by C H Gideon
She groaned. That only exacerbated things.
In his chambers, there wasn’t anyone around to play to. Publicly, he might be a prick, a demanding leader, but privately, he was a tyrant. He demanded obedience. Reverence, even.
Jiya had often wondered if her father suffered from some form of megalomania. More often than she’d thought that, she’d questioned whether sociopathic tendencies could be inherited.
Gal’s knock on her father’s door swept that thought away. There was a muttered reply from inside, and Gal opened the door, ushering Jiya in.
“We’ll be right outside this door,” he warned, staring at her with hard eyes. “Should you do anything untoward, I will personally see you suffer for it.”
Before she could reply, the aide backed out the door and closed it behind him.
Jiya sucked in a deep breath to steel her nerves and glanced around the sitting area arranged nearest the door. Her father stood at the window on the other side of the room, staring out without moving or saying a word.
She stood patiently, waiting for him to say something or move.
The act was familiar, and she found herself relaxing. She’d been in this exact same position a hundred times. All she had to do was wait him out.
A few minutes later, her patience paid off. He cleared his throat and spun slowly, let his gaze drift for a moment before it met hers. He motioned to the small chair that sat across from the coffee table with a built-in viewscreen and the couch where her father preferred to sit.
She strode over and stood in front of the chair, waiting for him to take his seat first. Once he had, she settled in and cradled her hands on her lap. The ritual was strangely comforting.
“This was all a grave mistake,” Lemaire told his daughter, leaning forward as if to impress his disappointment upon her.
“I agree,” Jiya answered, and she meant it—although not for the same reason he did.
“Have you nothing else to say for yourself?”
Jiya bit back what she really wanted to say and let her tongue wrap itself around the words she should say instead.
Politics was all a game, and as much as she hated it, she’d grown up in this political world of her father’s. She knew how to play.
“I’m sorry,” she answered. “I’d hoped to make you proud, to show you I’d accomplished something with myself despite my defiance. I hadn’t meant to offend you or put you or your government on the defensive.”
“But that’s exactly what you did,” he told her, shaking his head. “You made me look like a fool in front of Sumor and V’ariat. You should have come to me, and me alone.” He grunted and leaned back into the couch. “Now… Now, I’m forced to make an example of you, child.”
Jiya shuddered at that. While she didn’t fear her father, she’d never heard him be quite so blunt about his intentions before. Her imagination ran wild right then, and she couldn’t do anything to rein it in.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean I can’t let you get away with this,” he answered, a tinge of frost in his voice. “It was one thing when you ran away the last time, that is, but it’s something entirely different to return to my country at the head of an invading enemy and try to extort resources.”
She stiffened in her seat, head whirling at the accusation. “That wasn’t what we were doing.” So much for pacifying him.
“No?” he asked, jabbing a finger her direction. “I see it differently, as do the Toller and Melowi governments. In the short time since the meeting, both leaders have ramped up propaganda against us, believing you and your pathetic Jonny taxi android alien to be the solution to their problems. Problems that include us—Marianas.”
He chuckled, the sound more like a dog’s growl than a laugh.
“They think they can convince your alien host to provide them with weapons to overwhelm us.” Lemaire sneered and glared at Jiya. “Your own people, child. You would side with an alien and our enemies against your own people? This is treason of the highest order,” he stated. “I cannot let this go, no matter who you are to me.”
Jiya swallowed hard. She’d never seen her father so cold and callous, and she’d seen him both plenty of times.
“What are you going to do?”
He exhaled, the barest glimmer of compassion softening his wrinkled features. “While I can’t find it in myself to execute you, Jiya, I must still uphold the law.”
The word “execute” echoed in her head and Jiya hopped to her feet, head on a swivel, eyes looking around for the inevitable guards who’d try to take her into custody again.
“You can’t do this,” she sputtered.
“I can, and I must,” he replied, not wavering in his decision. “You will spend the remainder of your days in a cell, child, a prisoner of your own insolence.” He stood, so they were eye to eye again. “And although I will suffer alongside you in spirit, my will in this matter is absolute.”
Jiya kicked the chair away, it landing behind her with a thump. “I won’t let you do this,” she warned, hands up and at the ready. Her father hopped up and circled behind the couch. “Reynolds won’t let you do this.”
The door hissed behind her, and she knew the guards were coming. She clenched her fists so hard her knuckles ached. If her father wanted to lock her away, he’d have to beat her down to make it happen. She wasn’t going to go easy.
“Your android will do nothing,” Lemaire told her, motioning toward the men filling the room.
In the arms of two of the guards hung Reynolds. Jiya gasped at seeing him dangling there, limp and silent.
“What did you do to him?” she shouted.
A handful of guards moved to her father’s side to keep her from diving at him.
“I’ve done nothing, child,” he answered. “Your savior abandoned you as soon as he was out of your sight.”
Gal Dorant grinned. “Only minutes after we locked him away, he shut himself down. We hadn’t even begun to question him, the coward.”
“Rather than stand behind you, your alien overlord fled and left you to suffer the consequences of what he’d convinced you to do,” Lemaire said with a sigh. “It’s a shame, really. I thought I’d taught you better than that, child. But no, it seems you have fallen prey to an alien con artist, using your connections for profit and leaving you behind as soon as things went south.”
The guards tossed Reynolds’ android body to the floor. It hit with a sullen thump.
Lemaire waved a hand at his men. “Secure her.”
Jiya reared back, clearing space around her to defend herself. A dozen guards moved into position. She growled in response and offered up a crazed grin.
She even felt a little sorry for the first guy who tried to lay his hands on her.
“Well, she did tell him her dad was a prick,” Tactical commented as soon as he learned of Reynolds’ and Jiya’s imprisonment.
“He didn’t expect him to be so bold about it, especially given that the other two nations are expecting him and Jiya to show up soon,” XO commented.
“Should we inform them of what’s happened?” Comm asked.
“We should, but not just yet,” an unfamiliar voice said. Someone was shuffling onto the bridge.
The various Reynoldses spun—not that anyone would know—and stared at the newcomer.
General Maddox grunted and glanced around in confusion when he realized the bridge only contained a young woman, clearly not a match for the masculine voices that had been carrying on as he entered.
“Uh…”
Geroux offered a friendly smile. “It’s the AI talking,” she clarified and waved a hand toward several of the consoles. “XO, Comm, and Tactical are here now.”
Maddox raised an eyebrow. “There’s more than one AI?”
Geroux shook her head. “Nope, just the one.”
“I beg to differ,” Tactical muttered. “Why does everyone try to lump me in with the rest of these assholes?”
“Maybe because you are a
n asshole, too?” XO answered.
“The biggest,” Comm added.
Maddox split his gaze between the three stations from which the voices emanated. “This isn’t strange at all.”
“You’ll get used to it eventually,” Geroux told him.
“Doubtful,” he muttered, moving to an empty seat on the bridge. He eased into it with a grunt.
“Should you be up and about?” Geroux asked. “Has your mind…uh, settled?”
He nodded. “It’s as good as it’s going to get, I suppose.”
“How’d you know to come here?” she wondered.
“Heard Takal and Ka’nak discussing the situation in the corridor,” he answered, shrugging. “Sounds like as good a time as any to get to work.”
“Glad to hear it,” XO said. “There was some discussion as to whether to dock your pay while you slacked off.”
“He’s kidding,” Comm countered.
“Maybe,” Tactical replied, adding his two credits.
Maddox waved them off. “As much as I’m enjoying talking to empty seats, can we chit-chat later? I’m thinking we’ve more important things to do right now. Members of our crew have been captured.”
“The man’s direct,” XO said. “Seems Jiya made a good choice with this one.”
“Until he takes your job,” Tactical muttered.
Maddox ignored them. “We have a location?”
Geroux shifted in her seat, getting comfortable. “They’re in President Lemaire’s compound, although the exact location inside is unknown.” She tapped a few keys on her console, eyes scanning the information scrolling across the screen. “I’m hacking into their systems, but it’s going to take a while. They’re fairly robust, as I’m sure you know. I can’t even detect life forms within the compound’s borders.”
“Seems the president has upgraded his security since I’ve been gone.” Maddox stared at the viewscreen, taking in the 3-D map of the compound she’d plastered there. “Keep trying. What about comms?”
“What about me?” Comm asked.
The ex-general sighed. “Not you, the communication devices Jiya had inserted. Are we getting anything from it?”
“They’ve blocked communications, so there’s no contact going either direction,” Geroux told him. “I’m working on breaking the encryption on the block as well. Again, it’s going slowly.”
“How about the rest of you?” he asked, gesturing at the various AI personalities. “I presume you know what’s going on because you’re connected to your boy down below. Can you speak with the Reynolds persona?”
“I don’t like the implication that we’re not mentally stable,” Tactical replied.
“You’re about as stable as a drunken two legged-mule,” Maddox accused, “but we can’t worry about that now. Can you reach Reynolds?”
“Yes…” XO answered.
“And no,” Comm finished.
Maddox and Geroux sighed at the same time.
“What the hell have I gotten myself into?” Maddox muttered under his breath. “Clarify…please.” He added the last after a moment’s pause.
“Well, his communicator is down, the same as it is for Jiya, but because we’re all kind of…connected, we’re not entirely out of touch.”
“Then reach out and pinpoint where he is.”
“It’s not that easy,” Comm replied.
“Of course it’s not,” Maddox mumbled, clearly trying not to lose his temper. “Can’t you recall him somehow? Manifest him in place of one of you? Switch places, maybe?”
“That’s not a bad idea,” Tactical admitted.
“Then let’s do it,” Maddox pushed.
“Too bad it won’t work,” Comm said, moving his chair as if he were shaking his head.
“Oh, I’m going to regret asking why it won’t work, aren’t I?” Maddox rubbed his temples.
“Well, seeing as how we plugged him into the Jonny taxi guy, we had to make some adjustments to his piece of our psyche to keep him stable.”
Geroux giggled at that, and Comm ignored her.
“He’s programmed to assimilate to an android body,” Comm explained. “We could transfer his consciousness back into the whole, but it would cause widespread system failures until he adjusted.”
“How long would those take to resolve?” Geroux asked.
“Could be an hour, could be a month,” XO answered. “Really depends on how he reacts to our…uh, already existing issues.”
“So, you’re saying if we bring him up, we might break all of you for an indefinite amount of time?” Maddox questioned.
“That’s about right, yeah.”
“Then that’s not going to suit our needs,” Maddox mumbled and leaned back in his chair to stare at the ceiling.
“Too bad we don’t have another android to plug him into,” Geroux said wistfully.
“Who says we don’t?” Takal asked over the comm, clearly having been listening in.
Maddox glanced around, his face scrunched. “Is that you, Takal? Where are you?”
“It is indeed, my friend,” Takal answered, drawing a grin from Maddox. “It is good to hear you are up and about. I’m in the lab.”
“I should have known you’d be here since Geroux was,” Maddox told the man. “So, what is this about you having another body for Reynolds?”
“Well, ‘body’ is a slight exaggeration,” Takal admitted. “I do, however, have a frame that is sufficient for our needs, built using one of the ship’s bots.”
“A frame?” Tactical asked, chortling. “Please tell me it looks like the Terminator after all his flesh has been melted off!”
“I don’t know who this Terminator fellow is, but if he looks like a chrome skeleton, then yes, he does,” Takal answered.
“Yes!” Tactical cheered. “Then make it so, damn it. This I want to see!”
“What will we need for transfer, Takal?” Maddox asked.
“A few minutes to tweak the frequency so it’s the same as the Jonny android system, then we’ll be good to go.”
“Do what you have to, Takal, and we’ll let the AIs take over when you’re ready.”
The comm went silent for several minutes, then Takal came back, letting them know he was finished.
“Ready to go on my end.”
Maddox waved to the room. “Okay, ghostly AI voices, do your thing, whatever that might be.”
Chapter Eighteen
“I’m not sure whether to be excited or disgusted,” Reynolds muttered, holding his skeletal metal arms up and staring at them through bug eyes that seemed to jut from the new android frame’s sockets.
“Definitely Terminator chic,” Tactical said after assessing the new nowhere-near-finished body. “I like it. Now if you can just plug in Arnold’s voice. Sarah Connor?”
Takal simply glanced around, looking lost.
“Couldn’t you have slapped a loin cloth on this bad boy or something?” Reynolds asked. “My shiny pelvic bone is all out there for the world to see like a Robocop Elvis impersonator. We run a PG-rated ship, thank you very much.”
“We can slip you into a uniform if it bothers you,” Takal told the AI, who spun around, still examining his chassis.
“Is it really an issue right now?” Maddox interrupted, pushing past Takal to stand before Reynolds. “Jiya is trapped down there still. We need to get her out.” He gestured to Reynolds’ gleaming new body. “All your preening can wait, right?”
Reynolds nodded. “No, you’re right. We need to focus on Jiya. Unfortunately, I’m not sure where they took her.”
“Wait!” Geroux asked, her voice cracking on the last. “What do you mean you don’t know where she is? Weren’t you with her?”
“We were separated after the meeting,” Reynolds answered. “I was taken to a cell, and I’m not sure where she was hauled off to. I suspect that, despite her father’s frustration and anger with her, he would still be obliged to treat her like family. She’s likely in the main house or nearby rat
her than in another cell.”
“So, there’s still no nuking the compound from orbit?” Tactical asked.
“No.”
“Never mind,” Maddox said, cutting them all off. “If we don’t know where she is and can’t set up an infiltration team to snatch her back, then we don’t have any choice but to reach out to Lemaire.”
“You truly expect him to listen to anything we have to say?” Takal asked. “Half the crew are political dissidents and the other half is a split-personality AI who made him look like a fool before his neighboring government leaders.”
“So, you’re saying he might be a bit miffed at us all?” Reynolds asked.
“To put it mildly,” Takal answered.
“Then the nice act is out.” Reynolds stalked over to the viewscreen. “Time to bluff and bluster.”
“Wait!” Geroux called, a hand raised. “I have an idea.”
“Is it a good one?” Comm asked.
She shrugged. “Do we have any good ones right now?”
“Probably not,” he replied. “Carry on.”
“You’re still linked to the Jonny taxi body, right?”
Reynolds nodded. “We can use that connection to our advantage.”
“How’s that?” Comm asked. “The connection is ephemeral, not some static line. It might not be blocked by Lemaire’s security shielding, but there’s no way to trace the Jonny body’s location through it.”
“Don’t need the location to do what I’m thinking,” Geroux replied, grinning all the while.
“Explain,” Maddox requested matter-of-factly.
“Well, it will require Reynolds to go back to the Jonny android body first.”
“Oh, hell no!” Reynolds exclaimed, wagging a finger at Geroux. “I say we send Tactical down to the planet.”
“But you’re the one already assimilated to the body,” she argued. “That means it needs to be you.”
Reynolds sighed, his voice a discordant hum. “Fine. I’ll do it, although I still don’t understand why I have to.”
“Because I’m going to give you a virus to carry down with you.”
“Great!” Reynolds moaned. “It’s starting to make sense, but be gentle.”