fleet. The antimissiles leaving the fleet also headed in concentration toward the empty area of space.

  “Why are they launching at that area?” Jon asked.

  “I suspect a stealth ship is out there,” Gloria said. “It’s the only reasonable explanation.”

  Jon thought about that, nodding shortly. “That makes sense. Chief Ghent, can you find a stealth ship out there?”

  “I’m working on it, sir,” Ghent said.

  The orbital-launched missiles and the Earth Fleet-launched antimissiles moved at a fraction of the velocity of the Nathan Graham. They crawled at an agonizingly slow rate. That meant minutes turned into hours before the situation began to make sense.

  Hours later, Ghent said, “I’ve found it, sir. It is a stealth ship just like the mentalist thought. It’s moving toward the Earth Fleet.”

  Gloria looked up. “Could Benz be alive?” she asked.

  “Explain that,” Jon said.

  Gloria told him her reasoning. The underpinning of her thought was the amount of effort those on Earth were making to destroy the stealth ship. The only logical reason was that the ship held somebody vastly important to those on Earth.