Mississippi Sector, Rhino 583
Waiting was the worst thing to do in a situation like this. It opened Gaffigan’s mind up to too many horrible possibilities. What if they’d been found out? What if their intel was going to be traded to Command or some other dangerous foe? What could they do? They couldn’t refuse a trade without outing themselves, no matter who the client was.
And then there was the situation they’d left behind: the AI hiding on the ship. Gaffigan found the prospect of it consuming his thoughts as he slouched in the copilot’s seat, listening to the near-silent whir of the air filtration system. A host need only enough complexity and an electrical control network. That declaration echoed in his mind. On the Singularity, however, that didn’t open up many possibilities.
The most obvious suspect was the ship’s central computer. It was the only computer system on board that had the necessary storage to hide an AI, but per the design standards of the Hydrian War, that computer was not integrated with the ship’s control network. In fact, the Singularity’s control network did not operate on electrical data at all. It operated by optics, which while similar, was far harder to infiltrate and interrupt. The optical signals transmitted on the cables were created from the consoles in CIC, or redundancies elsewhere. Under normal operating conditions, those signals came directly from crew input. The numerous computers that helped run analyses and calculations were completely isolated from the process.
There were exceptions. Though pitiful by the comparison of more modern ships, the Singularity did possess automated protocols which could be activated in emergency situations when the crew became unable to run the ship. Those protocols were rudimentary at best, and had to be manually activated, but they would, in an emergency situation, allow the computers to control the ship. Still, unless those protocols were activated, an AI had no chance of seizing control. Hiding in the ship’s computer would only subject an AI to an existence of isolation and helplessness.
So, there had to be another host, somewhere else an AI might hide.
What was it the Eran AI had told him? What had it said to him in the Olympia’s white-walled interrogation room?
A human body fits all necessary requirements.
Monty felt an immediate revulsion tug at his gut. A human host.
But what other explanation could there be? If the ship was incapable of acting as a host, then the AI had to be hiding in one of the crew. That’s how it got away with it, Monty realized. The crew would never question one of their own coming aboard. But who? Who had become an unwilling host to an inhuman intelligence? Who had been its victim?
The answer came in a memory dominated by the eager grin of Manhattan’s horrible, utterly perfect teeth. What better place is there to hide an AI, than commanding a ship impervious to AI control?
“Hell fires in heaven,” Monty breathed. His hands shook as he buried his face, trying to hide from this horrible realization. “That’s not possible.” And yet, it made so much sense.
Jazmine jumped a bit at the sound of Gaffigan’s voice. He’d been trying to pass the hour of waiting time by reading the farmer’s almanac he found under the pilot’s seat while Monty sat in contemplative silence.
“This is so much worse than I thought,” Gaffigan grumbled, massaging his face. If I had a worst-case scenario, this would be it.
Jazmine closed the almanac. “What’s the problem?”
“It’s the Admiral.” Monty didn’t want to believe it, but he couldn’t ignore the evidence. “The AI. It’s in his head.”
Immediately, Jazz twisted in his seat, checking that the hatch of their ship was still closed off from the station. Luckily, it was, so urgency laced the pilot’s quiet voice, “What the fuck are you talking about?”
“Bloody hell, Jazz. Just think about it!” Monty said, managing to keep his own voice down, lest anyone be watching the airlock where they were docked. “It makes perfect sense!” Now that he had considered it, the evidence was damning. “Who’s the one person we never would have suspected? The one person that has unfettered access to every single part of the ship?” It was brilliant. “And damn it all, he hasn’t been normal for the better part of a year, and we all just ignored it.” They’d been more pissed off than anything. None of them had considered that there might be a reason the Admiral had started giving strange and unpredictable orders. “But that’s when it got to him, Jazz. That’s when it happened, and that’s why I was interrogated.” Stars, this was a horrifying concept. “The Eran AI was trying to figure out if Admiral Gives had an AI in his head.”
Jazmine felt his jaw drop open. He sat there for a minute, slow to process. “That’s insane, Monty.” It was just insane. “It’s Admiral Gives for fuck’s sake.” Somehow, when push came to shove, the man was indomitable. “How would an AI have even gotten to him? He never leaves the ship.”
“Does it matter?” Monty countered. “It makes sense.” Horrible as it was, it all made perfect sense. “He’s the perfect target.” The man was incredibly intelligent, but emotionally withdrawn. An AI could play that role easily, and there was no potential for the Singularity’s equipment to oust it. In a sense, the entire ship was a buffer against detection, and since Admiral Gives rarely left the ship, the farce was easy to maintain.
“Monty, that’s crazy.” Jazmine said again. “I don’t believe that. I can’t. And if it’s true, what the hell are we supposed to do about it?” They had no way to fight an AI.
“I don’t know, but first things, first. We have to prove it.” Monty wasn’t insane. Far as he figured, this was perfectly rational. He had a theory, a horrible, dangerous theory that compromised the Singularity and everyone aboard her, but he had to prove that theory before he could act on it. He had to prove, for once and for all, that an AI was present. “We need the so-called ‘ghost’,” he made little quotes with his fingers, “to show itself.”
Thud, thud. A knock came on the outside of their craft. “It’s time,” one of the guards shouted, though his words muffled considerably by the hull.
Jazmine hesitated, but climbed out of the pilot’s seat. “Worry about it later,” he told Gaffigan. “We’ve got other issues.”
Monty knew that, but the wheels in his head were turning, and there wasn’t any stopping them. He was going to have to do something when they got back to the ship. He couldn’t just let an AI run rampant, let alone possess the ship’s commanding officer. If Manhattan was after that AI, they couldn’t afford to shelter it, no matter the circumstances. They may have gotten away in the Wilkerson Sector, but that wouldn’t happen again if the Eran AI was hellbent on capturing whichever of its counterparts had stowed away on the Singularity.
Jazmine tugged the cuffs of his jacket into place and opened up the hatch. The security guard waiting on the other side filled out his suit with nothing but toned muscle. He was bigger than the largest Marines Jazmine had ever seen, nearly the size of a bear, and that was enough to give Jazmine a sinking feeling far more immediate than Gaffigan’s crazy theory.
“The trade will take place in the stationmaster’s suite.”
“That’s not normal.” Jazmine knew. “Any particular reason?”
“This is not a normal trade,” the guard said dully.
Jazmine recognized a recited line when he heard one. This guard had been told exactly what to say, which was effectively nothing. He turned to Gaffigan, but the redhead only shrugged as if to say, your call. They could carry on the mission or bail now, but Jazmine knew there was only one choice. They needed those coordinates, so he told the guard, “Lead the way.”
Following behind, Gaffigan checked his equipment. The weight of his sidearm was obvious on his hip. Lighter, and clipped to the back of his belt where his jacket covered it, was the subspace transmitter they’d been provided. This far from the ship, they were out of traditional radio range, and that transmitter would be their only method of calling for help.
On their way back to the stationmaster’s office, two more suited men fell behind them. By the stern look on their faces, their instructions were clear.
There was no turning back.
When they arrived, the first guard opened up the hatch, and they stepped back into the lavishly decorated space. Still clad in his bleach-white pants and decorative wool jacket, the Jayhawker lounged atop the semicircular sofa in the center of the room. Idly, he swirled the glass of wine in his hand. “Welcome back, gentlemen.”
Jazmine scanned the room but found no one other than Cinderella and the statuesque security guards. “Where is the client?” Malibu Flower, the fixer, was notably absent as well. This was not the usual procedure for these dealings.
The Jayhawker made a noise of amusement. “You seem almost nervous, Jazmine.” He studied the smuggler’s face in unerring detail as he sipped his wine. “Don’t be.” Unless you have a reason to be. “The trade you sought was unusual. It should not alarm you that the methods of its completion are also unusual.”
Jazmine hated the stationmaster’s calm, smug composure more than anything at the moment. “How so?”
The Jayhawker smiled. “We’re moving through a third party.”
“A third party?” That’s unheard of. It made these information deals far too complicated. When more than two parties got involved, it became much harder to maintain the agreements that made these trades work.
“That’s right.” The Jayhawker snapped his fingers, and Cinderella stepped forward, a folder held in her manicured hands. “Here is the data your employer wants: the location of Crimson Heart’s base of operations.” He noted the flash of interest in Jazmine’s eyes. Desperate, aren’t you? “However, the price of that information isn’t what you have. No, Crimson Heart has recently crossed a few of my most loyal clients. I was willing to surrender their location for a monetary cost, though not a cheap one, mind you.” It was one of the finest deals he had ever cut. “The client seeking your information agreed to pay that cost, so that I would transfer your information to them, and you could get what you were after.”
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“Then, you’re the third party.” Jazmine didn’t like it, but the deal was set, and it appeared solid. “Who’s the other client?”
The Jayhawker tsked, “You ought to know better than to ask those questions, Jazmine.” In this business it paid not to ask too many questions. “They requested confidentiality for this transaction. Malibu Flower is seeing to them directly. He will transmit your data to them once our transfer here is made.”
Damn. Confidentiality could mean anything. They could be handing the Singularity’s location over to anyone from a bored nobleman to a government agent.
“Do you have the location data?” the Jayhawker asked.
Jazmine pulled a folded paper from his pocket. On it, the Singularity’s current coordinates were printed – mere numbers with incredible potential. “It’s here.”
The Jayhawker eyed it, satisfied by the honesty of Jazmine’s answer. “Then, there’s just one other thing. A small matter.” A little grin formed on his lips, “The other client mandated validation.”
Validation. “That’s too risky and you know it,” Jazmine argued. “You’ll alert the Singularity and she’ll jump. Our data will become useless.”
“That’s what Malibu Flower told his client. They approved the risk. A picture. That’s all they want. They simply want to confirm the Singularity is truly in that position. They don’t care if the ship remains there. For reasons beyond my comprehension, they deemed visual confirmation worth the cost of Crimson Heart’s location data.” He didn’t understand it, but it simply was not his business. “Rest assured, Malibu Flower will not disclose what information your employer traded for. Confidentiality will be maintained on both sides.”
Jazmine didn’t find that comforting. Dammit. Validation was the worst possible outcome.
“I have a ship standing by to release a photography drone.” The Jayhawker had outsourced a small margin of his profit to contract a ship and its crew. “Do you agree to these terms? You will be held until your information is validated.”
Jazmine wanted so badly to deny the terms. This deal was sour. He could taste it. Forget Malibu Flower’s mystery client, the Jayhawker almost never got involved in the information business as a provider. It damaged his reputation of neutrality. All the smugglers and clans trusted him to protect the information that passed through the station. To involve himself, he had to have a motive well beyond money.
Still, the location data for Crimson Heart… It was right there. It was just feet from him in the clutches of Cinderella’s white-tipped nails. They couldn’t walk away now. “We agree,” Jazmine said, steeling his nerves.
The Jayhawker smiled once again. “Then, have a seat, gentlemen. Let us see what you have to offer.”
Jazmine surrendered the coordinates with a rock of dread sitting in his gut, but there was nothing he could do. The Jayhawker handed off the paper, and one of the guards read the coordinates into the transmitter mounted on the wall. Ships could not jump directly into Midwest Stations vicinity, but they could jump away without issue, so it took only minutes for the contracted ship to make its jump and launch its probe.
The Jayhawker kicked on the coffee table’s holographic emitter with an air of eager confidence. Tuned to display the probe’s transmission, the hologram showed a blurry haze of stars as the drone drifted towards the specified coordinates on low power.
The Jayhawker calmly studied the holographic starscape, amused by the stiff posture of the men sitting on the sofa’s opposite side. “For your sake,” he smiled, sipping on his wine, “I hope your employer’s information is accurate.” Otherwise, this was a waste of everyone’s time.
“It is,” Gaffigan answered, growing certain he disliked the Jayhawker’s pompous attitude. The least the smug asshole could have done was offer the rest of them some wine.
Swallowing the last red from his glass, the Jayhawker set it aside and leaned forward, interested as the drone’s image began to focus. For a moment, the hologram was nothing, just a black cloud filled with the bright white specks of the distant stars. But slowly, the drone’s little telescope began to pan around, searching for its target.
…And it found it. Oh, stars, the Jayhawker watched in rapture as a ship came into view, right where it was said to be. “There she is,” he whispered, studying the curves. The image was clear, utterly unmistakable, even without the name stamped in white on the ship’s flank. “I see the Prince has run her ragged.” The old ship had gained a seemingly gaunt appearance on its long, lean form. Craters new and old marked the hull, darkening it with undue shadow. “But still, that’s exactly as I remember her.”
Jazmine’s stomach plummeted. “As you remember her?”
Immediately, the Jayhawker began to laugh, quietly at first, then in an increasing crescendo. “I must say I didn’t believe it, Jazmine. I didn’t want to. You just didn’t seem the type.” But assumptions are dangerous in these worlds.
Jazmine opened his mouth to speak, but the Jayhawker slammed his hand abruptly down on to the table. His whole demeanor changed in that instant. Gone was the laid-back confidence, replaced now by a cold, cold anger. “You’ve disappointed me, Don.” He pinned the former smuggler under a disdainful gaze. “You abandoned the glorious life I gave you, only now to come crawling back in an idiotic lie.” True, he’d never considered the pilot to be smart, but his skills had been respectable once upon a time. “Did your employer think you would somehow succeed? Or was he fine to send Corporal Jazmine out on a suicide mission?”
“I’m a Lieutenant, actually.” Jazmine corrected.
He held onto his bravado rather well, the Jayhawker supposed. “Your rank doesn’t matter, Jazmine. You signed a death certificate in coming here.” Midwest Station would never trade with the central worlds’ military. “And don’t,” he warned the redheaded man beside Jazmine, seeing the man reach for his sidearm. The redhead was a quick draw, but the guards had already been lined up. Without necessary instruction, they bopped the back of their prisoner’s heads with the cold, hard barrels of their guns, then stepped a safe distance back, still in easy execution range.
Jazmine stilled his hands, knowing any sudden movement would be his death. “We made a deal, Jayhawker.”
“We did,” the stationmaster agreed, pulling himself to his feet. “And I value my reputation as an honorable trader.” He took the folder from Cinderella’s hands and set it gently on the table in front of Jazmine. “Your information.”
Monty glared at him. “Thanks, asshole.”
“You’re brave men.” The Jayhawker admired that. It took a level of determination to even consider a mission like this, let alone actually attempt it. “And I always liked you, Jazmine. I liked you well enough to let my daughter date you.” Cinderella had once been quite taken with this young, handsome pilot. “So, you’re lucky.” Very lucky. “You signed a death warrant in coming here, but it doesn’t have to be yours.”
The Jayhawker studied these men. Jazmine was still charming. His hair always laid perfectly in a way anyone would envy. He could still have a grand life of adventure ahead of him. His compatriot had a sharp tongue, and a respectable intellect under that magnificently full orange beard. Both made subordinates of good caliber and good fortune. “You’re lucky, gentlemen, because there’s someone I want dead even more than you.”
Again, the stationmaster snapped his fingers, the noise loud and crisp. “Cinderella. Locate their subspace transmitter. I doubt they were sent here without one.”
She wasted no time in patting down Jazmine, and she was anything but gentle. All traces of her earlier friendliness were gone. Gaffigan received the same rough treatment until she yanked the transmitter from his belt. “Here.” She held the device up.
Good, good, the Jayhawker smiled, focusing on Jazmine. “Call him.”
“Call who?” the pilot spat.
“Your employer,” the stationmaster said, imagining the revenge he’d dreamed of finally coming to pass. “Let’s see if he’s willing to trade his life for two of his subordinates’.”
“We refuse.” Gaffigan said. The absolute last thing they should do in this situation was drag the Admiral into it, especially if he was currently possessed by some AI. The away team might go down, but they couldn’t take their leader with them.
The Jayhawker turned to Gaffigan, hearing the steel in his voice. “I take it you’re the ranking officer, then.”
At the stationmaster’s signal, the transmitter was dropped into Gaffigan’s lap. “I know your employer, Monty. We’ve met, and I have never hated anyone as much as I hate him.” The Jayhawker handled many personalities in his work. Some were appalling, disgusting and vicious, but he still hated none as much as he hated the once-great Steel Prince. “He’s a cold, calculating bastard, but he wouldn’t have sent two of his men out here unless he had no other option. He would know it was pointless. The fact he sent you anyway tells me your ship desperately needs that information.” He nodded to folder containing Crimson Heart’s location. “So, let’s simplify this. Either make the call or die here alone and force your comrades to spend an eternity waiting for your return, never to get the information they need.”
Eagerly, the Jayhawker saw conflict arise in the eyes of his hostage. “And I’ll be honest, Monty, I don’t think you have the authority to make that decision. You can’t decide to end this mission, because if you make that call, there’s still a chance you and Jazmine walk out with that data.”
Dammit. He was right. Monty hated to realize it, but he was right. If there was even a slight chance they got out of here with that data, then he had to take it. Calling the Admiral would at least buy time, even if he doubted it would do any good. “Fine,” Gaffigan said. If he somehow managed to live, then turning this decision over to the Admiral – or whatever entity was currently possessing him – was less likely to get him into trouble.
Carefully, Monty checked the transmitter’s settings. In his hand, it had the weight of several thousand lives – the refugees that would starve if they failed here. Then, he pressed the button to transmit and raised the device to his mouth. “Gaffigan to Base. Come in Base.”
The response came almost immediately in Keifer Robinson’s elegant tone. “Base here, Gaffigan.”
The next words felt like sand in Monty’s mouth, but he managed to spit them out before Keifer could say anything else. “Base, requesting Singularity Actual.” Gaffigan closed his eyes, hoping this wasn’t a mistake. Honestly, suspecting what he did about the Admiral and that AI, he had no idea how this would play out.
If Keifer was surprised by the request, it didn’t show in her voice. “Stand by for Actual, Monty.”
Across from him, the station master’s eyes gleamed. Monty couldn’t tell if it was satisfaction or malintent.
“This is Singularity Actual, Lieutenant,” the gravelly voice of Admiral Gives came on the line. “Sitrep.”
Monty watched the smirk on the Jayhawker’s lips grow, dread setting deeper in his stomach. “Skipper,” he said slowly, “we’ve hit a bit of a snag.”
“Would you care to define that a little further, Lieutenant?” The Admiral’s voice was, as always, calm.
Gaffigan swallowed. What was the Jayhawker actually after here? “Our cover’s been blown, sir.” As he said it, the stationmaster beckoned for Gaffigan to hand the device over. Unfortunately, Monty was in no position to refuse.
As soon as he had his hand on the transmitter, the Jayhawker spoke, “Good evening, Admiral. These are strange worlds we live in.” Truly, very strange, he thought, leaning back into the couch’s upholstery. “I wouldn’t have suspected you to be Jumpin’ Jazmine’s new employer, but,” he clicked his tongue, “a powerful, private person with close ties to the cursed Singularity… Who else could it have been?” He let out a chuckle, greatly entertained by this ordeal. “I have your operatives here, and while I could kill them, I’ve thought a lot about what would happen if we ever crossed paths again.” He had dreamed and plotted for this moment ever since the Admiral had ruined the biggest score of his life. “I know you wouldn’t have come after Crimson Heart’s coordinates like this unless you needed them very badly, Admiral.”
There was a moment of silence, undoubtedly used by the Admiral to weigh the situation. “What do you want?”
“Admiral Gives, I propose a meeting. You come alone, no Marines, no tricks. Don’t bother with a pilot either. I happen to know you don’t need one.” A smirk twisted his expression. “And your ship stays in the Paleon Sector, right where we can see her.”
There was another bout of silence from the distant side of the communique.
“If you refuse, I’ll execute your operatives, then burn those coordinates,” the Jayhawker clarified. “I really do believe it’s time we meet face to face.”
“I could not agree more,” came the response. “But if anything happens to Lieutenant Gaffigan and Lieutenant Jazmine, do recall I am not the one you will be answering to.”
Once, that may have been a reference to Command, and all the backing he’d once had. Now, the Jayhawker knew he leveled that threat only with the support of his ship. Quite confident in the old bucket, aren’t you, Admiral? The Jayhawker only smiled at the thought. Don’t be. I won’t make the same mistake twice. “I’ll be seeing you soon.”