Such were the combat variant’s thoughts as a slight disturbance of the surrounding air caused him to whirl. But, rather than the antitechnic cutthroat that the operative expected to see, Du Phan emerged from behind the diaphanous curtain that separated the suite from the veranda. The assassin was naked, delightfully so, and cupped her breasts suggestively. “I’m yours,” she said. “If you’re man enough to take me.”
What ensued was more like hand-to-hand combat than an act of lovemaking, but that was what both of them wanted and unreservedly enjoyed. Finally, physically spent, and still intertwined with an exhausted Phan, Shaz discovered that his subconscious mind had been hard at work. A plan was ready and waiting. It was a good plan, no, a brilliant plan, and one so devious that even Tepho would admire it! The thought pleased him—and the combat variant drifted off to sleep.
The spaceship Shewhoswimsthevoid
The scene within the shelter was grim as Norr removed Logos from her pack and held the coat up for Rebo to slip his arms into. “What’s going on?” the computer demanded.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m getting ready to go for a little walk,” the runner replied soothingly, “and I thought you’d want to come along.”
“A walk?” Logos inquired suspiciously. “Why would I want to go for a walk? Especially on a primitive tub like this one?”
“Because,” Rebo answered patiently, “you might prove useful for once.”
“Useful?” the AI responded doubtfully. “In what way?”
“Some outlaws have taken up residence on the ship,”
Norr explained gently. “They barricaded themselves into the Security Control Center, and the right combination of numbers is required in order to enter.”
“So?” Logos said from the vicinity of Rebo’s neck. “What does that have to do with me?”
“Well,” the runner replied, as he checked to ensure that the Hogger was loaded. “If they manage to kill us, you’ll wind up as little more than a bib for one of the cannibals, or be tossed onto a rubbish heap. So, given the fact that you constitute an artifi?cial intelligence, and the ship is controlled by an artifi?cial intelligence, I fi?gured you could lend a hand. Or a sleeve as the case might be.”
The AI had been forced to enter into relationships with a wide variety of human beings over the past thousand years and felt pretty sure that he could cut some sort of deal with the outlaws if that became necessary. It didn’t serve his purposes to say so, however, so he didn’t. “Okay,” Logos agreed.
“What do you have in mind?”
The Hogger made a loud click as Rebo closed the breech and slid the weapon back into the cross-draw holster. “All you have to do,” Rebo explained soothingly, “is to make contact with the ship and request access to the Security Control Center.”
“Okay,” the AI replied hesitantly. “But I can’t promise anything. . . . Who knows what sort of operating system this piece of feces is running? Two-way communication may be impossible.”
“Well, do your best,” Rebo responded patiently. “And one more thing . . . This ‘piece of feces’ is the only thing between you and a long, lonely death among the stars. We biologicals will starve to death if something goes awry—but it’s my guess that you’ll live a lot longer. So, be nice.”
“I’ll do what I can,” the computer promised resentfully.
“There’s no need to threaten me.”
“Good,” Norr put in matter-of-factly. “Come on . . . Let’s fi?nd some sort of hookup so you can chat with the ship.”
There wasn’t that much for Shewhoswimsto do while transiting hyperspace, which was why the AI was busy working on her epic song-poem The Chant of the Constellations, when the irritation fi?rst began. She tried to dismiss the sensation as still another manifestation of old age and fi?gured that the feeling would go away, but the input continued. Finally, having been unable to ignore the stimulus, the spaceship broke away from her composition to discover that something very unusual was under way. It seemed that there was an incoming binary message on com channel 17296.4, which, according to the schematic that immediately mapped itself onto her electronic brain, was a utility circuit that terminated in a passageway adjacent to the main hold. That suggested a prank by one of the passengers, or would have, except none of them possessed the capacity to send a digital message. So, curious as to what was trying to make contact with her and why, Shewhoswims opened the circuit. There was a moment of confusion as both AIs sorted through various communications protocols as they searched for one that the other entity could process. Finally, by using what the ship considered to be an ancient code, the AIs were able to interact. Something that took place at blinding speeds even as Rebo stood next to a jack panel and began to fi?dget. Once it became clear who was on the other end of the circuit, Shewhoswims was both surprised and hostile. “You remain functional? I thought the humans destroyed you.”
“They tried,” Logos replied laconically. “But I’m hard to kill.”
“So it would seem,” the spaceship responded disapprovingly. “What do you want?”
“It isn’t what I want, but rather what my biological companions want,” Logos replied. “It seems that some rather unpleasant humans have taken up residence in your Security Control Center. The passengers in the hold would like you to terminate the criminals, or failing that, to open the hatch that protects them.”
Shewhoswims spent a nanosecond checking the veracity of the other computer’s claims, and discovered that the human vermin had infected the Security Center. “It appears that you are correct. . . . Unauthorized biologicals are living in what is supposed to be a secured area. As to whether they deserve execution, I really couldn’t say. . . . Humans kill each other all the time. They seem to enjoy it. Who’s to say whether such terminations are justifi?ed? Besides, my programming specifi?cally prohibits taking human life, other than for the purpose of self-defense. And, although they are annoying, the individuals in the Security Control Center don’t constitute a signifi?cant threat to my survival.”
“Understood,” Logos replied. “Which brings us to the second option. If you would be so kind as to open the hatch that protects the Control Center—my companions will enter and dispatch the brigands themselves. Thereby eliminating what you yourself referred to as an annoyance.”
It was a tempting proposition, and having found nothing in her programming to prohibit such an arrangement, the ship was tempted to acquiesce. A single obstacle stood in the way. “Tell me something,” Shewhoswims temporized.
“Where are you and your companions headed?”
“To Derius,” the other AI answered smoothly. “Like everyone else aboard this ship.”
“But is that your ultimate destination?” the ship wanted to know. “Or, is Derius a waypoint on a longer journey?”
“Why do you ask?” Logos responded suspiciously. “What difference does it make?”
“My interaction with you activated some previously latent programming,” Shewhoswims answered honestly. “It seems I am specifi?cally prohibited from ‘knowingly transporting, assisting, or otherwise providing aid to any artifi?cial intelligence that can control, actuate, or coordinate star gates, star gate clusters, or star gate systems.’ A stricture that must have been written into my operating system as a consequence of the civil unrest that followed Emperor Hios’s death.”