“Commander Zyn’vak,” Xing’che said in surprise. “I had not expected your call for some time. I take it that things did not go as planned? Is everyone alright?”
The man bowed slightly. “They did not, Adjunct Xing’che. There were some injuries, but everyone should make a full recovery.”
“What happened?” she asked, fearing the man’s response.
“We made it into the vessel undetected. It was severely damaged, and I’m not even sure how it made the trip from wherever it was to the station. Our scans showed that there were no life signs, so we continued the operation as planned.”
“None?” she asked in surprise.
“No. I assumed that whoever brought the ship there had left to procure materials to make repairs. That didn’t mean I didn’t take precautions against automated defenses, but that is not what we encountered.”
Xing’che urged the man to continue.
“When we breached the core room, the maintenance drones responded immediately, and the ka held the door while Vo’tek activated the AI reprogrammer. From that point, we ran into problems. The first of which was that the AI’s core was both damaged and had a partial data lock on it that the reprogrammer was unable to bypass. This caused the AI to actively resist the reprogrammer.”
“How is that possible?” Xing’che asked.
She wasn’t an AI expert by any means, but part of what made her good at her job was that she did considerable research before ever issuing a mission. That’s how she knew that the AI aboard a planetary conditioning vessel was far more capable than common AI systems. Even most of the ones created now, but they still have set restrictions. One of those restrictions was that it couldn’t modify its core in any way, shape, or form. Yet somehow, the AI had managed to get around that restriction.
It could be from damage, a programming mistake, or deliberate modification; she just didn’t have enough information to know for sure.
The pride that she felt knowing that her people had built the AI aboard those ships felt a bit hollow. If it wasn’t a deliberate modification from the people who were in control of the ship, that was bad. The last thing her people needed was a rogue AI lumped onto their troubled past. She was glad that AI systems were far more restricted now.
“I’m uncertain,” the commander admitted. “Even Vo’tek wasn’t sure how the AI was able to fight off the reprogrammer, but he theorized it had something to do with the protected portion of its core—” The man paused, seemingly conflicted about continuing.
“You have more to add?” Xing’che asked encouragingly.
Zyn’vak pursed his lips, but nodded. “I wasn’t sure during the operation, but I had more time to think about the issue, and I believe the drones were being controlled remotely.”
“From inside the station or from the AI?” she asked. Her thoughts from before had just been wild speculation, but if what the commander was saying was true, it was a serious concern. An AI capable of self-management was not something the Astryx member species would allow. It was a serious enough issue that she considered leaking the station’s location so the Astryx could deal with it.
“No,” the commander continued, alleviating her worries. “I believe someone or some group was controlling the drones.”
Xing’che’s eyes widened in understanding. “Are you saying that there are other species out there practicing machine interface merging?” It was the only possibility if there were no life signs aboard the station or ship.
“Not other species,” Zyn’vak answered. “I believe they might be lost eiraxins.”
Xing’che couldn’t quite believe her ears, so she asked the commander to repeat himself.
“How can you be so certain?” she asked for a third time.
“They spoke old-eiraxin.”
“That doesn’t mean they are some lost eiraxins,” she countered. “They could just be trying to hide who they are. It’s not like our people are all of one mind.”
Xing’che knew that all too well. There were people in the primogen’s own office who would gladly lick the boot heels of their oppressors if it got them just a modicum of advantage over the rest of their peers. It was probably one of those same boot lickers who planted the tracking device on the shuttle that ended in the deaths of her last team. She was looking into who might have done something like that. She had narrowed the culprits down to a few suspects.
On the other side of the political spectrum were the agitators. Those trying to foment open rebellion. Some believed that eiraxins should retake their place as leaders amongst the stars, while others just wanted their overlords gone. Xing’che found both groups to be short-sighted idealists.
If the Astryx members were capable of listening to reason, they would have done so centuries ago. No, her people needed leverage to force the Astryx to recognize them as equals. That would never come through wanton rebellion or by upholding the ideals that led them into their current situation.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
She mentioned these groups to the commander.
“I don’t believe this group is from either of those,” he added. “It was the way they spoke. Not just the language. It was like they knew they had the upper hand. It’s hard to put into words.”
“Like they haven’t been living under someone else’s thumb all their lives,” she supplied.
“Yes,” the commander agreed.
She leaned back in the chair and tapped her nails on the console in thought. “We need to act fast.”
“My people are ready to head back there if needed,” he replied without hesitation.
She shook her head slowly. “Our approach will need to change. If this is some missing branch of eiraxins from back during the Concord days, we need to be careful. Those sorts of ideals died for a reason. We need to take a more diplomatic approach, which means I need to meet them myself,” she said.
The commander gave her a concerned look. “Adjunct Xing’che, I don’t mean to be rude, but leaving the planet would put you at great risk with the Astryx, not to mention these unknown eiraxins. Are you sure that’s the wisest course of action? Isn’t there someone else you can send in your stead?”
She smiled warmly at the man’s concern. “Fear not, Commander. I’ll not be leaving the planet illegally. This is a delicate matter, one I cannot trust to anyone else within the primogen’s cabinet.” Left unsaid was the fact that she couldn’t trust anyone else with a problem of this magnitude.
The commander nodded in understanding.
Xing’che appreciated that the man was smart enough to grasp what she was implying. “I think it’s long past due for someone in the primogen’s cabinet to go on an atonement voyage.”
“I don’t understand what that means,” Commander Zyn’vak replied in confusion.
“I would be surprised if you did,” she admitted. “It’s a voyage to some of the planets our ancestors destroyed. The atonement voyage was designed to make us reflect on the harm we caused the galaxy. The Astryx stopped making the trip mandatory centuries ago, but it’s still used as a punishment for certain things. The last time it was enforced was nearly a hundred years ago when a member of the cabinet said some truly vulgar things to an Astryx representative. That punitive voyage was set to last an entire year, but the cabinet member never returned. The message to the rest of the primogen’s cabinet was clear.”
“And you want to go willingly?” Zyn’vak asked in horror.
“I’m sure there are more than a few Astryx representatives that would love to take this opportunity to be rid of me, but I don’t have plans on letting that happen. If I volunteer to take the trip, I can choose which representative accompanies me. I know the perfect person. Being a newer species to the Astryx Council, they don’t have the same prejudices against our people as some others. That lack of familiarity has a secondary benefit. If they are unfamiliar with eiraxin history, they likely won’t recognize a planetary conditioning vessel. I doubt many Astryx species would in this day and age, but there is always the possibility someone studied our past instead of the propaganda taught now. Even so, those individuals should be few and far between. Nobody likes being reminded of the past, especially politicians. The only member species who might have a firm understanding are the t’uk due to their long lives and their history as part of Concord, but I don’t plan on having any of those aboard.”
“What about your defense?” the commander asked dubiously.
He wasn’t sold on her plan, but that was fine.
“This is a punitive trip. Even if the representative was stupid enough to allow us to bring weapons, I wouldn’t allow it. This needs to be a diplomatic visit. I’ll be fine.”
“I still don’t like it,” the commander admitted. “How are you planning on getting the representative to head to the station?”
Xing’che smiled. “You let me worry about that, Commander Zyn’vak. I have another mission for your team.”
***
Xing’che gave the commander his new orders and signed off from the communicator. She carefully packed it away and slid the device back into the secret wall safe before hurrying out of the safe-house. Someone would come along and move the device to a new safe house later that day, ensuring the location didn’t get raided, but that was the last concern on her mind.
She had kept her stoic façade through the conversation with Commander Zyn’vak, but inwardly, she was hesitant with her rushed plan. The commander didn’t need to see that, however.
The reason for her hesitation was simple. She was a planner. The moment the commander told her what was going on, she knew she needed to act as quickly as possible, which meant going in practically blind. It was an uncomfortable change of pace for her, but it couldn’t be helped. The planetary conditioning vessel wouldn’t remain a secret forever.
Xing’che also needed to convince representative Chalto to take her on the voyage. If the borganian man refused, she wasn’t sure what she would do.
There was no point delaying the visit.
She made her way across the city, taking the transit tubes.
Xing’che kept to herself as she rode the public transit. She also kept one hand tucked inside her coat, clutching the very illegal energy pistol within. It was extremely risky to have the weapon, but the city wasn’t safe with so much anti-Astryx sentiment going about. Even though she had nothing to do with the Astryx, the general public had a very low opinion of the Primogen and his cabinet. Some saw their inaction as acceptance of the Astryx rule, while others saw it as compliance or worse, active endorsement. It was a lose-lose situation.
She wasn’t the only one in the transit tube who looked around warily, and it helped her spot trouble after only a few minutes.
Her grip tightened around the weapon as a group of rowdy young men passed by on the way to the next car. A few glanced her way; she was an attractive woman after all. One tried to stop and strike up a conversation, but the man behind him shoved him forward.
“Pick up women some other time; we have shit to do.”
The man who stopped grumbled, but the group carried on.
Xing’che didn’t let her guard down, however. Less than a minute later, an older eiraxin man followed the group. He smiled at her as he passed, but there was no warmth in his gaze. Once the door to the following car closed, she let out a sigh of relief.
That could have gone far worse, especially since three of the five young men were proudly displaying a pin signifying their support for the separatist movement. The older man who followed was likely a spy for the Astryx, a low-level one at that if he couldn’t conceal his disdain from others.
When her destination arrived, she quickly got off and walked over to a nearby bin that was mostly empty, dropping the bag containing her weapon in. There were too many Astryx patrols in this part of the city to risk taking it with her the rest of the way. They were bound to stop and search her at least once just because she was eiraxin. She marked the location of the bin. Someone on her team could retrieve the weapon later that evening. With that done, she made her way to the representative’s residence. Hopefully, he would agree to meet with her.