Renegade

by Joel Shepherd

  The family were all up when he returned — one of those rare occasions with everyone together in the house, and breakfast was an entertaining talkfest in the big dining hall and adjoining kitchen with a similarly grand view as his bedroom. No one asked him about the war, for which he was thankful, and Katerina’s young children were fun and happy. Her husband was a scandalously self-made man, builder of his own network business before meeting Katerina, and having no holdings beyond that. But Mother had been pleased, surprising some, because her new son-in-law Diego was smart, skeptical and driven — something that those born into wealth too often lacked, she said. ‘Your mother cares more about genes than portfolios,’ Walker had explained to Erik in a vidmail. ‘Diego’s got those, and she’s delighted.’

  Erik was quizzing Lisbeth on her latest boyfriend (Mother disapproved) when the house minder alerted his uplink that Fleet Admiral Anjo would like to come and talk to him, would half-an-hour’s time be suitable? Erik put fingers behind his ear, the universal sign to indicate he was uplinked, and formulated an affirmative reply.

  “Who was that, darling?” Alice asked when he resumed eating.

  “Fleet Admiral Anjo wants to come and visit. In half-an-hour, I said yes.” Because he’d really rather it was later, but you couldn’t tell the third-in-command of the entire war that breakfast with family was more important.

  “Really?” asked Diego, eyes wide. “Fleet Admiral Anjo comes to you? You don’t have to go to him?”

  “Of course,” said Lisbeth, with droll humour. “Who exactly did you think you were marrying?”

  “Don’t gloat Lisbeth,” said Alice, helping her grandson Paul to butter his bread. “Erik dear, did the Admiral say who he was coming to see?”

  “Me,” said Erik.

  “Oh,” said Alice, a little surprised.

  “She doesn’t like that,” Cora observed with a grin around her cereal.

  “Oh stop it,” Alice reprimanded, smiling. “Erik is a very important man now. I just thought, since we do build a quarter of all the Fleet’s ships, he might have wanted to say hello.”

  “I’m sure he’ll say hello, Mother,” said Erik. “Now I’d better rush if I’m going to dress in time.”

  “Surely it doesn’t take you half-an-hour to put on your uniform?” Lisbeth teased.

  “It does too,” Erik retorted. “I haven’t worn it in so long, I’m out of practice.”

  * * *

  Sure enough, Alice Debogande greeted Fleet Admiral Anjo in person before the lower doors of the big rear study, and Erik gave her the full five minutes to go through her list of concerns about ongoing projects. Then he entered, polished shoes clicking on the floorboards, and walked to the door to rescue the Admiral from his mother.

  “I’m sorry about that Admiral,” he said ruefully while inviting the man to sit. “She does like to do business in person, and she always complains about the lack of facetime with Fleet.”

  “That’s quite alright, Lieutenant Commander,” said Anjo. He was African-dark, broad but not tall, and no longer all that fit. With military augments and upgrades, you had to seriously abuse the diet to get rotund like that. It was the sign of an officer who hadn’t seen line duty in a long time. “You Debogandes have it down to an art. But it’s always a pleasure to speak with your mother.”

  They sat, while the Admiral’s two aides waited in the garden outside, and a robot butler brought them drinks. Anjo admired its flowing, graceful movements as it poured green tea. “That’s an ANX-50 series, yes?” he said.

  “That’s right. He’s called Toby. My little sister Lisbeth’s idea,” Erik explained to the Admiral’s frown. “He’s been in the family about fifty years, so she figured he deserved a name. Thank you Toby.” As the robot awaited instruction after pouring the tea, and now retreated.

  “You’ve had him inspected?” Anjo asked.

  Erik nodded. “He’s within parameters. A long way from sentient, he doesn’t have to do much more than pour tea.”

  “Yes, well just make sure he stays that way. You hear these stories about rich families with pet AIs who think the laws don’t apply to them. It’s a sad way to get a criminal record.”

  Sentient AI was illegal throughout the known galaxy. The second-oldest known sentience in this quarter of the galactic spiral were colloquially known as ‘The Fathers’. They’d set up the precursor of the present galactic civilisation about fifty thousand years ago, until a poorly managed transition to new-generation AI had brought about a full scale robot uprising. It had ended the Fathers, whose creations had decided their creators knew them too well, and were therefore a threat, and exterminated the lot.

  The Machine Age had been the greatest horror the galaxy had ever seen, before or since. Twenty three thousand years of terror, peoples enslaved, systems harvested, organic civilisations laid waste. Various rebellions had been ruthlessly crushed, until the AIs had begun fighting amongst themselves. That disarray had finally opened the door for a successful rebellion, led by the parren, a warlike species whose primary positive attribute was the ability to suffer colossal losses without despair. The parren had had a partner in their uprising — a junior species new to spacetravel at the time, called the chah'nas, and together they’d led an effort that ended the machines for good. Eight thousand years after that, the chah'nas got tired of the parren and deposed them too, though somewhat less ruthlessly, to establish the also eight thousand year Chah'nas Empire, which had lasted until the First Free Age led by the tavalai.

  Nests of those old surviving AI were still found sometimes, here and there, in deep space and far from the energy and resources they needed to thrive. Whenever they were found, species would drop whatever else they were doing and rush to exterminate the nest. Even humans and tavalai, in the midst of the last war, had on several occasions suspended hostilities to cooperate in those exterminations. The tavalai had continued the long-standing rule that banned sentient AI, and now that the tavalai were no longer in charge, no one even thought to question its continuation.

  “So Lieutenant Commander,” said Anjo, relaxing back in his chair. “Congratulations on making it back alive. Those last few months were some serious duty.”

  “All thanks to Captain Pantillo there sir,” said Erik.

  Anjo smiled. “Indeed. How does it feel to be home?”

  “I’m not sure yet. Confusing.”

  “Have you had any thoughts on where you’d like to go next? Your sisters are all becoming very prominent in the running of Debogande Inc, surely your parents would welcome you back? I’d imagine with your Fleet experience, you’d be in an ideal position to oversee those contracts.”

  “Yes sir, I suppose that’s possible.”

  Anjo looked at him closely over the rim of his teacup. “You don’t seem convinced.”

  Erik grimaced, not liking to be put on the spot like this. Truthfully, he didn’t know what he wanted to do next. But he could hardly object — most people would kill to have Fleet Admiral Anjo take such personal interest in their careers. “Actually sir, I was considering staying in for a while. Policing all of our new territory is going to take a lot of ships. It might be nice to do some deployments where not everyone’s shooting at me for a change.”

  Anjo made a half-shrug. “Oh I wouldn’t bet on that, I wouldn’t trust the tavalai to make me a cheese sandwich.” Which struck Erik as an odd thing to say — tavalai showed little sign of treachery. Indeed, many officers thought if they’d been more devious, they’d have done better in the war. “But yes. The new era promises some very active duty. You’re seriously considering it?”

  Erik took a deep breath. He’d put ten years of his life into Fleet, and he just wasn’t sure he was willing to give that up yet. Because back here, in this house… well he had to face it, he was by far the least accomplished person here. He’d be starting from the bottom again, patronised by all. As much as he loved his family’s company, that lowered status did not appeal to him.

  “Yes sir,�
�� he said finally. “Yes I am.”

  Anjo smiled. “I’m very pleased to hear that, Lieutenant Commander. Very pleased indeed. Forgive me not getting to the point, I didn’t want you to feel I was pressuring you into anything. But if you’d genuinely like to stay in the service, I’d like to propose something to you.”

  Erik blinked. “Of course sir.”

  “There are going to be a lot of new business opportunities opening up in the new territories. We have a lot of colonial possessions now, and once we’ve finished working out what now belongs to us, and what still belongs to the tavalai axis, there’s going to be a lot of investment required to secure our holdings. Industry and private enterprise is the anchor that binds a new territory to human control. That is the lesson we learned against the krim. Military heroics alone did not win us that victory — it was industry, men and women like your parents, who built us the resources and capital needed to build the Fleet.

  “Now we’re going to do it again, on an even larger scale, and we’re looking for officers well positioned to identify those opportunities and develop them. Given your background, I think you’re the ideal man for the job.”

  Erik frowned. “I’m sorry sir… I’m a third-shift warship commander. I’m not sure I have the relevant experience to perform an industry liaison role…”

  “Not a liaison,” Anjo interrupted. “An administrator. We’re planning to roll out industrial development on a grand scale across a number of key systems. Fleet will have to coordinate it because we’ll have to guarantee the security of space lanes across those regions, and without those lanes, nothing happens. We need people in those positions who understand the bigger picture. Your performance reviews have been outstanding — Captain Pantillo can’t praise you enough. I think you might be the man for the job.”

  “Well,” said Erik, not really knowing what to think. Except that it sounded amazing, the kind of big-picture thinking missing from your standard corporate job. “That… that sounds like something far above someone of my current rank.”

  Anjo smiled broadly. “It does, doesn’t it? There would be a significant promotion involved… bear in mind you’d be one of a number of people performing this role, the territories we’ve captured are vast. But we’d like to have people who’d like to build a longer career in Fleet, people who are young and ambitious, like yourself. And you know, this kind of thing would lead to some serious administrative responsibility, especially in another few years when it starts really rolling out. That kind of experience could be invaluable for someone seeking a political role in the future — you know Spacer Congress, they take hands-on experience above everything.”

  Well not quite everything, Erik thought. Money helped. Connections. Suddenly he felt uneasy, excitement fading. He was the son of one of the most powerful industrialists in human space. Family loyalties on one side, Fleet duties on the other. The perfect liaison between both, particularly as those interests did not always see eye to eye.

  Anjo saw his uncertainty. “You’ve a question, Lieutenant Commander?”

  “Yes sir. It’s just that… am I getting this offer because of my surname?”

  Anjo’s jaw set. “Fleet’s policy is to only promote the best, son. Do you think I’d circumvent that policy?”

  “No sir. It’s just that… well, surrounding my promotion to Lieutenant Commander in the first place. You know, there were rumours, people talked. About the son of Alice Debogande just happening to end up on the Phoenix, and… well, sometimes I couldn’t help wondering if…”

  “Well then listen. Erik.” The smile returned. “Let me put your mind at ease. I’ve heard those rumours too — spacers talk worse than old women. But hear this, straight from the top. Captain Pantillo asked for you himself.”

  Erik blinked. His jaw dropped slightly open. “He did?”

  Anjo nodded. “You couldn’t be told before because the process behind each promotion is strictly confidential, of course. But now that the war’s over, we’re relaxing a little on that — he might even tell you himself, if you asked. It was his request, Fleet Command had nothing to do with it.”

  Erik exhaled hard, and sat back in his chair. Ran a hand over his short, tight hair. “That’s… that’s very interesting to hear, Admiral. Thank you for telling me. Because, you know, I shouldn’t have questioned it… but being from this family…” he gestured about him, at the high ceilings, wide windows, the gleaming, cavernous wealth. “It’s hard not to wonder.”

  Anjo smiled. “Completely understandable. So Lieutenant Commander. Can I take your response as a genuine expression of interest back to my superiors?”

  Superiors. Anjo only had two of those, in Fleet. In Spacer Congress, only equals — the War Council placed elected civilians alongside Fleet Admirals in deciding the course of the war, but in truth, no one outranked Supreme Commander Chankow. Who, Anjo was now suggesting, he would be reporting to on this matter.

  “Yes,” said Erik with a smile. “Yes Admiral, please do.”

  * * *

  The thing with being very wealthy that a lot of less wealthy people didn’t understand was that you didn’t have to own everything yourself. As a Debogande, you could just make things happen with a call… like when Lisbeth thought Erik would like to go sailing, for the ultimate experience of wide expanses and freedom after so long in a cramped spaceship. She called Aunt Michelle, who was a member at the yacht club, and soon enough a friend had offered them a catamaran for the day.

  It was a forty footer, an automated monster that still left enough ropes and winches free to make you feel like a participant. Lisbeth loved to sail having been taught by her dad, who came along with Cora and Diego. Everyone else was busy, but five was about the perfect number, Lisbeth captaining at her father’s insistence while the men and Cora ran about the huge elastic expanse between hulls and got soaked by the chop exploding off the surface.

  The wind was only moderate a few kilometres off shore, but the cat’s huge wingsail converted every breath into motion and they skated across the heaving ocean at a good eighteen knots. Erik loved it, the fresh wind and the salty ocean on his skin, batwing flying fish leaping away from the cat’s approach in flashing silver schools. Every now and then something fast and military would go flying over with a roar — Shiwon was still a hive of military activity, but out here with his family, Erik could almost forget that just a few weeks ago, he hadn’t known if he was going to live another day.

  They stayed out for hours, before grumbling stomachs told them it was time for lunch, and they turned the cat for shore. The yacht club was twenty kilometres up the coast from Shiwon Harbour, the hills rising green and lush beyond the shore, and tall houses behind the beach. They edged carefully between flotillas of expensive sailboats and motorised launches, the wingsail trimmed and keel brakes deployed to keep the speed down, and Erik was quite impressed at how certain Lisbeth was in charge, issuing commands at just the right moments, and never so forceful that she’d grate on the nerves.

  “So how’s Mum with the whole engineering thing?” he asked Lisbeth as they waited at the wheel for the others to tie the cat to the pier.

  “Oh you know,” Lisbeth sighed. Her hair was more African-frizzy than Erik’s or Cora’s. She took advantage by pinning it up and playing, and now it shone with water droplets. “It’s not a thing for girls, she says. But Dad’s fine, so she leaves it alone now. She doesn’t like arguing with him.”

  “Still like to join Fleet?”

  “Oh I’d love to! But Mum would really hit the ceiling, and I don’t think even Dad would be too happy.” She looked a little forlorn.

  “Cheer up Lis.” Erik put an arm around her shoulders. “You might not be able to serve on warships, but with your degree you’ll end up working with Katerina in charge of making the damn things.”

  “Yeah but how much better a naval engineer would I make if I’d actually served on them, and know what they were like to operate from the inside? Besides, it’s a dumb family rule
. Only boys can serve, I mean it’s not fair is it? It’s not fair on me because I can’t choose my career, and it’s not fair on you because you’ve had to risk your neck while all us girls have been sitting at home.”

  In truth, Erik wasn’t so sure. Fleet had been an eye-opener, not only to be around ‘ordinary’ people, but to discover that most of them didn’t share Alice’s notion of gender decorum. Alice had no problem with women being strong, but she did believe very strongly in the importance of traditional social roles. Women should organise and administer, she believed, and thus running a business was just a natural extension of what women had always done — organise families and households. But actually breaking a sweat in anything more strenuous than a game of tennis was man’s work. From Academy onward, Erik had had his butt handed to him in physical pursuits by so many competent women that he’d concluded that his mother’s opinions were slightly daft. But he couldn’t deny that he still felt protective of some of his female comrades in a way that he didn’t of the men… and the thought of his sister sitting post on some warship on an assault run through a hostile system made his blood run cold.

  “I’m pretty glad you weren’t out there with me Lis,” he said quietly. “I mean really.”

  “Was it that bad?” Lisbeth asked earnestly.

  “Not all of it, no. But the worst bits were… just awful. I wouldn’t want you to go through that.”

  “But we all have, haven’t we? As a species, we’ve all been through that. Or that’s what the stories all say, how we’ve struggled as human beings together. Only we haven’t really, have we? Some of us have suffered, while others of us have sat and watched. And applauded when the real heroes come home. It’s enough to make me feel like a fraud for ever having listened to those stories at all.”

  Erik smiled at her. “I forgot you’re the college debating champ. That was good.”

  “Hah,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “That’s just from arguing with Mother, I only joined the debating club because I thought I should put those skills to use.”