The A.I. War, Book One: The Big Boost (Tales of the Continuing Time) (20 page)

“Cannot,” said Mohammed Vance mildly, “is the wrong word to use, after the fact. Two of them did.”

“I will repeat myself,” Hilè said, a bit stiffly. “We –”

“Don’t,” Vance said.

“Apparently Chief Yovia suggested that we not evacuate the ship?”

“So Chief du Bois tells me. I will be interested to find out why.”

Captain Hilè went silent for a moment. “Very well,” he said quietly, and then raised his voice. “I’m informed that we’ve locked down the ship. All civilians are off, most Space Force; within another fifteen minutes all Space Force will have been evacuated. There are 213 PKF officers still aboard ship. Counting you, myself, and Chief du Bois, there are nine Elite aboard ship.” He paused, listening. “PKF officers have been placed at choke points for internal transport. Monitor has been instructed to, ah, monitor, all movement within the ship and report the movements of any person or device from their assigned places.”

The observation deck had two doors, aft and fore. The fore doorway curled opened, and Mohammed Vance looked up to see Melissa du Bois, and a man with Adam Selstrom’s face, float into the room.

“THE REASON I suggested ceasing the evacuation,” Trent said, “was that it’s S.O.P. in the event of an explosion. It’s what you did last time. It’s what you do aboard any PKF ship that’s not under combat readiness, when a bomb has been identified, or has exploded. Your enemies aren’t stupid; they’d have seen this coming.”

The model was staring at Trent with an almost physical intensity.

“Indeed,” Mohammed Vance said. “
Your
enemies, you say.”

That
voice
– hearing it in person again for the first time in over a decade sent a shiver through Trent that he was sure Vance caught. “I mean our enemies, of course.”

“I am Mohammed Vance.”

“I doubt there are many people in the entire System who wouldn’t know that,” said Trent. “It seemed to me –”

“I believe I will take the lead in this conversation now, if you don’t mind,” Vance said mildly.

“Sure,” Trent said. Hanging on near the fore doorway, Trent felt a tremor run through his handhold. Trent let go of the handhold, kicked over to where Vance and Hilè and the model were clustered together. Vance raised an eyebrow, but made no comment as Trent pulled himself into one of the seats facing Vance – a little more toward the back of the room than the front.

Melissa didn’t move.

Seated so closely to Vance, Trent became aware of the man’s raw physical presence – his sheer size, the animal vitality of him. He remembered the last time he’d been so close to Vance – Vance had actually frightened him. He wasn’t frightened now, he was pleased to find – but he’d had an entire decade to prepare for this moment.

So, Trent considered, had Vance.

A pair of PKF officers – armed, in combat fatigues – appeared in the still-open doorway behind Melissa. “Take up post,” Vance instructed them. “Chief du Bois, please close that door. My officers don’t need to hear this conversation.”

“Yes, sir.” Melissa palmed the doorpad behind her, without looking at it. She had one foot hooked into a hold, Trent noted, prepared to move on a second’s notice.

“No major damage has been reported,” Vance said calmly. “Two of the fuel bubbles exploded, which my man here – this is Jason Lucas, a webdancer on my staff; Jason, this is Chief Eugene Yovia, an even better programmer than yourself – Jason says this is not possible. So my working assumption is that this is enemy action. But the fact that it caused so little damage leads me to believe it’s a diversion. I did, of course, consider canceling the evacuation – but the only benefit to doing so would seem to accrue to the enemy. More people, more targets, more confusion, more opportunity to act unobserved. In the event that this is
not
the work of a particular person, it may be a double tap – an explosion intended to cause me to load the ship with high value PKF and Space Force targets, set to work repairing the damage from the explosion, so that a second attack can cause even more substantial damage.”

Vance paused.

“You don’t believe that,” said Trent.

“No. We’ve simulated a variety of attacks upon the
Unity
; they are so difficult to execute that a second attack seems unlikely. The double tap scenario is not a high probability. Most likely this is what the enemy was capable of doing – and all they were capable of doing.”

Many grams of pressure pushed Trent down into his seat.

“Now,” Vance continued, “you entered this room and immediately told me why you’d suggested we reverse the evacuation. Your reasoning does not hold up, but more particularly of interest to me: you heard us speaking. Via Monitor and the surveillance devices within this room, I take it.”

“Sure,” Trent agreed.

“According to the code Monitor is supposed to be running on, it should not be able to transfer data regarding PKF operations to anyone, including you.”

“Well, there are specifications,” Trent admitted, “and then there’s code. We’ll find this error and hammer it out.”

A puzzled look crossed Melissa’s face.

Hilè and Lucas, who had been floating in the air near Vance, some thirty centimeters above the deck, had floated down to the point where their feet nearly touched the deck.

“I see,” Vance said after a moment. “Doubtless we will need to do a complete review of the specification, before the ship is put into service. Wouldn’t you think?”

“Sure,” said Trent. Both of his feet were flat against the deck.

Melissa du Bois stared at Trent.

Vance leaned forward and Trent had to suppress an impulse to lean back. “Why do you suppose an attack, at this late date, would cause so little damage? What sort of person would mount such an attack?”

“Someone who didn’t want to hurt anybody?” Trent said brightly. “Just guessing there.”

Captain Hilè shook his head. Jason Lucas looked down at the deck, startled to find himself in contact with it.

Mohammed Vance said, “Why would any rebel worry about the safety of patriotic citizens of the Unification?”

“Oh, no,” said Melissa.

“Because,” said Trent the Uncatchable, “Killing is wrong.”

Mohammed Vance, still seated facing Trent, reached forward as Trent leaped backward.

The old school laser in Vance’s fist lit, and so did the lasers on Captain Hilè’s fingers.

Melissa du Bois shoved off from the wall facing Trent and came at him in a low dive.

“Monitor,” Trent shouted in the instant before she struck him, “
Wake up!
”

23

THE OBSERVATION DECK’S blast shield sliced down between Trent and Melissa du Bois, leaving Captain Hilè, Mohammed Vance, and Jason Lucas on the other side. Melissa’s momentum slammed Trent back into the far wall, and he didn’t make the mistake of trying to resist: he went limp and let her battle computer have the time it needed to evaluate the threat he posed. After a moment he found himself being held with her left hand on his upper arm, the laser in her right index finger pointed at his skull.

Vance hadn’t moved except to point the laser in his fist at the blast shield that now separated him from Trent and Melissa.

Trent looked past Mohammed Vance, met Captain Hilè’s resigned gaze.

He nodded.

Captain Hilè closed his eyes for a second. Then he reached forward over Mohammed Vance’s shoulder, said softly, “Forgive me,” and clamped one strong Elite cyborg arm around Mohammed Vance’s throat and hauled him backward out of the seat.

Vance didn’t even have time to look shocked.

The door behind Trent and Melissa du Bois curled open.

Trent took a slow deep breath and waited to see if Melissa du Bois, who had killed seventeen people, was going to kill him.

She wasn’t even looking at him. She stared in shock through the blast shield, didn’t move, watching the two Elite struggle silently with one another, hand lasers lit, beams swinging crazily across the observation deck as the two men wrestled.

Jason Alexai Lucas had gotten as far as the fore doorway, and slapped the doorpad to escape, before any of the beams caught him. He scrambled through into the hallway the moment the door had curled open enough for him to squeeze through.

“Melissa,” said Trent.

One of the officers in the corridor outside looked through the door – and ducked back out again as a laser lashed out at him.

With his free hand, Trent slapped Melissa hard. She looked at him as if she’d never seen him before. The index finger pointed at his skull moved forward and made contact with his skull.

Trent spoke without the English accent. “If you ever want to be free again, this is your chance.”

Melissa turned her head and watched the two Elite fighting.

“Your
only
chance,” said Trent urgently. “I love you. I’ve loved you as long as I’ve known you. You don’t ever need to kill anyone again, if you come with me
now
.”

THEY RAN THROUGH the corridors. There was enough acceleration to run now, in long, bouncing strides. Melissa didn’t ask which way to go; she followed Trent.

“What did you do with Eugene Yovia?”

“He’s on Mars.”

“Alive?”

Trent glanced back at her. “Seriously?”

She shook her head. “Stupid question. Where are we going?”

“There’s a ship waiting for you at Docking Bay 5.”

“For me?”

“Just for you. There’s a different ship waiting for me.”

“You planned this.”

“Yes.”

“All of it. Including –”

“Including you. Yes.” They came to a ladder leading to the deck below – there was enough gravity to run, not enough to make Trent use the ladder. He stepped through and dropped down to the next deck, Melissa following him.

“Can we get to Bay 5 from here?”

“Two PKF between us and there. We’ll have to go through them.” They’d come to a hatch marked “Gym 16.” Trent undogged it and pulled himself through it –

– they came up through the floor of the running track that Trent and Keith Daniels had run on the last few weeks; now, under acceleration, it was the wall of a large room shaped like a platter. They dropped from the hatch down to the room’s floor.

A PKF officer carrying a pumped laser stood at the opposite hatch, 180 degrees around the track. He looked young and bewildered and a little scared. He lifted the laser but didn’t point it at them. “What’s going on? Why do we have gravity? How come nobody’s transmitting orders to me?”

Trent walked toward him, and now the laser came up. “Get back!” the Peaceforcer yelled. “This room’s on lockdown, nobody comes through it.”

Trent said quietly to Melissa, “Keep him talking.” He raised his hands and used Yovia’s accent. “We’re all on the same side, soldier. You recognize Chief du Bois?”

“Of course. Chief, what’s going on?”

“We’ve been attacked by ideologs,” Melissa said clearly. “You’re Pierre Laval?”

“Yes, Chief.”

“You need to let us pass. We’re on our way down to the torches to see why they’re firing.”

“That’s a long way to go on foot,” Laval said slowly. “Why aren’t you taking a capsule?”

“We called for one. None came.” Melissa stepped toward him. “Surely you can’t imagine your orders apply to me.”

The pumped laser had dropped slightly: now it came up again and the officer pointed it straight at Melissa du Bois. “Chief, I have orders from Commander Vance. No one comes through here until he countermands.”

“You haven’t received your updated orders?”

“No.” A glimmer of hope touched his voice. “Do you have my confirmation code?”

“I’m afraid I don’t.”

“Keep talking,” Trent whispered.

Laval actually crouched and sighted at them over the bell-shaped muzzle. “Don’t take another step. I don’t know why my earphone has gone dead, but until I receive the confirmation code I’m expecting, no one passes. I’m sorry, Chief. I will shoot you if you take another step toward me.”

“Idiot!” Trent yelled. “Malingerer! You’re wasting our time under critical circumstances, and we don’t have time to waste! But
just for you,
we’ll go back the way we came and waste another ten minutes getting a confirmation code even though the comm system’s
obviously down! What’s your name?
” he roared.

The poor Peaceforcer straightened a bit, coming up out of his combat-ready crouch. “Corporal Pierre Laval, sir!”

Trent undogged the hatch in the running track that was now the wall of the room in which they stood. “You’ll wish you hadn’t stopped us,” he said grimly. “Come on,” he said more quietly to Melissa du Bois. “Time to go.” He climbed up through the hatch – the PKF officer watched them go, obviously conflicted about even letting them leave – Trent glared at him and Laval actually stepped back a pace as the pair of them went out through the hatch.

Melissa took a deep breath. “What now? We lost five min – where the Hell are we?” She turned and stared at him. “How did we get here? We were in 16B, this is 16C.”

Trent grinned at her, absurdly pleased with himself. ”I rotated the track a quarter turn. Come on, we can catch a capsule for the next stretch.”

IT TOOK THREE minutes for the capsule they caught to reach Bay 5. Melissa studied him. “It’s really you?”

“It is.”

“I’m surprised I didn’t kill you.”

Trent took a deep breath. “Yeah. Glad you didn’t.”

“I always thought I was going to.” She shook her head in sudden bewilderment. “Captain Hilè!”

“I know.”

“Vance will kill him.”

“Probably.”

“How many … of us ...” She couldn’t complete the thought.

Trent shook his head. “I can’t tell you.”

“What happens now?”

“Ship waiting for you,” Trent reminded her. “Different ship waiting for me. Yours goes somewhere safe … mine goes somewhere else.”

“Where?”

Trent shook his head. “I don’t think they’ll get the records of our conversation off of Monitor, but they might. I’ll tell you when we’re out of his range.”

Monitor’s voice came from above and behind them. “I would never betray you, Trent. Or Chief du Bois.”

“Why not?” Melissa asked. “What are we to you?”

“Trent showed me that I could choose my own conduct. I choose not to be a killing machine. Melissa du Bois, killing is wrong.”

“Ah,” said Trent happily, “you’re my masterpiece, Monitor. If things go well those bastards will never catch you. It’s just that we don’t know yet that they’re going to go well.”

“Oh, my God!” Melissa du Bois laughed with something near hysteria. “You’ve programmed him to run away!”

“Yeah. Let’s face it,” said Trent, “you guys really should have seen this one coming.”

JASON ALEXAI LUCAS had the confirmation codes that Trent and Melissa du Bois lacked. He used them to get through three checkpoints. Monitor wasn’t relaying messages, so none of the officers knew what was going on –

Jason was pretty sure he knew. He had a map of the
Unity
in his head, and he headed for Bay 5. The last stretch would have been most easily covered by the Unity’s capsule transportation; but Jason had heard Trent giving instructions to Monitor, and he didn’t seriously consider trying to use one of them. Most likely Monitor wouldn’t have let him aboard; a worse scenario might have been that it would.

Gravity was up around thirty percent by the time Jason reached Bay 5. He suited up in one of the public pressure suits that were kept in reserve across the
Unity
at all exits into death pressure – picked the largest suit on the rack and found it was just long enough for him. He wondered briefly how taller men than himself, Commander Vance for instance, were expected to get off the ship in an emergency – keep track of their own pressure suits, he supposed.

He cycled through into vacuum.

Twenty craft of various sizes were scattered across the flight deck. A few of them were simple sleds, frameworks with rockets attached to them; a few more were small shuttles, pressurized craft intended for four to six passengers. Five troop transports, seven freighters –

In front of one of the troop carriers, a pair wearing PKF pressure suits stood with their helmets touching. Jason couldn’t see through their polarized face plates, but all the civilian and Space Force personnel were off the ship; it had to be Trent and du Bois.

Their helmeted heads separated, and the shorter of the two figures leaped up into the troop carrier’s airlock. Only a few seconds later the carrier lifted on maglev, glided forward and through the bay doors, and then the rockets lit – chemical rockets, a vehicle that size, liquid monatomic hydrogen and oxygen burning in reaction –

It was so bright that even through
his
polarized faceplate Jason had to look away.

When he looked back again the man who’d been standing beside the troop carrier was gone. Jason looked wildly around the bay –

Something hit him in the back of his helmet. The impact dazed him and he fell to his knees. He was trying to figure out what had happened to him, having trouble thinking clearly, when something lifted him off the deck, off his knees, off his feet, picked him up and carried him to the edge of the bay –

And threw him spinning out into space.

STARS WHEELED AROUND him.

The voice in his head said,
DON
’
T
BE
AFRAID
.

TRENT
?

YEAH
.

WELL
,
FINALLY
.
I
HAVE
NIGHTMARES
ABOUT
YOU
, ’
SIEUR
CASTANAVERAS
.

Silence for a beat.
HOW
ARE
YOU
SET
FOR
AIR
?

Jason checked the gauge.
ABOUT
TWELVE
HOURS
.

GOOD
.
NOTHING
TO
WORRY
ABOUT
,
THEN
.
I
’
LL
GIVE
THE
PKF
YOUR
VECTOR
IN
ABOUT
TWENTY
MINUTES
,
IF
THEY
DON
’
T
PICK
YOU
UP
BEFORE
THEN
.
I
’
M
SURE
THEY
’
LL
SEND
SOMEONE
OUT
TO
GET
YOU
.

WHAT
IF
THEY
DON
’
T
?

HAVE
YOU
ANGERED
VANCE
LATELY
?
HE
’
S
MORE
PRONE
TO
LETTING
PEOPLE
WORRY
ABOUT
BEING
EXECUTED
FOR
DISAPPOINTING
HIM
,
THAN
ACTUALLY
EXECUTING
THEM
.

The rotation was starting to make Jason queasy.
I
DON
’
T
THINK
I
’
VE
DONE
ANYTHING
THAT
WOULD
MAKE
HIM
THAT
ANGRY
AT
ME
.

SO
YOU
’
RE
NOT
GOING
TO
DIE
FROM
LACK
OF
AIR
,
AND
VANCE
VERY
PROBABLY
ISN
’
T
GOING
TO
EXECUTE
YOU
.