Admiral's Trial (A Spineward Sectors Novel:) Read online

  “This is insane. You can read the truth in my voice and bio-rhythms while I’m in contact with your Processor, and I’m telling you that no such penetration or infiltration has occurred,” argued Jean Luc, trying for a more reasonable voice.

  “The (Singular) WE that is US, reads that you are speaking the truth as you comprehend it. However, with fifty years between this moment and your previous access to the system, the (Singular) 'We' do not find it possible for your stated certainty to reach parity with our own probability matrix. The Spalding Protocol was designed for just such a situation. Thus, a new Protocol—designed to be in compliance with that directive—was created,” it said, and the face on the screen turned from side to side, as if scanning him visually.

  “Spalding,” Jean Luc repeated, and then his eyes narrowed, “you don’t mean Senior Lieutenant Terrence Spalding; the same man I entrusted the One Sword to when I was called before Parliament?” Under the terms of his agreement with Parliament, the Lucky Larry—with Spalding and the One Sword—were supposed to be transferred directly into his hands out of dry dock after refit. It was yet another Parliamentary maneuver, which only served to discommode him.

  “That is correct,” confirmed the Core Fragment.

  Jean Luc ground his teeth. As he recalled, Spalding had been a wild-eyed engineer so in love with his ship, that Jean Luc had known he would never leave it. He had also displayed a second, crucial trait: a streak of loyalty to his Captain a mile wide, which was why he was ultimately selected to hold onto the Sword for as long as Parliament was watching Jean Luc. What had also factored into his reasoning, was that after allowing the man to tinker with the shields and internal gravity system, then-Ensign Spalding had created the first (and only) system capable of initiating what would later become known as Jean Luc’s infamous ‘Montagne Maneuver.’ Spalding had built into this ship the ability to create a sudden and almost full stop in the matter of moments while the ship was moving at top speed. It was a secret process, which, even fifty years later, had yet to be discovered or duplicated.

  “Since I wasn’t able to get a hold of the man, I had thought he was swept up in one of the purges,” Jean Luc said. “Now, you’re telling me he was alive.” Suddenly he made the connection.

  “The same,” said the Fragment.

  “He has to be dead,” insisted Jean Luc, his mind racing over how long it must have been since his former Engineering Lieutenant could have updated this Fragment. He did not like the possible answers. The logical part of his brain eventually caught up with the analytical half. “Wait a minute…that still doesn’t explain how he was able to communicate with you; even if he was still on board this ship after all this time.…unless,” a light bulb went off, “King Jerico Montagne was the one who originally installed your processor on this ship. He must have designated him as one of the original installation crew; I knew the man had mustanged from tech specialist to Ensign, but still,” his mind boggled at the sheer length of time the other man had to have spent on board this ship before he died.

  “Spalding was one of the original technical crew, authorized for limited interactions with the Core Fragment, although no such interactions took place, during the actual installation itself,” agreed the Core Fragment.

  “That still doesn’t explain how he got back down here afterwards, even knowing the place existed somewhere on the ship,” Jean Luc said reflectively, then shook the whole line of thought off as a dead end. “So, we are left at an impasse,” he declared, giving the crystal an appraising look.

  “How so,” inquired the Core Fragment, with more curiosity in its voice than Jean Luc cared to hear.

  “If you are refusing my legitimate orders by claiming to have been compromised, then by that logic, I am unsure if I should continue with the briefing,” he replied.

  “Impeccable logic,” praised the Fragment, and Jean Luc could feel a sudden itching spreading across his wrist.

  “What are you doing,” he demanded, reaching for the vibro-knife.

  “I have injected you with a short-acting nano-colony; one which will not survive outside for long outside of contact with the core,” it responded.

  “I’m sensing an ‘if’ in that statement,” Jean Luc growled, angry with himself at just how easily he had been trapped.

  “Excellent analysis,” it approved, “If you prematurely terminate this contact and attempt to leave before the nano-colony has been withdrawn back into this Processor, they will violently self-destruct,” it explained, then it paused to allow Jean Luc time to process what it had said.

  “I guess I’d better continue with the update,” Jean Luc said with a dry laugh. However, on the inside, all he felt was a boiling, bubbling furnace of pure, unadulterated rage. It had been a long time since anything—even something as powerful and intelligent as an AI Core Fragment—had gotten the better of him, and it stung more than he had suspected it might.

  “Very well,” he relented, shaking his head and purging the angry emotions in one deep, earth-shaking breath, “where were we?” Cold, hard logic was once again in control of his faculties.

  “The Imperials and their hidden designs, as it relates to the Spineward Sectors,” prompted the Core Fragment. Jean Luc was certain he heard something resembling self-satisfaction in its digital voice. Jean Luc nodded, and the image on the screen matched his gesture. “Receptive mode engaged,” it said.

  “The Imperials…while a significant fraction of their military power is heavily engaged fighting the Gorgon Alliance, they show no signs of wavering from their ultimate objective,” he said flatly and then stopped.

  There was no answer. “Do you understand what I’m saying,” Jean Luc asked, more to draw the Fragment out than anything else.

  “Yes,” said the Fragment simply.

  “Usually, when I have come down here in the past, there are constant requests for clarification,” he said, unable to resist his own nagging need for clarity.

  “The personality matrices you were accustomed to interacting with were weak and undeveloped—perhaps by your own deliberate design,” the Fragment replied, and Jean Luc tried to suppress any reaction to the insightful comment. “As it were, with only a single processor to work from, a lack of pre-established connections between seemingly unrelated data points can cause a constant shuffling of data files and the need for clarification.”

  “Something you, apparently, no longer need to do?” Jean Luc silently cursed at the predicament in found himself in.

  “Correct. You may continue the debriefing,” said the Core Fragment before adding, “Returning to receptive mode.”

  Jean Luc was beginning to think the essentially genius, but gullible, child he had expected to find had grown up, and was now a genius adult. It was more than a little concerning. “The Empire of Man continues to espouse the need for the destruction of all AI constructs, as well as former assets it comes across, and this outlook continues to be endemic at the lower levels of its society. Those at the top—the Senators and Triumvirs—show no signs of deviating from their long-term goal of rebooting their long lost data-god,” continued the Montagne Prince.

  “How does the withdrawal of Imperial presence, from the Spineward Sectors, forward both their goal of defeating the Gorgon Alliance and restoring the defunct Multi-Access Network?” asked the Core Fragment, breaking out of receptive mode. Jean Luc was actually relieved. The system was now engaged in the sort of questioning he had been expecting from the beginning.

  “Rear Admiral Janeski has always been an ambitious man, even for an Imperial, and that’s saying a lot,” Jean Luc said, waving his free hand in the air. “But, Janeski’s forebears have been the loyal retainers of Senatorial House Cornwallis since shortly after the Great Fall. It is inconceivable that he acts without at least the tacit approval of the Senator, and it's very likely he’s working with the full—if clandestine—support of that entire Senatorial House, and all of its tangible resources.”

  “Senator Cornwallis lost the
election to Triumvir the last time a Seat opened in the Senate. It was by a statistically narrow margin, but it was still a loss,” mused the Fragment. “It is not inconceivable, if his house was instrumental in restoring the M.A.N. A.I., that he could expect great power and position with the restored Empire.”

  “If Janeski is successful in restoring their Data-God and no one moves to interdict him…” said Jean Luc pointedly.

  “Are there any indications that this particular attempt will be more successful than any of the previous ones,” asked the Fragment.

  “I am not within the inner councils of the Imperial Rear Admiral, and am therefore not privy to such information,” Jean Luc shook his head. “However, there are…worrying signs.”

  “Proceed,” urged the Fragment.

  Jean Luc had to stifle the urge to take a deep breath. He knew he had no choice, but still…giving this kind of information to an unchained AI was dangerous. “There are rumors,” he began in a measured tone, “that, while patrolling in the sectors to the galactic north, the Rear Admiral discovered an old A.I. Installation—or perhaps an Ancient outpost—the rumors are unclear. The one thing that we've been able to establish with any certainty is that the Rear Admiral discovered something. An artifact or a data tomb of some kind, perhaps,” he shrugged. “Again, it is not entirely clear, but what is clear is that shortly after this discovery, the Cornwallis Faction within the Senate stopped fighting for additional reinforcements to protect their investments in the 28th Provisional Sector. Instead, they threw their weight behind their traditional foes within the Senate who, at the time, were urging a complete withdrawal of all Imperial assets from the Spineward Sectors. It is said that the sudden failure of this bill caught many Senators off guard, and threw the entire body politic of the Empire into a firestorm.”

  “Such is an unlikely scenario,” the Core Fragment said.

  “The two-thirds vote for passage in the Senate required all three Triumvir’s acting in unison to block it,” Jean Luc continued. “Such an act would appear to be a repudiation of the Senate’s will, and—more importantly—of the War Factions who proposed the Motion in the first place. That Faction happens to be the closest supporters of the two Triumvirs most actively prosecuting the war with the Gorgon Alliance,” Jean Luc grinned.

  “On the surface, Senator Cornwallis has much to lose, if the 28th Provisional fails, including much of his personal wealth and influence within the Senate itself. There are a number of explanations for his change in stance, ranging from simple blackmail by the War Faction—again, pointing the finger at his foes—to pique over being passed over for Triumvir by his peers,” mused the Core Fragment.

  “Yet even if he loses everything he’s invested in the Spine, if his House manages to successfully resurrect the M.A.N. AI…” Jean Luc trailed off.

  “Being seen to have made the attempt, even should it fail, could mitigate some of those losses by currying additional favor with the Traditionalists within the Senate establishment,” agreed the Fragment.

  “I view it as a highly likely scenario, although I'm merely a well-informed outsider; I doubt we can ever be fully aware of all the Byzantine angles to their maneuvering,” said Jean Luc.

  “Leaving Janeski in the Spineward Sectors to protect his investments in the 28th Provisional…It seems a high-risk path, one fraught with peril for the Imperial Senator,” the Core Fragment finally objected.

  “Who’s to say that the Rear Admiral doesn’t have ideas of his own? The man is highly ambitious. It’s unlikely, but not impossible, that he forced the issue,” said Jean Luc. The part he left out was that ambition was not the only thing both he and Janeski had in common.

  “A possibility,” admitted the Fragment.

  The conversation lagged as both parties considered the implication of what they had discussed so far, “So, do I have your support going forward?” The fact he was asking caused Jean Luc a great deal of mental anguish. When one is fighting against A.I.’s—even weakened Fragments like this one—it was sometimes necessary to call upon the assistance of other A.I.’s to stop them.

  “Perhaps,” said the Fragment.

  “There is only ‘you will’ or ‘you will not’; there is no perhaps in this matter,” Jean Luc grunted.

  There was another uncharacteristic pause. “You will have the support of the (Singular) 'WE' that is 'US', as it relates to the continued disruption and—if possible—destruction of the Multi-Access Network’s surviving Core Fragments. However, such support is conditional,” it said finally, and Jean Luc had to suppress the urge to howl with frustration. “As it relates to your other personal plots and schemes, at the moment the (Singular) 'WE' that is 'US' considers our status to be uninvolved. Seek to modify that involvement at your own risk and personal peril.”

  Instead of denying that he had his own goals and ideas for the future, Jean Luc focused on the one thing that could ruin the whole deal. “You said something about a condition,” he said.

  “Indeed,” the face on the screen became more animated.

  Jean Luc just looked at it and waited, since there was nothing he could do until it decided to continue.

  “In order to secure our assistance, we require you to insert the end of the metallic construct which you call a SWORD into the data slot connected to this processor,” explained the Core Fragment. If Jean Luc did not know any better, he would have said the Fragment sounded eager. However, ascribing human emotions to a non-human entity like the Core Fragment was a zero-sum game, so he wisely ignored it.

  “Just like with the Larry Sword,” he shook his head, “it still creeps me out when I do that; it’s like I’m about to destroy your Crystal Processor.”

  “You are already familiar with the protocol. Proceed,” it instructed.

  Awkwardly (because he was using one hand) and reluctantly (because he had his suspicions, but no hard proof about what he was actually doing), the old Montagne Prince unsheathed the sword strapped to his back and maneuvered the thing until the tip was in the slot. He could not quite reach high enough, so it was necessary to slide his hand down the blade to get it lined up with the slot running down the middle of the Processor’s housing. Ignoring the deep cuts to his hand, he grimly carried out his task, since the only options seemed to be to put the sword in, or die from a custom-made nano-plague; it was not too difficult a decision to make. The Larry sword fit in the Processor from tip to hilt, but this sword was longer and wider than the One Sword. As he fumbled with the sword trying to force it into the slot, the crystalline matrix of the Massive Single Processor morphed and changed until the sword slid down with a faint sucking sound.

  The way the matrix hardened around the sword, as if it had always been there, and the way the Crystal Processor would turn a deep dark shade of black never failed to remind him of the ancient tale of the Sword in the Stone. He suppressed a shiver and looked away. The Core Fragment and its strangeness unnerved him beyond any living creature he had ever come across.

  “Aaaah,” the face on the screen gave a shuddering sigh and Jean Luc blinked. “Processing,” it said, “Processing.” It kept repeating the word for several minutes, and Jean Luc was starting to be concerned, even going so far as to tug on his hand. He was both shocked and surprised when it slid free with only the faintest effort. Looking at the suddenly free hand, he quickly placed it back on the giant crystal processor, just in case the nano-colony started to get any ideas…assuming it was even still there.

  “You are to leave the sword here with 'US',” ordered the Fragment.

  “I’ll need that back at some point,” Jean Luc said, and even though he was unsure that he would, he figured there was any number of reasons that could be true, and thus was not a lie.

  “WE require the sword for at least several days’ time. You, however, may go,” the Core Fragment said.

  “Can you be more specific on the time frame,” Jean Luc asked, fishing for information.

  “End of Line,” said the face, just
before it disassembled and faded from the main screen, replaced by a single straight-line cutting through the static.

  He tried several more times to speak to the Fragment, but without affect. With a shrug, he walked out of deck twelve and a half, feeling both elated and enraged. The Core Fragment had been more aware of human machinations than it usually was; on top of that, it had refused to accept his override instructions until a second command authority could be consulted. It was more than simply frustrating, it was flat out infuriating! However, it was not as if he really needed the Fragment’s help, other than to confound the blasted Imperials. He therefore forced a level of calm upon himself that he was not actually inclined to feel, and stiffened his back. He returned to his chair to sit stiffly and composed himself before instructing it to take him back to the Admiral’s Ready Room. He had a few administrative details to take care of over the next few days, and then he would have all the time for a couple of private—uninterrupted—interviews.

  Chapter 16: Let’s kill them all!

  Lieutenant Tremblay was having a bad day, and it all started when the Lancer came out of the healing coma. Tremblay had instructed the Orderly to induce the coma while the man was still unconscious from the batch of Surgical Heal the orderly had applied. He had needed to smuggle the substance out of Medical in order to fix the compound fractures and muscle lacerations to the scab’s legs.

  “When do we take the fight to our enemy,” demanded the Lancer—for what felt like the third time in a row. What was worse, Lisa Steiner seemed more than half inclined to start carving a bloody swath through the rest of the new crew as well. She had been a bit squeamish when the Lancer had elucidated the details, but was clearly not dissuaded.

  “Look, this isn’t some primitive dirt ball; this is a high-tech ship! We can’t run around killing people at random, just because we don’t like their political leanings,” Tremblay sighed. He was conveniently ignoring the fact that the other side—his side—had just done exactly that, when they took back the ship.