The Ascendant Stars - Michael Cobley [140]
Ngassa gave a dismissive gesture. ‘Minor disciplinary matters, nothing more … ’
‘Officers and captains refusing direct orders, officers and captains being shot dead or thrown in the brig, using loyal ships to corral whole ships that have gone rogue – stop me if any o’ this is sounding a wee bit familiar … ’
‘Mr Cameron!’ said the adjutant angrily.
‘It’s all right, Neville,’ said the vice-admiral. ‘Your information is quite accurate, Mr Cameron, and courtesy of the Imisil, I expect.’
‘They do have some rather fine sensor technology, I’m led to believe.’
Just then, the adjutant took a datapad from his waist clip, wordlessly indicated it to the vice-admiral, who nodded. The adjutant rose from the table and left by the main door, the data-pad raised to one ear.
‘As I said, Mr Cameron, a disciplinary problem,’ Ngassa continued. ‘Admittedly, the nature and timing of it is worrying but the situation is firmly under control.’
‘I see, sir,’ said Greg. ‘So you’ve locked up everyone with an AI implant, then.’
Ngassa gave him a mildly incredulous look. ‘I’m sorry but that would be an extreme and irrational response – it would deprive my ships of scores of capable officers and crew who have proved their loyalty beyond question.’
Greg nodded, exchanging a brief look with Berg.
‘Well, I can see your point,’ he said. ‘Sounds sensible. So I guess you have folk on your own staff who have implants … ’ He gestured. ‘Perhaps even yourself?’
Ngassa smiled and shook his head. ‘My parents were a little old-fashioned and disapproved of the practice and by the time I was old enough to decide for myself I found that I just didn’t care for the idea. And yes, some of my staff are equipped with implants, like my adjutant, Neville. Why do you ask?’
That was when the adjutant Neville entered the room carrying a beam pistol.
‘Hands on your heads,’ he said. ‘Over to the wall.’
‘What the stinking hell are you doing, Neville?’ said the vice-admiral with stunned anger. ‘Are you a traitor too?’
‘Do as I said,’ Neville said, suddenly shifting his aim to cover Greg and Berg. ‘No heroics. Do it.’
Greg linked his hands and put them behind his head then moved towards the bulkhead. Berg didn’t move.
‘So how is Neville?’ Berg said. ‘Is he even in there any more?’
The adjutant’s mouth twitched into a half-smile. ‘Not for quite some time. Hands on your head and move!’
Berg clasped his hands behind his head, took a step and paused, glancing over at the doorway. ‘Well, about time! … ’
The adjutant laughed. ‘Moron – I know there’s no one … ’
And Berg’s hand whipped out from behind his head and hurled a small spinning object. It flashed straight towards Neville’s right shoulder and since he was holding the gun with his right hand his reflex avoidance motion pushed his aim off for just a moment, long enough for Berg to launch himself in a flying lunge.
Neville managed to fire off a burst before he and Berg went down in a tangle of flailing legs and savage punches. Greg and the vice-admiral had leaped forward the moment after Berg made his move. The adjutant proved remarkably strong and it took the three of them to disarm him and hold him down. After repeated shouts, two guards appeared and provided restraints with which they were able to immobilise their prisoner.
‘You should release me,’ said the adjutant. ‘It would be in your best interests.’
‘You are going back to stand trial for mutiny,’ said Ngassa, wiping his face with a napkin from the table.
The adjutant laughed. ‘What a delightful race Humans are. Malleable, useful, and never dull. I remember how trusting you used to be back when all you had was that half-trashed planet and a few primitive colonies … ’
‘You don’t seem that worried about your situation,’ said Greg. ‘If I was a betting man, I’d say that you really are an AI with a link to some bolthole out in