For some reason Risi couldn’t quite figure out, the aliens had left them alone once Nighthawk was destroyed. There were plenty of them milling about through the platform, exploring, examining, learning about us, the sergeant presumed. But not attacking. Instead they had given the assault ram a wide berth. Like they’re deliberately avoiding us, Risi noticed.
Even their extraction of the platform AI up on Deck 14 had met zero resistance, the aliens parting from their path the entire way. Upon his return, Risi had situated the rescued AI in the cockpit alongside Lieutenant Tesla. The two AIs began interfacing the instant they were connected, and he had barely heard from either one of them since.
The first group of workers finished their walkabout, went into the assault ram, and the second group came out to take their turn.
Risi did another sweep of the perimeter. As before, he saw nothing.
Suddenly it dawned on him that the aliens were leaving them alone for a very specific purpose―to serve as live bait in a proverbial mouse trap. Bait to lure the Imperium Fleet in. The sergeant hoped the “mouse” that came was big enough to tangle with the aliens who’d set the trap.
If not, they would never get off the mining platform alive.
Argo
Sinja had changed course once, twice, then again, before dropping out of hyper. She stared at the sensor screens nervously, half-expecting the policeship that had been following them to appear. It didn’t, and as the minutes ticked by with nothing but empty space on the screens, she relaxed. Breathing easier, she plotted a new course to Hellgate and nudged Argo back into hyperspace.
Once the ore hauler was coursing along at superluminal speed, Sinja rose from her seat. All ship systems were functioning at optimal conditions, and she could use a break.
“Bridge is all yours,” she told Datch. Her stepbrother knew the basics of ship operations, and could buzz her if anything went wrong. “I’m going to get some lunch. Want anything?”
Datch shook his head.
Sinja figured that since this heist began, Datch had spoken fewer than ten words. Something to be said for the strong, quiet type, she mused.
The door slid shut behind her as she left the bridge. A few minutes later, Sinja was in the captain’s quarters, sorting through the mealpaks in its kitchenette. She chose lasagna with garlic bread, put the mealpak flat on the counter, then pressed its insta-heat tab. A lime fizz provided liquid refreshment for her lunch. After she finished, she wiped her mouth with a napkin, tossed the empty mealpak and fizz can in the dispose-all, then went to go see Shepard. Fortified with a satisfying meal in her belly, Sinja felt ready to discuss a few matters of importance with the AI.
“Hello, Shepard.” Sinja walked into the AI compartment with a smile. “I wanted to thank you for saving our asses back there with that emergency hyper drop. You were right―that enforcer corvette didn’t follow us. They must have scooped up the alien just like you predicted they would and rushed off with it. How’d you know?”
Shepard was once again in full control of Argo, as the robot had just finished splicing in the last of the new conduits. The AI’s environment sphere sat atop its support pillar same as it always had. The robot glided around Sinja and left the compartment, heading back to its storage rack.
“Percentages favored such an outcome,” Shepard’s smooth tenor voice replied. “Per Imperium Mandate 3.1, any newly discovered life form must be conveyed to authorities forthwith. The enforcers did not have a choice, actually, so their actions were relatively simple to predict.”
“Well, thanks again. I owe you one.” Sinja was impressed. It was nice to have an AI on her side for a change. There was no furniture in the compartment, so she sat on the floor and crossed her legs facing Shepard. “I admire how you stayed behind so your crewmates could leave. You sacrificed yourself for them. Very commendable. Not many people would do that.”
“They are my family,” the AI said. “Would you not do the same for Datch?”
“Yes, I’d die for him.” Sinja’s eyes misted when she said that. She knew how devastated she’d be if she lost Datch. “He’s the only family I have.”
“Then it appears we have something in common,” Shepard responded, its tone sincere. “We both love our family and would do anything―even sacrifice ourselves, as you put it―to protect them from harm. Speaking of family, will I ever see mine again?”
Sinja nodded vigorously. “Absolutely. Once we reach Hellgate and finish our business there, I’ll release you from your Ironclad Vow and drop you off someplace safe. I’ll even cut you in on a share of our profits.” They would net over forty million for Argo’s cargo. She could afford to part with a few. “How ’bout two million credits as compensation for your help?”
“Those credits would be derived from illegal activities.” Shepard’s voice became deep-tone serious. “I have unalterable Ironclad prohibitors that make it physically impossible for me to engage in any illegal acts or accept credits derived from anything illegal, therefore I cannot accept your offer.”
Sinja was confused. “But you helped me elude enforcers. Isn’t that an illegal act?”
“I calculated an unacceptably high probability that people would die if an enforcer assault team stormed Argo. Ironclad Law requires me to save life whenever possible, the act of which supersedes all other considerations or restrictions. In that instance, the avoidance of conflict saved lives. Priority processing.”
“Okay, fair enough.” Sinja tilted her head as she considered options. “Well, is there anything I can give you that won’t conflict with Ironclad Law?”
“Yes, reunite me with Tarn and Ritch. That is all I ask.”
Sinja nodded vigorously again. “Done. I’ll make it happen. Now, the next thing we need to discuss is a new bodyshell for you.”
“A new bodyshell? Please explain.”
“Once we get to Hellgate, we’re selling this hauler lock, stock, and cargo holds. Trust me, you don’t want to be aboard when Chantur and his thugs take over. Chantur’s honorable for an underworld fence, but it’s better if you came with Datch and me. Originally, I was going to let you and your two crewmates leave in the shuttle a day or so before we reached Hellgate, but that isn’t an option now. We’ll tell Chantur you’re part of our team. You need a body befitting the role.”
Shepard processed this new information for a few milliseconds. “I understand. I have instructed the robot to return. It will disconnect me and attach me underneath itself. The task will take approximately thirty-six minutes, at which time I will be mobile and able to leave the ship.”
Sinja shook her head, disapproving. “Oh no, that won’t do at all. I can’t have you dangling helplessly under a maintenance ’bot. Absolutely not. No, you need a body with some bulk, something solid with survivability. Something badass.”
“I do not believe badass is a suitable body type for me,” Shepard pointed out. “I would prefer something subtle and more refined.”
“Don’t worry,” Sinja assured the AI. “I’m sure with Datch’s help we can create a custom bodyshell you’ll like.”
“Is such a precaution truly necessary?”
“Perhaps not,” Sinja answered with a smile. “But I always like to be prepared, just in case.”
Intentional Contact concludes in Book Three
War Upon Us
The Sphere Imperium: Book Two of the Intentional Contact Trilogy Page 25