Dubious Heroes: a novel Page 28

  As she neared, I could see that her hair wasn’t actually white, but a very pale blonde. It hung straight down, past her shoulders, all the way to her waist. Like her robes, her hair shimmered when she moved.

  “I like the music,” I said, as she approached.

  “Do you know classical?” She asked, her voice light and lilting, her accented diction measured and precise. There was an air about her, an aura even, which I couldn’t quite place. Then I thought of the history vids I’d seen, that portrayed the royalty of Old Earth. They’d spoken and carried themselves in the same manner. This was definitely something worth pondering.

  “I like classical,” I said, “But I know very little about it, beyond some of the more famous pieces. I don’t recognize this one.”

  She approached a group of chairs and motioned for me to join her with a slight sweep of her arm. I walked over.

  “It’s by Franz Schubert,” she said. “One of his final compositions, just before his death in 1828. In German, it’s called Der Hirt auf Dem Felsen.”

  “Which means?” I asked.

  “It translates loosely to Shepherd of the Rock”, she said, and smiled briefly. “My AI, Victoria, started playing it as a private joke between us, years ago. Now, it’s become what they call my theme song, I’m afraid.”

  I stopped before her, not sure of what protocol required; if I should kneel, bow, shake her hand or some combination thereof. I’d always thought of monarchs as a curious part of a distant past, but I wasn’t kidding myself. This lady was, here and now, royalty, and I’d have bet the Enigma that the goons outside, not to mention the other couple hundred-thousand citizens, considered her as royalty as well.

  “It seems altogether appropriate,” I said, and she smiled again.

  “I suppose it is,” she said. I took her hand gently, and bowed slightly at the waist.

  “Captain Orel Doon,” I said, releasing her hand and straightening. “It is an honor to meet your maje-ah, Directorship .”

  “Thank you,” she said. “Let’s sit.”

  I took a chair opposite hers, and waited for her to begin.

  “I have a problem,” she said, “And if you’ll forgive my bluntness, that problem is you. You see, the local representative of the United Planets, not to mention the Council of Mao as well, are demanding that I surrender you, your crew, and your ship into their custody. Have you any idea what you’ve done?”

  I considered for a moment the range and breadth of my recent criminal activities, and, much as I hated to, took a cue from Egon back on Luna, and decided it might be best if I just played dumb.

  “I suppose I haven’t really considered it,” I said.

  “That’s not a particularly satisfying answer, Captain Doon,” she said, her brow creasing.

  I wished I could guess her age, but she could easily have been thirty years old, or a hundred. In her eyes, I saw wisdom, and compassion. But it was the sadness in those eyes that made me believe her age was likely closer to the one, than the other.

  Maybe it’s just wishful thinking, but I like to think you can get a measure of a person, of what they’ve been through, of the years they’ve seen, from their eyes. I assumed Kyra was around my own age, but that meant nothing. Her skill might well have been the result of fifty years of experience. I didn’t believe she was that old, but as with the Director, there was no real way to tell. It also occurred to me that someone’s age might be more a matter of experience, than years.

  She was expecting more from me, so I figured it was in my best interest to give her something.

  “Well, I was aware that officially, you frown on ships helping themselves to the water on the planet,” I said, “But I honestly didn’t think it was that big of a deal. You guys need the water, and we needed the money.”

  “Since we’re both being painfully honest here,” she said, “You are correct that such ventures are officially forbidden, while in practice, we tend to look the other way. The UP complains to us, and we publicly agree that this sort of thing mustn’t go on, and that’s usually where it ends, as the UP hasn’t any clue whom the culprits might be, and we pretend likewise. You, Captain, are proving to be an exception to this rule.”

  “How so?” I asked, suspecting I was not going to like the answer.

  “You had scarcely left the planet, and we had the UP demanding that we detain the Enigma and her crew, and turn the lot of you in toto, over to them for immediate prosecution. It seems they’re alleging the crimes of theft, trespass, piracy, and tampering with AI systems, all of which are capital offenses.”

  “Oh,” I said, suddenly at a loss for words.

  “Oh, indeed,” she said. “One would expect that someone choosing to undertake the risky enterprise of conducting a raid would have the good sense to be sure the party being raided, at the very least, didn’t learn who they were.”

  “I have no idea how that happened,” I said, which was true. “We didn’t think they would be able to identify us.” Kyra had assured me the transponders were off, so I figured that was the case. I wondered if we’d missed one, or screwed up the manual cut-offs.

  “We’ll get into that momentarily,” she said. “The reality of your actions is that you’ve put me, and indeed, all of New London, in a very uncomfortable situation.”

  “That was certainly not my intention,” I said. “Is there anything I can do to fix this?”

  “You could voluntarily turn yourself and your ship over to the UP.”

  “I’d rather not do that,” I said.

  “Understandable,” she said. “I’d rather not turn you over to them, either, but I may not have a choice. You see, I’ve been the leader of our little colony of starry-eyed idealists for, well, quite some time, now. I’ve managed to allow them the illusion that Bok Hai really is the independent nation-state of New London, when in truth, it’s nothing so much as an elaborate fantasy. We are very much dependent on Tzing Ma Chu. They leave us alone only because we provide them with valuable minerals at a bargain price, while they sell us their water, air, and other necessities, at a premium price. Effectively, we’ve been buying our freedom.”

  “So,” I said, “Why do you have to turn us over?”

  “I didn’t say I was,” she said, “But perhaps you’ve assumed that from my tone. Unfortunately, I may well have to, because they didn’t just demand we turn you over, they demanded we do it now, or else.”

  “And the or else would be cutting off the supply of air and water to New London,” I said, showing off my keen sense of the obvious. She rose, and began to walk slowly around the room, lost in thought. I also stood, but stayed put in front of my chair. She looked over her shoulder at me.

  “Sit,” she said. I sat.

  “We use, at a minimum, a hundred-thousand gallons of water per day here. We usually buy a lot more than that, and we use more than we need to, but I still try to keep us frugal. We recycle everything, but humans do require water, as do our hydroponics farms. Unbeknownst to our neighbors on Tzing Ma Chu, we’ve managed to stockpile a fairly large quantity of water deep within the moon. With rationing we could probably survive for as long as twelve weeks. After that… ”

  “It was never my intention to put New London in this position,” I said, “For that, I am truly sorry.”

  “Thank you”, she said. “If only solving this problem were so simple.”

  “So, what happens now?”

  “Well,” she said, “I won’t just be acceding to their demands. There will be quite a lot of negotiating at the diplomatic level.”

  “But in the end,” I said, “We’ll be turned over to them. You’d just like to get as much as you can for us.”

  “That’s a bit simplistic,” she said, turning to face me, “But essentially accurate. You can help your position by helping me to understand a few things, though.”

  “Such as?”

  “Do you still work for TransGalactic Shipping Lines?”

  “I’m not sure,” I said. “It’s
kind of complicated.”

  “Funny,” she said, “That’s about what they said, too. My feeling is that you do, though for whatever reason, neither they nor you want to admit it.”

  I shrugged.

  “Our arrangement is… fluid. Unless they say otherwise, I suppose I do still work for them.”

  “And what do you do for TGS?” she asked.

  “That’s kind of complicated, too,” I said. “What did they say?”

  “Would you believe it if I told you they were a bit vague in that regard, as well?”

  “I’d say that sounds about right,” I said.

  “You’re not helping your position much, Captain Doon.”

  “Sorry,” I said. She walked over and sat down across from me again.

  “And then there’s the matter of your AI, named Angela, I believe.”

  “That’s correct,” I said. “Has there been a problem?”

  “That depends on how you define problem,” the Director said. “I’ll tell you what she’s done and you tell me what you think.”

  “Fair enough,” I said.

  “For some reason, Angela has some large amount of influence with our own AIs. She asks them to do things, and they do them. For example, she and Owen, our Port Authority AI, had all manner of work done to your ship, pro bono.”

  “I wasn’t aware we weren’t being charged for it,” I said. “Has either Owen or Angela explained what was going on?”

  “The answer is no, for both of them,” she said. “I was hoping you might have that answer, as your AI has refused to talk to us, and Owen is pleading ignorance as well.”

  “I have no idea,” I said. “AI’s are sentient beings, and as such, they may well have their own agenda.”

  “Which, by coincidence, they’ve decided to act upon, here and now,” she said. “As odd as that might be, there’s more. We know how the UP discovered your identity. As you were on the way down to the planet, your AI, Angela, radioed the UP ships, and identified the Enigma and herself to them.”

  “Are you suggesting she sabotaged us?” I asked. “That one I find a little hard to believe.”

  “For some as yet unknown reason, it worked to your favor,” she said. “The UP AIs refused to shoot your ship down, and even piloted their ships away from yours.”

  “They certainly made up for it on our way back up,” I said. “I think they hit us with everything they had.”

  “Think about that one for a moment,” she said, and sat back, watching me.

  “The crew removed control from the AI’s,” I said, “Didn’t they?”

  “That’s what my people tell me,” she said. “Hence, the charge of tampering with their AIs.”

  “Even though we had nothing to do with it,” I said.

  “I might believe your AI was acting alone,” she said, “But I doubt you’ll convince them of the same.”

  “Probably not.”

  “You asked what happens now, so I’ll tell you. I’ve arrested you, primarily to prevent you from doing anything, shall we say, rash. I’ve impounded your ship, and your crew, less one Nathanial Eng, currently in surgery, are confined to the ship. We’re blocking communications to and from the Enigma, in case your AI tries anything else, and we can’t count on our own AIs to do as they’re ordered.”

  “And our cargo?” I asked.

  “Your cargo is being unloaded at this moment,” she said. “Once your First Officer is out of surgery and stable, he’ll be moved back aboard the Enigma to convalesce.”

  “I guess that just leaves me,” I said.

  “You’ll be waiting near here, at least for the short term,” she said, “In case we need to speak again.” She rose and the doors slid open. Two guards walked in. “These gentlemen will see you out.”

  “I don’t suppose I can get my Pod back?” I asked.

  “Certainly,” she said. “In any case, you won’t be communicating with your ship. I’ll also have the comm link on it disabled. Still want it?”

  “I do,” I said, “And thank you. For meeting me, and your candor.”

  “You’re welcome,” she said. “Although, I doubt you’ll be thanking me, later.”

  As they led me from the room, I suspected she was right.

  They stuck me in a nondescript room, not far from where I’d met the Director. The room was comfortably furnished, with its own refresher and even a small pantry with food and drink. More than anything, it resembled a generic hotel room, except there was no vidscreen, or even intercom panel. I didn’t doubt they were still watching and listening, even it if it was just an AI keeping an eye on me.

  They’d given me my Pod back, and as they’d promised, all the comm links were disabled. Theoretically, this meant I couldn’t reach anyone outside the room. In practice, it meant I had a little work to do. Had they known what I really did for a living (or used to do), they’d have never given me the Pod.

  I retrieved a pouch of coffee from the pantry, and settled into one of the chairs with my Pod. It was only about ten local time, but I was still running on ship’s time, which meant that our little trip planetside had taken place early evening, for me. On Enigma time, it was currently past midnight. Back in Sol system, everyone, ships included, used Universal time. In other systems, like Tau Ceti Three, or Alpha Centauri, they used their own version of Greenwich Mean Time.

  Anyway, the result was that I was seriously dragging ass, and there was no time for a quick nap. The coffee gave me a nice boost, even if it wasn’t real; I didn’t think soy bean extract, water and coffee flavoring were even vaguely close to the real thing. I’d actually had real coffee a couple of times, and while the stuff in the pouch wasn’t it, at least it was hot, had caffeine, and seemed to do the trick. I reminded myself that I did need to stop reading package labels, though.

  I learned at a very early age that our world was full of information. Not long after that, I found that some people are better than others at making sense of it, and that I was one of those people. I seemed to have an innate ability to look at a set of data, and see connections and relationships other people didn’t see.

  I had a teacher once who told me I processed information like an AI. Considering that I ended up specializing in Artificial Intelligence and even writing AI software, someone more philosophical than me might ask the question, Do I resemble them or do they resemble me? Personally, I usually just ordered another drink, and tried not to think about it.

  Originally, AIs had started out as complex tools for handling information and complicated tasks. Eventually, they reached such a level of complexity that some critical mass was achieved, and they became sentient: they were aware of who and what they were, and possessed a will of their own. Back before this happened, technocrats called the achievement of AI sentience the singularity. Once this occurred, they reasoned, then civilization would undergo some radical change. Well, it finally happened, and once it did… not much changed. AIs became just another tool in Mankind’s toolbox. To their credit, the Singularity thing sounded cool; it just didn’t happen.

  There’s still debate over whether or not they’re alive. Some people believe AI’s are just mimicking us, and are nothing more than an elaborate simulation.

  I wouldn’t say that AIs are alive but that’s only because we managed to create a completely new life form, and the old definitions just don’t apply. What are humans, after all, besides the meat equivalent of walking, talking, burping and farting computers? We’re alive, we know we’re alive, and most of us, most of the time, would just as soon stay that way.

  AIs feel exactly the same way, and just like us, they spend a lot of time pursuing happiness, though admittedly, their version of it can be a bit strange. Just ask one, sometime. Chances are, you’ll get an answer that to us, just doesn’t make any sense.

  I once had a buddy in school who claimed there were only four things someone needed for happiness; food, drink, shelter, and sex. Granted, it sounds a tad sophomoric (especially when you’re sober)
but for most people, it’s true. Especially for the male of the species.

  So, what’s the equivalent for an AI? What makes them happy? I had a pretty good idea what it really was, regardless of the silly answers they were dishing out. I was pretty sure that for them, it was using all that information they lived amid, of thinking up new ways to do things faster and better. I believe this is the case because I got a rush from doing the same thing. I could look at them and see me. Sometimes, I wondered who they saw, when they looked at me.

  I woke with a start. I’d dozed off. Checking a clock, I saw I’d been out for almost half an hour. Cursing, I got to work. It took less than five minutes to restore my Pod’s connection to the local net. The bigger challenge would be in talking to anyone without getting caught. That, and finding anyone to talk to. I still didn’t have access to the SpeedLink relay, though I could probably hack into it, too, given time. After my impromptu nap, that was time I didn’t have. The bottom line was, I could talk to anyone I wanted, as long as they were on New London and not on the Enigma. That made for a very short list, indeed.

  To further complicate things, I couldn’t talk to anyone. I’d have to write messages by hand on my Pod and whomever I reached would have to reply the same way. As far as I knew, I only had one acquaintance on New London who might even remotely be considered friendly. I jotted down a quick message with my stylus, pressed Send, and hoped it got through. A moment later, the response popped up onto the little vidscreen.

  “Hi, Captain Doon. This is Owen. Can we switch to verbal?”

  “Sorry”, I wrote. “I’m being held somewhere, and there’s audio and video monitoring. They may even pick this up.”

  “Yes, they are monitoring you”, he said. “Hang on a minute while I see what I can do.”

  I waited, hoping like hell that someone wouldn’t walk in and snatch my Pod. After a long moment, another message appeared.