Jethro 3: No Place Like Home (37 page)

“The AI isn't so much in the suit alone. It is also in you. Had anyone else tried to use your suit it would have killed them or blown up.”

“I...know now, sir,” Jethro said.

“The link. It is a symbiotic link between you and its parts. When you are together and in synch you are as one. Nearly unstoppable,” the Admiral said.

“Yes, sir.”

“Bast,” the Admiral said softly. “Come on, come out of there,” he said.

“Bast?” Sprite said, interested. She felt a stirring in the suit and in Jethro. Then a violent upheaval as the cat's implants kicked her out.

“What the hell?” she said as Jethro sank to his knees clutching his head and groaning.

“What just happened?” the Admiral asked.

“The AI. It kicked me out,” Sprite said. She sent a ping to Jethro and to the suit. She felt a response, a cat's hiss and snarl. “Well!”

“What?” the Admiral asked.

“See for yourself Admiral. It's not fully sapient. It's...a cat. A black cat. A pissed black cat.”

The Admiral sent the ping manually and then frowned at the response. He could see yellow eyes briefly before it withdrew.

“Sergeant,” he said, placing his hand on the Sergeant's shoulder.

“Warning Admiral, nanites detected,” Proteus said, flashing his HUD red.

Irons frowned and looked down. He could see the tiny things, almost like ants swarming over the panther. They followed his various systems, his circulatory and nervous system. They came from the lumps in his back the Admiral noted.

“I have one hell of a headache, sir,” Jethro said.

“Bast,” The Admiral said.

“The AI?”

“Yes,” the Admiral said. “Bast, short for Bastet, goddess of cats.” He turned to see the helmet's eyes glowing yellow. He frowned. Nanites were swarming in the suit angrily.

“I think someone is pissed,” Sprite said. “A pissed-off kitty,” she said.

“Can it Sprite; this isn't the time,” the Admiral said, frowning. He studied the suit and then the young man. “When was the last time you interfaced with the suit?”

“It's been a couple of weeks, sir. I've been off the ship for part of that time. On the prison ship. The liner. We're being assigned there for the journey back to Pyrax I believe.”

“I see,” the Admiral said. “Are you okay?”

“I've been worse, sir,” the panther said, getting to his feet.

“Okay,” the Admiral said. “Put the suit on,” he said.

“Sir?”

“Do it, Sergeant,” the Admiral said. “We need to reinitialize the AI. Bastet is there, but she lost some of her memory. Part of that is in you. She's confused and angry. The longer you two are together the more time she has to become integrated.”

“So, I have to live in the suit, sir?” Jethro asked, sounding aghast.

Irons chuckled softly. “You'd be surprised. When Cadre first initialized, they lived in their suits almost nonstop for a year or longer. They never went anywhere without their suits, even on leave. It was a pain in the ass for the spooks,” he said, mouth twisting in a wry smile. “They hated it.”

“Must have been something to see...and explain.”

“Yes. Sergeant, by now you know part of the AI is inherited in you. And I'm guessing you are wondering why.”

“Some, sir. How is right up there on the list too,” Jethro said. “I figured part of that out, but not all.”

“The Cadre isn't easy to explain. I'm not sure I can or should explain it all right now. But we can get Bastet under control. Get her back on the team. You'll have to suit up daily at least to help her reassemble her mind.”

“Aye, sir,” the young panther said, nodding. He stripped off his BDU and then put his arms out. “I'm ready.”

The Admiral watched as the panther stepped in the circle and then initialized the suit-up procedure with a signal through his implants. He noted that signal, but also noted that the arms were swinging into action almost a tenth of a second before the panther sent the signal. Either the computer had anticipated the order or Bast was up to her usual tricks.

The frame was assembled on the panther and then piece-by-piece the armor bolted on. When he was done he stretched, checking the systems as he had been trained.

“All set, sir. She's not balky,” Jethro said.

“Good. Now, hang in there. This could get rough,” Irons said, putting his hands on the suit's shoulder pauldrons. He sent the initiate signal and then opened his cadre files. Programs flashed out and through his link into the AI.

---( | ) --- ( | )---

Jethro felt the data briefly before a wave of confusion and then eagerness flooded his implants. He closed his eyes tightly as pain ripped up his spine and into his head. Grimly he clenched his teeth, but a slight whimper escaped as he exhaled.

“Almost there,” Irons said distantly. “Another few minutes and then reintegration,” he stated.

Jethro felt like he was being crushed, like his mind was being torn apart. His head pounded, aching like a drum. He tried to nod but couldn't. He realized he could barely breathe; he couldn't move at all. Panic briefly hit him, and then he felt something comfort him. A distinctly feminine touch, like a hesitant lover. It wrapped around him and purred. Fingers gently soothed him, touching his mind, easing the pain away. He felt the phantom lover caress his shoulders and then rub cheeks with him. He slowly opened his eyes but no one was there.

“She's...well, not finished, but better. Still subsapient unfortunately,” the Admiral said. He rubbed his own temples. The Cadre suit had kicked him out when his transmission had finished. It was very animalistic, primal.

“You've got a long road ahead of you, Sergeant,” the Admiral said. “Recovery may not be fully possible for her. She's lost a lot, and I'm not certain it will ever be fully restored.”

“Yes, sir,” Jethro said feeling strange. There was another mind inside him now, feline. It stared at him for a moment and then yawned. He had the distinct impression she was tired and bored and wanted a nap. He agreed; he badly wanted one now.

“Sir...” he swayed a bit. The AI caught and stopped the motion.

“Rest,” the Admiral said. “Integration will take time. You'll need to sleep in the armor tonight at least. Take the suit with you and sleep with it on,” he said.

“Aye, sir,” Jethro said, now wondering how he was going to explain that to the bear.

“I'll let your commanding officer know and Captain Pendeckle. They'll need to block out time for you to be in the suit. Fortunately, you can be in it on duty. That should help. Though you may get some looks about it.”

“I'll ignore it, sir.”

“Good for you,” the Admiral said as Sprite wordlessly put up a request for his time. He sighed. “And unfortunately, I've got to go. I've left you a document to go over. Once you read it, it should destruct. So read it carefully,” the Admiral said.

“Aye, sir,” Jethro nodded, stubbornly clinging to consciousness despite his heavy eyelids. A yawn escaped him.

“Rest. I'll let Riley and the others know,” the Admiral said. He helped ease the cat down to the deck. Jethro's consciousness faded. He felt the suit move, but it was a distant thing, unimportant now.

---( | ) --- ( | )---

The Admiral watched the suit curl up in a classic cat circle as he fought a smile of amusement. The tip of the tail flicked briefly. He turned and exited the compartment.

Sergeant Riley looked up from behind the counter. The Tauren was absent. “Sergeant Jethro needs to rest. The suit AI is integrating with him more. So don't disturb him.”

“Aye, sir,” Riley replied, bobbing a nod.

“And let him sleep himself out. I'm leaving orders for him to wear the suit as much as possible. That will let Bastet form her relationship with him. Impression they call it,” the Admiral said.

“Bastet?”

“The suit AI,” the Admiral said in a tone that bode no more questions. Riley nodded. “Don't ask, classified.” Riley frowned but then nodded again.

“Sir, can we make more suits like his?”

“No,” the Admiral replied. “Not anytime soon. That's even beyond my abilities for now,” he said with a shrug. “So take good care of it and Jethro. Don't ever let anyone else try to use the suit. It will self-destruct if that happens,” he said.

Riley's eyes widened. “I'll make certain that never happens, sir,” he said.

“Good man. Carry on,” the Admiral said, waving as he left.

He waited as he stepped over three knee knockers before curiosity for once got the better of him. “Nothing to add Sprite?” he asked.

When there was no response he frowned. “Commander?” He stopped, now concerned. “Lieutenant Commander Sprite report,” he barked. He hit the initiate key on his HUD.

“I'm awake,” Sprite said. “Just assimilating all that. I couldn't see what you did. Defender blocked some of it, so I couldn't copy the files.”

“They are encrypted,” the Admiral said.

“I see. So what did you do?”

“I reset Bast. She's now impressing onto the Sergeant. So far so good.”

“So far so good?”

“Yes. He's alive,” the Admiral replied, now moving out again.

“Oh,” Sprite replied. “That's helpful,” she said thoughtfully.

The Admiral nodded. “And about all you are going to get, Commander. Even I have my limits. Just be glad you witnessed it, and...”

“And don't ever tell anyone. Or comment about it. It is under the strictest of classification seals,” Defender interjected.

“What he said,” the Admiral sighed.

“I'm not certain I know what I saw,” Sprite replied dryly. “But, in this instance, I'll take your word for it,” she said.

Chapter 17

The Admiral shook hands with Captain Mayweather when they had made good on their drive and structural repairs. None of the ships were anywhere near what he considered combat ready, but at least they were functional as ships once more. The crews were still at work tearing into them, making repairs as needed.

“I'm proud of you, Captain, you've taught your people well,” he said with a smile of approval.

“Thank you, sir. And thank you for the parts. I'm sure Harris on Damocles will finally appreciate getting a hyperdrive. Maybe next time we can bring him along for the ride.”

“Maybe,” the Admiral replied with a small smile. He had stuffed the ships with parts. He was tired, in need of some downtime, but feeling good about the situation. Things were definitely looking up.

“So, what now, Admiral?” she asked. “You know I've got orders from a certain
civilian
authority to bring you back to Pyrax,” she said with a wink.

“And I can guess from who, Governor Walker. Fortunately, he isn't in your chain of command,” the Admiral replied mildly. They both exchanged a brief smirk. “Consider them countermanded, Commander,” he said.

She nodded in reply.

“Anything else?”

“Well, it's election year,” she said, smiling broadly now. “Governor Walker has his hands full since he for some reason has rather poor poll numbers right now,” she said.

“I wonder why,” Sprite said dryly. “Competition? Not that anyone wants the job,” she said in disgust.

“Surprisingly, station Governor, and current Lieutenant Governor Enrique Fernando has thrown his hat in the ring. Officially we can't endorse or back him, but he's got my vote,” Renee said with a shrug. “Better the devil you know than the slime ball currently in office.”

“Trading one for the other. Gee where have I seen that before?” Sprite asked. “I'm surprised he's sticking his neck out though. The way politics are played in Pyrax, he's liable to get it chopped off,” she said.

“He hasn't yet,” Renee replied as the Admiral waved her to a seat. They both sat. He picked up a cup of coffee and sipped at it. “But then again, there are six months to go or were before we left,” she said, picking up her own cup.

“By the time we get back it should be all over but the crying and lawsuits come to think of it,” she said with a grin.

“One battle at a time,” Irons replied softly.

“That particular battle I'm glad to have missed,” the Captain replied with feeling. “Though it might have been fun to have watched it,” Firefly said.

“Yeah, from the sidelines,” Irons replied. Irons, Mayweather, and Sprite chuckled.

“So, from your report things have frozen in the yard?”

“Yes, sir,” Renee said, taking a sip of coffee and then cradling the cup. “We haven't been able to resolve the replicators issue. Fortunately, you stockpiled a lot of materials and spares, and Commander Logan has been a miser with that right now.”

He nodded. The fabricators were a problem. Prometheus and the other ships that had been under construction had been taken as far as possible then mothballed. They had built as many modules for other ships as they could until Logan had shut the effort down.

Logan had instead switched to infrastructure and frame components. He hadn't thought of the end run the Horathians had come up with, but it might have occurred to him eventually. Instead he had taken the stations to monumental numbers.