“They look dangerous,” the intel officer said conversationally. “Can the marines handle them?”
It was a good question, but Tyspin had other things to worry about as well. Should she treat Jepp like a head of state? Someone entitled to armed guards, even within the hull of a Confederate warship? Or refuse to admit them? And risk a confrontation? A confrontation with catastrophic results? It was a nasty decision and one she would have preferred to avoid.
But Jepp had arrived in front of the lock, and time had run out. The entire side party, which consisted of the intel officer, a chief petty officer, and a squad of smart looking marines all turned to look at her. The decision, which she would live to regret, emerged as a croak. “Let them in.” The hatch cycled open, the visitors spent the requisite time in the lock, and were admitted to the ship. Jepp, who, with the exception of his brief stay on Long Jump, had been cut off from humankind, stopped to take it in. The faces, the sounds, the faint odor of cooking all rushed to fill his senses. The admiral said something but the exprospector failed to process the words. He felt a little bit dizzy but managed to keep his feet. Those around him seemed unaware of his discomfort and led him down a long, sterile corridor.
The robots followed behind. Alpha discerned little of interest, Henry was on the lookout for some way to escape, and the Hoon, who occupied all four of the security units, was beaming data back to the shuttle. Useful data that would come in handy when the battle started. The AI was struck not by the technology that surrounded it, which was average at best, but by the diversity of the life forms that crewed the ship. At least three or four different species, if appearances were any guide. They seemed to be cooperating—to be working together—the way machines would. Something the Hoon had never witnessed before.
Veera, her heart beating faster, wondered what to do. The Hoon had accompanied them, she was fairly certain of that, but doubted that Jepp even cared. The truth was that the human had accepted the computer’s primacy—and even come to depend on it.
As for the other humans, those who ran the ship, they had no idea what they were dealing with. The Prithian glanced over her shoulder. Alpha and Henry followed along behind, backed by the ominous security units, and a squad of soldiers. What would the Hoon do if she tried to escape? Shoot her? Or ignore the whole thing? There was no way to know. It seemed prudent to wait and see what developed. As with most warships, the Ninja had no quarters for guests, but Jepp was thrilled with XO’s cabin, and never gave a moment’s thought to where the unfortunate officer had disappeared to. Though actually smaller than his compartment aboard the Sheen battleship, this space had been designed for the convenience of humans and seemed luxurious by comparison. There was a small but serviceable shower, hot water that shut itself off after three minutes had elapsed, and a stack of brand new clothing. There was crisp white underwear, three dark blue shipsuits, plus a cap with the Ninja’s star emblem on the front of it. Life was good.
When Jepp entered the cabin, and left the robots to wait in the passageway, Henry was far from surprised. Even though the human knew the Navcomp was sentient, he had always treated the AI like a machine, and assumed it would remain loyal. And, up till that very moment. Henry had been. Partly because of the programming he’d been equipped with, and partly because he chose to be. Now, with freedom all around, the Navcomp had decided to put its own interests first for a change. Veera was shown to a cabin farther down the passageway and entered without protest. That’s when the Sheen security units assigned themselves to stand guard over both cabins—two per hatch—while heavily armed marines were posted to both ends of the corridor. Tyspin’s way of keeping the machines in check.
Henry eyed the Hoon controlted robots and wondered if the AI was even aware of him. There was one way to find out. The Navcomp looked from one group of humans to the other, decided they were roughly equidistant, and turned to the right. Henry hadn’t moved more than a few feet when the Hoon made itself known. The message came via low powered intercom. ‘The unit will remain where it is.”
The command, which should have frozen the previously hijacked body right where it was, had no discernable effect. Henry addressed himself to the marines. They stared straight ahead. “My name is Henry... I am an artificial intelligence held captive by the Sheen As such, I place myself under your protection in keeping with the provisions of the Confederate Charter that covers the rights of synthetic beings.”
The Hoon didn’t approve of rogue units, had never been willing to tolerate disobedience, and wasn’t about to start now. The AI set one fourth of its addressable assets into motion. A security unit stepped forward, did a leftface, and aimed an arm-mounted energy weapon at Henry’s back. “Stop or I will shoot!”
The marines couldn’t hear the transmission, but didn’t need to. Actions spoke louder than words. They raised their assault rifles in response.
Sergeant Musa Moso wasn’t paid to make decisions, not this kind of decision, and radioed for assistance. Half a dozen laser projected red dots appeared on the Hoon controlled machines as Henry rolled toward freedom.
Jepp was whistling by the time he toweled off, got dressed, and called for Sam. The robot was nowhere to be seen. It was spending more and more time with Veera of late. The little traitor. Jepp examined his image in a small bulkhead-mounted mirror, noticed the need for a haircut, and thought about Tyspin. The idea of spending more time with the naval officer appealed to the exprospector. He headed for the hatch. It opened, and he stepped out into the corridor. The Hoon chose that moment to open fire. Henry “felt” the energy beams punch their way through his alloy back, uttered a plaintive beep, and fell facedown.
Sergeant Moso formed the word “fire,” and was just about to say it, when Jepp stepped into the passageway. The exprospector watched the energy bolts whip past, saw Henry fail, and threw himself forward. “Stop!” The envoy held his hands in the air. A collection of red dots danced across this chest. Moso didn’t know much, but he knew Jepp was a VIP, and in the line of fire. He bit the word off before it could emerge.
The Hoon verified that its target was down, processed a sense of correctness, and “felt” the harmless lasers pass through the force field’s corona to caress its metal skin. Weapons were in the process of rising when Jepp reentered the equation.
The Hoon, gratified by the extent of the human’s loyalty, was hesitant to fire through the biological’s body. The result was a stilllife tableau. And that’s how it looked when Tyspin arrived. With the exception of one of Henry’s drive wheels, which continued to whir, the scene was totally silent. Tyspin took the situation in and nodded to Moso. ‘Thank you. Sergeant, I’ll take it from here . .. Corporal, Private, safe those weapons. Get the casualty to robotics. Perhaps they can save it.”
The naval officer strode down the corridor, stopped two feet away from Jepp, and placed hands on hips. Her eyes were like lasers. “As for you, Envoy Jepp, how dare you attack a sentient aboard one of my ships!”
Jepp felt himself wilt in the face of her anger, knew it was a mistake, and drew himself up. The Hoon was watching, the human was conscious of that now, and started to sweat. His voice was tense but controlled. “A couple of things to consider, Admiral... The AI in question is, or was indentured to me under the terms of a standard contract, the body it occupies belongs to the Sheen, and I didn’t fire on anyone. Your marines will attest to that.”
The naval officer looked at Moso, who nodded. She turned back. “It seems I owe you an apology. I’m sorry. So, who fired ... and why?”