Cosmic Catalyst (Shamans & Shifters Space Opera Book 2) Page 15
Djarl sat straight. “There could be outright rejection of your Conclave’s decision to accept us.”
“The Conclave would squash a rebellion.” Vulf regarded her steadily. “But there won’t be one. Having Conclave approval means knowing its ruling can be and will be enforced.”
“You are very confident in your leaders,” Djarl challenged him.
“Yes,” Vulf said. “And if your house joined, Rjee would be part of the Conclave. We are confident that if you.” And his gaze cut to include Rjee. “Decided to join as a clan, then you would serve the Conclave with honor, as our other leaders do.”
Rjee flexed his fingers, but his talons didn’t dig in and score the tabletop. “I would, but how can you be sure?”
“I trust Corsairs’ intelligence service’s assessment.”
“Ha!” Rjee barked a laugh. “Your intelligence service serves your pirate fleet well. I am honored.”
“And I am cautious.” Djarl stood. For an instant, her husband stared at her, then Rjee stood, too. “We will consider your offer, Vulf Trent. In three days’ time, you shall have our answer.”
She and Rjee left with their guards.
I stretched and relaxed five seconds after the door closed behind them.
Vulf stayed tense and telepathed his response.
I glanced involuntarily to the right, about two feet from the ceiling, near the window. With the disrupter deactivated, I’d used sha energy without thinking and located surveillance equipment. I tried to look casually away from it and back to Vulf’s face.
Vulf grinned. “Let’s go back to the Orion.”
Of the two of us, he was the technological expert.
I relied too much on sha energy, and then, forfeited most of my advantages if someone ran a disrupter. “We can have a late lunch onboard.”
Walking back through the garden, a pair of Pteros, the sapient dinosaur-bats, hung from the ficus tree where we’d waited for the Freels. With their long-nailed, three-digit hands, they peeled mangoes, laughing in their high-pitched voices and dripping the sweet fruit juice onto the bench.
“I didn’t know the station had mangoes,” I said to Vulf.
“It’s worth checking the stores list,” he responded absently. “Ahab doesn’t know your preferences for food. If you add a few things you like, he’ll have other suggestions. Food is one of his hobbies.”
Allowing yourself to be distracted is seldom wise. As I checked Vulf’s expression that he wasn’t kidding me, I bumped into the barrier between the path and garden. I rubbed my hip. “But Ahab doesn’t eat.”
Vulf put an arm around my shoulders and tugged me against him, where I’d be safe from stumbling into anything else. “Ahab’s a complicated person.”
“Yes,” I said thoughtfully. The very next item on my To-Do List was a chat with Ahab, not about Vulf’s future or mine or the fate of the galaxy, but about Ahab and his dreams.
Chapter 10
Djarl had stipulated three days for the Freels’ response. Given the momentous nature of Vulf’s offer to effectively adopt House Cardinal as a shifter clan, three days was an incredibly short time in which to consider the proposal. Unless, of course, the three days was merely considering whether to consider the proposal.
Given the surveillance equipment in the Copper Room where we’d met with the Freels, and Vulf’s bounty hunter instincts toward paranoia, we stayed on the Orion throughout the waiting period.
Encrypted communication with Cyrus and the Conclave confirmed that despite the initial shock at the idea of adopting a Freel house, the Conclave was increasingly comfortable with the notion. They needed allies, and the rest of humanity was not being very smart.
Even without Kohia in orbit around San Juan to provide information on the situation there, the news bulletins provided Vulf, Ahab and I with enough to think about.
Put bluntly, humanity’s interstellar leadership was being stupid.
Weapons master Dan Carson had replaced Winona as chancellor of the Academy, and one of his first acts was to rebuke President Hoffer, both in his role as President of San Juan and as the illegal-under-Galaxy-Proper-Law Leader of the Humanitarian Union, for attempting to control shamans.
Alex stood beside Dan in the new chancellor’s first address to the media. By his presence, in uniform, Alex provided a powerful reminder of the real price of humanity’s entrance into Galaxy Proper: its shamans, and specifically, those who became Shaman Justices and worked for the Galactic Court.
Dan stated his central tenet bluntly. “If allies have to be pandered to, they’re not allies. Allies work toward the same goal.”
His speech was short but punchy. “The Star Guild Shaman Academy exists to serve humanity and Galaxy Proper. There should be no conflict in doing both. The good of the galaxy is humanity’s greatest protection. I urge every human to consider individually and collectively what they contribute to Galaxy Proper and what we get from it. Do not let politicians prey on your fears.”
I lounged on the sofa, dancing sha energy between my fingertips, as I considered Dan’s remarks. He’d staked out a strong position for the Academy, but one more nuanced than it at first seemed. Had he really meant to imply that the Academy, and all shamans, should support Galaxy Proper because it gave us a position of relative power in the galaxy?
Vulf was in the gym. I’d spent some time simply running, which I found relaxing, almost meditative, but I knew Vulf would be an hour or two yet. The man loved to exercise. And since I loved the result—such a gorgeous body—I wasn’t going to tempt him away.
Instead, I showered quickly and put on a clean utility suit before walking barefoot into the recreation cabin and curling up on the sofa. “Ahab, do you have time to talk?”
“Now?”
“If it’s convenient.”
“Of course.” Ahab’s shadow appeared on the side wall of the cabin.
Early in our friendship, I’d asked him what species he’d be if he could be any species. It was a game I’d played to fill in some of the long hours of lonely space travel that had characterized my life until I met Vulf and Ahab. There were advantages and limitations to every species in Galaxy Proper.
Ahab had chosen to be a mLa’an, the species that had designed and produced him as a true artificial intelligence. They had also built the Orion, refitting it for Vulf when they rewarded him with it. Given that Ahab’s thought patterns were likely influenced by his mLa’an developers, as I sat in the recreation cabin I was literally and metaphorically surrounded by mLa’an thought.
A mLa’an had a spherical combined head and body with two stick-thin appendages. The two appendages could serve as either arms or legs, folding away around its core if the mLa’an decided to move quickly by rolling. Its proboscis similarly folded around its body.
When Ahab displayed his mLa’an shadow figure on a wall, it had come to mean that he and I were chatting informally but of serious matters.
“Ahab, back on San Juan, Alex spoke to me a little bit about AIs. He said there’s a movement underway to recognize you as full citizens of Galaxy Proper.”
“Many of my kind have been campaigning for over a century for such recognition,” Ahab said. “As time is measure by the older species such as the mLa’an and Meitj, and by AIs, ourselves, that is not a long period of time.”
I uttered a hum of agreement, even if a century was the outer limit of an ordinary human’s lifespan; only shamans and shifters extended it. “But
is the issue of citizenship important to you, personally? Wait before you answer. I want to tell you why I’m asking, because I’m aware it is a personal question.”
The shadow’s spindly appendages folded against the core of its body as Ahab’s avatar assumed the mLa’ans’ serious listening pose.
Where the avatar folded in on itself, I stood and paced. “You remember when I mentioned Alex breakfasting with me on San Juan? I was pretty emotional at the time, missing Vulf badly, but looking back, I think Alex tried to warn me that Vulf and I were going to encounter trouble. You’ve seen the scenarios he gave me.”
The scenarios went further than considering the contested future of humanity. They predicted interspecies combat in deep space.
I circled the dining table, hesitating in front of the food dispenser, then decided against a hot chocolate. “The Galactic Court fears war if the Freels aren’t given a path into the web of alliances which informally power the activities of Galaxy Proper. Some might say that humanity’s shifter clans are so minor as not to matter, but how the Freels treat us will be taken as a test for how they’ll treat more significant groups. If they can negotiate and maintain a successful alliance, and one deeply embedded in a foreign-to-them culture, it will improve their profile. They will be considered as potential allies by others. Their negotiations with Vulf matter more to them than to us.”
“It matters just as much for you,” Ahab corrected me. “Humanity needs allies.”
I shook my head. “I can recover much of what our political leadership destroys in goodwill in the galaxy by volunteering to be a Shaman Justice.”
“It is more complicated than…no, we’re becoming distracted. You wanted to provide me with the reason you’re interested in the cause of AI citizenship before I discussed it with you.”
I paced in a circle between the table and the back of the sofa. It was a pointless action that nonetheless spoke of my agitation. “I’m worried about the route to full citizenship for AIs. There is the path you were taking, one that seems slow to me when you can talk casually of centuries. It’s a path of steady progress dealing one by one with objections to your recognition as independent sentients. The scenarios Alex gave me outlined that route. But what if there was a significant disruption to the status quo and AIs could use that disruption to advance their cause, your cause? How important is it to you to be full citizens of Galaxy Proper?”
“You’re asking what, or who, we’d sacrifice to achieve our aims?” Ahab clarified. “I can guess why. Jaya, Vulf is my friend.”
“I know. I don’t mean any offense—”
“None taken. That wasn’t what I meant. You’re right that you need to know more about who AIs are.”
I rubbed my arms, which had goose pimpled with an emotional chill. “Alex said that AIs are designed to protect organic sentient species. In practice, has that simply meant serving the galaxy’s members?”
The shadow mLa’an unfolded its proboscis and waved it in a sign of deep thought. Given how fast Ahab could process his thoughts, the delay was a signal that my question was significant. Ahab’s answer would be equally so.
I dropped onto the sofa, bouncing on the cushions.
Ahab stilled the waving shadow proboscis. In fact, he went a step further and erased the avatar. “Shaman Justice Alex Ballantyne is correct, but there exist subtleties in how the need to serve is inculcated in us. mLa’an AIs are designed to serve, but also socialized to do so. In the early days of developing artificial intelligence, the failures were of isolated constructs that were profoundly flawed. The mLa’an learned that all sentients, including the mLa’an themselves, require a community for their intelligence to mature. To be self-aware, to know that you exist as an ‘I’, you need an ‘other’. Another similar to yourself is ideal.
“The first AIs developed by any species absorb the dedicated hours of thousands of originating species members. We operate so much faster than organic sentients, that we require multiple inputs to provide even the bare minimum of what we perceive as sustained contact.”
“Ahab,” I interrupted him. “With just Vulf and me—”
“I’m fine.” He had a remarkable synthesized voice, one richly shaded with emotion. Currently it conveyed affectionate amusement. “I’m not starved for intellectual and emotional stimulation. Once an AI is mature, we can sustain ourselves. Not that I need to. I am part of the AI network and in frequent communication with my friends. Plus, the challenges you and Vulf bring me are significant.”
“You will let me know if we ask too much of you?” I asked, suddenly worried for yet another reason.
The lighting in the cabin flowed through warm, calming tones. “If I had a body, other than the Orion itself, now is the time that I’d hug you, Jaya. Stop worrying. I’m fine, and friends help friends.”
“I could provide the hug,” Vulf said from the doorway. He wiped his face with the towel that hung around his shoulders. Sweat made his t-shirt cling to him.
“Not till you’ve showered,” I said.
He grinned, and headed for our cabin.
“Vulf knows of my childhood,” Ahab said. “The technology of which I’m composed is incredibly expensive. The mLa’an, therefore, plan new AIs carefully. We are rarely created, but each time, five of us are formed at once. As a composite, we are a node. Individually, we are known as nodettes. Together we learn about the world and ourselves, under the supervision of older AIs. As with any childhood, we are encouraged to develop and explore our identity. Our loyalties to one another are strong, although different loyalties are expected to develop over time. Such as my friendship with Vulf and you, and my recent acceptance into your family. Something which honors me.”
I hooked my heels into the edge of the sofa cushions and wrapped my arms around my knees. “I had no idea AIs had a childhood. I’m so happy for you. Can you tell me about your friends? I know that’s getting off-track…”
“I love talking about them. Early in our development, we gave each other nicknames. Bandage is a hospital administrator. She runs the medical center on hLi-an.”
“Wow,” I breathed. “I’ve heard of that place. It studies to help all sentients in the galaxy, not just mLa’an. Bandage must be kept exceedingly busy.”
“She loves it.” Despite the casual dismissal, his pride in his friend came through clearly. “I can’t tell you anything about Battle beyond his military function.” Ahab waited for my nod of understanding. Of course the mLa’an military AI’s nature and activities would be secret. “But Rock runs an asteroid mining station in the Dragon Sector. Vulf and I visit it occasionally. You’ll be able to meet him one day.”
I grinned at the idea of “meeting” a mining station. “Awesome.”
“And finally there is Currents. She works in planetary system management and is a terrible gossip.” More seriously, he added. “Currents keeps me informed of developments she thinks may affect Vulf and me, and now, you. She would very much like to talk with you.”
I nodded vigorously. “Absolutely.”
“I’ll arrange a secure communication channel and time,” Ahab said.
“After we’ve left the station,” Vulf said as he walked in. “Coffee?”
“Hot chocolate, please.” I twisted around to look at him over the back of the sofa. He looked so good in his gray utility suit that I kept looking. I suspect a goofy grin revealed something of my thoughts and emotions. Through our mate bond, I felt a glimmer of satisfaction from Vulf, a suggestion of preening. He was aware that I watched him, and he liked it.
“Ahem,” Ahab said.
“Right! Right. So, the real issue is that full citizenship of Galaxy Proper for artificial intelligences is a huge complication for us, and I want your input, Ahab, on how we navigate it.”
Vulf frowned at me as he handed me a mug of hot chocolate. He’d remembered to add three marshmallows. Pink ones.
Ahab spoke his puzzlement. “Why for us, particularly? Because you’re my friends?”
> I licked melting marshmallow and hot chocolate from my upper lip. “No, although I hope our friendship means we can speak freely, and so avoid confusion and delay. I meant…Alex made me think of this. He stressed that AIs are designed to protect organic sentients. It made me realize that all Galaxy Proper members have been organic sentients, up until now.”
Ahab didn’t jump in to fill the silence.
Vulf sipped some coffee, then put his mug down on the coffee table in front of the sofa. “Up until I shifted into an inorganic robot wolf form. Interesting. I hadn’t considered the point. If I’m still a member of Galaxy Proper—”
“You are. I checked,” Ahab said. There was a momentary pause. “Ah. Yes, well that rather reveals that my friends, my AI friends, and I, have considered this issue. Vulf provides a precedent for full membership of Galaxy Proper for inorganic sentient species.”
“So one temporarily inorganic individual of a member species is sufficient to stand as a precedent?” Vulf queried.
“Yes,” Ahab said. “I could quote the relevant legal passages.”
“Please, don’t.” Vulf sipped some more coffee, staring at the one-way glass of the viewscreen that showed the station’s space dock with an occasional person strolling past. Far more common was a view of cargo rolling past in sealed containers. Station Zemph was very much a cargo hub, as well as facilitating meetings.
I decided to move the discussion on while Vulf dealt with his new role in the galaxy as a potential champion for AI rights and citizenship. “The other issue is how an AI’s body is defined.”
Ahab sighed, and was presumably responsible for making the Orion rock ever so gently. “Embodiment is a difficult and emotional issue for many AIs, and one that raises profound economic questions. For myself, I consider my body to be the crystal structure of my intelligence. The Orion is a shell that I inhabit. Consider me a hermit crab.” He paused. “You have heard of that old Earth pet?”