Vigilante Series 2: Nebula Vigilante

by T. Jackson King

  “No,” growled BattleMind. “But your suit with its external sound emitters is needed where I now stand. It will emit my T’Chak access code.”

  Matt moved to stand before the five meter high wall with the triangular shape. “Here?”

  “Wait, BattleMind!” called Mata Hari. “Matt, George, turn off your external Ears. The sound that BattleMind will speak is likely to damage your organic ears.”

  Damn. BattleMind should have told them that. It might be a little more organic-sensitive than before the Megadeen battle, but clearly it saw only its need and its Task. In his faceplate’s right quadrant he saw the signal from George that his outside Ears were off. “We are ready, BattleMind.”

  Flapping its giant wings, BattleMind roared a phrase that deafened Matt’s mind with his gale force strength, even if Suit insulated him from its ‘live’ sound. Thankfully the code phrase was short.

  The T’Chak dragon image glowed redly, similar to the eye color of BattleMind’s persona image. He reactivated Suit’s outer Ears in time to hear a grinding of stone against stone and the translated phrase “Enter, master of the race.”

  Matt and George followed the holos of BattleMind and Mata Hari into a large, dome-roofed space of round walls with no corners. His sensorBeads floated ahead and to other parts of a room larger than the Bridge on Mata Hari. The room was mostly open space except for a square black stone lying at its center. Atop the two meter high square rested a translucent globe that was slowly beginning to glow with a reddish light. Looking to be a meter wide, he wondered if this was the Planetary AI.

  “It is the Planetary AI, Matthew,” said the soft voice of Mata Hari as she also mind-spoke. “Its container is similar to that used by Gatekeeper. Since we AIs think at the quantum uncertainty level, there is no need for a large volume to house our awareness.”

  BattleMind’s holo moved to stand before the red-glowing globe. It spoke in T’Chak, which Suit translated for him and George.

  “My identity is BattleMind, of Destruction Device 647 of the 94th Imperial Dynast of the T’Chak Imperium. Where are our organic masters?”

  A round patch glowed redly on the black stone square. “They are gone, Destruction Device BattleMind. Only you, myself, and similar awarenesses on other colony worlds still think, still remember the heritage of our builders. Why are you here?”

  BattleMind growled like a storm squall and flapped its wide wings. “No! It cannot be! There must be some Masters surviving. Perhaps in stasis chambers? From whence came the latest tachlink signal you have memory of?”

  “From the direction of Cluster Prime, perhaps even from the original home world. That was . . . long ago. None have visited me since that tachlink signal. Except for you. Why are you here?”

  “Tell it your Task,” Mata Hari said softly in Matt’s mind

  The fury that battered Matt’s mind as the purple cloud of BattleMind discovered facts it did not like, that fury retreated a little.

  “I and my ship are here because I have fulfilled the original Task assigned to me and the other seven hundred Dreadnoughts. I have fought battles with starcraft of the Anarchate that rules the large galaxy nearby. I have gained intelligence of their bases, command structure, devices and organic components that will be vital to our future conquest!”

  The red-glowing globe grew darker, then paler. “A conquest that cannot happen without organic guidance. But I am unaware of any living T’Chak. Anywhere within tachlink range. Which includes both clouds, as you know. Your return is appreciated, but now you must join your brethren that orbit the Lacunae Mindworks. Until our organic masters return, there is no conquest that we can—”

  “No!” screamed BattleMind.

  “Yes!” yelled Matt into the mental cloud of fury and anger that was BattleMind. “Remember my first talk with you, after the Halcyon battle? We humans are organics. Other intelligent lifeforms in the Milky Way will join you and other Dreadnoughts in overthrowing the Anarchate. If we can get the cooperation of yourself and other AIs like this one. Does it have a name?”

  BattleMind’s red eyes glared at him from the holo, but his sense of its mind-flow carried a tone of . . . interest. The dragon holo faced back to the Planetary AI globe.

  “Your personal identity. What designation do you choose for yourself?”

  “The masters used to address me as Elegant Vessel.”

  “Tell me how our organic masters disappeared, why they died, as nearby bones seem to speak.”

  “There was a rise of social disruption as polities within the two clouds argued among themselves. That was normal to the history of the masters. What was not normal was the arrival of an organic-born disease among some lifeforms carried back by one of your Dreadnought brethren,” said Elegant Vessel. “This disease was airborne transmitted. It spread among the masters who entered the Dreadnought with the diseased lifeforms. The period between infection and the start of life decay was long enough for infected masters to travel to other worlds. Before such travel was suspended, every world of the Imperium was infected. Including this world Lomax, imperial capital for this sector of the larger cloud.”

  Matt PET thought-imaged his suspicion to Mata Hari. “Could this disease have been something like the Bird Flu or MSR that humanity suffered from, before we developed the Universal Enzyme to protect against such airborne diseases?”

  “Matthew, it is possible,” she said.

  BattleMind ignored their byplay, its attention focused on learning the details of how its masters had died. “Elegant Vessel, show me an image of this diseased lifeform.”

  “This is the deadly lifeform the Dreadnought brought home.”

  A holo took shape above the red-glowing AI globe. As the holo cleared, Matt saw a small dinosaur, feathered with wings, about the size of a chicken. Could there have been a few survivors from the age of dinosaurs? Some small critter that survived the Great Extinction event 65 million years ago? There were armored fish that had survived to the Information Age of Earth. Why not an ancestor of Earth’s birds. In which case, had the T’Chak visited Earth 207,000 years ago?

  “What planet and what star gave birth to this small monstrosity?” BattleMind asked.

  “This minor main sequence system.”

  The dino-bird holo blinked out and was replaced by a polar view of a yellow star with eight planets circling it. One planet, the sixth one, showed a small halo, or ring, circling the gas giant. But there were millions of Earth-like planets in the Milky Way, and gas giants with rings or moons about them were common. Surely there could be star systems with eight planets in them with one or more Earth-like worlds? It would be all too strange if a T’Chak visit to Earth led to the death of the T’Chak, even as humanity’s Neanderthal and Cro-Magnon subspecies competed among themselves.

  “The third planet outward from the star was the source of the diseased lifeform,” Elegant Vessel said.

  “I do not recognize this star system, though a study of the background stars and Cepheid variables may identify its location in the large galaxy,” BattleMind said. “Is this lifeform and the disease still living on this world?”

  “The lifeform died not long after its arrival, perhaps due to the higher ultraviolet of the world it arrived on. While located in Cluster Prime, the arrival world’s home star was a strong emitter of ultraviolet, which harms not the masters species, but did kill the deadly lifeform. As for the disease, it is assumed it no longer lives, since the native airbreathing lifeforms on this world did not show any illness after our masters died.”

  BattleMind flapped its wings slowly. “Were the local lifeforms affected by this disease?”

  “Yes, but only those within or near our cities and habitations. And only the airbreathing lifeforms. Those in the seas, lakes and at a distance were not affected. Cycles later, local lifeforms entered this city and survived, when previously they had died.”

  BattleMind swung its long, spike-tipped tail halfway around the room until it curled around the black stone th
at supported the red-glowing AI globe. “Then a visit to Cluster Prime and other colony worlds will not endanger my organic companions, two of whom accompany me and my Mata Hari modulus. They represent one of the minor species in the large galaxy. While primitive, they have proven useful in my learning of organic battle tactics.”

  “But why visit anyplace else? You will find the same lack of thinking lifeforms elsewhere. Why not stay here and . . . converse with me. The long sleep was boring.”

  Matt smiled, sympathizing with this ancient AI. Maybe it could join them aboard the starship. “BattleMind,” he called to the purple hurricane before it could reject the request. “Why not invite this AI to join us aboard the Mata Hari? If you do find living masters in stasis chambers, it will give this AI a reason for continued existence.”

  “Impudent organic!” snarled BattleMind. “My ship is my domain! I have more reason now to exclude organics from my domain. If one lifeform carries a disease that can kill a master, then perhaps all species need to be . . . restricted to your homeworlds.”

  Matt did not like this AI’s version of the Anarchate rule that enforced interstellar anarchy. “But Elegant Vessel is artificial, not organic. And the diseased lifeform is ancient on our time scales. Surely such a disease has now vanished from the T’Chak worlds and the home world where it arose.”

  “Yeah,” said George, whose expression in Matt’s left side quadrant showed he was alert to the danger that Earth might have given rise to an alien-killing microbe. “Elegant Vessel is lonely. It needs company. Just like your Mata Hari needed the companionship of Gatekeeper. She has functioned better since his arrival. Right?”

  The crocodile snout of BattleMind opened, closed, then opened with a guttural sigh. “Tracking the logic of you lifeforms is both disgusting and tedious. You are correct. Elegant Vessel may accompany us. It will provide me with the level of intelligence that is sadly lacking among you organics. And yes, Mata Hari’s functioning has improved since she began showing these organic emotion elements.” It unwrapped its tail from the stone block. “Do you need transport, Elegant Vessel?”

  “Yes, since this globular form lacks Nullgrav capability. But one of your organics can carry me. My weight is one-tenth that of a living master.”

  “George,” Matt said aloud, as his fatigue from BattleMind’s harshness made him doubt his ability to act as a beast of burden. “Will you carry this AI’s globe?”

  “Sure Matt. I’ve got the muscles for it.”

  His Irish combat mate stepped forward, waited for a red light pulse from the AI, then wrapped his armor-covered arms around the meter tall globe and lifted. “Ummph,” he muttered. “About fifty kilos it is. Not terrible. Can manage to get it to the shuttle.”

  BattleMind’s holo shape already stood at the open entry to the AI’s chamber. “Follow.”

  Mata Hari, Matt, and George with the Elegant Vessel AI followed the giant dragon out of the room, then up the spiraling rampway to the interior corridor of the yellow stone dome. As he walked, Matt gave thanks that he’d never thought-imaged the shape of Sol system or Earth or Saturn to the attention of BattleMind. Nor would he even mentally muse about that now. The last thing any of them needed was a T’Chak AI hell-bent on destroying Earth, or a planet like Earth, for its sin of killing its masters. Thinking of the billions of Earth-like planets in the Milky Way, and the variable numbers of planets that circled almost every one of the 400 billion stars in the Milky Way, Matt was sure he could divert any speculation by BattleMind about disease origins. After all, its primary purpose was to fight and destroy the Anarchate. And Stage Three of the plan he had presented to BattleMind long ago provided for just such a galaxy-wide campaign.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Eliana splashed lake water at Matt as they, along with George and Suzanne, swam like fish in the small lake created by Gatekeeper. The Omega AI’s holo sat nearby on a bench with Mata Hari, while Elegant Vessel roamed the park’s tree and brush zones as if seeking the secret of its lifeweb assemblage. The ancient T’Chak AI now moved atop a Nullgrav plate. While friendly to them all, it seemed most interested in the frogs, lily pads and small insects that Gatekeeper had kidnapped from Morrigan. But . . . where was Matt? He’d gone underwater after her splash and—

  Water spouted from Matt’s mouth as he surfaced in front of her. It hit the middle of her face. “Got you!” he said with a wide smile.

  She reached out and grabbed his wide shoulders, then pulled his nude body close to her own. Blinking water out of her eyes, she stuck out her tongue. “But now I’ve got you! You don’t get away, not without paying a price.”

  To the side George had likewise surfaced beside a freckled Suzanne as she wrung water out of her long yellow tresses. Their two friends glanced their way a moment, then turned to water tickling each other.

  “What price?” Matt said as her wrapped his strong arms about her waist as they stood belly deep in the shallow part of the lake. His deep brown eyes fixed on her, only on her even though Suzanne’s naked form was no doubt attractive to any male. She loved that about Matt, how he could focus intensely and to the exclusion of all else. Whether it was the overthrow of the Anarchate, the freeing of harvester captives or the pleasuring of her last night, their last night before emergence in the Cluster Prime of the Small Magellanic Cloud.

  “Just a kiss, my love,” she said, reaching up to caress his left cheek. It felt stubbly. But Matt had rejected the idea of growing a full beard like George’s black spade that lent depth to his Irish brogue accent.

  Matt leaned down, lifted her up a half foot and kissed her deeply, his tongue toying with her tongue. It was a loving kiss, just as his gentle hug was a sign of appreciation. But being a normal male, she felt his arousal against her belly. All men were this way, she had learned while still in school. Most women came into their own needs later in life. As she had, in a few affairs before departing on her search for a Vigilante to save Halcyon from the Stripper mining machine that the Halicene Conglomerate had emplaced. But these last four months with Matt, and the months before that as they fell in love during the battle for Halcyon, had brought her to a fuller awareness of her ability to respond to a loving man. With deep regret she pulled back from the kiss.

  “Thank you, my Matthew. The price has been more than paid.”

  He grinned, ran one hand slowly up her bare back, then lifted it clear of the water to cup her left cheek in the same way she still cupped his cheek. “You have helped me heal, my beauty. Thank you.”

  She gasped, recalling his memory of the last time he’d been with his parents and four sisters. She felt new wetness in her eyes. “So glad to know that, dear Matthew. But now . . . shall we join George and Suzanne for that picnic lunch Suzanne made for today? Her homemade bread is a wonder.”

  “Yes, most definitely we should enjoy this meal.” Letting go of her, Matt took her left hand and walked with her to the shore of the lake. “Too bad Mata Hari and Gatekeeper cannot enjoy the taste sensations of solid food.”

  Mata Hari looked his way, dressed now in another summer dress with a French lace pattern, courtesy of Suzanne’s pattern book. “But Matthew, I can enjoy the taste of food. If you don’t mind my use of optical neurolinking to your mind.”

  “Go ahead, link in,” Matt said with a chuckle as he bent down to pick up his yukata robe. “This robe leaves enough skin showing for you to do that.”

  Eliana wrapped her skirt around her waist and decided to go topless, as Suzanne was doing. After all, they had both seen each other’s man without clothes as they exited from their combat suits. And none of them were skin-phobic, unlike some human cultures. George, however, did like to wear his red and tan kilt whose pattern belonged to a Scottish relative. That still left plenty of hairy chest and black beard for her to appreciate. From a distance, of course. She and Suzanne had set the rules for dealing with their men shortly after leaving Megadeen and embarking on this long pilgrimage to the Magellanic Clouds. They had their time together as wo
men, discussing food recipes and embroidery and board games they both liked, while the men spent their time in combat practice and in training George on the fine points of being in neurolink with his combat suit and its panoply of weapons. The evening meals they often shared, enlivened by the wine and beer given them by the Morrigan governor, made for a five nova meal anytime they wished.

  George looked up at her from the dark green grass where he and Suzanne now sat. “A platinum Standard for your thoughts?”

  She sat down beside Matt and smiled at Suzanne and George. “No charge. This time. I was just thinking how blessed Matt and I are to have friends like you two. I am more open-minded than before I left Halcyon, and Matt loves his foot races with you, George!”

  Suzanne laughed, her mezzo soprano voice a delight to hear. “And you, dear Eliana, are a wonder with research algorithms!”

  They laughed together, then began sharing the food hidden away inside a basket of branches taken from a tree native to Morrigan. Eliana hoped their time in Cluster Prime could be as peaceful and joyful as the present. But the unknown is always a surprise, and often dangerous she reminded herself. Still, they had spent four months in traveling 197,000 light years to the Small Magellanic Cloud, most of it in a peaceful manner. Those months she would always cherish.

  Matt sat naked in the Interlock Pit, the fiber optic cable snugged into his neck socket, his hands resting on the control surfaces of his chair. Not yet in ocean-time, he felt shaky. The slow virus had hit him with a bout of diabetes a few days ago. The antiviral nanoDocs in his body usually did well to keep his biochemistry in balance, and to provide him with surge energy during a fight. But this ‘slow virus’ was a real bother. Well, maybe Eliana’s genetics work with Mata Hari would develop a vaccine. Or a Hunter-Killer retrovirus tuned to track down and kill only the slow virus. He hoped so. Anything that interfered with his ability to protect his three organic friends, while also working with the four AIs now aboard Mata Hari, that was what mattered most to him. To defend life, to destroy those who would enslave, it was a simple motto. But enough for him.