by Gorg Huff
Checkgok waved a midlimb and Janis tried not to flinch. That arm . . . leg . . . whatever it was . . . looked like it could squash her like a . . . well, bug. “Mischance. I blooded him. It was an accident.”
Janis finished taking it all down. “Captain Kesskox says you’re a traitor to your clan and it’s throwing you off the ship.”
Janis wasn’t quite sure what the clicks and whistles meant, but it didn’t sound to her like Checkgok admired Kesskox.
Checkgok eventually calmed a bit. “That squekket.” It waved its two center arms. “It throws me off, it loses the cargo, tell it that. The cargo belongs to Clan Zheck and I am the representative of the clan.”
Janis peered over at it. “Ah . . . that’s not what the captain is claiming.”
Checkgok’s eyestalks waved and its mouth-hand scrunched up in an expression Janis couldn’t interpret. “Over two-thirds of the cargo on the Fly Catcher belongs to my clan. I have control of it until it is returned to my clan, unless I willingly abandon it or die. Only then does Captain Pervert have access to it. The fool has ruined itself.”
“So the cargo belongs to you?”
“To my clan.”
“Can you prove that?”
Checkgok’s eyestalks reared back at the question, in what Janis guessed might signal feeling affronted. “Yes, of course. Check the contracts. They are on record in the station files. The Fly Catcher is leased to Clan Zheck. The cargo is Clan Zheck cargo. The cargo that is not Clan Zheck is not actually authorized to be there. Captain Kesskox calls it ‘off-the-books’ cargo.”
“Oh, really?”
There was, Checkgok noted, an interesting gleam in the security officer’s expression. Checkgok was unsure what the expression meant. This was its first trip away from the home world. It had made trades in dozens of human systems, primarily by developing an encyclopedic knowledge of what was wanted where.
Trade was not new to the clan or to Checkgok, but the cutthroat practices of the outworlds were not what Checkgok was used to. Checkgok lifted its left midleg and scratched an itchy spine hair. “May I have access to the net? So that I can show you the pertinent contracts?” Checkgok would watch the reactions of this monkey and perhaps learn a bit more about reading the species. Doing so would keep Checkgok’s thoughts away from its disgrace and the consequences.
Janis motioned Checkgok over to the computer. “Oh, yes. Please do.”
They went through the contracts together. For a fairly large sum of money, Fly Catcher and crew was leased—in total—to the Clan Zheck. The trade goods were provided by the Clan. A manifest was included.
The bug pointed at an entry. “When we left the home world we went to Green World, a monkey world.”
Officer Marten glared at it. “Watch your mouth.”
“Excuse me?” Checkgok looked at its mouth. Parthian eyes were arranged in such a way that it could indeed do so. It was sometimes necessary, though it seemed rather pointless at the moment. Checkgok thought it was being polite. The security officer apparently disagreed.
The officer glared a bit more. “I was talking about that ‘monkey world’ crack.”
“Crack? What is crack?” Checkgok was fairly sure she wasn’t talking about a crack as in a break.
The monkey looked at it. Strangely. “You really don’t know, do you?”
“Know what?”
Officer Marten sighed. “Let me give you some language lessons. Monkey is a derogatory term—an insult—when applied to a human.” The security guard moved its shoulders up and down. “Not a real bad one, I’ll grant you. It would be like calling you a . . . Well, I don’t know what your equivalent would be. Something from your world that is related to your people a ways back, but didn’t evolve intelligence, or at least not much.”
Checkgok considered. “Like a kikikes?”
“Got me. I don’t know anything about your home world’s fauna.”
“Got you? What is got you? I don’t have you.”
Janis bared its teeth at Checkgok. “It’s an expression. It means you’ve asked a question I don’t know the answer to.”
Checkgok was beginning to understand. “Then, ‘watch your mouth’ is another expression?” It swiveled the eye stalk it was using to watch its mouth back to looking at the station officer.
“Yes. It’s a warning to be careful of what you’re saying.”
Checkgok nodded its mouth. It didn’t have a head to nod. “ ‘Crack.’ Is that an expression?”
Janis nodded. “Yep. A crack is an insult.”
Things were beginning to come clear. Checkgok now knew why the captain and crew encouraged it to speak in a certain way and leave the “in person” dealings with humans to the first mate. The “useful idioms” it was taught were insurance to prevent humans from wanting to deal with Checkgok directly. That—in turn—was to allow them to skim a bit on every deal. They really were cheskek, concerned with themselves rather than their clans.
Checkgok knew what to do now. Apologies were always acceptable. It knew that much.
Location: Concordia Station Infirmary
Doc Smith grinned when she removed the bandages. Danny wondered why until he saw himself in the mirror. “Oh, shit. What the hell happened? Doc, what is this?”
There was a set of spots on his chest. Red ones, blue ones, black ones and green ones in a distorted galaxy pattern. “What about these dots? I wasn’t that drunk.”
Doc Smith’s voice was a bit strained. Like she was trying not to laugh. “I was a bit worried about that myself, so I took a couple of samples and did some reading. It doesn’t appear to be harmful. The Parthian’s spines have a resin on them that acts like ink. You got an instant tattoo. Removing it would be cosmetic. Not covered by station insurance.”
Danny groaned. Part of the station fee when docking a ship was basic medical insurance for accident or injury suffered by crewmen on the station. Very basic insurance. It covered emergency treatment and that was all. It was there so the station wouldn’t get stuck with the medical expenses of indigent spacers.
Which was altogether too close to what Danny was these days, except for the Pandora.
Chapter 2
Artificial brains have both advantages and disadvantages in comparison to standard computer systems. The neural net structure of the artificial brains more closely resembles the natural systems and this structure allows them something close to creativity. However, they have to be individually manufactured and trained. They cannot as yet be mass-produced in any meaningful sense. A single program will not run the same on two artificial brains because the brains are different. Instead, extensive use of simulated reality systems must be used to teach them the way a child or a pet is taught and conditioned.
Standard processors are cheaper both to manufacture and to program and, within their limits, they can be faster. However, in spite of the advances in both software and hardware, they lack that certain something. They don’t grow and they don’t learn.
Introduction to A Case for the Artificial Brain by Gerhard Schmitz, Phd.
Standard Date March 22, 625
Location: Pandora, In orbit off Concordia station
Standard Date: 01 16 630
Deep in the core of her artificial mind, Pan heaved a gargantuan sigh and opened a channel to the port, requesting information on the condition of Danny Gold. It was not a voice request, but a transmission in binary code from the ship Pandora to the station’s managing computer. It carried standard authorizations, and the answer came back the same way with the medical report, the police report, the insurance report.
Pan’s brain was very large, but most of it was dedicated to hyper transits. After that, a lot of it was dedicated to shipboard maintenance. Only a very small percentage was dedicated to human-style intelligence. The effect of that was to make her very bright in some ways, but not very bright in others. She was not particularly creative but was very quick and had a perfect memory.
Since Danny had been involved i
n a fight with one or more Parthians, she researched Parthians in general and the ones involved in the altercation in particular. Sometimes—in fact, a lot of the time—hard work makes a good substitute for creativity. Pan was built for hard work.
By the time Danny was allowed phone calls, Pan had collected a great deal of information. Not everything. She had not been able to gather much on the content and ownership of the Fly Catcher’s holds because the Fly Catcher’s cargo became a matter of an ongoing investigation even while she was requesting information.
Location: Medical Bay, Concordia Station
“Captain, what exactly did the Parthian Checkgok say to you?” came over Danny’s internal comm while he lay on the med couch.
That wasn’t what Danny was expecting to hear from Pan. He was expecting yet another lecture on the obligations of his abilities. “I don’t know. Which one was Checkgok? The one I tripped over?”
“Yes, Captain.” Danny could hear the long-suffering tone in Pan’s voice. “The one you tripped over.”
“It apologized and said some stuff in their clicks and whistles.” Danny sent Pan the recording. This was weird. What’s got Pan’s wings in a knot, he wondered. “Are we being sued or something?”
“Are there witnesses?”
Now Danny was getting worried. “Hold on.” He opened his eyes and saw the latest security officer, this one a guy. “Do you know what the Parthian said to me? The one I tripped over?”
Doc Smith cracked up. “It married you.”
“It did not marry him.” The cop gave the doctor a hard look, then sighed and turned back to Danny. “Look, Parthians are an alien species. They have their own customs and laws. The neuters aren’t supposed to get . . . ah . . . excited.”
The doctor cracked up again.
Danny’s head was banging. He sent Pan a signal to switch from a personal call to a call to the med room. “Look, Officer. I have a headache and spots on my chest. Would you mind explaining what is going on to my ship?”
Danny didn’t listen after that. The Parthian Banger wasn’t the only alcohol he drank that afternoon. He would learn later that Checkgok offered itself to his clan in recompense for the injury and insult it inadvertently offered. Further, that in accepting the apology, he accepted the service. It was called kothkoke and had things in common with both adoption and marriage. What was still under question was the effect it had on the ownership and control of the goods that Checkgok possessed in trust for its clan.
Location: Virtual Courtroom, Concordia Station
“Former clan!” Captain Kesskox, in her cell, rose to her full height in rage. “It has abandoned its clan. It has no rights to the goods of that clan. It is dead to them.”
“Not according to the customs of Zheck.”
The voice from the wall startled Kesskox because it didn’t match any of the humans on the screens. It dropped a few inches. “Who is that?”
Magistrate Stella Jones was going through her notes as the preliminary hearing progressed. She looked up over the half-moon shaped eyeglasses that even Kesskox knew were unnecessary to humans in this day and age. “It’s the Pandora. The starship of Captain Gold, the recipient of . . . what is the word . . . of Checkgok’s kothkoke.” Stella imagined that she was making a hash of the clicks and whistles of the Parthian, but at this point she didn’t much care.
The hearing, instigated by Pandora on behalf of her captain, was to determine whether a restraining order was to be issued to prevent the Fly Catcher from leaving the station while still in possession of goods that Pandora argued were now under the legal control—if not ownership—of Captain Gold.
“Ship? Ships cannot be heard in court.” Captain Kesskox gestured with her right eye stalk.
Magistrate Jones had no idea what the gesture meant. She didn’t care very much about that, either. Stella Jones stared at the obviously irritated—and increasingly irritating—bug. “They can here.”
It was true that artificial brains were not allowed to instigate suits in Drake space or very often in Cordoba space. But out here on the fringe, they had to maintain a fairly open policy. Station law had long since granted legal entity status to artificial brain ships. It was necessary. They were often the only sober member of the ship’s company. Concordia Station was sometimes a bit on the rowdy side.
Not that Stella was all that thrilled with the Pandora at the moment. She got notice of the requested hold during dinner. Couldn’t the darn ship have waited a couple of hours? The Fly Catcher’s captain was in lockup, after all, along with this Checkgok character and Captain Gold.
“What do you have, Pandora?” Stella asked.
“Nothing not available in station files.” The ship’s response sounded a bit . . . snotty, Stella decided. “The Zheck clan offers kothkoke as much as a token of trust, or test of the recipient’s honor, as a payment of debt. They sometimes intentionally offer kothkoke when the clan member to be adopted out has a continuing obligation to the clan. When that happens, the receiving clan—in this case Captain Gold—has a decision to make. Does he honor the obligations of the adoptee to the Zheck clan or ignore those obligations? If the obligations are ignored, then the clan knows never to deal with that clan again. If they are honored, Clan Zheck generally develops a relationship of trust with the adopting clan.”
Captain Kesskox dropped in shock. It was clear she realized where this was going. “The human is not a Clan. Kothkoke is invalid. Not a legitimate act, simply a disgrace.”
“Well?” Stella Jones quirked an eyebrow.
“Captain Gold is from Cybrant Five,” Pandora informed the court. “A member of the Gold Family, more properly rendered as ‘the Gold Line.’ He is a licensed breeder with unlimited reproductive rights on Cybrant Five, where fewer than one in a hundred people are fully licensed.”
Danny Gold groaned. As well he should, thought Stella. Cybrant Five was not famous for its respect for other cultures or other people in general. The registered lines were self-proclaimed supermen. Supermen that most of the rest of humanity despised for their arrogance. On the other hand, Stella admitted, if superior was looks, Danny Gold was certainly superior. Tall, but only a little above average height, literally golden blond, with skin just a shade lighter than the hair, green eyes with flecks of gold as well. Muscles without being muscle bound, and, even hungover, physical grace that gave every motion a smooth flow.
“Captain Gold is as close as it is possible for a human to get to the definition of a clan or hive. Under Parthian law, he would be considered a new clan.”
“Clans are based on females.” Captain Kesskox’s voice was strident and insistent.
“Not always.” Merchant Checkgok was looking at the screen to Danny Gold’s cell intently. “There are two Zheck ancestor clans that started from males.”
“You admit that?” Captain Kesskox swiveled both eyestalks to focus on the screen showing the Zheck merchant.
“Zheck clan is proud of all its ancestor clans.” Checkgok turned one eye to the screen to Kesskox’s cell for a moment, then turned it back to Danny Gold.
“Where does that leave us?” The judge looked at the screen showing Captain Kesskox.
It left Kesskox in a terrible bind, and she knew it. “The human has not acknowledged Checkgok’s prior obligations.”
“Nor is there any need to,” the Pandora’s voice came again from the wall. Rather quickly, the judge thought. “Until and unless Captain Gold officially renounces them, Checkgok—and through it, Captain Gold—has control over the Zheck goods.”
Stella Jones noted Danny Gold’s start at that. Apparently the Pandora wasn’t telling her captain what was going on until she had things set up.
“Just what are Checkgok’s obligations to its clan?”
There was a short pause. “No. Pan, we may be a little skint, but we ain’t thieves. If we can do what the bug needs us to and it’s a fair deal, we will. If we can’t, we’ll give it back to the Zheck clan . . . along with its goods.”
That sounded good, though Stella wasn’t sure that a Cybrant Gold Line could be trusted, considering the Cybrant System’s reputation.
Checkgok apparently had no such reservations. It lowered itself all the way until its body was touching the floor. Kesskox was hissing and clicking. The translation program was rendering the clicks and whistles as a series of expletives, most of which made no sense at all.
“Fine.” Gold waved his hands in the air. “Let the bug tell me that.” Pause. “Yes, I trust you, but you don’t know everything and you should have warned me.”
Stella snorted. She knew several ships like the Pandora. They showed a marked tendency to treat their crews—even their owners—more like children or pets than like bosses. “All right. Enough. For the moment neither ship is allowed to leave station while in possession of the goods in question. After this gets resolved, I’ll determine which ship has the rights to the cargo. Two things.” Stella lifted two fingers and glared into the screens. “I’m going to want an official decision one way or the other from you, Captain Gold, whether Zheck custom requires it or not. And if you decide you’re keeping Merchant Checkgok, you pay its fines.”
Danny’s face paled. Pandora chuckled. Checkgok grinned. Well, its eyestalks slid past one another in what the translation program interpreted as a grin.
∞ ∞ ∞
Over the next week or so, Stella had two questions to answer. “How much of the Fly Catcher’s cargo belonged to Clan Zheck?” and, “Who was Clan Zheck’s on-station rep?”
In the first case, she decided that the on-the-books cargo was clearly Clan Zheck’s. The off-the-books cargo, whether it should be there or not, and notwithstanding how it was obtained, was the property of the ship Fly Catcher and its crew.
In the second case, she determined that Clan Zheck’s cargo was under the control of Checkgok, and Checkgok could dispose of the cargo as it saw fit.
That cargo, by agreement between Captain Danny Gold and Merchant Checkgok as a representative of Clan Zheck, was transferred to the Pandora. Stella insisted on a contract between Captain Gold and Checkgok, with Checkgok acting as agent for Clan Zheck.