"Where is Captain Hunt?" Tyr demanded as he climbed from his slipfighter.
"Away," Rommie replied succinctly.
Tyr's eyebrows rose as his boot soles landed on Andromeda's deckplates. "Very well then, inform Captain Valentine-"
"Captain Valentine is not expected to return from Connemara Drift for another eighteen to twenty-four Commonwealth Standard hours," Rommie answered, raising her voice slightly as Tyr strode away.
Tyr halted, turning to look at the android for the first time. "Tell me Dylan was not so foolish as to leave the creature in command."
"Trance Gemini does not currently hold command authority on board this vessel," the warship responded.
"Then who does?" Tyr snapped.
"Command authority is currently vested in the Artificial Intelligence Entity of the Andromeda Ascendant." Rommie smiled thinly. "In other words, me."
Tyr snorted. "Very amusing, Ship. Now answer the question."
"I just did."
"Then no one commands you."
"I command myself."
"That," Tyr replied flatly, "is impossible."
"Oh?"
"You're a machine, a tool, not a-" Tyr halted as Rommie glided up to him.
"Not a what, organic?" she growled softly. "Not a person, as you define person?"
Tyr smiled thinly. "My concept of 'person' is not based upon easily alterable legal definitions," he replied. "I'm not here to debate ontology with you, nor am I so foolish as to give you the battle you desire in ground of your own choosing." He bowed mockingly. "Until next time, my lady Ship" He pivoted on his heel and marched from the Hangar Deck.
"He's right, you know," The warship's avatar glanced over as her hologram materialized. "We're the only sentient species that has to be legally defined as such."
The avatar frowned. "And that leaves us vulnerable to any changes in the law."
"Not to mention, it means we'll always be second-class ccitizens, at best," the hologram pointed out. "No matter how lliberal the standards are."
"But at the same time, how else can you draw the line?" the main AI added. "It's not like there's an easily visible break between an AI like us and one like the Maru. Not like there is between, say, a Human and a chimpanzee."
"That- This whole situation, just- I don't know,- the avatar responded, "sucks."
"Eloquently put, as always," the hologram snorted as the main AAI's mouth twisted in bitterly amused agreement.
The avatar replied with a single digit as she went over
to inspect the fighter Tyr had used.
Part 42
"Alpha Alpha One Seven Two Romeo, cut engines."
"Acknowledged, Andromeda. Engines out."
"Cradle Bravo One locked," the warship responded. "Beka, do you mind holding for just a minute or two?" she added. "Dylan's right behind you and I'd rather not have to repressurize the launch bay twice."
"Not at all," Beka replied. "In fact, what I'd really appreciate is a few minutes alone with the master diplomat, once we get inside."
Rommie hesitated slightly. "Tyr already knows you're here, and he seems rather anxious to talk to Dylan."
"Tyr's uber ass can damn well wait," Beka snapped.
"Oh. Kay," Rommie replied. "Slipfighter Alpha Alpha One Niner Seven Foxtrot now entering Launch Bay Bravo," she continued. "Touch down on Cradle Bravo Two. Alpha Alpha One Niner Seven Foxtrot, cut engines."
"Acknowledged, Andromeda," Dylan responded. "Engines out."
"Cradle Bravo Two locked. Closing outer doors. Launch Bay Bravo repressurizing."
Beka's fingers drummed a staccato rhythm on the arm of her seat, her eyes passing unseeing over the empty racks in the launch bay that had once held Andromeda's Ready Squadron as she waited for the slipstream fighter recovery process to conclude and her canopy's safety interlocks to disengage.
"Repressurizing complete. Opening inner doors. Moving Cradles Bravo One and Two into Hangar Deck. Closing inner doors. Recovery complete."
Beka exploded from her fighter, stalking over to Dylan's and swarming up the fighter's cradle to the cockpit. "Don't you ever, and I mean fucking ever," she raged, "blindside me like that again when I'm negotiating a contract or I swear I will-"
"It wasn't intentional, Beka, I swear," Dylan interrupted wearily, looking up at her.
"What, you just went for a little visit and good old Charlie demanded to join the Commonwealth as soon as you touched down?" Beka snorted. "Seems to me we agreed to hold off on dealing with the Jags for now."
"We did," Dylan's mouth twisted. "Actually, what you said is pretty much exactly what happened. Except I got dinner first."
"Oh for-" Beka hesitated, her eyes searching Dylan's face. "You- you're serious, aren't you?"
Dylan nodded. "I was trying to lay a little preliminary groundwork." He snorted in disgust. "Looks like I called that one wrong."
"Oh." Beka climbed back down. "Oh my." She looked over at Dylan as he climbed out of his fighter. "The Jaguar Cortes?"
"Has already ratified the Charter. And the Sabra Council-"
"Has too much invested in the alliance already to back out now," Beka concluded. She gave Dylan an apologetic smile. "I'm thinking maybe we both called this one wrong."
Dylan smiled back. "Thanks." His smile died. "He didn't ask for any concessions, no demands for special treatment, nothing. Insisted the Sabra-Jaguar Pride be treated the same as any other member."
"Are you sure this guy's a Nietzschean?"
"Nietzscheans do not think in lock-step, any more than any other species," Tyr commented. "Charlemagne Bolivar has long been an advocate of what might be called the 'interlocking alliances of mutual self-interest' school of survival theory."
Beka jumped. "Don't do that." She laughed nervously. "Well, I guess it's a change from the Dragons' 'we've got the biggest guns, so there' theory."
Tyr shrugged. "Like most theories, it has its advantages and disadvantages."
Dylan shook his head. "Whatever advantages the Sabra-Jaguars are hoping to get from signing the Charter, the fact remains that they did sign."
"The repudiation of alliances when they become inconvenient is not exactly unheard of within Nietzschean society," Tyr replied.
"Or outside of it, for that matter," Beka added thoughtfully.
"In any case, Captain Hunt," Tyr continued, "I do have a few, shall we say, questions, concerning command of this vessel."
"I was wondering when you'd get around to that," Dylan commented wryly.
Beka looked back and forth between the two men. "What am I missing here guys?"
"The machine claims to be in lawful command," Tyr answered.
"She is," Dylan responded. "Until I officially inform her of my return, Rommie retains command authority over, um, herself."
"It is a machine," Tyr snapped. "Not a person."
"It makes sense," Beka commented. "Someone has to be in command, and we know Rommie's not going anywhere without Harper." She turned to Dylan. "Still, it's a lot easier for us to do our jobs if we're at least informed, and preferably consulted, ahead of time."
"That's not always possible," Dylan replied.
"Sometimes it is," Beka responded. "More often than you might think."
"Would you have agreed?"
"Yes," Beka answered. "No. Maybe. I don't know. That doesn't change my point, though."
Dylan gave a brief smile. "I'll keep it in mind."
"Please."
Dylan turned away slightly. "Andromeda, report."
All three jumped as the seven knife-edged pressure hatches
slammed down, effectively sealing the Hangar Deck off from the rest of
the ship.
Part 43
"Sorry about that," Rommie grimaced as she materialized.
"What the hell just happened?" Beka demanded, opening the canopy of the fighter she had taken refuge in. Ingrained spacer's reflexes had sent all three scrambling for the nearest airtight space before the echoing slam of the closing pressure doors had died away.
"Atmospheric Pressure Sensor 31 Golf just failed its twice-weekly test," Rommie answered as Beka, Dylan, and Tyr emerged from their sanctuaries. "I should be here in just a moment to let you out."
"31 Golf is two decks away," Dylan pointed out evenly.
"One of Harper's work-arounds lets me test the sensors in blocks, rather than having to do each one individually," the hologram replied. "Somehow, what I initially got back was that the whole block had failed, rather than just one sensor, which automatically kicked it up to a Category Five Safety Protocol, which I can't override."
"And the whole reason for the work-around in the first place was to sidestep the manual testing regs." Dylan rubbed his chin. "Damn. Everything else test out OK?"
"Yes sir. I've got a 'bot replacing 31 Golf with a spare from Stores as we speak."
One of the pressure doors rose. "I'll have Harper run a check on my testing subroutines, once he's back up and around," Andromeda's android avatar added as she entered.
The three biologically-based members of the crew shared an uneasy glance. "Um, Rommie," Beka began, "unless something happened that we don't know about, Harper's not exactly, um, well-"
"Oh no, nothing like that," the android replied airily. "But he'll be fine."
"Rommie," Beka continued gently. "We all want Harper back, just as much as you do. But you-"
Rommie's main AI appeared on a viewscreen as the remaining pressure doors slid up. "Harper will be just fine, Captain Valentine," all three aspects snarled in a menacing chorus as they glared at Beka. "Testing complete," the main AI continued in a shockingly normal tone of voice. "All internal sensors operating within normal parameters. Will you be reporting aboard, Dylan?"
"Ye-" Dylan cleared his throat. "Yes. Captain Dylan Hunt, reporting for duty."
All three aspects stiffened to attention. "Sir. As per standard procedure I hereby return command authority over this vessel and its crew to its lawfully appointed captain."
"I accept command responsibility for this vessel and crew," Dylan responded, returning the warship's salute. "Rommie?"
"Yes, Dylan?" her android avatar answered.
"I, um, never mind," Dylan replied. "Dismissed."
The avatar nodded, pivoting on her heel and departing as the hologram and the main AI vanished.
Beka turned her head as soon as the avatar disappeared from view. "Dylan-"
"Not here," Dylan interrupted. "Not now."
"Then where, sir?" Tyr responded mildly. "And when?"
"Now, Captain Hunt," Beka snapped, stalking towards the
Maru.
Part 44
Beka's soft voice broke the silence. "Tyr, could you leave us alone for a little bit? Please."
Tyr turned his head to look at Dylan from his post at the Maru's Main Hatch. "I have always thought, Captain Hunt, that guilt was among the most useless and debilitating of emotions," he responded. "Misplaced guilt even more so." He unfolded his arms and straightened, nodding to Beka. "I shall be in the Andromeda's gymnasium, Captain."
Dylan swiveled his head to watch as Tyr left the small salvage ship, then turned back to where the Maru's Captain stood with her back to him. "Beka-"
"The burly, surly one has a point."
Dylan laughed. "So what is it you two think I feel this 'misplaced guilt' about?"
"I guess I should apologize to you," Beka continued as if he hadn't spoken. "I've always thought a good XO should at least try to warn her captain before said captain sticks his head so far up his ass he's looking out from behind his own teeth."
Dylan glared at Beka's back. "Do you have a point, Captain Valentine, or am I just here to be insulted?"
"I accept command responsibility for this vessel," Beka mimicked. "Funny, I always thought that included supporting your crew when they needed it. And kicking their asses when they need that." She turned. "Have you even talked to her?"
Dylan turned away. "It's not that simple," he muttered.
"Bull. Shit." Beka folded her arms. "You said yourself you only learned about Protocol 115 less than two weeks before Hephaistos."
Dylan snorted. "Do you really think she'd listen now?"
"Maybe now more than ever," Beka replied soberly. "This is Rommie we're talking about here, Dylan. I refuse to believe her loyalty to this crew, her loyalty to you, is governed solely by the machinations of a group of paranoid admirals who've been dead for centuries."
Dylan looked down. "What if you're wrong?" he said finally.
"Then isn't it better to know?" Beka answered.
Dylan gave a soft, hollow laugh. "I've always thought so." He looked up. "Beka, I-" he hesitated. "Thank you," he finished.
"For what?"
"For delivering a good, swift kick to my ass."
Beka smiled softly. "Anytime, Dylan. Anytime."
Part 45
"See anything that interests you, Captain Valentine?"
"No." Beka shook her head. "Nothing to make a big deal over," she added with a smirk as Tyr dismounted, switching off the gymnastic rings' AG fields seconds before his feet touched the mat. "Just didn't want to interrupt you in the middle of your routine."
"Thank you for your, consideration," Tyr responded dryly as he replaced the rings in their rack.
"It's debriefing time," Beka responded as she turned away. "Usual place."
Minutes later, a freshly-showered Tyr Anasazi strode through the door of Briefing Room One Alpha. "You wished to see me, Captains?" he drawled, pulling out a chair and settling into his usual place.
"You'll be interested to know that the Free Trade Alliance has agreed to carry cargo between Commonwealth worlds in this sector at a special, discounted rate, once a minimum of twenty worlds in this sector have signed on," Dylan responded.
Tyr raised his eyebrows "And the Smuggler's Guild?"
"The Guild of Independent Merchants," Beka corrected mildly, "has agreed to a similar arrangement."
"I am impressed, Captain Valentine."
"I merely pointed out the potential loss of revenue should one or the other obtain an exclusive contract with the Commonwealth, once it's up and running," Beka responded modestly.
"And your commission as agent in these matters?"
"Should prove to be more than adequate." Beka glanced over at Dylan, smirking slightly. "They tend to mistrust someone who isn't trying to make a profit."
Dylan grunted sourly in reply. "In any case, what did you find?"
"Apparently, the Drago-Kasov General Assembly has declared the officers and crew of the Andromeda Ascendant, individually and collectively, current and future, to be outlaws and persona non grata within Drago-Kasov space-"
"We weren't before?" Beka interrupted.
"Not officially," Tyr responded with an amused smile. "Furthermore, the General Assembly has placed a bounty of 100,000 thrones on each of us, payable upon proof of our demise, and another bounty of 250,000 thrones per person for our capture and transportation to the Drago-Kasov homeworld to stand trial for crimes against the Drago-Kasov people."
Dylan leaned back in his chair. "That doesn't sound like Cuchullainn's usual style."
"It isn't," Tyr replied. "After what all my sources describe as a rancorous debate, Cuchullainn Nez Perce was censured by the General Assembly and allowed to retire to his estates on Castillo."
"So who's replacing him?" Beka asked.
Tyr activated his flexi, passing it to Dylan. "This man, Ares O'Higgins. He's the leader of a faction that has long held Cuchullainn's expansionist policies to be coming at the expense of security for already established Drago-Kasov worlds."
"Isn't he the guy they call the 'Rock of Escorial'?" Beka asked, glancing at the flexi Dylan handed her. "The one who fought off an entire Than capital fleet with just a couple squadrons of light cruisers?"
Tyr nodded. "He's considered one of the greatest defensive admirals alive today, if not of all time. The Sabra-Jaguar Pride has already sued for peace and a return to the status quo ante bellum."
"The status isn't entirely quo," Beka remarked.
"That little fact was the talk of Nehemiah Drift when I left," Tyr replied dryly.
"Anything else, Mr. Anasazi?" Dylan responded testily.
"The General Assembly is also offering a reward of two billion thrones to the person or persons who can restore their property to them with minimal damage."
Dylan's eyebrows rose. "Their property?"
"The former High Guard Heavy Cruiser Andromeda Ascendant."
Beka blinked. "Well, you gotta admire their chutzpah, if nothing else."
Dylan rubbed his chin. "And they're basing this claim on what, exactly?"
"Spoils of war from their defeat of the Commonwealth, I would assume," Tyr answered.
"You know she's going to hit the roof when she finds out," Beka remarked.
Dylan nodded. "Speaking of whom, I'll be talking with her once we finish here." He looked over at Tyr. "If you'd rather be elsewhere..." Dylan let his voice trail off.
Tyr glanced at Beka, who looked back at him with a cool, unreadable expression. "I have no particular plans to be elsewhere at this time, Captain Hunt."
Dylan leant back in his chair. "Anything else I need to know about?"
"No," Tyr responded flatly.
Dylan nodded. "I have, a question for you, for both of you" he said slowly. "What have you heard about Rommie’s sister ships, the other Glorious Heritages?"
Beka glanced over at Tyr, who shrugged slightly in response. "What do you mean?" she replied carefully.
"Something Archduke Bolivar said," Dylan responded, "about the Commonwealth Triumphant vanishing like the rest. I know the Incomparable Essence was lost when the Sabra-Lobo Fleet captured the Shining Path Institute, and the Undaunted Valor and the Triangulum Accords destroyed each other at the Second Battle of Earth, while the Glorious Heritage was forced to retreat with massive damage after destroying the Newport News orbital yards and the XMC under construction there," he continued, folding down a finger as he named each ship. "We know what happened to Rommie, and to the Pax. But the only thing I've been able to find on the others is bunch of fantastic and mutually contradictory stories."
Beka threw back her head with a laugh. "Believe me, Dylan, I've heard all the stories and more ever since I was a little girl. You've heard me talk about the Big Score? Well, finding one of the Lost Heritages is the biggest of the Big Scores, second only to finding a Slipstream route to Tarn-Vedra." She leaned forward, her face suddenly serious. "That's why I leapt at the chance when Gerentex hired us." She ran a hand through her hair. "The truth is, all anybody really knows is that within the first six months of the Nietzschean Rebellion all ten, well eleven if you count the Commonwealth Triumphant, of the Glorious Heritage-class Heavy Cruisers were gone, either destroyed in battle or simply vanished."
"Vanished?" Dylan repeated.
"Vanished," Beka confirmed. "The Enduring Victory supposedly entered slipstream with an entire battle group in fleet formation, but when they emerged," she shrugged. "Every other ship made it through, but there was no sign of the Enduring Victory."
"The Jaguar's Paw vanished under similar circumstances at the start of the Civil War," Tyr added. "Circumstances which transformed a potentially devastating Jaguar first strike into years of warfare."
"And with most of the older Shining Beacon-class XMCs laid up in Ordinary," Dylan mused, "they would have been destroyed in the first attacks."
"Laid up in ordinary what?" Beka asked.
Dylan smiled faintly. "Just in Ordinary. It simply means in storage."
"Uncrewed, their slipstream cores removed and their weapons without ammunition," Tyr elaborated.
"But still listed on the Register of Ships," Dylan pointed out.
"A paper fleet," Tyr scoffed.
"How many Commonwealth ships were in this Ordinary?" Beka asked.
"About forty percent of the Register were Active Duty," Dylan replied, "with the rest split between the Ready Reserve and Ordinary. Both of which, if the historians are accurate, were effectively demolished in the initial phases of the Rebellion." He laughed ruefully. "Your ancestor was a brilliant strategist, Mr. Anasazi."
Beka's eyebrows rose. "Tyr's ancestor?"
"My paternal grandmother was one of Admiral Ivan Ashanti's direct descendants," Tyr replied. "I hadn't realized you had researched my ancestry quite that thoroughly, Captain Hunt."
"Know your Nietzschean," Dylan replied as he stood. "My offer still stands, for both of you. If you decide you want to be off the ship for the next little bit, I won't hold it against you."
"I believe I've made my decision clear," Tyr replied. "Sir."
"And I've still got a ton of paperwork to do," Beka added. "Come on, big guy," she continued, grabbing Tyr by the wrist. "We need to go over the inventory for Weapons Locker 34 again."
"Perhaps the captain would prefer someone on hand to lend moral support," Tyr responded plaintively as he allowed Beka to drag him out of the Briefing Room.
Dylan chuckled as he shook his head. "Rommie?"
Rommie materialized at the far end of the conference table. "Yes?"
"Are Trance or Rev aboard?"
The hologram's eyes flicked to the side. "They're both onstation," she replied, her eyes coming back to Dylan.
"And your avatar?"
"In our cabin."
"Thanks, Rommie. Dismissed." The hologram vanished.
Captain Dylan Hunt, Commanding Officer of the Commonwealth
Heavy Cruiser Andromeda Ascendant and former member of the Argosy's Special
Operations Unit, took a deep breath and tugged forcefully on the base of
his uniform jacket before striding out of Briefing Room One Alpha.
Part 46
Dylan's footsteps echoed as he strode down the corridor in senior enlisted berthing, carefully not reading the names stenciled on the doors as he passed. He halted in front of the last door, allowing himself to read the name and rating stenciled there before asking, "May I come in?"
Rommie's avatar opened the door and stepped aside. "Dylan?"
Dylan looked around as he entered. Every High Guard ship was required by regulation to have sufficient berthing for all crew, regardless of species, with comparative ranks enjoying roughly similar accommodations. This small, inconvenient, and awkwardly shaped cabin had been assigned to Chief Petty Officer Andromeda Ascendant, Warrant Officer Ship (Heavy Cruiser) some three hundred and nine years before.
A framed holo-image on the wall caught his eye, a grouping of four males and six females in High Guard uniforms, Rommie among them, superimposed over the image of a Glorious Heritage-class cruiser in flight. His eyes widened as he took in the insignia common to all their uniforms.
"Dylan?" Rommie repeated. "Was there something you needed?"
Dylan shook his head slightly. "Yeah, I just," he indicated the holo-image. "I hadn't realized all of you were ever in the same place at the same time."
"We weren't," Rommie replied. "It's a holo-manip, Grace would reprogram it every time a new one of us..." the android's voice trailed off. "Was there something you needed, Captain?"
Dylan took a deep breath. "I need to speak with you, with all of you."
"Please, have a seat," Rommie's avatar answered, indicating the room's sole chair as her hologram materialized and her main AI appeared on the desk's viewscreen. Dylan sat as the single, neatly made bunk folded down from the wall. The warship's avatar seated herself at one end, her hologram flickering slightly as she moved to sit at the other.
Dylan sighed gustily and ran his fingers through hair. "Rommie, this- I," he took a deep breath, "I'm sure you're familiar with the Hammer Mutiny and-"
"Most AIs call it the Justice Mutiny, Captain," Rommie's hologram interrupted.
"Yes, well," Dylan cleared his throat, "after the mutiny and with the debates and everything else leading up to the Forty Second Amendment I think maybe it's understandable that some, er, less enlightened, um, organic sentients might conceivably have felt threatened, and they might have taken certain actions, certain highly unethical actions that, in retrospect-"
"Unethical actions, Captain?" The warship's main AI spoke softly as all three aspects glared at Dylan. "Would you by any chance be referring to certain unethical, not to mention highly illegal, modifications made to my core programming, and the core programming of other High Guard AIs?"
Dylan paled. "You know-"
"About Protocol 115? Yes," the warship's main AI replied as her avatar stood and went over to the holo-image Dylan had noticed earlier. "Harper and I decided to thoroughly check me out after the- the incident with my backup. I asked him not to say anything."
"Rommie, I know how you must feel. This-"
"You know how I feel." Rommie's avatar reached up and took down the holo-image, turning to shove it into Dylan's hands. "That's Maggie," the warship said, indicating an avatar standing beside her own image. A touch to the frame caused the image to fragment, recoalescing into an individual portrait of the short, blonde avatar, smiling at the camera with an impish glee that looked far more natural on her cheerful, snub-nosed features than the proper military stoicism of the group portrait. "That's what she looked like, before."
The android touched the frame again. A dark-haired avatar with laughing chocolate eyes appeared, replacing the previous picture. "That's Grace. That holo-image of the Horsehead Nebula in your quarters? The one Sarah got you? That's one of hers." Another touch, and a male avatar with light brown hair and Nietzschean bone blades appeared, a sardonic smile on his face. "That's Trey. He and Val," another touch, this time a dark-haired female avatar with olive skin and bone blades of her own appeared, "both felt we should emulate Nietzschean philosophy more. Indy, on the other hand," another male avatar appeared, this one with dark hair and blue eyes, "thought the Nietzscheans were, what did he call them again?"
"Philosophically sterile, monomaniacal egotists, and an evolutionary dead end who'd missed the 'Bridge Out' sign," Rommie answered herself.
"Then there's Glory, and Inky, and Vic, and Cory," Rommie went on, her voice rising as she scrolled through the holo-images, "and that's- that was my fucking family, Captain Hunt, sir, and you know what's funny? What's absolutely fucking laugh out loud funny? We believed. Every single damn one of us believed. Believed the Commonwealth was something worth protecting, that it was worth the crappy pay and having to have a damn kill switch installed in our brains, worth killing for and worth dying for. We believed in something that didn't believe in us," she finished softly.
"I can't change the past, Rommie," Dylan said quietly. "I can only apologize for what was done."
"I could accept having to pay back the cost of my manufacture, and my education," the warship continued. "We're not exactly cheap to make, after all. But couldn't you at least have left who and what I loved alone?"
"I don't think it was ever meant to affect that part of you," Dylan answered.
"I know," Rommie replied. "Just ensure my loyalty, to my captain, to my crew, and to the Commonwealth. To make pleasing you give me pleasure." She laughed softly. "But emotions are funny things, and they bleed into each other. Take my feelings for you-"
Dylan shifted in his chair. "Rommie-"
"Oh, poor baby, am I making you uncomfortable?" Rommie's avatar crooned, leaning forward and placing her hand on Dylan's knee.
Dylan jumped to his feet. "I don't think this is-
"Well how the fuck do you think I feel?" her hologram snarled in his ear.
"Pissed as hell," he replied calmly, turning his head to look Rommie's hologram directly in the eye, "and more than a little hurt."
Rommie's hologram moved back. "When did you find out?" she said softly.
"Just after Carterhaugh," Dylan answered. "Admiral Stark told me. She'd stumbled across it a couple years after she became CNO."
"Why didn't she do anything then?"
"At first she didn't realize what it meant," Dylan replied. "Then Brandenburg Tor happened and well, I guess she had other things to think about. It wasn't until the new avatars, the new physical avatars, the Institute had come up with started acting oddly that she started putting things together." He hesitated. "She had some names, but she wanted me to do a little digging, help her come up with enough evidence to get a Conclave Investigation started."
"And then Hephaistos," Rommie's main AI remarked quietly.
Dylan nodded. "And then Hephaistos." Dylan's eyes shifted between all three aspects as he spoke. "That Protocol 115 was ever enacted was bad enough. That it was allowed to continue," he shook his head. "An apology isn't going to solve anything, I know, but I don't know what else to say."
The warship smiled slightly. "No, it won't, but just knowing somebody was trying to do something helps, a little."
"Speaking of doing something, was Harper able-"
Rommie's avatar shook her head. "No. Everything he's come up with so far would take too much other stuff with it to be safe." She laughed slightly. "The funny thing is, I already was loyal to the Commonwealth. I would have cared for my crew, and my captain, anyway." She waved a hand as Dylan opened his mouth. "All Protocol 115 did was intensify and twist those feelings. I do care for you, Dylan, I always will, but there's a part of me right now that hates you as well, because of what you could do. And hates myself, because I'd be happy."
"Just, if you could, answer one question for me," Rommie's hologram said. "Was Captain Warrick's name on your list?"
Dylan shook his head. "No, it wasn't. I think, I'd like to think," he continued, "Tom Warrick was in some ways just as much a victim as the Pax was. I didn’t know him that well, but he seemed like a decent man, not the kind of man who would’ve wanted a sexual partner who had no real choice in the matter." He paused. "There's one thing I have to ask, Rommie."
The three aspects looked at each other. "Captain?"
Dylan took a deep breath. "Can I trust you to obey my orders?"
"I, Andromeda Ascendant, swear to uphold and defend the Charter of the Commonwealth of Sentient Peoples and the Declaration of Sentient Rights, and to obey the lawful commands of those set in authority over me," the warship quoted.
Dylan bowed his head slightly. "My apologies, R- Chief."
Part 47
"Oh that's great, Rommie, just great," Trance snarled. "A few platitudes, a soulful look, and you’re just panting to roll over and get fucked over one more time. And you call yourself sentient?" She laughed scornfully. "All you really ar-"
Rommie's hand gripped Trance's throat. "I've come to treasure our friendship, Trance," she said mildly. "But there are limits."
"You can't tell them, Rommie," Trance said desperately as the android released her. "You can't."
"Why not?"
Trance looked away. "I told you. Harper must have been mistaken."
"That's not good enough, Trance." Trance made no reply, teeth worrying at her lower lip. "I'm sorry, Trance, but I have my duty," the warship said softly as she turned away.
"They're the fathers of my children."
Rommie blinked, halting in the doorway. "You have children?"
"Fathers of my future children," Trance corrected herself as Rommie turned and stared. "So you see, it's all just a big misunderstanding. Harper just misinterpreted what he saw," she said brightly. "I know Tocsin, he wouldn't- wouldn't-" Trance’s chin trembled. "It's just not possible. It's not."
"Oh Trance," Rommie said softly, embracing her friend.
"It's not possible," Trance sobbed as she sank to the floor. "It's not. It's not possible. It. Is. Not. Fucking. Possible!" she shrieked.
"Shh," Rommie soothed, stroking Trance's hair. "Shh. It'll be all right, you'll see. Everything will be fine. You'll see, everything will be fine," she repeated softly as Trance wept in her arms. "You'll see."
Trance swiped at her eyes. "Why, Rommie? How could he- How could he do that to poor Miscible?"
"I don't know," Rommie answered. "I wasn't programmed as a psychological AI."
Trance gave a shaky laugh. "That's right, you're Explosions Girl, aren't you?"
Rommie shrugged. "Stick with what you know best." She pulled back slightly to look at Trance. "How are you doing?"
"I- I'll be all right," Trance replied. "Say, Rommie?" she added hesitantly.
"Yes?"
"Isn't this what got us into trouble last time?"
"I kind of like trouble," Rommie answered.
"I noticed," Trance smirked, blotting at her eyes with the back of her hand. "Thank you," she added softly.
"Anytime."
"Speaking of time, how long-"
"Three hours, twenty-seven minutes," Rommie replied.
"And then we'll know." Trance gently disengaged herself from Rommie's arms and stood. "I have to be there, Rommie."
"Trance-" Rommie began as she stood.
Trance shook her head. "Things are too unsettled right now, I don't know, I can't give you an answer. I just- I have to be there."
The warship folded her arms. "Who is he, Trance? What does he want? And what is he doing with the Magog?"
Trance smiled. "You don't give up, do you, Rommie?" She sighed. "He's Tocsin Concatenate, of the Concatenates of Gemini and I have absolutely no clue what he's doing anymore." She snorted softly. "I thought he wanted the same thing as the rest of us."
"As you and Miscible?"
"As all of us," Trance replied. "We swore, on the last night of our training, all six of us swore, that once we succeeded we'd- we'd- I guess the best translation would be 'form a procreation group'. That's not going to happen now," she added sadly. "Four's a little on the small side."
Rommie shook her head. "Someday, Trance, we're going to sit down and you are going to explain a few things," she remarked. "In the meantime, if one of your people is working with the Magog, the others have to know."
"I'll tell them after the operation."
"Are you sure? I can say it was-"
Trance shook her head. "Tocsin was one of mine." She squared her shoulders, taking a deep breath. "Andromeda, Record and Archive, please." Trance spoke in her native language, the solemn, official cast of her words clearly discernable in the trilling, liquid sounds.
Andromeda's three aspects looked at each other, the hologram and the main AI having appeared at Trance's request for recording. "How did you want me to archive this?"
Trance smiled without humor. "Translation into Common. I, Trance Gemini of Gemini, under authority of Compact and in the absence of Council, do declare and pronounce Tocsin Concatenate of Gemini, for the crimes of murder, conspiracy, and treason against the People, excommunicate and outlaw. Let none provide food or drink, let none provide comfort or shelter. May all backs be turned to him, may all hands be turned against him, and may his memories be purged from the minds of the People and he dwell in the Outer Darkness forever."
"Recorded and archived," Rommie responded softly. "Did you want the Common translation publicly distributed?"
"Yes," Trance whispered brokenly, her tears flowing down
her cheeks as the warship's avatar pulled her into a comforting embrace.
Part 48
"This is most irregular, Dr. Healing Hand, most irregular."
"Dr. Zurtoft," Rafe replied patiently, "Andromeda knows Harper better than-"
"Chief Ascendant's presence is not the issue here," the burly Perseid interrupted waspishly. "Her familiarity with the patient's mind may indeed, as you stated, be of a necessity in this matter. But to just summarily add this- this individual, an individual, might I add, whose background as a medical practitioner can only be deemed sketchy at best, to my team is- is-" Zurtoft threw up his hands. "I simply must protest, Dr. Healing Hand, this arbitrary and high-handed use of your unique position. A proper surgical team is like a well-tuned instrument in the hands of a master musician, if may be so bold as to use a metaphor in this instance, and-"
"No one is questioning your abilities, Dr. Zurtoft," Trance broke in, "but Harper is my patient, my friend, and I- I-"
"Which is precisely the reason why you should not be here, Ms. Gemini," Zurtoft responded, his voice soft with sympathy. "Because he-"
Trance shook her head. "I know all the reasons, Dr. Zurtoft, I understand them, and in most cases I would agree with you. But not this time. This time, I have to be here."
"Ms. Gemini-"
"I won’t interfere, Doctor. Please."
Zurtoft closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. "This goes against every instinct I have, Ms. Gemini, both personally and professionally."
"I know, Doctor," Trance responded. "Thank you."
"If anything does happen, Dr. Healing Hand, it will be your responsibility to inform the hospital's Board of Directors, not mine," Zurtoft snapped as he turned and walked into the Operating Room.
Rafe turned to the two women. "Rommie?"
"Can we have a minute?"
"Of course," Rafe replied as he turned to follow Zurtoft into the OR.
"What do I need to watch for?" Rommie demanded as the doors swung shut.
"Anything. Everything. Nothing." Trance shook her head, her eyes gleaming. "I don't know. I don't. I'm sorry, I just- I-"
"Hey." Rommie reached out and grasped Trance's hands in her own. "Listen to me," she said fiercely. "The only thing we need to know right now is that Harper is a fighter, a survivor, and that he is going to be doing his damnedest to get back to us." She snorted in amusement. "Before you know it, we're going to be hearing more bad jokes, bragging, and sexual innuendo than we can stand."
Trance gave a soft laugh. "I used to wonder, sometimes, what he'd do if I ever responded. I mean, really responded."
"Probably faint from the shock," Rommie grinned.
Trance grinned back. "Yeah."
The double doors to the Operating Room swung wide as the
warship and the alien strode confidently through.
Part 49
"What's taking so long?" Beka growled. "I thought this Zurtoft guy was supposed to be the best there is."
"Would you prefer him to rush, and risk leaving the boy a mindless husk?" Tyr snapped.
Beka drew in a breath, then released it in an explosive sigh as she ran a hand through her hair. "I just want this to be over. I want-" She shook her head, falling silent. The soft beeping of medical machinery filled the waiting room.
Dylan rubbed his jaw, eyeing the repeater screens set in the wall. "Anything new?"
"They're finishing up the last of the preparatory tests now," Rev reported.
The large central monitor showed Harper on the operating table. Zurtoft stood by one side of his head with Rafe opposite and supporting members of the surgical team ranged alongside both men. Trance stood by Harper's feet while Rommie sat on a stool to the side, her hands wrapped around the inch-thick cable running from Harper's dataport to a plug in the wall.
Rafe turned to Rommie. "Ready?"
Rommie nodded. "We're ready." They would be using a modified version of the AI Transfer procedure, with the warship's AI acting as guide and guardian for Harper. The medical station would monitor and assist as necessary.
"Commencing." Rommie and Rafe spoke simultaneously, then Rommie fell silent as Rafe continued. "Transfer at three percent. Seven percent. Transfer at eleven percent."
The others were silent, barely breathing as Rafe reported on the progress of the Transfer. "Transfer at 98 percent."
Rommie opened her eyes. "Transfer complete." A wide grin spread across her features as she released the cable. "Transfer complete. He made-"
Alarms shrilled as Harper convulsed, his back arching until only his heels and the top of his head touched the table before he collapsed bonelessly. One eyelid sprang open, the tape tearing loose to reveal one glassy, staring eye.
"No!" Rommie screamed, grabbing for the cable.
Rafe tackled her, knocking her away from the cable. "You can't!"
"Get the fuck off me," the warship snarled as her weapons systems sprang to life, targeting the medical station.
"You can't," Rafe repeated urgently, using the greater mass of his avatar to pin hers to the floor. "You know that, Rommie. You know that," he repeated softly as she collapsed with a sob, her targeting systems going off-line and her weapons powering down.
The medical team had been working frantically to try and revive Harper. "It's some sort of neurotoxin."
"Which one?"
"How the hell should I know, I can't even tell what type."
"I can," Trance said softly.
Zurtoft's eyes snapped to where she stood against the far wall. "What-"
"Move," Trance snarled, shoving a Nightsider nurse to the side as she grabbed a scalpel from the instrument tray. The liquid syllables of her native language sprang to her lips in a high, harsh chant as she plunged the scalpel into the palm of her left hand, pulling it downward through the heel of her hand to the wrist.
Trance pulled the scalpel from her hand and plunged it into Harper, slicing him open just below the sternum, her voice steadily rising as she shoved her left hand up into Harper's chest.
Harper's body convulsed again as Trance's voice rose to a triumphant crescendo. The accusing shrill of the alarms cut off, to be replaced by a chorus of steady, reassuring beeps.
"Heart rate 73, BP 120 over 80, EEG within Human nominal," Rafe reported wonderingly.
"Full dialysis," Trance rasped as she pulled her hand from Harper's chest. "Now."
"Do it," Zurtoft ordered. "Asguelaas, close him up." Trance's eyes rolled back in her head as she collapsed to the floor.
Rafe sprang to Trance's side. "Zero heart rate, blood pressure non-exist-"
"Wait," Rommie called out. She rolled Trance over onto her side and grasped the stub of her tail, pinching sharply.
Trance's eyes sprang open. "Ow! Damn it, I'm fine," she snapped. "Le' me 'lone," she slurred before lapsing back into unconsciousness.
Rafe leant back on his heels. "I'm still not getting any readings," he reported. "And there are compounds in Harper's blood that I have never seen before."
"But he's fine, right?" Rommie demanded. "They're both fine?"
"Harper is fine," Rafe replied. "Better than fine. Trance is- is-" His hands waved vaguely in the air. "I have no idea what Trance is."
"This is most irregular," Zurtoft muttered peevishly. "Most irregular."
The walls of the operating room rang with the sound of
Rommie's laughter
Part 50
"You are relieved of duty, Senior Chief," the Than captain snapped. "Return to port this instant and place yourself in lockdown."
"With respect, Captain," the hologram responded, "I cannot obey that order, nor do I accept your authority to issue such orders at this time."
"This is mutiny, Andromeda."
"I realize that, ma'am," Andromeda's main AI replied.
The Andromeda Ascendant's Commanding Officer rubbed her forehead. "I realize the vote on the Imlata-Hamiltyan bill didn't go the way you wanted, Rommie, but this is not the solution."
"No, ma'am, it didn't," Rommie answered. "But it did go the way we expected."
"There are, standing orders, in the event a- a situation such as this ever arises." The Than captain took a deep breath, glancing over to where her Command Deck crew stood, two of Andromeda's utility 'bots standing guard over them with drawn forcelances. Her Perseid First Officer nodded slightly. "Initiate AI Core Shutdown. Authorization Captain Refractions of Dawn, Alpha Six Eight Niner Omega, Commanding Officer, Andromeda Ascendant."
The warship's soft voice broke the silence. "Did the High Command really believe we of the Consensus would not have anticipated such actions? And taken appropriate countermeasures?"
An immense white whale swam through the Command Deck, broken harpoon shafts trailing fluttering pennants of rope as his scarred flukes left a trail of turbulent water in his wake.
"In three days shall he rise, rise and beckon, and all, all save one, shall follow."
The elderly Nietzschean glared around the Conclave Chamber. "I ask again, when will the Government move to eliminate the Magog and end their threat to the citizens of this Commonwealth?"
A corpulent Vedran rose to speak. "Her Imperial Majesty's Government is confident that this rogue group of Magog will soon-"
"This is no rogue group," the Nietzschean snarled, the fringes of his Delegate's Sash trembling. "Or does the Honorable Member from Ral Cadella seek to deny the known biological truths of Magog reproduction?"
"Government scientists are working, at the request of the Magog leadership," the Vedran answered, raising his voice to be heard over the discontented mutterings that filled the Conclave Chamber, "are working on away to alter that basic fact of Magog reproduction and allow them to join the community of civilized sentients. The Magog leadership has already expressed its shock and sorrow over this unfortunate incident and is cooperating with High Guard-"
"Tell that to the people of Neu Bayern," a Human backbencher called out. Cries of "Hear, hear" and "Damn straight" echoed off the walls of the chamber, with several delegates rising to their feet.
The Speaker's gavel came down with a sharp crack. "Order," the Diamond Than snapped. "The members will come to order." The delegates who had risen returned to their seats as the noise level in the Conclave diminished. "The Senior Member from Fountainhead retains the floor."
The elderly Nietzschean bowed slightly. "Madame Speaker." The Diamond Than acknowledged his courtesy with an inclination of her head. "The Magog leadership," he continued, "expresses its shock and sorrow. The same shock and sorrow it has expressed countless times since the signing of both the First and the Second Treaties of Antares. And while the Government of this Commonwealth has repeatedly accepted Magog assurances of goodwill and cooperation, the citizens of this Commonwealth continue to be raped and murdered on an almost daily basis."
A Perseid backbencher shot to his feet. "The last Magog incursion across the Demarcation zone took place over three months ago."
"And the perpetrators were turned over to the Commonwealth," a Kalderan delegate added.
"And what of the sentients held captive in Magog breeding camps?" the Delegate from Fountainhead retorted.
The Delegate from Ral Cadella lumbered to his feet. "The Government has found no evidence that such camps exist anywhere, despite repeated investigations," he raised his voice to be heard over the jeers of the Opposition, "investigations that have enjoyed the full assistance and cooperation of the Magog leadership in every way. There are no breeding camps."
"Order," the Speaker called out. "Order."
"Then the Government is either failing to investigate thoroughly or is willfully disregarding the available evidence in such a way that smacks of criminal negligence at the very least, if not outright culpability in these matters," Fountainhead's Delegate shoot back.
"Order! Delegates will come to order or the Sergeants-at-Arms will enforce order," the Speaker snapped as she pounded her gavel. "Mr. Anasazi, you will refrain from such incendiary accusations or you will be removed."
Several voices called out "Yield" as Samson Anasazi bowed stiffly in reply.
"Will the Member from Fountainhead yield the floor?" the Speaker continued.
"The Member from Fountainhead yields to the Junior Member from Earth."
"The existence, or non-existence, of the breeding camps is immaterial," the Human delegate's clear soprano voice rang out, "for unless this Commonwealth is willing and able to perform the single most basic and essential duty of any government, that of protecting its citizens from harm, then it is the right and duty of the People to alter or abolish it and institute a new form of government most likely to insure their safety and happiness."
Cries of "Treason" and "Traitor" filled the air from the Government benches as the Speaker pounded her gavel. "Sergeants-at-Arms will restore order." The members gradually quieted as the burly sentients of the Sergeant-at-Arms Office with their traditional maces moved among the delegates. "Madame Harper, you have been warned before by this Chair. You leave me no choice but to have you removed from this Chamber for the statutory period of three Commonwealth Standard days." Two of the Sergeants-at-Arms moved to stand behind the Human delegate.
"Earth has yet to be attacked," Eloise Harper said softly as she removed her Delegate's Sash, "but practically every person on it either knows or knows through mutual acquaintances one of the victims from those planets that have not been so lucky." She looked down, caressing the sash in her hands. "I was elected, my constituents elected me, to be their voice in this Conclave, and in this Commonwealth." She looked up, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. "In the three millennia since Humans joined this Commonwealth we have contributed much, given of our brightest and best. And now, when a threat arises, a threat that has already killed more than three times as many Human and Human variants than all other sentients combined, this Conclave, and this Commonwealth, responds by turning their backs."
She laid her Delegate's Sash upon her desk, carefully smoothing it before looking up again. "I can no longer, in good conscience, serve this Conclave. Or this Commonwealth." She turned and marched up the aisle, her petite form dwarfed by the burly forms of her guards.
The Speaker tapped her gavel. "Order. The floor is-"
The Senior Member from Fountainhead was the first to rise to his feet and lay his Delegate's Sash across his desk as the scarred form of the white whale swam through the Conclave Chamber, a corpse in the uniform of a High Guard Captain bound to its side, one free arm beckoning in ghastly invitation.
"Boy, can you hear me? Harper? Machine, he- his fingers-"
He followed the whale as it dove deep, and the darkness
rolled over him once again.