Giles Kurns_Rogue Operator

by Ell Leigh Clarke

  Arlene nodded. “And we can’t get closer until we get through the force field.”

  Beno’or frowned, pausing again with a spoonful of food to his mouth. “But, surely with all this technology you have a way of breaching that force field?” he prompted. “I mean, that move Molly made to get to Shaa, with Federation tech. That was impressive.”

  Giles wiped at the lower half of his face with one hand, his stress levels revealing themselves. “Yeah, she had two AIs helping on that operation though,” he said, his brain turning and food still untouched.

  “But we have Scamp,” she reminded him. “And you know who Scamp used to work with.”

  Giles’s eyes lit up in recognition. “Ah, this is true,” he said slowly, hope returning to his complexion.

  Beno’or looked confused. “Who?” he asked, curious about what he might be missing.

  Arlene smiled and started explaining. “Well, the Empress of the Federation was… erm… genetically enhanced, shall we say. She had a Kurtherian alien attach itself into her brain in order for it to survive, and when they attached his Kurtherian computer in too, well, an AI evolved. Spontaneously. It really was miraculous.”

  Giles had started eating. He waved his fork and finished chewing. “Actually, it was the world’s first AI, as far as the human race was concerned,” he added in. “But Arlene has a point. This was her ship, so ADAM, her AI, must have worked with Scamp. Heck, Scamp was probably built by ADAM. Or a piece of him. Or whatever the heck AIs do to procreate,” he added, chewing again, his mind going ten to the dozen.

  Beno’or still looked confused. “So what are you thinking?” he asked.

  Arlene took the question. “Well I’m thinking that Scamp must be able to come up with a way to take out the force field or get us through it somehow.”

  Beno’or considered what he was hearing. “Are you sure you want to brute force your way through it though? I mean, what about if you contacted the guards and made an excuse to go down to the surface.”

  Arlene stopped eating, mulling the concept. “Hmmm,” she said quietly. “That would certainly be a… ‘non-killy-killy way,’” she muttered glancing over to Giles.

  Beno’or’s enthusiasm for his idea seemed to swell. “Well we don’t know how long they’ve been there. It’s not as if there are ships flying in and out. Plus, all the other moons are deserted. For all we know they could have been here for years!” He paused, thinking. “Maybe their allegiance can be swayed?” he added thoughtfully.

  Giles had finished and was ready to jump in. “Of course they’re not going to go for that!” he scoffed. “Their job is just to keep people out…”

  Beno’or shook his head. “At this stage, we just don’t know. We’re making lots of assumptions and filling in blanks. We’re assuming their job at least was to keep people out perhaps… but how often are these guards replaced? If they’ve been there a while, without contact with their source mission, or their group, then there’s no telling how their thinking might have changed.”

  Giles frowned. “How do you mean?”

  Beno’or shrugged. “Well, whoever is looking after this temple on behalf of the Zhyn, certainly isn’t known to our government. At least, I have no knowledge of it, and I doubt that we’re funding it. Plus,” he raised his eyebrows as he spoke, “I’m embarrassed to admit this, but we had no idea about some of the projects Shaa was running. And with him now gone, there could be all kinds of things that have just fallen off the radar with personnel deployed and no orders being issued.” He shook his head, lowering his eyes. “We really did drop the ball with him,” he admitted, his eyes filled with regret.

  Giles listened intently, his food once again forgotten.

  Beno’or returned his thoughts to the matter in hand. “But,” he continued, his normal enthusiasm returning as new thoughts took over, “it reminds me of a tale from our mythology where a group of warriors were made immortal to protect a sleeping emperor who had been put under a curse to sleep for all eternity. Their mission was to prevent anyone from getting close to him, but then over the centuries one of them fell in love with one of the maids, who gained access to the chamber where the king was being kept. She started a habit of reading to him, and after several years of doing this he awoke. Curse broken.”

  Giles shook his head. “I don’t get it.”

  Beno’or shrugged. “The point is, if the guard had kept to his original task she never would have found her way in to the chamber, and would never have woken their leader. The curse would have remained. But my point here is that it just goes to show that over time, without constant reinforcement of the objective from an outside authority, the attitudes of the people can naturally shift.”

  He paused and tilted his head from side to side a couple of times. “For better or for worse.”

  Arlene took a deep breath. “So what you’re saying is that maybe these guards have been left alone long enough that…?”

  Beno’or shook his head. “Who knows? Anything is possible. Maybe they’re still bent on keeping everyone out. Maybe they’re bored. Maybe they need supplies, or help or something. We just don’t know. But since they are isolated, there is a higher chance of what we’re assuming about their intentions no longer being quite as rigorous as if they were connected to the normal chain of command.”

  Giles nodded. “Okay. Good point. So what do you suggest we do?” He glanced over at Arlene and smiled playfully. “Send in a maid to read to them?”

  Beno’or chuckled. “Goodness, no. I think it is worth contacting them though. Asking them if we can investigate?”

  Arlene had her arm on the table, and rested her chin on her hand for a moment. “That’s one thing we could do, but that’s too directly against what their original objective would have been. What if…” she checked herself before continuing. “What if we pretend we’re in trouble and they need to save us by granting us access. Then they’re just helping us survive and they can do that without agreeing to help us do something they’ve been sworn to stop people from doing.”

  Giles clicked his fingers. “That’s a great plan,” he agreed, smiling brightly now.

  Arlene nodded at his bowl of food. “Okay, you finish eating. I’ll go talk to Scamp about sending a distress signal.”

  Giles had already started shoveling his food enthusiastically. “I’ll be right there,” he said between mouthfuls.

  Beno’or started tidying the pots and dishes into the machine to clean them. “We have a non-violent plan. Albeit a deceptive one!” he chuckled to himself.

  Arlene disappeared into the cockpit, smiling to herself about their distinct lack of violence in their plans in their “old age.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Aibek Moon, Orn System, Guardian Settlement, Computer Room

  Gagai waited until Jendyg had left before he sat down again. The others could tell that Jendyg got to him - though none of them had figured out why.

  Gagai’s rule and commitment to the order was unwavering. No one ever had cause or inclination to challenge him. Except Jendyg, when it came to wanting to leave, or get a signal out to the outside world.

  Ammo tried to change the subject, but Gagai wasn’t hearing anything. He took a few deep breaths before taking his attention back to the screen. Eventually he spoke, even though there was a conversation already going on between Ammo and Naldrir at this point. “No one is to encourage any kind of talk about leaving this place,” he declared. “What Jendyg is going through is a crisis of faith. As such we must treat it as that and help him find his way back to us.”

  Just then the computer started beeping.

  Mennynad shuffled over, followed quickly by Ammo, who peered curiously over Mennynad’s shoulder. Koryss had stood silently by Gagai’s side while he sent Jendyg off, but now turned his attention back to the screen. “We’re being hailed,” he said calmly, explaining to those who couldn’t see the screen what was going on.

  Naldrir moved towards the computer in genuine interest.<
br />
  Ammo leaned forward and hit a key to put the message on screen, with audio. The five of them listened intently. The voice chattered with a rather more docile lilting tone than their own speech.

  Ammo’s enthusiasm grew. “What language is that even?” he asked, barely able to peel his eyes from the screen to look for a response from any of the others.

  Naldrir closed one eye, listening. “See if the computer can translate,” he suggested.

  Ammo nudged Mennynad out of the way and hit a few more keys, Gagai’s rank and command forgotten.

  Gagai sat watching, taking it all in, almost as if he was paralyzed by what was happening.

  The computer buzzed and whirred, it’s old circuits struggling under the strain. The team waited in an uncomfortable silence.

  Eventually the system returned a result. “The message is being transmitted in human interplanetary dialect. Translating…”

  A few moments more and the computer read out the translation of the repeating message.

  The warriors looked at each other. What was happening was unprecedented. And created a dilemma none of them had been prepared for.

  Ammo seemed genuinely excited. “We have to help them,” he declared decisively.

  Gagai shook his head. “No. We don’t. Our first duty is to our people. The mission.”

  “But they’re up there and they’re going to die without our help!” Ammo protested. “We can’t just sit back and let that happen,” he protested. “It’s our fault that force field is up there, threatening the lives of anyone who comes too close.”

  Mennynad pushed his way closer to the computer as Ammo continued to make his case. He pulled up another screen and hit a few keys. “They’re not moving,” he announced. “They’re saying they’re in trouble, but they’re barely in orbit, and nowhere near the force field.”

  Ammo turned back to the screen, nudging at Mennynad to move over again. “Maybe there is something we’re missing in the translation,” he suggested.

  Naldrir finally spoke up. “Or maybe they’re here for the very thing we’re trying to protect, and they’re trying to trick us into letting them land.”

  That was enough for Gagai to reassert his control. “He’s right. This is what we’ve been trained for. What we’ve been put here for. We have to protect our charge against all odds. No matter what the cost. We’ve sacrificed our own lives to be here and perform our sacred duty. We must stay strong.”

  The others looked at each other. Gagai had spoken. And if they were honest, they could all see his point. There were affirming murmurs, and finally Ammo declared that he should get back to the hunting before the freeze came. He left, Mennynad in tow.

  Within minutes, after more discussion, Koryss and Gagai were the only ones left in the computer room.

  Gagai got up from his seat and offered the chair to Koryss. “Keep an eye on things for me. I don’t want anyone getting any ideas about sending up signals that might compromise us,” he instructed.

  Koryss nodded obediently and took the chair. He sat down. “You think we ought to be concerned about Jendyg?” he asked.

  Gagai shook he head, moving towards the door. “Probably not. But if he steps foot in here, you are authorized to use whatever means necessary.”

  Koryss turned to the screens, his back now to Gagai. “Understood,” he acknowledged.

  Aboard the Scamp Princess

  “Still no response?” Giles prompted.

  “No, nothing,” Scamp returned.

  Giles shifted impatiently in his seat. “Maybe they don’t have a way to be hailed?” he suggested.

  Arlene sat down in the seat next to him. “They have a force field that goes around the planet and a terraformed environment. Of course they can pick up on incoming signals.”

  Giles took his glasses off, playing with them between his thumb and forefinger. “Well maybe they don’t understand our language. Scamp… can you broadcast in Zhyn as well, for us?”

  “Sure,” Scamp responded. “Broadcasting in human interplanetary and Zhyn standard lexicon now.”

  Giles nodded, watching the screen waiting for any signs of change. “Anything?” he asked after a few moments.

  “Nothing,” Scamp responded.

  Giles rested his head on his hand, his elbow leaning on the console in front of him.

  Arlene turned to him. “Maybe,” she started, ”they can see we’re not really in trouble.”

  Giles turned to her. “Good point!” he said, snapping his fingers. “Scamp? Can you simulate it? Make it look like we’re falling into the force field so they’re forced to put it down?”

  “I can,” Scamp started to explain, “but there is a point after which we will have too much momentum in that direction to pull out. And then if they don’t drop it, we’re toast.”

  He waited for the organics to respond.

  Giles rubbed his chin. “So then we need a way to blow the force field. Is there a way to do that?”

  Scamp appeared on the holoscreen between where Giles and Arlene sat. “Yes,” he confirmed. “It turns out that I can interfere with the signal by modulating to match their frequency and effectively overloading the generator.”

  Arlene spontaneously started interacting with Scamp’s visual representation. “Can you do that only if it looks like they’re not going to respond?”

  Scamp shook his virtual head. “I cannot estimate accurately how long it will take to create enough of a disturbance to overload the system. If I start doing it too soon, then they will know that we’re trying to breach and they won’t trust us. If we leave it too late, then we’re toast.”

  Giles rubbed his chin. “Okay, so where is the sweet spot?”

  Scamp was silent for a moment. “You mean the intersecting minimums of the two cost functions?”

  Giles rolled his eyes. “Yes, Scamp.”

  Arlene worked hard not to giggle. She’d seen Giles interact with Molly in much the same way, and it amused her every time. Especially since Molly was human, organic, and yet strangely… AI-like. At least some of the time.

  Scamp responded. “Well, there are parameters within which we have an 87% chance of successfully completing the overload, while giving the maximum time for them to comply with our distress signal.”

  “87%?” Giles repeated. He glanced at Arlene. “What do you think?” he asked.

  Arlene wrinkled her nose. “I don’t like a 13% chance of dying.”

  Giles nodded. “Okay, Scamp, let’s go with the scenario which guarantees we can pull up in time if we need to.”

  Scamp sighed audibly. “Fine.”

  Arlene couldn’t help but chuckle out loud in amazement this time and covered her mouth with her hand. “Does he have an attitude about us being risk averse?” she whispered to Giles.

  Giles looked equally amused. “Seems so,” he confirmed. “You know, maybe it’s to do with the self-destruct clause these guys have, to stop the tech falling into enemy hands. I mean, that’s got to mess with your ideas of self-preservation, right?”

  Arlene shook her head in dismay. “Maybe…” she agreed.

  Scamp piped up again as if he hadn’t been listening to every word. “You may want to buckle in. We will be commencing maneuvers to simulate distress and imminent crashing into the force field in 10… 9… 8…”

  Arlene called to Beno’or. “Beno’or, you may want to come through and strap in. Scamp is going to put us through some envelop maneuvers to sell our mayday.”

  Just then the ship shuddered.

  Arlene shouted again. “Okay, so he didn’t wait. Get in here!”

  Giles had already strapped himself in. “Scamp, what is the point of the count down if you’re not going to wait?”

  “Oh,” Scamp replied nonchalantly, “that’s just the pre-rumblings of my simulation. The heavy stuff starts in 4… 3…”

  The Justicar appeared and was hurriedly trying to get himself into a console chair and safely restrained. “Just made a fresh pot of mocha
, too,” he told Arlene, more concerned about the mocha than for his own well-being, it seemed.

  Suddenly the ship banked, and the antigrav couldn’t adapt fast enough.

  “Shiiiiiiitttt!” Giles yelped, his intonation conveying his sudden anxiety as he gripped the arms of his console chair.

  Beno’or had just managed to buckle his harness when suddenly he was flung backwards into his chair and tipped up and to the left with the ship’s movement.

  Arlene fell forward into her harness, jolted as it caught her from falling at speed out of her chair and across the cockpit.

  The sirens screamed, resounding through the whole ship, and the emergency lights flashed red and bright white in a syncopated strobe effect.

  A new, simulated voice came over the intercom. “Warning. Impact with force field in T minus twenty seconds and counting.”

  Giles spun round to try to see on the main screen what they were heading towards. He could just make out the faint glow of the force field’s outer edge. “Do we really have to go through this rigmarole, Scamp?”

  “What do you mean, ‘rigmarole’?” Scamp inquired perfectly calmly.

  Giles clung awkwardly against the g-force. “I mean the terrifying alarms and warning messages. I mean, it’s not like there is a whole lot of crew on board who don’t know what’s going on.”

  “Ah. I see,” Scamp responded. “So never mind about any fun I might glean from the situation?”

  Giles’s mouth dropped over in disbelief and caught Arlene’s eye. Arlene shrugged. “He’s your AI,” she told him, like a mother who disowns a child when he’s misbehaving.

  Giles’s eyes were creased up in stress and frustration. “Scamp, dear boy? Do me a favor and kill the siren, if you would?”

  “Very well,” Scamp responded. The siren and the flashing lights stopped instantly.

  “Thank goodness for that,” Giles sighed, still bracing against the g-force which started to level out. “Sitrep, Scamp?”

  Scamp responded promptly but with a hint of sulk in his voice. “The guards still aren’t responding to the distress signal. Overload of their force field begins in 4… 3… 2… 1.”