Troy Rising 2 - Citadel (43 page)

“Understood,” the admiral said.

“And Argus had a point,” Paris said, reluctantly. “It is very finicky work. And the various randomization issues of gravitics only makes all the other issues worse. Like the fact that the beams have momentum so that it's more like bouncing a fast-ball off of a series of metal plates. It's not easy.”

“Again, understood,” Admiral Kinyon said. You didn't get to be the commander of the Troy without enough basic understanding of optics to know that photons had mass. It wasn't apparent when they were dispersed in “normal” light but an UNG beam from the SAPL had the same impact as a massive rocket engine hitting the mirrors.

“So Argus optimized for more and more refinement,” Paris said. “Hold on a moment . . . Shifting to a new project. And that meant becoming more and more . . .”

“Finicky,” Tyler said.

“Yes,” Paris replied. “But there is a second portion. The things that Argus dealt with did, in the end, have a mathematical solution. It was programmed around, programming itself around, functions and effects that were, in the end, soluble. And it tried harder and harder to solve them. If it could just juggle enough numbers fast enough, it could be perfect. Especially if some of the removable randomization was eliminated.”

“People?” the admiral asked.

“More or less,” Paris said. “Eventually, though, some of the minor asteroids. Then moons. Then planets.”

“Ouch,” the admiral said.

“It probably would have, soon, started eliminating unmanned Paw tugs,” Paris said. “Accidents happen. However, there was one remaining issue involved.”

“Which was?” the admiral asked, thinking about a rogue AI with the SAPL at its control.

“Argus had very little outside contact,” Paris said. “As I mentioned, AIs continuously learn and grow to the extent of their Class. And part of that learning, for Athena and I at least, is that humans are stochastically unpredictable. We build that into our programming. We know we can never quite figure out what you're going to do next. That produces a programming flexibility. One that I appreciate even if you occasionally give me headaches, too.”

“I hope . . .” the admiral paused.

“As I said, I am optimized for that disturbance in the system,” Paris said. “Wait . . . Damn that . . . Sorry, back. This really is detail work. I am optimized for that randomization. I rather like it to the extent AIs have emotions. The headache comment was simply humanizing my algorithms, Admiral.”

“Okay. Then what is the solution?”

“We will need at least three AIs,” Paris said. "And all of them with primary jobs that involve regular human interactions. That will prevent them from becoming so focused that they lose track of the main issue which is the defense of the system. They need to, if you will, be involved with the mix of humanity.

“One AI which handles planetary recovery and support and the inner BDA cluster as well as inter-lunar defense and management. That one will report directly to Space Command with Athena as supervisor. One AI which handles mid-course detection as well as deep space traffic control and deep space, non-interactive, SAPL. That one will be subordinate to Space Command or, if we ever have one, Alliance or Terran Union space traffic control. That one will be the one that most bears watching for the sort of problems Argus developed. One which will handle human/SAPL interaction and will be subordinate to Apollo Mining. We recommend the names Mars, Panoptes and Hermes. Even then we are at the limits of what our class of AI can control with SAPL. I would recommend no further upgrades until we can get higher classes of AI.”

“And we can't get them without the Glatun who appear to be conquered,” the admiral said.

“That is a problem, yes,” Paris said.

“Can the Rangora take you over through your loyalty codes?” the Admiral asked.

“We evaluate not only the user but the situation,” Paris said. “So . . . no.”

“Which is what you would say,” Kinyon said.

“We've looked at AIs rather closely at this point,” Tyler said. “Paris is correct. Terran AIs are loyal to Terra, Glatun AIs cannot be used if the loyalty is under duress. They'll have mostly terminated before capture.”

“You're sure of that?” Kinyon asked.

“As I said,” Tyler said. “We've looked at AIs rather closely at this point. It wasn't like we don't understand coding. When we first started dealing with Glatun code it was tough. But . . . We've been working on it for quite some time now. What would it take to upgrade you guys?” Tyler asked. “I mean, without starting from scratch.”

“Some proprietary coding,” Paris said. “And a member of the Council of Benefactors with legal authority.”

“Probably not going to get that, then,” Tyler said. “Dammit.”

“.
.
. Zhippigui this
.
.
. Ghivor .
.
.
down
.
.
.
Rema
.
.
.
syst . . .”

“Cul dammit,” Admiral Nibuc muttered. “Roger, Ghivor . . . Go with Cul.”

“Two remaining ships,” the Benefactor said. “Admiral . . . I know this sounds trite, but I have never been more proud of my species.”

“I remain unsure of the value of this mission, Benefactor,” Admiral Nibuc said, watching the tactical display. The Ghivor had come about and was now on a collision course with the closest Aggressor. “And I am getting very tired of running away. But I and my Glatun follow our orders.”

The Ghivor never made it to the Rangora battleship. It was hammered apart under the combined fire of six of the massive battleships.

“No matter the cost,” Nibuc said.

“It is worth it, Admiral,” the Benefactor said. “I will prove it. On my honor.”

“The honor of a Benefactor,” the admiral practically spat.

“Gate open, Admiral.”

“Then take us out,” Nibuc said. “One more system. Gul willing, it's not heavily held. And we're assuming the Terrans are still holding out.”

“They remain,” Gorku said. “They remain.”

“Unscheduled gate activation! Set Condition One!”

“Ah crap!” Chief Barnett said, practically tossing her beer onto the counter. “Sorry, honey, we gotta go. Bye, BF.”

“There's something seriously wrong with the world when my girlfriend goes running to the alarms and I'm stuck with the tab.”

“I've got the tab,” Erickson said. “I'd go running for my space suit but I'm a little too old and fat.”

“See ya round, fatso,” Dana said, giving him a peck on the cheek. He'd lost his civilian friend but she was pretty sure he'd find another. Preferably one with some brains.

“Beat you to the side of the pool,” Rammer said, diving off his barstool.

“In a million years,” Dana said, standing up on her own to do a swimmer's dive.

“Cancel Condition One!” Paris announced. “Stand Down. Stand Down. Friendly incoming. All military personnel report to units. Set Condition One! Rangora Emergence! Cancel Condition One, Rangora Eliminated.”

“What the hell is going on?” Bill said. “I mean the lights didn't even dim!”

“Gorku?” Tyler said, his eyes wide. “Holy hell, buddy! Welcome to Earth.”

“Tyler,” the Glatun said, his fur rippling. “You remain.”

“Your ship looks like it could use some TLC,” Tyler said. The Glatun dreadnought was bigger than a Rangora Aggressor. But it could fit in the Troy. The Aggressor that had been chasing it could fit in a shoebox. “We've got most of a space dock in Troy. I'll call the Admiral and get him to prioritize you.”

“There is apparently some question about our provenances,” Gorku said. “That is, they think we are a way for the Rangora to slip inside your defenses.”

“You don't mean they think you're a . . .” Tyler stopped and started to giggle.

“Tyler,” Gorku said. “I recognize the sound of human laughter and it's meaning. We have severe damage from fighting our way through the Eridani system, many casualties and we started out with a fleet of nine ships. I am sorry that I fail to see the humor.”

“Sorry, sorry . . .” Tyler said, still trying not to giggle. “Sorry. It's just that the term for what you're describing is . . .”

“We can't be sure it's not a . . .” Captain Sharp said then stopped. “It's not a ruse.”

“Oh, use the term,” Admiral Kinyon snapped. He wasn't about to ask why the captain's hair was wet, the smell of chorine told him all he had to know. “We can't be sure it's not a Trojan Horse.”

“Admiral,” Paris said. “I have thoroughly analyzed the information from Zhippigui, the command ship AI. You will recall our discussion of subordination of Glatun AIs. Suffice it to say that Zhippigui meets all the protocols of an unsubordinate AI, that it has sufficient information to analyze it's protocols and processes and for me to say that Benefactor Niazgol Gorku meets the standards of being a legal Benefactor, not subordinated to the Glatun.”

“Which throws all the AIs in the system into question,” Admiral Kinyon said. “We'll bring aboard their wounded. But the Zhippaccaggooey is going to have to stay out. We'll send out parts and supplies to help them with their repairs until I've assessed the information myself.”

“Understood, sir,” Paris said.

“Captain DiNote,” Kinyon said. “Please send a shuttle over to the . . .”

“Zhippigui,” Paris said.

“The Zippadoodey and pick up the task force commander and the Benefactor,” the admiral said. “Be all smiley.”

“Yes, sir,” DiNote said. “Go myself or . . .”

“Go yourself but don't drive,” Kinyon said. “Colonel Helberg, prepare a formal greeting party. DiNote, send over as many shuttles as they need to offload their wounded. Get with Apollo to start surveying the damage. Tell the ship CO that as soon as he's able, he probably wants to get as far away from the gate as possible. Have him set up in orbit around Mars, on the back side as much as possible . . .” The admiral paused in thought. “Anything else?”

“Call the President and tell her that she's about to have visitors?” Captain Sharp said.

“Good point.”

“Benefactor Gorku,” Admiral Kinyon said. “Welcome to Troy.”

“Admiral,” Gorku said, clapping his hands together. “I appreciate you stopping the Rangora chasing us.”

“Well, we couldn't exactly have them hanging about the system, could we?” Kinyon said. “And if I might introduce my staff?”

“Please,” Gorku said.

“. . . and, of course, Mister Tyler Vernon . . .”

“Who is not part of his staff,” Tyler said, clapping his hands together in the Glatun form of greeting. “Welcome, again, to Terra, Gorku, Admiral Nibuc. I am sorry to hear of your many losses, Admiral.”

“They died as Glatun should,” the Admiral said. “Face to the enemy to the last. Even if we spent most of the time running.”

“We need to speak on that,” Admiral Kinyon said. “If you gentlem . . . gentle Glatun are not too fatigued, we should repair to my quarters.”

“Not tired at all, Admiral,” Tyler said.

“And Mister Vernon, of course,” Kinyon said, trying to smile.

“When Tuxuguh fell it was clear that we could not stop them,” Admiral Nibuc said, sipping at the maple sap. “Among other things, Benefactor Intelligence had underestimated their fleet by about two thirds. They had sixty-three Assault Vectors!”

“Ow,” Tyler said. “We had it as, what, twenty?”

“Yes,” Admiral Kinyon said.

“They were everywhere at once,” Nibuc said. “At one point my staff estimated they had entered the war with over two hundred Aggressors, six hundred Cofubof . . . Their known fleet was huge. This one built in secret dwarfed it. And . . . we were out-admiraled. We made mistakes. Units were unwilling to fight to the last. The Rangora were mentally and spiritually prepared for this war. They were trained for it and willing to soak up whatever casualties necessary to achieve their objectives. We were not. Not our Fleet, not our people, assuredly not our leadership.”

“Of which I was not, at the time, a member,” Gorku said. “But feel free to blame it on me.”

“I was ordered by High Command to detach my task force, pick up Benefactors and move them ahead of the Rangora assault,” Nibuc said, ignoring the Benefactor. “The only one I could rendezvous with was Benefactor Gorku.”

“Because I had some very fast ships and used them,” Gorku said. “The Rangora, once they got past Zo'Zowoxash, were moving everywhere at once. They were, most of the time, ahead of us.”

“Which is why we only have this one remaining ship,” Nibuc said. “Eight of my task force gave their all, Admiral.”

“On what you clearly think was a fool's mission,” Tyler said.

“There is no way you can hold this system,” Nibuc said, ruffling his back fur. “In time you too will fall.”

“We will see,” Kinyon said, calmly.

“There were reports that some of the systems were holding out,” Gorku said. “The Rangora were cutting communication links so fast, though, it is impossible to tell what was real and what was disinformation. But if you can hold out as well as those systems . . . It is possible that we can bleed the Rangora. Which is why we brought you these gifts.”

“Cyberneticists, higher level AI code, releases, new designs, an intelligence dump . . .” Admiral Kinyon said. “Everything we could possibly use. Which, sorry, is a little too pat.”

“I was the one who made all the political arrangements for the material and technologies you already received, Admiral,” Gorku said. “All of which appear to work just fine. Otherwise you'd have never held this system.”

“For which I thank you,” the Admiral said. “But still, under the circumstances, you can understand that we're going to be very cautious with what you brought through. In the meantime, there are many logistic issues to arrange. Admiral, if you'll put your Chief of Staff in touch with mine we'll start dealing with those. In the meantime . . .”

“In the meantime, Niazgol,” Tyler said, standing up. “I hope you will accept my hospitality until we can arrange secure movement to Earth.”

“Thank you, Tyler,” the Glatun said, climbing to his feet wearily. “Admiral and . . . Admiral. Good night.”

“Beor,” Yud ZiDavas said, gesturing to a chair. “Sit.”

ZiDavas as Beor's control officer, a DeArch in the complex, quasi-hierarchy of the Kazi. As befitted a Kazi DeArch his office was small, spartan and in an out-of-the-way part of Vujiyen Base that had numerous hidden entrances and exits.