Shadows of Golstar (5 page)

The suspected vice-president in-charge of SolGen
product marketing was then confronted with the evidence. The tearful company
officer immediately confessed and implicated a number of SynthEnGen employees.
He was promptly arrested. The now ex-SolGen officer, along with the accused
SynthEnGen employees, was residing in the only jail on the planet,
awaiting a lengthy trial. The daughter was committed to a long-term recovery
hospice.    

The planetary authorities, as a result of information
provided by Owens, were attempting to continue the investigation. Other than
uncovering how the terminal’s security was breached, Owens was doubtful
anything further could be achieved. He believed all guilty parties had been
apprehended. Now, it was only a matter of determining the damages SynthEnGen
would have to pay SolGen.  The local courts could easily handle that.

All in all, it had been one of the simplest cases he
had ever investigated. In their inexperience and naiveté, the SolGen officers
and security had not followed basic investigation principles and overlooked
many obvious clues. He was almost ashamed to accept his fee, well almost.

Smiling at this thought, Owens asked Santee, “Have
your people reviewed the recommendations that I included in my report? Some key
changes in the way you internally disseminate information on product
development would be helpful in preventing any reoccurrences of the corporate
espionage you experienced. I’ve also included a few suggestions on how you can
improve your personnel background and security clearance procedures. I know my
recommendations are unsolicited, but I thought they might be helpful... no
additional fee of course, all part of the service.”

Santee nodded energetically, “Yes indeed. The Board of
Directors and Security have reviewed your suggestions and saw the merit in
them.”

“Good, I’m glad that they think so.”

“Absolutely, and I extend to you their sincere thanks.
Corporate staff has been working with Security, and I’m happy to say we’ve
already begun to implement a number of your improvements. With this breach
uncovered, the corporation is now focused on improving our security procedures
and I fully expect we’ll have most, if not all of them in place by the end of
the year.”

His voice lowered in a conspiratorial tone said, “I
admit to you that I was a little surprised we didn’t think of several of them
ourselves, but having little experience with this kind of...” He trailed off
with a slight frown crossing his brow. Then, his expression clearing, he said,
“In any case, with the information we’ve already found through your recommended
changes in our employee background screening process, there will be few
personnel changes in the very near future.”    

He paused and smiled, “Not to change the subject, but
I wanted you to know the final installment of your fee was transferred to your
account this morning and…” his smile widened, “with the unanimous approval of
the Board, along with your fee, we added a ten percent bonus.” 
  

Owens was surprised, “That is very generous, but not…”

“Hell, you saved our corporate butts, Son, plain and
simple,” Willens interrupted. “I admit I’m rather fond of mine and thanks to
you, I get to keep it. So, just call it an added payment for your suggestions
on security. It would have cost us a lot more to call in a consultant to come
up with the same recommendations that you’ve thoughtfully provided us. We want
you to take the money with our sincere appreciation.” He winked, “And no
offense, Son, but I hope we don’t have to do business with you again anytime
soon.”

Owens chuckled, “None taken and thank you again.”

Willens then talked Owens into a farewell drink from
the well-appointed office bar. After receiving a heartfelt toast from the tiny
businessman, Owens exchanged a few final pleasantries.  Later, after
Santee took his leave, Owens quickly packed the few personal items remaining in
the office and entered the mag-lift for the last time.  

On the way down, he imagined the miniature building
maintenance crew already swarming in his vacated office, busily tearing down
the over-sized accommodations like so many termites attacking a pile of wood.
He smiled at the image and heard the soft chime that indicated he was
approaching his destination.  Still smiling, he exited the mag-lift.

On reaching the parking area, he pressed a stud on his
wrist-comp, signaling the Rialto. He was ready to leave. The sleek transport
pulled up and Owens got in. “Let’s get to the spaceport, slip seventeen; it’s
time to go home,” he instructed.    

Pulling out of the protection of the parking complex,
heavy rain pummeled Owens’s vehicle. The muffled sound of sheets of water
striking the Rialto’s insulated skin sounded like surf crashing, in the
distance. The windshield’s rain repulsers struggled to keep the passenger view
clear. The AI, not relying on visual orientation, accelerated into traffic. A
transport AI would normally connect to a traffic route control computer, but
again, with its relatively small populace, the frugal citizens of Genhome had chosen
not to install one. The Rialto’s AI instead had to rely on a variety of
on-board sensors to navigate in the rotten weather.    

Ignoring the storm, Owens closed his eyes and
relaxed.  For the first time since arriving, the rain soothed him. He was
looking forward to finally leaving dirt-side. Two months, though a relatively
short time for the SolGen case, was too long to be stuck on a planet like
Genhome. He was anxious to get back aboard his ship, the
Sherlock Holmes
. 

As a fan of old earth pulp literature and being a
private investigator, he had named it after the ancient fictional detective. It
was a late model 203, a decommissioned long-range military scout ship he had
bought at auction eight standards ago. It took a lot of time and money to refurbish
and modify it to his preferences.  

Fortunately, he had inherited a considerable amount of
money when his grandfather had died in an accident, so money hadn’t been a
hindrance. When he was finally finished with the modifications, the
Sherlock’s
original six-crew quarters had been converted into a single, spacious
stateroom. The galley had been modernized and the equipment storage compartment
was converted to moderate-sized guest quarters. The sizable main storage hold
remained untouched.    

Owens was especially proud of the ship’s engines. As a
long-range scout, it had been outfitted with subspace generators and reaction
engines larger than a civilian ship of similar size would merit. After a
thorough overhaul, she could still lay claim as being one of the fastest
non-military interstellar ships plying the space-lanes. The ship’s original,
declassified military AI had been recently upgraded.  Though lacking in
personality, it managed the ship quite satisfactorily.

 Other than the noise of the rain pounding
against the Rialto’s tough exterior, the trip was uneventful. Owens drowsily
noticed that the Rialto’s AI was unusually silent during the ride to the
spaceport. Thinking back to when he first bought the vehicle, he couldn’t
remember a time when the AI didn’t have something to say. 

The Rialto came to a smooth stop before the main
entrance to the spaceport’s docking complex. A wide, solid, dull gray metal
gate framed by winking sensor indicators barred the entrance. Still silent, the
Rialto’s AI waited for confirmation by the port’s scheduling and departures
AI.  Upon receiving an encrypted confirmation, the great slab of metal
split in two and swung inward.  The Rialto then proceeded through the
threshold, past the launch apron toward the outlying docking complex. 

Though relatively small, the docking complex was
capable of handling ten ships at any given time.
 
The complex was mostly dark, with a few
scattered service lights twinkling on skeletal gantries in the downpour. Only
three slips were currently occupied, including the one where the
Sherlock
Holmes
was secured
.
The other two docks accommodated a large
freighter and a small corporate yacht. The slips were dark and showed no
activity.

Sensing the Rialto’s approach, lights turned on and
illuminated the vehicle’s path leading to the slip assigned to Owens’
ship.
 
The rain had stopped and
shimmering reflections danced on wet metal surfaces. Pulling up to the now
brightly lit docking lift, Owens paused before getting out of the Rialto. He
said, “Since I’m going to transport you back to New Horizon with me, I want you
to run a standard pre-shutdown diagnostic check. After the diagnostics are
finished, if everything is green, go ahead and shutdown. The ship’s AI will
take care of loading the Rialto.”

The AI gave no indication that it had received Owens’
instructions. Diagnostic telltales on the master panel remained dark.  The
AI was curiously unresponsive. Owens waited a minute then repeated his command
adding a request for a verbal acknowledgment. He was mildly surprised that
there was still no response from the AI. He tried a third time, and the AI
remained mute. Owens’ brow furrowed at this unexpected, last minute
glitch.    

He pondered the AI’s lack of response. The only things
he knew of that could prevent an AI from complying with an instruction from its
owner would be either that the order would cause harm to another human being or
result from a program or hardware malfunction. Some hidden fault could have
developed Owens supposed, but he understood this was a base-level utility
program that ran interleaved throughout the AI’s highly stable software
architecture.  A glitch in that program could have serious consequences to
the AI’s functionality.

It was odd. Everything had operated normally up to the
point of stopping in front the
Sherlock Holmes
. He thought, what a time
for this to happen. He had already scheduled a departure time and didn’t want
to miss the launch window. As he stared at the dark diagnostic panel, he began
to seriously re-consider his decision to keep the Rialto. If the AI’s
operational failure was any indication, then perhaps the vehicle wasn’t in as
good a condition as he had first believed.

He then remembered another thing that he might try to
resolve or at least identify the problem. He reached over to the manual
override on AI control panel. It would shut down the higher logic functions and
allow base-level diagnostics to be initiated manually.  As his finger
moved toward the control pad, the AI abruptly announced, “Boss, we need to
talk.  Please, don’t shut me down until you’ve heard what I have to say.”

Owens blinked in momentary puzzlement.  Now this
was really getting weird. He had never heard of an AI responding in this way.
His hand still hovered over the manual override switch. He ignored the strange
request and instead repeated his command to begin diagnostics. Immediately, the
AI repeated its need to talk.  

Hesitantly, Owens withdrew his hand and ran it through
his thick, black hair. His cobalt blue eyes narrowed in irritation. “I don’t
understand this.  You’re supposed to be a class 6, aren’t you? Your matrix
is loaded with a standard AI program overlay and should be subject to my
orders. As you just referred to me, I’m the boss, and I gave you an authorized
base program instruction. You
will
execute that instruction right now,
or I’m going to pull your plug.” He again extended his hand toward the switch.

“That’s not,” the AI paused, ignoring Owens’ repeated
instruction and threat, “exactly correct. Please, if you’d just give me a
chance to explain... ”

Now irritated, Owens wondered at the AI’s unexpected
erratic behavior. He thought for a long moment, then said to himself, “What the
hell?” and drew his hand back. As he thought about the AI’s lack of obedience
and its very odd request, he grew more positive that he had made a mistake in
keeping the Rialto. However, since he still had some time before his scheduled
launch window expired, on a whim he decided to humor the deranged AI. There
would be enough time to call the ground crew to haul it away. He would store it
until he could have it repaired and sold off. Besides, he had to admit to
himself that his curiosity was now fully aroused.    

He sat back in the seat and prepared to listen.
“Alright, clarify away, but this had better be good,” he told the AI.

“First I have a confession to make. My AI personality
is a little different from the norm; it was not created from a set of standard
factory specs. You see, instead of being stamped from a commercial artificial
personality pattern, yours truly was created by using a template derived from a
living human.”

“Oh shit,” this was the last thing he had expected to
hear. Owens was completely caught off-guard and began to evaluate the legal
implications. If what the AI said was true, then some serious laws had been
broken.

Ignoring Owens’ comment and dumbstruck expression, the
AI continued, “The human’s name was, or rather still is Heclo Joulez. It was
his personality analog that was incorporated into my system six months ago. The
original Heclo was placed in cryo-suspension shortly after that. He was the
legal owner of this Rialto before you. He also happened to own the only
licensed AI repair facility on Genhome.”

Owens’ mind finally grasped what the AI was saying and
his concern grew. Use of a living person’s identity pattern in an AI was
illegal... illegal in a big way. He could be implicated, and that would mean
real legal trouble. He was about to interrupt, but then thought better of it
and decided to continue listening, at least for a while longer. Old habits die
hard. The cop in him wanted the whole story.