Pilot X

by Tom Merritt

  In other words, except for your daily jog, don’t leave unless we tell you to. There really wasn’t any need to. A diplomat’s life on Tiel consisted of relaxation, exercise, regular diplomatic meetings with a Progon representative (usually an automaton), and wide stretches of boredom.

  “May I be of assistance in any other matters, Ambassador X?” the robot asked.

  “No, thank you Assistant, er, 5,” Ambassador X mimicked the robot’s delivery. “You’ve been efficient.”

  It was meant as flattery, but the robot showed no visible reaction.

  “If you have further needs not previously covered by me—” Submit them through your assigned diplomatic channel, Ambassador X finished for the robot in his head. But instead it said, “Use the communicator button on the provided device and call for Assistant 5. Have a pleasant day, Ambassador X.”

  The robot left through the sliding door. What was that about? A last-minute parting shot of flattery? A communication device. Why hadn’t the robot pointed it out? Ambassador X looked around the spacious if sparse room. He saw no communication device. Was it a trick? A taunt? Then he saw it. Lying on the edge of the circular bed near the wall.

  It was a small, flat metal box with three buttons, one of them marked Comm in Alendan.

  Ambassador X had the impulse to call the robot back immediately just to see if it worked. But he didn’t. Still, this was not standard procedure as far as he knew. The departing Alendan Ambassador’s brief made it clear that he had no way of communicating directly to the Progons, probably to increase his isolation. Ambassador X didn’t want this unexpected perk to be taken away due to misuse.

  So what did the other buttons do? One white button was labeled Lights. He pressed it and the lights in the room dimmed. Another modern convenience. Other Ambassadors reported the lights staying on at all times, messing with sleep patterns. The last green button was unlabeled. He pressed it but nothing happened. At least nothing he could tell. Maybe it blew up his ship in the hangar. Maybe it turned off the lights in some Progon room halfway across the planet.

  He shrugged and tossed the device on the bed. Suddenly, the door ripped open and two rolling boxes with surgical arms came rushing in and grabbed him.

  “What is the nature of your emergency?” they shrieked.

  “Whoa, whoa! No emergency! I didn’t report an emergency!”

  “You pressed the green emergency button. The green emergency button is meant to indicate an emergency.”

  “A unlabeled green button is your emergency button?” Ambassador X chuckled. “Bad design, Progons.”

  TIME ON TIEL

  In some ways Ambassador X felt like he was reliving his time with the Secretary on old Alenda. He wasn’t building a mud hut and there was only one of him, but he was lonely and totally separated from Verity.

  Most Pilots were attached to their ship, of course, but Verity was something special. She was evolving. He never mentioned it and rarely let himself think it. Artificial intelligences that showed signs of growth and evolution were quickly wiped. It was a serious crime not to report it. But it also needed to be evident. And if he didn’t let himself think of it, he couldn’t see it. And if he couldn’t see it, it couldn’t be reported.

  But his jokes about a sense of humor were more than jokes. She was becoming a person. “The Verity” was a ship, but Verity was the person growing within her. Like an artificial womb. It made sense that he’d let himself think of this while on a planet filled with machines. He convinced himself to demand to see Verity as a way to convince them he was finally losing it. He wasn’t, though. He was almost certain.

  The robot announced itself at the door. Ambassador X got up to let it in.

  “Assistant-er-5, so good to see you.”

  “I have come to see if there is anything I can do for you today?” It did this every day.

  “Yes. There is.” Ambassador X followed the usual script.

  “What is it?” Assistant 5 asked. It had to know the answer by now.

  “I would like to see Verity,” Ambassador X said.

  “Are you planning to depart?” Assistant 5 kept a straight face. Well, to be fair, the robot always had a straight face. It wasn’t built to show expressions. Some robots were. Not Assistant 5.

  “No, I just want to see the ship.”

  “I’m afraid that is not possible today. Your ship is secured in a hangar far from here. It would be a considerable effort to show it to you for no other purpose. Are you concerned about its safety?”

  Ambassador X had learned early this was a trick question. If he insisted on expressing concern, it would be taken as a diplomatic incident. He would be allowed to see Verity in that case, but only as a prelude to his deportment back to Alenda. And he wasn’t ready for that.

  “No. I’m not concerned,” Ambassador X said.

  “That’s good.” Ambassador X actually thought he heard relief in the robot’s voice.

  “Is there anything else?” Assistant 5 turned a little as if to go. Ha! Anticipatory gesture. So it was a little bit aware of the repetitiveness of their conversations.

  “Yes, there is,” Ambassador X said.

  The robot turned back sharply into an attentive posture. “What is it?”

  “Do you know how to play chess?”

  “No.”

  “Would you let me teach you? I’d like someone to play against.”

  “Yes.”

  “Excellent!”

  Assistant 5 came in and sat down.

  DEPARTURE FROM TIEL

  Ambassador X narrowed his eyes at the chessboard. Assistant 5 had played well and would likely checkmate within a dozen moves or so. The Progons, or their automata, had never played chess but learned it quickly. Neither one of those things was a surprise. Ambassador X had asked to play in order to figure out who, if anyone, controlled the robot. The style of play shifted just enough, especially in the early moves, that he was fairly certain the robot was occasionally inhabited by a Progon, maybe two different ones.

  Progons almost never inhabited machines in front of non-Progons, and when they did, they occupied massive ceremonial machines designed to intimidate and ensure their security. The idea that they would build a humanoid machine and then inhabit it to spy on Ambassador X was extraordinary.

  He stopped staring and made himself request permission to go for a walk. He’d been forcing himself to go for more walks. It was important for him to make sure the Progons did not suspect any of his suspicions. Plus, he could show off his pretended instability more outside. He felt like more eyes saw him. Or sensors. Or whatever Progons used to observe him. He was almost certain of it.

  That’s why he walked. At least that’s what he told himself. He wanted to seem like a typical diplomat going a little insane in the enforced isolation.

  Ambassador X was supposedly resistant to this and thus would be able to discover the Progons’ part in the secret war. The Progons unexpectedly provided him more familiarity and entertainment than any other diplomat he had ever heard of. So he decided to push it. That’s how he would force their hand. He would act like he was succumbing to the pressures of isolation anyway. He would wander off his allowed walk and, if confronted, rant about needing to see something new. The act seemed very easy to pull off. Once he was ranting, they would let their guard down and divulge useful information by accident. He was certain of it.

  The surface of Tiel was an endless march of square metal buildings. His plan was to get lost. That was easy enough. Enforcer drones would fly to intercept him if he did, but they would not harm him. The Progons respected diplomatic immunity at least that much. They would only use force if he tried to do something damaging or threatening. Wandering off the prescribed path was against the rules but not cause for use of force. It was, however, grounds for immediate expulsion. So this better pay off.

  Getting lost was just as easy as acting insane. He really was lost. He could be two feet from his own metal box or several clicks from it, he hon
estly had no idea. Well, he actually did know because of the drones. They followed at a polite distance, repeating their broadcast to turn around and return to quarters. That implied that he was headed away from his quarters. So he trudged on, ranting aloud. Nothing sensible. Just whatever came to mind. A lot of it involved pie.

  “Because you think you gave me such amazing food, but was there once pie? I mean any pie at all. Even freaking ratzenzen pie? No! And you know what else? Sky! You know,” he screamed, “I need sky! You don’t understand my needs. This place is a deathlake. A treason. Why did they put me here? Why did I agree?!”

  The drones continued. “Ambassador X. Please calm down, turn around, and return to quarters. You are off the prescribed path and in violation of the terms of your acceptance.”

  A humanoid robot appeared from behind and began a new tactic, interrupting Ambassador X’s ranting and placing a gentle metal hand on his shoulder.

  “Please don’t do this. We don’t wish any ill toward you. We must do what is best.”

  The chess game had not only taught him when a different mind controlled the machine but also how that machine’s communication changed. This one was controlled by a Progon now. It was uncharacteristically pleading.

  Ambassador X stumbled on. As he reached another intersection, a change in the pattern occurred. A metal building blocked his path. He began to walk around it. The robot blocked him. The drones stopped their announcements.

  “No,” it said.

  “Why?!” Ambassador X screamed, still in his ranting voice, but meaning it.

  “We thought you would cooperate. We meant to bring some peace through you.”

  “Some?” This was it! They had divulged their secret. But their secret was they wanted peace? He was confused.

  “We have deduced your mission. The war must happen. Must stay happened. It cannot be subverted. It must not. But through you we can limit the damage. Prevent the total destruction your people would otherwise bring. That is your objective, no? Please stop.”

  Ambassador X knew the Secretary would never be satisfied with this. It was only words. He had to push them. He was certain of it.

  The Progons were right. His objective was to get them to agree to limit the war. But not without knowing more about why they were waging it. So he walked around the building anyway. He could get more from them, he knew it.

  Trees.

  On the other side of the metal box were trees and a stream and green.

  Ambassador X turned to look at the robot.

  “What is this?”

  “It would have been your home.”

  “My home?”

  “After your mission. To save the universe.”

  “You presume so much.”

  “Because we know that you will end this. And we know you will decide if the Progons continue. We must continue.”

  The robot engaged a weapon.

  “If I’m your only chance of salvation, you’d best not eliminate me.”

  “We cannot, but we must expel you. We will try again in an earlier time.”

  “Good luck with that,” Ambassador X said. The Verity appeared above and landed. They must have released it from the hangar.

  The Progon continued. “You have disappointed us greatly. But remember, for you we may have mercy. For the other Alendans, none.”

  “Worth remembering,” said Ambassador X. Then he climbed in his small box of a ship and took off. He should return to the Secretary and report his partial success or, as the Secretary would see it, partial failure. But the Progons were not what the Secretary believed. Ambassador X knew they truly wanted to reach an agreement. And right then Ambassador X realized that the Secretary did not. He needed to know. Ambassador X reached a decision.

  He fed space-time coordinates to Verity. The ship informed him it was a conjunction point. A coordinate in which events were locked and could not be experienced in alternate threads or have mainlines diverted.

  “I’m counting on it,” Ambassador X said. “Also tender my resignation with the Alendan Council. I’m going back to being a simple Pilot for a while.”

  Verity complied, submitting the request from Pilot X.

  SENSAURIAN AMBUSH

  Pilot X returned near his home system about a day after he had originally left for Tiel and a day’s travel from Alenda. His failure with the Progons was now several months in the future, and he wanted to prepare the Diplomatic Department for what was to come.

  He was about to tell Verity to plot a course that would leisurely swing by the gas giants for some sightseeing when proximity alarms blared out of every speaker and the ship shuddered with a pounding from outside.

  It sounded like rain.

  “What is that?” he asked.

  Verity displayed a visual of fine grains. There were no known debris fields this far out from the star. They were even outside his home system’s Oort cloud. So what was that?

  Verity zoomed in and analyzed. She determined the debris was made up of microcellular sentient pods of life.

  “Sensaurians,” he said aloud. It was the hive’s annoying habit of pelting its targets with bits of itself before attacking. Exobiologists considered it a marking behavior meant to intimidate. Pilot X just considered it annoying. A Sensaurian battleship loomed into view off Verity’s starboard bow and hailed him.

  “So damned dramatic,” muttered Pilot X. Then he answered the hail: “This is the Alenda ship Verity on a return diplomatic mission. Kindly stop raining pieces of yourself on my ship and let me go about my business.”

  The Sensaurians answered. “Ambassador X. We are aware of your business with the machine people. We have learned it from the future. We are aware of your meddling in our affairs as well. You cannot be allowed to continue. This path will lead to destruction for all. You must be killed for the greater good.”

  This was standard patter for the Sensaurians.

  “Yes, yes. If you didn’t always threaten to destroy every organism that wasn’t you for the greater good, I might be flattered. And I’m not an Ambassador anymore, so I guess future you garbled the message. Perhaps it’s best to let me finish what’s left of my diplomatic mission while you get that sorted with your son.”

  “I am not my son. I am me forever,” the Sensaurian battleship said pompously. “You must be destroyed not because of your threat to our mind, but because of your threat to all.”

  Well, that did seem to be a new twist. Sensaurians generally didn’t care about anyone not Sensaurian. Also, they didn’t work well with plurals other than we or us, so all was a heady and unusual concept for them.

  “What do you mean by all?” Pilot X tried, hoping to confuse the Sensaurian with its own words.

  “I cannot be confused by this. All is everything. And you will destroy everything if left on this timeline. We have seen it happen.”

  “You mean you will have seen it happen?” he countered.

  “Yes. Tenses are malleable. Destruction imminent.”

  “Oh, stop. You’ll start a war.”

  “No, you will. And this will stop it.”

  The battleship was charging a massive forward burst of fire targeted at the Verity.

  “Verity, skip—” But the ship had already anticipated this and skipped forward one hour. Moving through such a small amount of space-time was tricky and difficult to do precisely. The hour turned out to be three days and closer to Alenda.

  “Or that,” said Pilot X. “Where’s the battleship?”

  Verity showed it on course to Sensaur. It had believed Pilot X destroyed.

  “The bigger the hive mind, the dumber they fall.” Pilot X chuckled. “Set course to—”

  But Verity had already plotted a course to Alenda, swinging by the gas giants on the way.

  “Well done, Verity. Well done.”

  AMBASSADOR X RETURNS

  “Did you hear Ambassador X arrived?”

  “Yes, he flies himself, you know. So unusual. But then he has a timeship. He carri
es a singularity in his cabin. So it’s a bit done for show, I should think.”

  “I heard he stepped down to become a Pilot again. Maybe that’s why. But does his ship really have a singularity?”

  “So I’m told, anyway. Timeships like that carry a whole pocket universe if the Pilots I’ve spoken with are to be believed. I’ve never flown in one.”

  “Seems dangerous, if you ask me.”

  “Well, perhaps that’s why they don’t.”

  “Don’t what?”

  “Ask you.”

  “Fair point.”

  “So is it true about the treaty?”

  “If anyone can pull off a true peace with the Progons and Sensaurians, it’s the Ambassador. Maybe that’s why he quit. Can’t top that.”

  “Only Bolger can go to Nollisar, eh?”

  “Something like that. He’s not like the other diplomats. Wasn’t born into it.”

  “He’s an Alendan though, no?”

  “Oh yes, from the central planet and everything, but not one of the favored houses, if you catch my meaning. Not a house at all, really. Worked his way up. He’s been at all sorts of jobs, Apprentice, Ambassador, of course Pilot, as you might expect.”

  “Would explain the small ship, I suppose.”

  “Explains the peace possibility too. Takes an outside perspective like his. That’s what he’s been doing the whole war. Racking that clever brain of his to find a solution.”

  “Have you met him before?”

  “Once. He’s a charmer, that’s for sure. And a fast talker. It’s no exaggeration that he can talk anyone into or out of doing pretty much anything. I knew he’d untie this knot we’re in.”

  “So what happens to the, uh, conscripts, if you will?”

  “I expect it will just be wound down now. Less said about all that the better. Ah, here he is. Ambassador X, a pleasure to meet you.”

  Pilot X, just stepping down from his ship, turned to greet the two men with a menacing smile.

  “Ah, gentleman, you’re just in time for some pinball.” The two other men looked puzzled. “Be with you in an instant.”