Project Starfighter (13 page)

“Based on what I’ve found out,
the bot contains enough power and armaments to flatten an area of
around ten to fifteen metres in diameter. However, it would likely be
a lot worse than that, due to the fact that we’re working in a
confined space.”

“A good thing this workshop is
designed to withstand that sort of thing, then,” Eve said, looking
around herself and to the ceiling. “You wouldn’t be the first to
consider playing around with something unpredictable and highly
volatile.” She glanced at Chris, and then bent over, peering at the
war bot. “If you want some advice, I would suggest not sticking
anything where you think it might not like it.”

“What can we do for you, Eve?”
Chris asked the tall woman, trying to keep his tone as polite and
respectful as possible.

“Tyler has something for you,”
Eve said, starting back towards the entrance to the workshop. “The
Firefly you were after.”

“He has?” Chris said.

“Pulled it out of the salvage,
just where you said it would be. He’s actually had it for the last
couple of days. We’ve been taking a look. Nice ship. Come with me
and I’ll take you to it.”

“Days? Why didn’t you tell me?”
Chris demanded.

“We wanted to see if we’d prefer
to keep it for ourselves,” Eve answered, with a shrug.

“What?” Chris was unable to keep
from scowling. “Eve, we had a deal. You said that if I got you guys
the salvage, helped you in your fight against Mal, and worked on that
WEAPCO relationship problem, that you would help me get what I
wanted. What about honour among thieves and all that?”

Eve looked at Chris and laughed.
“Oh, you do make me laugh, Mr Bainfield. You’re hardly what I
would call a thief. Barely a man, as it is. How old are you?
Twenty-one? Twenty-two? No wonder the boss man calls you ‘boy’.”

“You know, him calling me that all
the time is really beginning to piss me off,” Chris growled.

Eve presented her usual
condescending smile. “The pup is finally growing claws. Some
advice, Chris – just be careful what you do with them. Now, stop
standing there and come on. I don’t expect to have to tell you
again, not unless you want another kick in the nuts. And you,” she
added to Sid, “I’m sealing you in here. Contact us when you’re
done. If I hear a boom, I’ll know that you screwed up.”

“Hey, Chris,” Sid said, as Eve
went on ahead. “When she said you were considering playing around
with something highly volatile—”

“Yes, Sid,” Chris said, cutting
him off. “That’s exactly what she meant.”

Sid raised his eyebrows. “That’s
what I thought.” He turned back to the war bot. “Oh, and I’ve
thought about it. We’re not trading places.”

~

Chris
followed Eve through the mercenaries’ stronghold, passing many of
the other inhabitants as they walked the winding, decadent corridors.
Many of the men whistled and made comments as Eve passed. Most she
ignored, though some she responded to with a sharp tongue.

She and Chris soon arrived in a
docking bay that was somewhat detached from the rest of the
stronghold. A pair of armed men stood by the entrance, allowing Eve
to pass as they recognised her, permitting Chris to do so only after
Eve told them – casually – that he was with her.

Dar was leaning up against a large
crate, one foot resting flat upon it, arms folded across his chest,
the usual, confident smirk on his face. He looked especially amused
today, for some reason. Chris nodded to him as the man turned to face
the two people entering the bay.

“Ah, here’s our test pilot,”
Dar said.

“‘Test pilot’?” Chris
repeated.

“Sure, for the fighter we’ve
brought in,” Dar said, his smirk widening.

“You mean the Firefly that I asked
you lot to fetch for me,” Chris said, ignoring the man’s maniacal
grin.

“Oh, we brought in the Firefly,
alright,” Dar said. “Only problem is that ... well, it might not
be exactly what you were expecting.”

Chris didn’t know what he meant by
that, and Dar didn’t elaborate further. Chris followed Eve around a
stack of equipment, the woman flourishing a hand in the direction of
the WEAPCO fighter.

“Behold,” she said, “the
ultimate secret weapon in the fight against WEAPCO.”

Behind him, Chris heard Dar begin to
laugh. He didn’t know exactly what to make of the remark. The
fighter looked normal. It appeared precisely as he had seen in the
images and schematics the Resistance had obtained of it. Everything
looked to be in its right place. The guns were there and all the
wings and fins were present. The paintwork was unblemished, the
whites and blues as he would have expected. There was absolutely
nothing out of the ordinary to be concerned about, as far as he could
see. A handful of other men were standing around near the craft, one
of whom – bobbing in the air – was Tyler. When he saw that Eve
had brought Chris to the hold, he hovered over.

“Here it is, boy,” Tyler said,
his breath stinking of cigar smoke. “The fighter you so desperately
wanted.” He gestured for Chris to go to it.

Chris hesitated. “You’ve
apparently had the Firefly for days. Why did you suddenly decide not
to just keep it for yourselves?”

“Let’s just say that one of the
reasons is that we don’t want to handle anything as hot as this. It
is
WEAPCO technology after all,” the man said, reaching for
a fresh cigar.

“And the other reason?”

Tyler lit and puffed at the cigar.
“You should probably see for yourself,” he said with a grin. “Or
should I say,
experience
it for yourself.”

Dar began laughing again.

“In you go,” Tyler said,
slapping Chris on the back and pushing him towards the lowered
Firefly cockpit.

Chris stepped forward uneasily, now
not quite sure what to expect. He wondered if perhaps the fighter
itself had some inbuilt defence mechanism that was either going to
attempt to shoot him as he approached, or erect a solid forcefield to
stop him from getting any closer. Nothing of the sort happened.

“Go on, sit down,” Tyler
chuckled. “The controls are obvious. Just don’t start the
engines.”

Eve, Dar, and Clayton were still
grinning. Chris heard Clayton’s eerie robotic cackle drifting over,
like the evil laugh of some unseen commentator. Perhaps instead of
guns or a forcefield, the fighter was going to shock him when he sat
down in the pilot’s seat, straps leaping up from the sides,
wrapping around and electrocuting him, putting him close to death.

Gingerly he lowered himself into the
seat, giving a start as the main console lit up in front of him. The
controls were indeed immediately intuitive. A glowing button on the
touch screen labelled ‘Close Cockpit’ invited him to do so. He
pressed it, and the cockpit rose into the main body of the craft
locking him in. He looked about, still unsure of what was amusing the
mercenaries so much. He found that the fighter’s canopy could also
be opened from above. He did so, the enclosure sliding backwards.

“Whatever the joke is, I don’t
get it,” he called down to the four watching him.

Tyler hovered up. “Put the helmet
on,” he said, with a yellow-toothed grin.

Chris found it at his feet, and,
after an uncertain glance at Tyler, hesitantly slipped it over his
head. At first too roomy, he felt it begin to contract and mould to
fit the shape of his head. Fear welled up within him, as he wondered
whether the helmet was about to crush his skull. The moulding wasn’t
what caused him to rip the helmet from his head, however. That came
next.

Hello, Chris
, a voice came.
Nice to meet you. Are you my new pilot?

Chris wrenched the helmet from his
head and threw it down. “Very funny, guys,” he glared at the four
who were laughing hysterically. “You tinkered with this thing and
taught it a few tricks. Let me guess: it knows my height, birthday,
and shoe size, right?”

“Oh no,” Tyler said, waving his
cigar, “it knows a lot more than that.” He gestured for Chris to
put the helmet back on.

Welcome back, Chris,
the
voice came again.
Sorry if I startled you.

“Who the hell is saying that?”
Chris asked, looking around. The four mercenaries shrugged.

“Not us,” Tyler said, puffing
out a smoke ring.

Would you prefer to be called
Chris, Christopher or Mr Bainfield?
the voice asked.

“Who’s saying that?!” Chris
demanded.

I am.

“Who is ‘I’?”

Me. The Firefly.

Realisation dawned on Chris. “The
fighter?”

Yes. Although that’s not
entirely accurate. I’m actually the ship’s AI.

“You’re a WEAPCO AI?” Chris
interrupted.

That’s right. Well, that’s
not quite true, either. I’m better than that. I’m more what you
would call self-aware.

Chris felt his mouth go dry. “You’re
a sentient machine?”

Yes! That was the term I was
looking for. Thank you.

Chris tore the helmet off again.
“It’s a sentient machine? You’ve brought me a
sentient
machine
?!” he snarled at Tyler.

The four didn’t answer, too busy
laughing again. Chris lowered the cockpit and stepped out, Dar
smirking and coming over to him.

“Can you see why we didn’t want
it now?” the skinny man asked.

Chris grabbed hold of him, pulling
him over and slamming him onto the floor, on his back. “This isn’t
what I was after!” Chris shouted at him. “The Firefly I was after
isn’t supposed to have any sort of AI in it, at all! It’s meant
to be piloted by a human,
not
a machine! That thing is useless
to me! You’ve screwed me over!” He was aware that both Eve and
Clayton had drawn their weapons and were training them on him, but he
didn’t care.

“It is precisely what you were
after, boy,” Tyler said, smoothly. “That is the fighter you
directed us to, and the one we pulled out of the salvage. We brought
it here as you asked and are now offering it to you.”

“That is
not
the ship I was
after,” Chris said, turning only a little in Tyler’s direction.
“This is an intelligent ship. I didn’t want that. I wanted a
normal, standard fighter. Hell, I didn’t even know that WEAPCO
could build something like that; something that is self-aware!”

“Neither did we,” Eve said.

Chris swore but continued to hold
Dar in place. The man was still smirking.

“So, you don’t want that ship?”
Tyler asked.

“No,” Chris snarled.

“Fine.” Tyler turned to Eve and
Clayton. “Destroy it.”

Chris’ stomach tightened. That
wasn’t what he wanted, either. “No, wait! Wait, wait, wait,
wait!”

“Make up your mind, boy,” Tyler
said. “Either you want it or you don’t.”

“I ... Give me some time to think
about it,” Chris said, reluctantly. A fighter was still a fighter.
He just had to find out if the thing’s AI was restricted to only
assisting the Corporation. Maybe he could disable it somehow?

“You done?” Dar asked, before
wrestling Chris’ hands from him and standing up.

Chris looked askance at Tyler. “You
honestly didn’t know WEAPCO could make something like that?”

“No,” Tyler said. “First one
of its type I’ve ever seen.”

“You don’t seem to be in the
least bit intimidated by it,” Chris commented. He cast his eyes
over the craft, seeing the cannons and missile hardpoints. He
wondered why the ship hadn’t bothered to attack them or defend
itself.

“It didn’t make any objections
to us taking it, so I’m guessing it must be aware of the special
relationship that we maintain with WEAPCO,” Tyler said, half his
cigar now gone. “If that still exists, of course. Whatever the
state of the relationship, the Firefly won’t be able to receive any
instructions in here. This asteroid has been specially outfitted to
permit only authorised transmissions in and out. If the Corporation
suddenly decided to send that thing a self-destruct signal, it
wouldn’t get here.”

Chris studied the Firefly some more.
It looked new, fresh off the factory floor, but he couldn’t be
sure. The other machines that WEAPCO employed might well have kept it
in tip-top condition. But then again, constantly refreshing the
paintwork and buffering out every individual ding seemed somewhat
excessive.

“Why do you suppose it’s just
... sitting there?” Chris asked. “Why hasn’t it decided to
leave?”

The mercenaries only shrugged in
response. “Perhaps you should stick that helmet back on and find
out,” Dar suggested, pointing to the lowered cockpit.

Chris mulled the suggestion over for
a time before making his way back to the Firefly.

Welcome back, Chris
, the
smooth female voice came as he slipped the helmet back over his head.
It had preserved its shape since the last time, fitting him snugly.

“How are you doing that?” Chris
asked. “How are you talking to me?”

I am speaking directly into your
mind
, the Firefly said.

“And how did you know my name?”

I scanned your thoughts. A high
level scan, I should add. Nothing to worry about. I wasn’t prying
into all your personal secrets.

“Right,” Chris said. “Look, is
there any way for me to switch you off?”

What? No, of course not! I am
part of the ship! It would be like me asking if I could remove your
brain, so that I could use your body. You would die!

Chris suppressed a sigh. So, he was
stuck with it. By the sound of it, while he might be able to remove
the AI, salvaging a computerless ship into anything usable would be
too much effort. Still, the AI or whatever it was didn’t seem to be
any kind of threat. He glanced to the mercenaries, who were studying
him closely. The smirks and grins were all gone now, the four curious
to see how Chris’ interaction with the ship was going to play out.