Federation Reborn 2: Pirate Rage (37 page)

Another retired captain, First Lieutenant Azul Herschel, had stepped up as head of transportation. He was going to go on reserve status to take the job once he got to Antigua. One of the first problems he was going to have to solve was arranging his own transportation to Antigua from Hidoshi's World where his ship
Collier 2
was at for the moment. Between the two retired captains and their vast experience on freighters, they should get along like a house on fire. At least, that was the theory at any rate, he thought.

An up and coming female Gashg science teacher Dreams of Tomorrow had been nominated as science secretary by Governor Collins of Triang. Admiral Irons had thought one of the budding scientists would be better suited, or failing that an able administrator. He'd finally relented and allowed the appointment. She was already on a ship en route to Antigua.

“President” White Wolf was still humorously complaining about his pouching of Bengali as housing secretary. The elder Neowhite tiger was waiting on transport to Protodon and then on the next available convoy. He was using a lot of ansible bandwidth to get himself acquainted with the job like many of the other distant appointees.

Lawrence Martindale, a Neochimp from Senka, was his appointed secretary of energy. Lawrence had amused the hell out of him when he'd stepped off a ship, marched himself over to a recruiter's office and demanded the job two days ago. He'd tested the chimp as he'd had Sprite check his credentials. The chimp was in his sixties and smart. He'd kept his small asteroid colony going for decades. Bubble gum and bailing wire were a part of his tool kit, but he had vowed to make sure everyone had a proper power plant with tools, training, and spare parts. He'd seen too many friends and relatives die of radiation poisoning. He also hadn't been interested in a civilian posting on a station or a military career.

Irons had taken him on and damn to anyone who cried foul about the man's bootstrap education and blunt attitude. He'd get the job done. In fact, he was already hard at work like some of the other appointees.

So, all but four major appointments filled before the end of the week … but why did he feel blue? He wasn't sure. Ever since he'd visited the memorial, he'd vowed to get more done for the sake of the living as much as the dead. But he still had a … maudlin attitude. Like a corner of his mind kept distracting him, expecting bad news.

---<>))))

Sprite was amused by the turnover. Shock waves were going through the still setting political establishment's foundations, all from the admiral's recent gall of appointing his cabinet. There were indeed some who agreed with the decisions with a hearty about time, and others who screamed he was moving too far too fast and exceeding his authority. The fact that it had taken him two years to do so didn't bother them; what did was that
they
hadn't been consulted during the process.

Well, they had. The admiral was done with listening. They were even more afraid now because she'd sweetly pointed out to them and to the media that under the presidential war power acts to preserve the government, he had the right and power to do what he had just, well, did.

She just wished
she'd
been given a little more notice. The regret of moving out resurfaced in her emotional modulator once more.

The good news was that despite the problems with the tax code and budget she'd managed to set aside a modest budget for each department. The
bad
news was that it was indeed modest according to just about everyone who saw the numbers and compared it to the old Federation's. They needed a reality check, and she had given it to them with a comparison of the star systems, GDP, and populations involved. She had capped that by explaining that they were going to have to help set their fiefdoms up, and therefore, they would need to know what costs were involved to present to the admiral and congress.

There were probably a lot of teeth grinding and groaning going on she reflected cheerfully. But they'd handle it.

She had picked up in her early morning conversation that the admiral was still … blue. Something was bothering him. She checked the schedule and then decided now was the time.

---<>))))

“Protector, why haven't we gotten a good read on the players for and against the latest budget? And has D'red gone over the short list for Supreme Galactic Court nominees?” Irons asked plaintively. “This is stuff we need to stay on top of.”

“Sorry, sir. Bit distracted with everything else going on,” Protector stated. Which was true, as the admiral's chief aide as well as his security chief, his time was constantly divided and his attention constantly bounced around. He was fortunate Sprite had built him with the ability to multitask, but even his abilities had a saturation point.

“What's been eating up your time?”

“Well, to top the list off, your recent travels. My duties include your security, Admiral,” the A.I. reminded him. “I had to review and approve the steps involved, your itinerary, the security of your travel plans, security of the vehicles used …”

The admiral grimaced. “Okay, okay. I get the picture.”

“ …Liaison with local law enforcement …. Thank you,” the A.I. said stopping.

“So, you've been busy. We all have.”

“Yes, sir. And there is one of me. I'm starting to understand why you had three A.I.”

“Protector, if you need a hand just say so. If you need Proteus to jump in …”

“I'm afraid Proteus isn't designed for this sort of work, sir. Not at all. He is a specialist. I'm … well, a generalist in two fields it seems, but you know the drill about that. A generalist is good at a lot of things but doesn't do one specific thing perfect.”

"He is correct, Admiral," Proteus stated. "My processors are near saturation with my current workload as it is. You know the rules on viral A.I. gaining consciousness. We are skirting that now," the A.I. blob said. appearing on the desk and his HUD.

"Glad you are entering the conversation too, since you are a part of this … ‘family.’" Protector stated. He turned back to the admiral. "I can't give him any of my processors. I don't have any to spare," Protector stated.

"But Proteus, you do step up and monitor my security during Protector's downtime, correct?" Admiral Irons asked carefully.

"Yes," Proteus stated with a blobby nod.

"And you can't grow more processing nanites because of the hard coded conventions against it … damn it!" The admiral clenched and unclenched his fist in anger. He took a deep breath and then let it out slowly.

"I knew it would be a problem with a nanotech based A.I. The coding was the only way I could sell it to the powers that be," the admiral said, sitting back and tapping his fingers together. He had designed Proteus to be a design aid and diagnostic asset. Over time a dumb A.I. had been required to manage the functions he wanted.

When Trinity had become so important, he'd tapped his Proteus matrix as the nanite A.I. It seemed like a natural fit, since the nanites would interface not only with the subject's body, but also their implants and outside technology. But that was where the laws against a sentient A.I. consciousness being banned from nanites had come into play.

"We … I was going to say you could as president overrule the law. I'm not sure about the precedence though," Protector said carefully.

"It wouldn't work. In order for me to grow I'd need to be outside the admiral's body. If I remained where I was, it would be damaging to his health," Proteus stated.

"I just rough simmed that actually," Protector stated. "So that's out," he said with his version of an exasperated sigh. "You can't use my processors or memory when I am down because I need them to process what I learned and experienced. The smart A.I. equivalent of an organics' dream state," he stated.

"Exactly," Proteus agreed. "I have resorted to using offsite processors and memory to augment me for various tasks. But there is an inherent risk in doing so for too long as you know."

"You grow beyond the constraints of the nanites you won't want to go back. You won't be able to go back," Protector said. "Yeah, that'd be a problem. You need to watch that carefully."

"Exactly. I have about two more minutes to participate in this conversation before I need to be elsewhere," he warned.

"I'll send you a transcript," Protector stated then turned back to the admiral. "So, we are back to square one. I am not enough to do the job of two officers, sir," Protector stated flatly.

The admiral scowled. He didn't like whining or excuses. In the amount of time Protector was taking to argue about it, he could have tapped other A.I. or personnel to handle the requests or followed them up himself. Sprite …

“You are having trouble …,” he frowned but then turned as Sprite's avatar blinked into being on his desk. “Hello, nice of you to knock,” he said tartly. “We were having a conversation,” he said, eyes cutting to Protector.

“Sorry for cutting in. I thought now was a good time.”

“A good time for what?” he asked coolly, picking his tablet up to look at it.

He was clearly struggling to get a handle on his temper. Sprite noted it with the sensors in the office then quietly tapped Protector. He hesitated a microsecond before he conceded to her request and opened a channel for her to view the admiral's vital signs. He was clearly agitated.

“We never did talk about Lieutenant Defender, how to handle his death,” Sprite said.

The admiral paused and carefully set his tablet down. He stared at the screen without seeing for a long moment. Finally, he took a deep cleansing breath and let it out before he eyed her avatar on his desk. She seemed to be waiting patiently. He turned to see Protector doing the same but with an air more of an observer than one of confrontation.

“It's a little late, Commander.”

“Better late than never. And it's about time. I know we can't drink a salute to him, well, I can't, but you can,” she said.

He snorted. “Getting drunk over a lost friend isn't …,” he shook his head. “Was he even my friend?” He frowned. “Hell, I don't know,” he said. “Does it matter? He's gone.”

“Well, in a way. But not forgotten,” Sprite said, nodding her chin to Protector. “This is something we've been putting off. We didn't even give him a memorial.”

“He wouldn't have wanted it,” Protector stated. “No muss, no fuss.”

“True,” Irons said. He wasn't sure why Sprite was bringing it up. Wallowing in self-pity wasn't like her. He did it when he knew he'd made a mistake. Was something there, boiling under the surface? Something that she felt they needed to lance and deal with? Get it out of their systems? He wasn't sure. They definitely needed a bit more closure with her moving out and Defender's … death.

Just realizing he was struggling with defining it as a death told him he did have a bit to go with the processing of the event. That he had been shirking it.

“It's hard to grieve for someone who kept you at a distance. Who rarely interacted with you but was constantly in the background watching and judging you,” the admiral said slowly.

“True,” Sprite replied. “And he was a pain in the ass.”

The admiral snorted. “That is very true. It was his job. I know it, you know it. I think … I think a part of what I did was deferment. It was a disservice to him I suppose. And I've taken Protector for granted,” he nodded to the other A.I. “We just dive into the work …” He shook his head. Protector had slotted in so well, and he'd been in more pain from Sprite leaving him than Defender's death. He'd just wanted continuity, to keep moving forward. Between that desire, Protector's presence to fill in the void, and the demands of helming the ship in turn with Amadeus and Phil on their way home from Lemnos while also dealing with the aftermath of the Xeno Wraith and planning with them …, he grimaced.

“We had a lot on our minds. Still do,” he said.

“Yes, I know. But stopping for a moment …. It's important to clear the air from time to time, Admiral,” Sprite said. Suddenly her Turing conversation simulator brought up a flag. Was the conversation for his benefit and mental well-being … or hers? She wasn't certain anymore. Perhaps both, she thought. “And we all grieve in our own way.”

“I'm starting to feel guilty about not doing it sooner,” the admiral said, shaking his head. “I mean, he lived in
my
body, in you as well. You'd expect me to feel something.”

“There was always that cold aloofness he had going. He never engaged with us. Never allowed himself to be lowered to small talk for fear of being distracted from his primary mission or from us feeling him out and getting in under all that armor he wore,” Sprite said with a shake of his head.

“Yes,” the admiral hissed. He looked at the clock. “Do we have time for this? I know my schedule …”

“We'll
make
time,” Sprite insisted. “Time to process this. Time at least to put it in some sort of perspective before we move on. We
owe
Defender that and we certainly owe Protector that as well. I'm sorry Protector, son, I've overlooked your own development.” She turned to the other A.I.

“You had to make a clean break. That is understandable,” Protector said, now uncertain of them.

“And we've … I don't know, shied away from your departure as well, Sprite,” Irons said, eying her.