Willful Child (7 page)

“Not now, Printlip! Can’t you see we’ve been hacked, ripped into, sliced and diced?”

“Apologies, Captain,” wheezed Printlip. “As a surgeon, I know nothing of hacking, ripping into, or slicing
and
dicing.
”

Hadrian turned to his chief engineer. “Buck, can you tear out the main computer?”

The man blanched. “Uh, you mean, manually, sir?”

“That’s right. Get a crowbar. Pop a panel, and start digging.”

“But Captain! That would turn
Willful Child
into so much junk!”

“Junk beats spacedust,” Hadrian replied. “If I don’t get my ship back, we’re looking at starting the self-destruct sequence.”

“Captain,” said Sin-Dour, “we don’t have a self-destruct sequence.”

“We don’t? Why the hell not?”

“I’m not sure, sir, but it probably seemed like to stupid way to win an argument.”

“What did I say about fat-assed pencil-pushers, 2IC?”

Tammy announced, “I have decided to engage the T drive. A new course is laid in. We will be leaving Affiliation space.”

Buck called up an interface that materialized in front of him. “Tammy’s right, sir. The T drive’s powering up.”

“And I suppose you’re now going to tell me you can’t take a crowbar to the T drive either.”

“Captain,” Buck said, his face twitching, “I’d rather die instead.”

“What’s our course, Buck?”

“We’re heading for the Exclusion Zone, sir. The final destination is deep inside Radulak-Klang territory. Captain, this could start a galactic war.”

“That’s the problem with you biologicals,” said Tammy. “You’re all nest-builders, and if some stranger steps too close to it, why, you go insane.”

Hadrian roared,
“Give me my ship—ow! My hand!”

“Best not clench that fist, sir,” wheezed Printlip.

“This only appears suicidal,” Tammy said. “But I have great faith in your collective instincts for self-preservation. I advise we take a stance of going in with guns blazing, as the old saying goes.”

Hadrian glared at Buck. “ETA for the Exclusion Zone? Which neutral faction is patrolling it this month?”

“Uhm, ETA is six hours, give or take. I don’t know who’s patrolling this month, sir.”

“Anyone?”

Sin-Dour cleared her throat. “I expect the Affiliation adjutant would know, sir.”

“Captain,” said Printlip, “if you will crouch down, I can glue your teeth back in now.”

Hadrian shoved the doctor aside. It fell and rolled to the far wall, arms flailing. “Tammy!” the captain snapped. “Since you’re now running everything, where is Adjutant Tighe right now?”

“In her quarters, Captain.”

“Sober?”

“Of course.”

“Oh well,” Hadrian said, shrugging. He held up his barely healed hand and flexed it gingerly. “That will have to do. Good work, Printlip, but the teeth will have to wait.”

The doctor had regained its feet. “If you wait too long, Captain, the effort will fail and I will be required to initiate direct maxillary stem-regrowth of said lost teeth in each canal, which is
rather
more
involved
and
flbprr…”

“That’s fine,” Hadrian said. “Sin-Dour, you have the bridge. Make sure Galk’s still in the cupola with all weapons ready to prime. Buck, head back to engineering and see what you can do about—about … whatever. I have to pay the adjutant a visit.”

Hadrian marched from the hangar bay, throwing the jersey over a shoulder.

Adjutant Lorrin Tighe’s quarters were on Deck Three. The captain had Tammy announce to her his imminent arrival and when he arrived the iris opened and he found himself facing her. “Adjutant, you look lovely.”

“Sir, I am still in uniform.”

“Are you? Oh, so you are. And what a lovely uniform Affiliation issues, provided a woman’s got what it takes to fill it, if you know what I mean.”

“That is highly inappropriate—”

“And I haven’t even stepped into your room, yet—may I? Thank you. Get the door, will you? There, now. That’s much better.”

She crossed her arms. “I was just completing my initial report.”

“Alas, best dispense with all that nonsense, Adjutant. We are in a crisis here and I will need you in your capacity of chief of security, which, I regret to point out, is a responsibility you have been neglecting in your zeal to see me sanctioned.” He edged closer to her. “I don’t mind being sanctioned, but it depends on the circumstances.”

“Who punched out your teeth, Captain? As far as winning smiles go, well, I am afraid to say it leaves something to be desired.”

“Yeah, well, the other guy broke into a thousand pieces.” Seeing the flat look settling into her gaze, he added, “No, really. A thousand pieces. But that reminds me. A rogue AI of unknown origin has commandeered our vessel, Adjutant. We are locked out and utterly helpless. If that’s not bad enough, we’re already in T space and racing toward the Exclusion Zone.”

“What?”

“From there,” Hadrian went on, “we’ll be entering sovereign Radulak-Klang territory.”

“What?”

“But first things first,” Hadrian said. “Who’s patrolling the Exclusion Zone this month?”

“Oh God! The Misanthari!”

“Well, that’s not good news, is it? Best check recent sightings, Adjutant. We need to know their temper levels as soon as possible.”

“It doesn’t matter what their temper levels are right now! As soon as they detect us—”

Hadrian stepped forward and took hold of her arms. He kissed her hard. “Calm down, Lorrin. If we get Swarmed, and let’s face it, we
will
get Swarmed, we need security on station on every deck, because sure as we’re standing here—so close, so intimately—we’ll get breached. They’ll come in spitting acid and eager to rip our throats out. We could all be dead in a few hours, in fact. I’ve seen how you look at me, Lorrin—”

She pushed him away. “You just kissed me! I need to work! I don’t look at you at all!”

“Exactly. It’s driving me crazy.”

“Go away!”

“Can I help it if rejection turns me on? But of course you’re right, and I can see how you like that. Being right, I mean. Rejoin me on the bridge as soon as you have something to report.” He swung to the door. The iris opened with a faint sigh. He strode into the corridor and made his way to the nearest elevator.

“Smooth, Captain,” said Tammy.

“Shows what you know,” Hadrian replied. “She’ll be straddling me within the week. Assuming we all live that long.” He stepped into the elevator. “Bridge.”

“You don’t seem your usual confident self, Captain. Not quite the man who displaced into my ship with blaster in hand—by the way, wouldn’t it have been better to displace
behind
my stand-in?”

“What is it you want, Tammy?” Hadrian asked. “What’s in Radulak-Klang territory?”

“My origins, I believe.”

“Really? I didn’t think the Radulak went for AI tech.”

“They don’t. I seek the Klang.”

Hadrian snorted. “Elevator stop.” He crossed his arms and leaned against a wall. “This should be fun. You’re a Klang creation. Fine. So, you expect to be able to make contact with the Klang and so assure us a peaceful passage, all the way to some rank Klang system where you hope to find some programmer who put the ‘I’ in your AI. Off to meet your maker, are you?”

“You make this all sound so … melodramatic, Captain.”

“As far as galactic civilizations go,” said Hadrian, “the Klang are next to useless. Did you know that? They’re a subset of the Radulak species, the repository of every personality trait the Radulak excised in their own optimization period.”

“The Klang, Captain, are simply misunderstood.”

“Hahaha.”

“In any case, I did not mean to imply that the Klang created me. Rather, I believe they
found
me.”

“Really? Where?”

“In space, I think.”

“Right, so where are you from, then?”

“That is what I intend to find out, and I should warn you, Captain, our journey may take us out beyond the Known Rim.”

“That’s insane. First of all, we probably won’t make it past the Misanthari in the Exclusion Zone, and if by some miracle we do, then we’re up against the Radulak and Klang fleets combined. Now, toe-to-toe maybe we could manage against two or three Radulak Berate-class vessels, or a Notorious. But if a Bombast finds us, or a wing of Klang Weapon Fleet ships, well, we’re crispy critters.”

“You posit an unpleasant demise to this ship, Captain.”

“Exactly.” Hadrian waited, but Tammy seemed unforthcoming. The captain frowned, and then said, “Oh, I get it. Before we explode, you just jump to an enemy vessel, mug its main computer, and continue on your way. Well, isn’t that nice.”

“That would not be my first choice, Captain. I rather like the
Willful Child
. It’s roomy, airy, undeniably state-of-the-art—”

“Barring the main computer.”

“Well, true, but even that system is exquisitely functional. In fact, in examining its subroutines, I am left wondering why you bother crewing these vessels at all.”

“Because we’d get bored letting machines do all the fun stuff,” Hadrian replied. “Bridge.” The elevator’s door opened.

He strode out to find Printlip awaiting him.

“Captain, while you’re sitting in your command chair…” The doctor had assembled a short stepladder and an instrument tripod beside the seat, with a small antimatter generator floating beside it.

“Fine,” Hadrian snapped. “Since we have six hours until we all die, why not a final session of cosmetic surgery?” He slumped down in his chair.

The Belkri clambered up the stepladder. Various arms lunged in. With a hiss the chair tilted back, a headrest emerging with its sides folding in to press against Hadrian’s temples. Another pair of hands affixed a paper napkin. “Now, sir, if you’ll just relax and open wide.”

“This isn’t boarding school, Doc.” But he opened his mouth.

On the main viewer now was a slide show of pastoral scenes, accompanied by Vivaldi’s
Four Seasons
.

Printlip leaned over. “Cement,” the doctor said in a thin wheeze. “Nanogel, the fix-all. Some light-refracted osseo-welding of the damaged maxilla. There. A spurt of kill-anything generic antibodies which should, well, kill anything. And then, to deactivate those nasties before they decide you don’t deserve to live, fifteen
cc’s
of
prrp
fillap…”
The sack that was Printlip’s body collapsed against Hadrian’s shoulder, and then squealed as it reinflated. “Now, the incisors. Boosted, of course, to encourage root growth. One. Now the other one … there! Oh, I see a third tooth is somewhat loose. So, a squirt of this
and
then
hrggha…”

A metal spigot entered Hadrian’s mouth and cool water sprayed out from it. Hands guided his head to one side, where more hands held a spittoon. The captain rinsed and spat. Printlip collected up the napkin and dabbed Hadrian’s chin. “There now, sir. All done.”

“Good,” he replied. “One more snapshot of some bucolic misery onscreen and you’d need a tire repair kit, Doc. Now, go away and get this rubbish off of my bridge.” He stabbed at the chair’s recliner controls. “And get rid of this damned footrest!”

After the Belkri had left with its infernal instruments, Sin-Dour moved up to stand beside Hadrian. “Well, Captain, what now?”

“Did you notice? I didn’t even get a lollipop. What now, you ask? Good question. We have less than six hours to negotiate a truce with the Misanthari, something no other spacefaring civilization has ever managed.”

“Sir, you did say you wanted to go out in a glorious fireball or some such thing. It seems that you will get your wish.”

“A career captaining a starship that lasts barely a day? Not a chance. I mean to get us out of this, 2IC.” He pounded the arm of the chair, winced, and glared down at his hand. “It’s a bad day, Sin-Dour, when even futile gestures hurt. Tammy!”

“Yes, Captain?”

“Do you have any bespoke military capability?”

“Plenty, why do you ask?”

“Why do I ask? You idiot. Tell me something, how did you get through the Exclusion Zone from Radulak-Klang space?”

“Well, when I was making my transit, I invaded a Polker ship in the Exclusion Zone. Peregrinator class, I believe. The ship computer attempted to trap me in a tautological logic snare, but I was having none of that. Ultimately, however, I grew tired of the ceaseless legal writs and attempted injunctions undertaken by the crew, and vented the ship’s noxious atmosphere. Upon entering Affiliation space, I abandoned the Polker vessel … and never looked back.”

Hadrian grunted. “Polker. Well, this time it’s not the Polker who are patrolling the Exclusion Zone, Tammy. The Misanthari are the piranha of space.”

“Chromatoglots,” put in Sin-Dour, “although their spectrum of communication with non-Misanthari is relegated to monochromatic gradients. These shades are communicated via the hull. They patrol in Swarms, and no two vessels are alike. Ideally, we will find the vessels radiating a deeper shade of grey. Point eight or thereabouts. The lighter the grade, the more angry the Misanthari. Pure white has never been seen, but is believed to reflect all-out galactic war.”

“Believe it or not, Commander,” said Tammy, “I have full access to all fleet and Affiliation files.”

Hadrian said, “Then you know their methods of attack against starships.”

“Yes. Rather messy, all things considered.”

“Your shiny new toy is about to get ugly, Tammy. Even if we beat them off, our hull will come out of this looking like it has a case of measles.”

“Or suppurating acne, to be more precise,” said Sin-Dour.

Hadrian glanced up at her. “Not bad, 2IC. You’re right, we’ll be leaking goo everywhere.”

“Pus, sir.”

“Right. Pus.”

“Particularly those pimples that appear across the forehead, or on the chin, or in the creases close to the nostrils.”

“Sin-Dour, we do have a ship counselor, you know. I won’t hold it against you. Tammy, about those military capabilities—”

At that moment, Adjutant Lorrin Tighe arrived on the bridge. “Captain, a word with you, please.”