Willful Child (8 page)

“In private?”

“Yes.”

“My office, then.” Hadrian rose and gestured. “Come along. Sin-Dour, get rid of that damned slide show, will you? And the music!”

Once inside, Hadrian went to his chair and sat down. “Sorry but you have to stand, Adjutant. I’d bring in another chair but then I’d have to climb over it to get to mine.”

“Captain, no one uses your stateroom.”

“No, we’ve all been a bit too busy for Ping-Pong, haven’t we? Now, have you reconsidered what to do with your last few hours of life? You may note that the arms of this chair retract completely—”

“Sir, I have been in T-packet communication with the Affiliation High Command and via it, the Umbrella Dictum Extempor Procreator.”

“Really? Tammy allowed you that insane energy expenditure? Wait a minute, I’m supposed to sign off on those!”

She crossed her arms. “Captain, you were the subject of that document. I do have independent powers as adjutant, in particular with the Office of the Extempor Procreator—would you care to review them?”

“Good grief, no. Boring beyond belief. Fine, you have issues with me and so decided to use up a planet’s annual energy expenditure in order to lodge your complaint. I begin to fear, Adjutant, that you are insane. We are headed into hostile space—”

“You were tasked to investigate a smuggling operation, sir!”

“And you all mocked my instincts when I dared suggest that smuggling was only the tip of the iceberg!”

“Excuse me? I didn’t—”

“Do you really think I don’t monitor all ex-ship communications, Adjutant? Do you really imagine that I wasn’t aware of your private conversation with the admiral, not to mention the Pope of Science?”

“Those were encrypted!”

Hadrian collected a handful of ball bearings from a tray on his desk. He began rolling them in one hand as he studied the woman standing before him. “The admiral’s fatal flaw,” he said, “is that he underestimates Hadrian Alan Sawback. It seems he has infected you with the same. Fine. What does the Affiliation have to say about me?”

“I’m surprised you don’t already know!”

“Very well,” Hadrian said, sighing. Then he smiled. “How do you like my smile now, by the way? Dazzling, yes? Where was I? Ah, yes, the Affiliation. I’m curious, how would you describe the Affiliation of Civilized Planets? As an organization, I mean. In the broadest terms. Its philosophy, its goals, its day-to-day operations?”

“What is all this?”

“Indulge me.”

“The Affiliation is an alliance of progressive spacefaring civilizations engaged in the promotion of civil values: peace, exploration, trade, the open exchange of ideas between sentient species. To date, three major civilizations are full-standing members, with the Ahackan Cultural Symbiota at Tier-Three Engagement—”

“Tier-Three, yes, a situation that has not advanced into full membership in almost ten Terran years. Why is that, do you think?”

“Well, certain ideological disagreements are holding things up—”

“Adjutant, according to the Common Agreement on the Definition of Sentience, and by ‘Common Agreement’ let’s be plain and state that every civilization but one has accepted the definition—and that includes our most belligerent enemies, by the way. The exception? Why, Terra! Or to be more precise: humans! By that agreement—”

“Captain! There is no way in Darwin’s Church that we will ever acknowledge that full range of sentience!”

Hadrian leaned forward and slammed the ball bearings on the desktop. “Exactly!”

Her face twisted. “Parrots? Bonobos? Orangutans? Dolphins? Dogs and meerkats?”

“All sentient!”

“Nonsense! If they were, we’d all be … well,
murderers
!”

Hadrian leaned back. “Well then, there you have it. The Affiliation of Civilized Planets? Poppycock! The disaster, Adjutant, was that we stepped into space with technological superiority over our nearest neighbors, and all because some damned Transition Ship from the galactic center broke down and fell into orbit around Earth!”

“That EMP nearly destroyed us!”

“Rubbish. The tech windfall—what we could figure out of it—from those idiots more than made up for that. Strip it all away, Adjutant! We’re a bunch of overbearing, pontificating, arrogant, self-righteous pricks. Our news media is full of deliberate misinformation and propaganda, and most Terrans in the Affiliation either don’t care or they haven’t the wits to care! In fact, Adjutant, we’re run by fascists in all but name.”

“No we’re not!”

“Look at that uniform you’re wearing, Tighe! Black on black on black with that red lightning bolt?
Please.
Tell me, how many useless wars have us Terrans dragged the whole Affiliation into? Oh sure, we prance around with our tolerate this and oh-how-cuddly that, but the fact is, we’re xenophobic as hell.” Hadrian stood and leaned on the desk, bringing his face closer to the adjutant. “And worst of all, like my grandpappy used to say: the meatheads are still running the show! As for me, why, am I not the perfect product of the Affiliation of Civilized Planets? In fact, you should really be seeing me as the paragon of all that you hold dear—”

She seemed to choke. “You? You truly are mad, Hadrian Alan Sawback. Certifiable!”

“Am I? Am I? Are you so sure?”

“Yes, yes, and yes!”

Hadrian blinked. “Oh. So, you don’t want to fuck, then?”

SiX

Adjutant Lorrin Tighe pulled out a blaster and aimed it at Hadrian.

“Wow,” he said, “you really don’t want to fuck, do you? Fine, forget I ever mentioned it.”

“I am authorized to remove you from command of this vessel. If you resist, I am instructed to kill you. I intend to comply with my orders, Captain Sawback.”

Hadrian tilted his head at the ceiling speaker grille. “Tammy?”

“Yes, Captain?”

“My opinion of the Affiliation—how does it wash? I mean, access what’s left of Terran history and all that. Ideologies, political theory, et cetera.”

“Oh, well. Permit me to qualify my observations with the fact that I don’t care. Biologicals are always caught up in that self-referential deism crap. Flowers of the Universe, every one of you!”

“Go on,” said Hadrian, still holding the adjutant’s stare above the blaster.

“Fine. Whatever. Your opinion, Captain, is entirely accurate. Your species is collectively insane and yes, the meatheads are still in charge. There. Better now?”

Lorrin Tighe scowled. “This alien AI
would
say something like that, wouldn’t it?”

“Xenophobic, darling?”

“And it’s also a criminal!”

“That happens to be in charge of the
Willful Child
, Adjutant. I’m curious. Once you’ve deposed me, what next?”

“Seven Counter-class ships are pursuing us,” she replied. “With orders to destroy us.”

“Even you, Adjutant?”

She straightened. “I accept my fate and will do my duty.”

“Tammy,” said Hadrian as he settled back in his chair and rubbed at his eyes.

“Yes, Captain?”

“Is her blaster deactivated?”

“Of course. I deplore violence, unless I’m the one initiating it.”

She squeezed the trigger and, when nothing happened, threw the weapon at Hadrian. She missed. Then, face reddening, she burst into tears.

Hadrian rose and came round the desk. He laid an arm across her shoulders. “There there,” he murmured. “I know, it’s been a bad, bad day. And it’ll only get worse.”

“Get your hand off my tit, Captain!”

“Sorry. Unintentional, I assure you. Now, let’s get you sitting down, shall we. I’ll leave you to pull yourself together. After all, I still need my chief of security, don’t I? That is, of course, assuming you still wish to serve aboard this vessel?”

He had her seated now and she glared up at him. “What choice do I have?”

“Well. Tammy? Will you permit an escape pod here in T space?”

“Oh, I don’t see why not, Captain. The energy source I am employing can easily manage that.”

Hadrian’s eyes narrowed. “Really? Even after the T packets? Now that’s interesting.” He sat on the edge of the desk and smiled down at Tighe. “So, you have the option.”

“You fool,” she said. “Those Counter-class dreadnoughts are going to obliterate this ship.”

“I doubt it. So, here it is, Adjutant. Time to roll the dice and step up to the plate. It’s the fourth quarter, two outs and a full count—do you swing with all-in or not? You either ace the serve or double down. The choice is yours.”

She stared up at him with wide eyes.

“I’ll give you a few minutes to think it over,” Hadrian said. He reached down, opened the lower drawer in the desk and lifted out a bottle of Macallan, and set it in front of her. “Do join me on the bridge when you’re ready. As for me—Tammy!”

“Captain?”

“We have work to do.”

“Indeed?”

“That military capacity you mentioned.”

“Ah, that.”

“Can you be more precise?”

“Well, I’m afraid the technology is rather advanced, and not compatible with Terran science.”

“Really? How so?”

“Well, it seems that, given the choice, I employ beam weapons.”

“Beam weapons!” Hadrian slammed the desk, and then fell to his knees beside it, hunched over and cradling his right hand.

“I have sent for the surgeon again,” said Tammy.

Nodding through his tears, Hadrian staggered upright and weaved his way to the door.

He emerged onto the bridge and hurried over to the command chair.

“Sir!”

Hadrian looked over to see that Lieutenant James Jimmy Eden had resumed his post at comms. “Oh, you again. What is it?”

“Uh, nothing, Captain. I was just about to inform you that I have resumed my post.”

“Really? Why, I didn’t know that.”

“S-sir, I apologize for passing out—”

“Let’s just say I’m disappointed, Lieutenant, and leave it at that—just be sure to eat yourself up over it on your own time, am I understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Carry on,” said Hadrian.

Printlip arrived. “More nanogel, Captain? You must give it time to let the bones knit.”

“Just leave me the spray gun, Doc.”

“Application of nanogel is listed under Guild Exclusive Practices—”

“It’s a damned plant mister, you dolt! Give it over and go back to your test tubes and electrodes!”

The Belkri swelled and flushed alarmingly. “Unsanctioned use by non-Guild members is not permitted!”

“Getting uppity with me, are you? Fine, spray, then! Good! Satisfied?”

“Did you not observe the skill with which I applied the nanogel, Captain? Twenty-two Terran years invested in becoming an accredited Affiliation surgeon and chief medical officer, rated for human physiology. Why, I
have—
”

“Twenty-two years? Let me guess, Terran-imposed apprenticeship, right? Never mind. You poor bouncy ball, you. Anyway, see? My hand’s all better. Well done. Your technique was exemplary. You may now go.”

“Thank you, Captain.”

After the doctor departed the bridge, Sin-Dour leaned close. “Captain, what have you done with the adjutant?”

“I killed her, why?”

After a moment, he looked up, and then sighed. “Of course I didn’t. Despite the fact that she drew a blaster on me, as Tammy is my witness.”

“A blaster?”

“Affiliation Instigator Hand Weapon, to be more precise.”

“Ah. So, what is she doing still in your office?”

“Who can say? Playing with my balls, maybe. Tammy, when are we reaching the Exclusion Zone?”

“Five point three-two hours, Captain.”

“Oh for crying out loud—this is taking forever!” He stood. “Sin-Dour, join me in my stateroom, please.”

“Your stateroom, sir?”

“That’s right. You do know how to play Ping-Pong, don’t you? Grab a paddle and smack balls. Tammy! You have five-plus hours to rig us up for beam weapons. Coordinate with Buck in engineering, why don’t you?”

“Must I?”

“Why not? What’s wrong with Buck?”

“I don’t know where to begin.”

“Adjust and adapt, Tammy. It’s what us biologicals do best.”

As it turned out, Halley Sin-Dour had a wicked serve, and he was forced into a chopping underspin defense, which lifted the ball high enough in the low-g field to permit her a series of vicious spikes. He lunged. He danced back. He flung himself forward. He got slaughtered.

An hour later, he slumped to the floor and leaned against one wall. “You haven’t even worked up a sweat,” he moaned. “I feel like I just ran a marathon on Nimbus-3. Of course, the best thing about it was when you leaned forward over the table and entered the low-g field. My, that was exceptional!”

“Excuse me, sir?”

“Your spiking, of course. What did you imagine I was referring to, 2IC?”

“I wouldn’t know, sir. But I’m wondering, are we just going to while away our time before we arrive at the Exclusion Zone? Shouldn’t we be attempting to oust Tammy from our systems?”

Hadrian closed his eyes. “Think it through, Sin-Dour. Granted, Tammy’s stolen the ship. Granted, he’s an alien AI with gender issues. But he’s also absurdly powerful, employing an energy source of unknown capacity, and without doubt that source resides in some parallel universe—or we would have found it, by, say, training a camera into our wake and finding a blue dwarf chasing us on a leash of pure plasma. So, we’re talking levels of tech way above our own. This, I posit, is now a good thing.”

“Is it?”

“Why, we’re about to engage in combat with a Misanthari Swarm, and then Radulak battleships, and then a Klang weapon wing or two. Now, granted that I am Terran Space Fleet’s finest captain—the only officer cadet to solve the Mishmashi Paradox in three
days
—and of course the
Willful Child
is the latest off-the-line Engage-class starship, bristling with weapons as befits our mission of peaceful exploration. But, as profoundly capable as we are, we must acknowledge that there are limits to what we can achieve.”

“So, you believe that Tammy is our only chance of survival.”

“Indeed. Aren’t you, Tammy?”

“Probably,” the AI replied.

Sin-Dour shook her head. “Thing is, if we ousted this AI, we wouldn’t have to enter the Exclusion Zone at all.”