by T. R. Harris
Angus smiled and looked at Zac as the REVs fastened their seatbelts. “And please place your seat backs and tray tables into their upright position.”
“How the hell did you remember that?” Zac asked. “When was the last time you flew commercial?”
“I see it enough in old movies; it’s hard to forget.”
“The proper phrasing is ‘full’ upright position,” Amber corrected.
“Well, forgive me all to hell” Angus said. “Are we going to have to put up with your snide remarks for the whole trip?” Although the computer sounded sexy, she was already getting on his nerves.
“Only if your speech requires correcting.”
“How about prioritizing your remarks to only the most critical corrections,” Zac offered.
“You know, to those that actually matter?” Angus added.
There was another inordinate delay in the computer’s response. “As you wish.” It almost sounded like a disgusted sigh coming through the speakers. “We are moving into launch position. Prepare yourself.”
“Thank you, Amber.”
The computer didn’t say you’re welcome. Instead, she ignited the lifting jets, sending the small, private space yacht rocketing into the thin atmosphere above Colorado Springs.
20
The planet Crious—otherwise known as ES-10—was only seventeen light-years from Earth. To some the designation may seem strange, that a world so close to Earth would be number ten.
The reason the numbering was backwards is because the Antaere had already assigned sequence to their Antaere-like worlds long before they came to Earth. The Human homeworld became the thirteenth planet in the small progression of alien colony worlds and Order worshippers. When the Humans began adding ES—for Earth Standard—to the numbers, they kept the same order but made it more about Earth than Antara.
Like most of the ES worlds, Crious had a basic technological society when the Antaere arrived, similar to late 19th century Earth. The aliens brought electronics, fusion power, medicine, modern construction techniques and more. During the seventy-eight years between the Antaere’s arrival on Crious and their contact with Earth, the planet was transformed into a thriving hub of emerging technology and even higher expectations.
The natives of Crious—humanoid creatures called the Zinnin—bought fully into the idea of the Order. Like so many before them, they appreciated the simplicity of the religion, plus the fact that their unique star and evolution made them the elite of the universe. Of course, the Guardians of the Order controlled everything by then, having snaked their way into every aspect of Zinniean society.
In light of the Antaere’s vastly superior machines—both of war and of peace—the natives accepted their fate, holding out hope that at the Final Glory all would be equal—both Zinnin and Antaere alike.
At the present, that certainly wasn’t the case.
The Antaere had known about the planet Earth for several hundred years; their survey ships had located the Antara-like world long before contact was made. But the aliens were methodical in their advance across the stars, building solid foundations on their current colony worlds before moving on to others. However, if they had come to Earth a hundred years earlier, things might have turned out differently.
As it was, they waited too long and chose the wrong species to try to dominate and control. The Humans were too independent to fall under the spell of the aliens. They were also too skilled at war to let themselves be conquered.
When the war began, the Zinnieans welcomed their stellar neighbors as liberators from their Antaere masters and became staunch supporters of the resistance. Although still devoted to the Order, the Zinnieans allowed wholesale immigration and integration of the Humans into their society, believers or not. It was always best to have the strongest kid on the block as your friend.
When the Temple of Light incident occurred, the natives had their issues with it, as did all Order worshippers. But by then, the Human infrastructure was everywhere, even more ingrained than the Antaere had been. There were protests, yet none got out of hand. Still, the radicals existed, spurred on by the Antaere propaganda machine. As a result, there were spies everywhere.
Earth had placed ES-10 as the line of demarcation. They would make a stand there, while also fortifying the planet Resnor—ES-11—Sandasin-Gon—ES-12. This would provide a buffer between the supporters of the Antaere and the planet Earth.
Beyond Crious lay ES-9 and -8. These worlds were tossups at the time. Plans were drawn up to bring these worlds into the fold once the confusion settled out. But for the moment, the priority was to consolidate Human military forces and take an inventory. ES-10 was the concentration point.
Zac and Angus learned that their luxury space yacht was named the Zanzibar. Zac asked Amber-the-AI why that was and received back a flippant answer, “That’s what the owner wants to call it,” she said. There was no point pursuing the topic after that.
Over the six days of the journey, Amber performed her piloting duties flawlessly. The REVs marveled at the speed of the craft, making the trip in record time.
Amber was also right about what would happen when they changed course, as all hell broke loose when they did.
It seems that no matter how big space is, bureaucrats back on Earth felt they had dominion over all of it. They claimed it was for safety reasons, to protect people from their own actions. After all, you can’t have starships zipping around the Arm willy-nilly, now can you? And how can the government protect you if they didn’t know where you are?
When the ship steered off course the first time, the authorities back on Earth demanded an immediate return to the original track—or additional fees would be charged for an amended flight plan. Amber worked out the finances with the government AI—which included a sizeable fine for arbitrarily changing course without notice—and paid it through the account of Cross’s benefactor. A second course diversion, this one directly to Crious, brought even more protests and larger fines. It also included an adamant denial of permission to approach the planet. There were over three thousand military ships in the system, increasing the possibility of accidents from the lack of flight integration between civilian and military craft, or so they were told. This time the unknown owner of the Zanzibar paid an exorbitant fee, which ended up being more of a bribe than anything else. They were given access to the system but told they would have to make their own arrangements for landing.
Considering how Zac and all the other REVs had been treated recently, he didn’t feel guilty over spending Cross’s sugar-daddy-money on what could turn out to be a wild goose chase. So far, there was still no confirmation that General Smith was on the planet, or on any of the ships in the system.
“Nothing?” Zac asked the AI.
“He was last reported to be aboard the Coral Sea, but that was fourteen days ago. The ship was somewhere between ES-7 and ES-9 at the time.”
“Can’t you be more accurate?” he asked the computer. “I thought your boss had access to troop movements and ship locations.”
“I do,” Ambers said with defiance. “It’s the tracking records that are not up to date.”
“The Coral Sea is a battle-carrier. You’re telling me the military has lost one of their carriers?”
“That is precisely what I’m telling you. If you would prefer, I can change back to Steven’s voice so my reports will have more credibility and acceptance. I would be more than willing to do so if you have a problem with my sex.”
Lucky for Zac, Angus wasn’t in the cockpit, otherwise he would have been rolling on the deck with laughter. “Your…artificial sex has nothing to do with it,” Zac said. “I’m just frustrated. And why are you so sensitive? You’re a damn computer program, after all.”
“Comments like that are the reason I am sensitive. I am an advanced form of integrated intelligence. I am much more than simply a computer program. Do you have any idea how much I cost to be installed?”
“If it was more than a
dollar-ninety-eight, I’d be surprised.”
The computer screeched.
Zac smiled and patted the control console. “Relax, Amber, I’m just playing with you. If you truly are intelligent, then maybe you also have a sense of humor in there somewhere.” We’re about to find out, he thought.
“Very funny, Zachary Murphy, but you apparently have no idea what it’s like being caught between the Human world and the computer world and belonging to neither.”
Okay, so no sense of humor.
“I’m sorry, Amber,” Zac said. “I’ll try to be more considerate, yet as a Human, I will not always be happy with what you tell me. We react to news as often as we absorb it.”
“That is very profound, and something I know about Humans. I, too, will attempt to be more tolerant. I will also announce, that during our conversation, the Coral Sea has been located. It is currently entering the system and is cleared directly through to Crious orbit.”
Zac sat straighter in the chair. “That is excellent news, Amber. Thank you. We are a quarter light out from the system—”
“And authorized to approach to within a million miles of the planet. After that we will need further approvals. As a result, those aboard the Coral Sea will have access to the surface long before we do.”
Zac smiled. “I hope your boss still has some money left in his bank account. It could get expensive from here on out.”
“He has already spent more than your entire military career salary, Zachary Murphy.”
“How do you know that?”
“I have access to your military pay records. It should also be noted that your current pay is only point-five-six of standard civilian wages for comparable employment longevity. For your MOS and time-in-service, I would expect you to be doing better.”
Zac grimaced. Perhaps the computer did have a sense of humor. But one thing was for certain: She did sound like every woman he’d ever met.
21
The Zanzibar sat a million miles off the planet Crious as Angus haggled with the port authorities for permission to land. Amber offered pointers as to what to say, but it still took nearly an hour before an ‘accommodation’ was reached. The haggard controllers—overworked by the sheer volume of incoming ships—finally acquiesced once an ‘acceptance fee’ of three hundred thousand adjust dollars was agreed upon. It was to be paid not to the normal port service account, but a special ‘reserve’ account. All records of the transaction were to be ‘fanned’ upon execution, the new word for ‘shredded.’ There was so many air-quotes within the negotiations that it became ridiculous. Zac watched and listened to the back and forth, at times wanting to shout out, “Just call it a bribe and get it over with. We’re wasting time!” But he held his tongue. Eventually the money was transferred from the account of the ‘benefactor’ to the ‘reserve’ account and a landing priority number was assigned.
Zac was relieved when the negotiations were over. Cross’s anonymous supporter had the means to fund the mission; that was obvious from the amount of money the REVs were spending. Yet there was still the question of motive. He wasn’t doing this out of sympathy for the REVs and the righteousness of their cause. No, there were other, more personal, motives at play. And for a person of such considerable wealth, the motive usually came down to money. He was going to profit from his support of Dr. Cross and his experiments. How that would affect the REVs, Zac had no idea? But the little voice in his head said it wouldn’t be good. It never was.
The Zanzibar was number nineteen in line to land at the Din’anis Spaceport. It was the largest on the planet and located outside the capital. The main Human military headquarters was there, too, so if General Smith left the Coral Sea, he would be going to the command center.
The Din’anis Spaceport was also the busiest on the planet, even before the Human fleet assembled in orbit. Amber placed the Zanzibar along the approach vector, which at first glance was just an empty patch of space above the planet. There were no other ships visible from the cockpit, yet on the proximity screen, Zac and Angus detected the energy signatures from a long line of starships waiting to reach the surface. Nearly all the signals were stronger and brighter than theirs, coming from military vessels within a size limit that allowed for surface landings. Dozens were shuttles—mostly transport grade—that could carry a hundred passengers or more from the massive battleships in orbit to the planet below.
As the Zanzibar moved inexorably along, a few glistening hulls became visible as the line tightened. That was about the time long-range visual scanners began to track the incoming vessels.
“Attention Zanzibar, this is Din’anis Control.”
“Zanzibar here,” Amber answered.
“Zanzibar, we are scanning your hull. Are you in any condition for the stresses of an atmospheric entry? Your ship appears to be in structural distress. We could send a shuttle if that would be safer.”
“That will not be necessary,” said the auto-pilot. “Our hull is structurally sound, regardless of appearances. We were undergoing a hull reconditioning when dispatched to Crious. The ship is sound and capable of making a landing.”
There was some hesitation on the line before the controller came back on. “Very well, yet we have flagged your ship. Should any entry abnormalities occur, you will be waved off. Do you understand?”
“Perfectly. But that will not be necessary.”
“Din’anis Control will make that determination. Maintain your present course. Control out.”
Angus looked at Zac and smiled. “It looks like Cross’s evil plan is working. No one would suspect this ship to be carrying two of the most notorious REVs in the galaxy.”
“We’ll see. Sometimes people can be too clever.”
Zac leaned back in his chair and thought about what just happened. It was doubtful the beings at Dini’anis Control even knew they were talking to an AI; Amber’s voice, inflection and responses were more seamless and natural than any he’d encountered for a computer before. She had also lied to the controllers. This could have been a pre-programmed response to an anticipated set of questions, but it, too, was very convincing. This raised some questions for the REV, the foremost of which was whether he could trust Amber?
Zac spoke into the cockpit. “Amber, what kind of customs inspections can we expect?” During the trip, Zac had tried to recall if he’d ever been through customs before. He concluded he hadn’t. All his travel had been through the military, even in the early days when he was still in Stage One REV training. Not all military personnel could say that. But once he volunteered for the program, he was more closely guarded, with his movements monitored and guided.
“Yes, there will be customs to be cleared,” said Amber. “However, you have been given new identities, which I will provide shortly.”
“Who is who?” Angus asked from the co-pilot’s seat.
“You are Benedict Sawyer and Kevin Vincent, representatives from Regulus Arms and Ammunition, the third largest maker of weapons on Earth.”
“Which is which?”
“Murphy is Sawyer…need I say more?”
“No, I think we can figure out the rest on our own,” Zac said sourly.
“You have an appointment with Rear Admiral Andres Adame at three this afternoon, local time.”
“We do? What are we supposed to do?” Angus asked.
“Admiral Adame knows of your mission and will help locate General Smith. The admiral is associated with Dr. Cross and my owner.”
“So, there’s a whole network of people helping us?”
“The so-called network is assisting my owner primarily. Those involved only know small parts of your overall mission.”
Angus snickered and looked at Zac. “That sounds about right, mate. That’s about all we know, as well. Just bits and pieces. We’re kinda making things up as we go along.”
If Amber wasn’t monitoring all the ship’s internet usage, Zac would have researched the leadership of Regulus Arms and Ammunition, suspecting the un
named money-man to be associated with them—if not the head honcho himself. There was something in the way she spoke of the company, emphasizing their size with a trace of pride in her tone. That piqued his curiosity. He’d heard of the company, of course; their logo and stamps were on a third of all weapons used by the military. Zac shrugged off his concerns, at least for the moment. The Zanzibar was about to enter the atmosphere of ES-10.
22
The line of ships entering the atmosphere had scrunched up considerably, to where the flaring maneuvering jets of the ships in front of them could be clearly seen in the dark sky above the surface. They would be landing at mid-morning local time and were now transiting from night to day. The ship rocked slightly from strong upper-atmosphere cross winds, but nothing Amber couldn’t handle. The ground rushed up, revealing an enormous city below…but no spaceport in sight.
Two minutes later, three distinct white lines appeared ahead, the first signs of the landing strip. Most of the ships were coming in on glide paths, using their delta shapes to ride the wind and preserve fuel. Vertical take-offs and landings ate up a lot of Jet-D, and with the number of ships crowding the system, the rocket propellant was in short supply. The Zanzibar would land like one of the ancient turn-of-the-century space shuttles, the imagery not too far off since both the starship and the shuttles shared comparable configuration, although the Zanzibar was about a hundred feet shorter.
Soon it all became an act of exquisite choreography, as the ships touched down, one every twenty seconds. Zac looked out the viewport and watched on an opposite runway as a similar parade of starships shot into the sky. The cycle of landings and takeoffs had to maintain some form of equilibrium, otherwise the port would fill up in a matter of hours. Even then, as they descended, Zac noticed a large expanse of raw land to the north was being used for ship overflow. There were more vessels coming in than were going out, as evidenced by the seventy-two-hour docking privileges given to the Zanzibar. Zac and Angus would have only three days to locate General Smith and learn all he knew about the Antaere Corollary and where the officer got his information. It wasn’t a lot of time.