Recontact

In a war of humans and computers, can you trust someone to really be human?

Photo by 🇻🇪 Jose G. Ortega Castro 🇲🇽 on Unsplash

BDS Joshua Chamberlain, acceleration 0.0 m/s²

The only sign they’d passed through the gate was a new star appearing right ahead of them—the sun of the Boax system. Once again, the analog ship Joshua Chamberlain was the pathfinder for the Combined Fleet.

“How many new systems does this make?” asked Bosun Setta from the communications console. She eyed the frequency analyzer. It hadn’t picked up any transmissions yet. Maybe this one was empty.

“Total or just since Hiroshi took over as captain?” said co-pilot Mthembu.

“Either.”

He paused to think. “I’ve lost count.”

“Too many, then,” said Setta.

“Less complaining, more watching for activity,” said Hiroshi. “Just because no ships came through from here during the last fight, doesn’t mean it’s empty. Lots of AIs don’t help their neighbors. We need to spot anything in this system for the fleet.”

The other two replied, “Aye-aye,” and went back to their consoles.

The ship drifted toward the center of the system. Normally they’d pick up some radar pings shortly after jumping in, followed by digital communications chatter as robot ships coordinated to intercept them. Then Hiroshi would light Joshua Chamberlain’s torch and try to escape through the gate before anyone caught them.

He’d pulled it off a couple of dozen times by now. Maybe Setta had a point about it being too many. Sooner or later their luck would run out.

It’s just—someone had to do it, and who could Hiroshi hand the job off to? It’s not like Mthembu had the experience to command.

Though Captain Long probably thought the same about Hiroshi when she retired.

“I picked up a blip,” said Setta. “Might be radar.”

“You’d think they’d just pick up our heat signature,” said Mthumbu.

Hiroshi shrugged. “They could, if they calibrated for coasting ships. They’re probably looking for ones with their torches on.”

Accelerating into the middle of the system would bring more attention than they wanted. It would also make it harder to escape. That kind of aggressive behavior he’d leave to the warships who’d invade the system, once he’d given them an initial report on what waited for them here.

“More blips,” reported Setta. “Definitely radar, confirming our presence. Time between blips puts them a light minute, maybe minute and a quarter, away from us.”

“All right. There’s something here. This won’t be a complete waste of time.” Hiroshi knew the next step would be the local AI bombarding his ship with data packets to subvert the systems.

It wouldn’t work. Joshua Chamberlain was an analog ship. No essential system relied on digital circuits. The crew could find their way home with slide rules if they needed to.

“More radar. Different frequency. Probably trying to confirm our position and velocity.” Setta worked her console. “I think this is from a different source, but I’m not sure how far apart they are.”

The downside of being secure against digital attacks was having only the most primitive electrical systems to look at the enemy with.

“There’s some low data rate transmissions coming in,” said Mthembu. “Odd stuff. Doesn’t look like the normal AI chatter.”

Units belonging to the same AI would talk to each other a lot, but it was all high rate digital communication, compressed as much as possible.

Hiroshi pulled up the new transmissions on his frequency display. “That looks like analog voice chatter.”

He switched the channel to the bridge speaker. Garbled noise played out. The pattern was irregular, but matched the rhythms of a conversation.

“Yep. That’s a human voice, scrambled for encryption.” Hiroshi thought. Could there be actual people here? Or was one of the Betrayer AIs just using voice for some obscure reason? They still followed the goals of their original programmers. The Combined Fleet won more than one battle by taking advantage of such constraints.

Mthembu asked, “Should we report this?”

The only way to report was jumping back through the local gate.

“No. It’s too soon. We’re not being threatened. We need to figure out what’s here so we can let the fleet know.”

“Could there even be humans here?” asked Setta. “We’re a long way from the nearest human world. The Betrayers wiped out all human life between here and Earth.”

A few centuries ago, Earth’s Golden Age ended in a storm of AI-perpetrated murders leaving Earth free of human life. Or . . . a system crash triggered by badly designed safety measures killed the human population by accident. Historians and scientists were still arguing.

The “Betrayal” spread from Earth to every colony world within three or four jumps of the homeworld. Beyond there a few human worlds held on, resisting further AI attacks and colonizing more worlds. Now all the human worlds had combined their efforts to clear away the AIs. They’d liberated Earth. Dozens more worlds were now back under human control.

Hiroshi thought out loud. “We’re about as far from Earth as Demeter is, just in the opposite direction. So if the Betrayers could only go so far, worlds past here could still be human-controlled.”

“Or it’s a Betrayer trick to lure us in,” said Mthembu.

“Most AIs we’ve run into haven’t been that subtle,” said Hiroshi.

Setta sniffed. “If we ever find a subtle AI, we’ll probably be dead before we realize what it’s doing.”

“Do we just wait for them to say something we can understand?” ask Mthembu.

The garbled chatter was still going on. If they were humans, they might be arguing about something.

“No need for that,” said Hiroshi.

He flipped the switch for his microphone to “live” and “ship to ship.” A twist of a knob set him on the frequency being used by the scrambled conversation. He held the mike to his mouth. “This is Centurion Hiroshi, commanding the ship Joshua Chamberlain, currently on a reconnaissance mission for the Combined Fleet, calling all humans. If there is a human in this system, please respond on this frequency.”

Setta rolled her eyes. She respected his rank as captain enough to not criticize him directly in front of another member of the crew, but they’d been married long enough that Hiroshi picked up the message loud and clear: “You’re being impulsive and stupid.”

What she said was, “An AI could respond to that with a synthetic voice transmission.”

The response on the scrambled frequency was a pause, then several overlapping transmissions, still garbled.

“I know. But we have a whole book on how to figure out if an AI is lying to us.”

“Yes, we do.” Setta unhooked the restraints of her acceleration couch. She floated over to one of the shelves squeezed in between consoles and equipment bays. When she found the book she was looking for, she pitched it to Hiroshi. “You’d best be reading it.”

He caught the book and looked at the title. Tactical Turing Tests. He opened it to the introduction.

The speaker kept spitting out garbled voices. Setta turned the volume down before it could give her a headache. Similar conversations—if they were conversations—began on two other frequencies.

Setta made an announcement on the PA, letting the rest of the crew know that they were still investigating what occupied the Boax system.

Hiroshi was well into chapter one when a new voice appeared. The garbled conversation went silent. Someone said, “Ship Joshua Chamberlain, what is your origin?”

All three crew on the bridge grinned. Hiroshi lifted his mike. “Unknown caller, we are out of Bonaventure. That’s eight jumps from Earth, on the far side from here.”

“How did you get here?”

“One bloody battle at a time. The human forces on the far side combined their efforts and have been taking out the Betrayer systems over the past four years.”

That left out war between human nations, blackmail, civil war, and other complications, but that could be explained later.

The stranger didn’t respond immediately. Hiroshi said, “The combined fleet is behind us, waiting for our report on this system.”

Hopefully the threat of a fleet powerful enough to destroy Betrayers in their own systems would discourage anyone from taking a shot at Joshua Chamberlain.

“Scrambled chatter is picking up on the other frequencies,” reported Mthembu.

The stranger transmitted, “Your story is improbable and unconvincing. We don’t think you’re human.”

“I’m not sure you’re human, either,” replied Hiroshi. “How shall we resolve this?”

“Stand by, Joshua Chamberlain.”

After three minutes of silence, Hiroshi went back to the book. It looked like he was going to need it.

“Skipper, want to try the comm box?” asked Mthembu.

Hiroshi looked up from Tactical Turing Tests. His ship was equipped with some computers. They were just locked into Faraday cages while scouting out new systems, lest a Betrayer corrupt them. But that wasn’t looking like a threat right now. “What do you want to use it for?”

“If the locals are just using a simple scramble on their voice comms, the comm box might be able to break it and let us listen in.”

“It can do that?”

“It’s supposed to handle basic cryptography functions. We can give it a try.”

Setta nodded in agreement.

“Sure, go ahead,” said Hiroshi.

Mthembu unharnessed himself and dove into the deck hatch.

The captain went back to his book.

The co-pilot came back in ten minutes, holding a box with a small warship’s worth of communications electronics stuffed into something half the size of a man’s torso. Well, half of Mthembu’s torso. It was probably about three-quarters of Hiroshi’s.

Mthembu rapidly connected cables to the comm box, giving it the feeds from Joshua Chamberlain’s antennas. The readout screen filled with text as the automated processor sorted through the signals.

“Okay, most active frequency is multiply encrypted. It’s trying the others.” Mthembu was watching the computer work.

Hiroshi started chapter two. The authors of this book were very fond of multiply-branching flowcharts. He kept a pencil handy. Once they started real conversations, he’d need to cross out branches as they were eliminated as possibilities.

“Aha! It broke one channel.” Mthembu sounded gleeful. “All the ones we’re getting strong signals on are multiply encrypted, but we’re picking up the sidelobes of some directional signals. Those are just scrambled.”

“Let’s hear it,” said Hiroshi.

The co-pilot switched the comm box’s output to the speaker.

“—be such an idiot. It has to be a trick.” The voice was human, speaking English, though the strange accent was strong enough it might almost count as a different dialect. The speaker was an adult male. Very sure of himself.

“Trick or not, it’s a chance to learn something. We need to draw it in. Make contact. See if we can steal any technology or data from the probe.” Another young male. Slightly different accent. Same confidence.

“You aren’t going to draw anything in. You’re going to hold position until we receive new orders from Higher.” Similar accent to the first one. “And don’t send any signals at the thing either.”

Setta chuckled. “Cocky bastards. Must be pilots.”

Hiroshi and Mthembu cast her dirty looks.

The bickering among the locals continued without revealing anything useful for Joshua Chamberlain’s crew. A few chance comments revealed the speakers were part of a fighter squadron. Presumably the same kind of watchdog unit the Fusion would keep on gates to AI-controlled systems before the Combined Fleet removed the need for them.

Chapter Three of Tactical Turning Tests included transcripts of AI attempts to infiltrate human defenses. They were divided evenly between humans who’d fallen for the attempts and ones who’d uncovered the AI’s true identity. Much more interesting reading than the dry theory the book opened with.

The comm box was programmed to switch the speaker to the main frequency if there were any transmissions. It chirped to announce it was doing so.

The same stranger’s voice as before said, “Joshua Chamberlain, you are continuing to penetrate deeper into our system. This is a hostile act. Stop.”

Hiroshi keyed the mike. “Hello, stranger. If we are stationary relative to the gate, will that be acceptable?”

“Yes, that is acceptable. You may address me as Boaz Defense Control.”

“Very well, Boaz Defense Control, I’ll put the brakes on.”

Safely passing through a jump gate required a speed of several hundred kilometers per second. The ship arrived in the destination system with about a percent of that speed toward the center of the system. The residual was small enough Hiroshi could remove it with the attitude thrusters.

More or less. Another trait of analog ships was they didn’t have the precision of digital controls. Hiroshi ran the thrusters long enough to be sure that they were drifting back toward the gate, rather than deal with Boaz Defense Control complaining about a meter per second inward velocity.

“Joshua Chamberlain to Boaz Defense Control. We’ve maneuvered as requested. Now can we discuss establishing our identities?”

“This will not be done over the radio. That’s too easy to fake.”

Hiroshi rephrased his initial response to be politer. “How do you intend to do it?”

“We’re reviewing options. Stand by.”

Hiroshi looked around the bridge. “Sounds like we’ll be waiting for a while. Do we want to switch to shifts? I’ll take the first one.”

Setta shook her head.

“I don’t want to miss the action,” said Mthembu, “but I’m going to take a quick break.” The co-pilot disappeared down the deck hatch again.

“Is the stress getting to his bladder?” asked Setta with a chuckle.

“I wouldn’t blame him. This is a hell of a situation. Reuniting humanity, which is just amazing. Or somebody’s going to put a missile into us and we can’t even evade before we see it coming.”

“You’re sounding stressed too. Neck rub?”

“Mmmm. Tempting, but you know he’d come back at just the wrong moment.”

“All right.”

Then there was nothing to do but read chapter four of Tactical Turing Tests. It had recommended scripts for interrogating a suspected AI. Hiroshi would be more than willing to try them out on Boaz Defense Control, but until there was an actual conversation that wasn’t an option.

“How long until Admiral Galen gives us up for dead?” asked Setta.

“Two days. I argued him into the longer grace period so we wouldn’t have to rush in scouting strange systems. That gives us . . . forty-one hours until we have to go back.”

“I guess we will have to work shifts.”

Mthembu returned and agreed to take a shift off. But his version of being off was napping in his acceleration couch on the bridge. Didn’t help with privacy for the rest of the bridge crew.

“Joshua Chamberlain, this is Boaz Defense Control. We have a proposal for verification.”

Hiroshi snapped alert. He’d dozed off over chapter five. “Roger, Boaz Defense Control. We are listening.”

“We propose you leave one crew member in a space suit then withdraw half the distance to the gate. One of our ships will pick up your crew member and conduct tests to verify humanity.”

That was not in Tactical Turing Tests. “What kind of tests?”

“Medical and psychological. Nothing painful.” Was there a hint of emotion in the last words?

“We will consider this. Stand by.” Hiroshi turned the mike off. “I guess they’re probably not going to torture someone to death,” he said, “but those tests will probably be rough.”

“You can’t go,” said Setta. “As captain, you can’t leave your post.”

“I can put someone else in charge.”

Mthembu said, “I’ll go.”

“No. I’m best qualified,” said Setta. “I’ve read Tactical Turing Tests three times. I spend the most time interacting with other people. People from every culture. I’ve even talked with the recorded human emulations from Earth.”

“I won’t—” Hiroshi broke off. She was right. She was the best people person on the ship. But she was his wife, and he didn’t want to leave her alone and in danger.

“Our mission is to find out what’s out there. If they’re humans, we want peaceful contact. Who on the ship can do that better than me?”

“What if they’re AIs and they’re going to dissect you?” protested Hiroshi.

“They’re not AIs. A Betrayer would have made a decision instantly. These guys formed a committee and argued for a dozen hours. That’s a human thing.”

Hiroshi argued with her for half an hour before giving in. His wife was best qualified for the mission of anyone on his crew. He would have to let her go into danger.

“Joshua Chamberlain to Boax Defense Control. We will drop off our volunteer and withdraw shortly.”

“Acknowledged, Joshua Chamberlain. Our pick up vessel is ready.”

Mthembu held the bridge while Hiroshi prepared Setta to be dropped off.

Mechanic Finnegan had her spacesuit ready. He helped her don it and inspected the seals.

When they were done with inspections, Hiroshi approached with some extra gear he’d taken from the equipment lockers. “I want you to have extra supplies, just in case.”

With Finnegan’s help, he started strapping them to her suit. Extra oxygen bottles. A backup water supply. A maneuvering thruster pack.

Setta protested as the additions mounted up. “A high powered transmitter, sure, but not two of them!”

“If the one breaks down, we might not be able to find you with just your suit transmitter. It’s pretty weak,” insisted Hiroshi.

“Okay, I’ll take both transmitters. But that’s it. Anything more and I won’t fit into the air lock.”

Hiroshi closed the air lock door on her, listened to the hiss of the pumps depressurizing the compartment, and then the thump of Setta kicking off the hull of the ship.

When he returned to the bridge, Mthembu promptly pointed out the space suit. “There she is, Skipper. She’s coasted out far enough to be clear of the thruster plumes.”

“Right. I have the con.”

“You have the con, sir.”

Hiroshi carefully maneuvered the clumsy freighter away from Setta, insuring none of the thruster bursts went anywhere near her. Then he let the ship coast for an hour. The plume of the ship’s torch could destroy a spacesuit in an instant. He wanted plenty of safety margin.

“Joshua Chamberlain to Boaz Defense Control. We have dropped off our volunteer, Senior Chief Bosun’s Mate Setta, and are maneuvering away.”

“Acknowledged, Joshua Chamberlain. Our pick up ship is on the way.”

Spacesuit, acceleration 0.0 m/s²

Setta had to admit, floating in space watching your ship cruise away was a lonely feeling. She kept watching for Joshua Chamberlain even after the freighter was too far away to see. The reward came when the ship’s torch lit up. She scooted away on a cone of plasma.

The torch only stayed on for a few minutes. Hiroshi wouldn’t waste reaction mass thrusting continuously for a simple repositioning. When it went out, she pivoted to look in-system.

Her ride was visible as a blue speck, growing into a visible plume.

Setta hoped the pilot was competent. All the gear Hiroshi foisted on to her wouldn’t help if a plume came too close. Ionized hydrogen atoms could strip her suit away in a flash.

The ship’s torch went out before coming close enough to scare her. Brief flickers of light told of maneuvering thrusters. The ship was performing a zig-zag to come in without endangering her. It took more than an hour to close in, but she was relaxed. Having a ship in sight took most of the anxiety away.

She only used a tenth of the day’s supply of oxygen Hiroshi made her bring.

The ship didn’t look different from the torchships she was used to. AI ships would have weird designs because they didn’t need to carry air for the crew. The one approaching was a cylindrical pressure vessel, with a flat plate on the end for the torch. Most human ships she’d seen looked like that.

A voice sounded on the suit radio. “We have you on visual. Please turn off your beacon.”

“Acknowledged,” she replied. She flipped the switch on the high powered transmitter.

The ship stopped a hundred meters away. An airlock hatch swung open. There was a difference—the door was circular instead of a rounded rectangle.

Setta fired the reaction pack, moving slowly into the airlock.

The routine of outer door closing, compartment pressurizing, inner door opening was no different. Her wrist readout said the air was 21% oxygen, the rest nitrogen.

Four spacers were floating in the ship to welcome her. “Hello! Welcome aboard the medical frigate Jane Lombardi,” said one in a red suit.

There were three males, one female. The female was in a blue suit, as was one of the males. The fourth was in grey. The facial features were odd, not the same combinations of skin color, hair texture, and facial shape she was used to in Disconnect or Fusion people.

The speaker’s accent was close to the ones they’d heard on the radio, odd but understandable with a little effort.

In short, they looked human.

The suits weren’t intended for vacuum. They looked to be medical ones, intended for quarantine work. That was sensible. Who knew what viruses had evolved in centuries of isolation from each other.

Setta said, “Thank you. I’m glad to find another human world.”

The one in grey stepped forward and began unhooking gear from her suit. “Did you bring enough?” he muttered.

“My captain is a worrywart,” she answered.

The locals glanced at each other. Red Suit typed on a tablet he was holding. “Ah, yes. That would lead to over-preparing.”

Grey Suit tucked gear into cabinets next to the airlock. Oddly, they were all empty. Had the ship stripped down for this mission? There was little of the normal clutter clipped to every bulkhead. Four crew seemed small for the ship, too. Or was this how these people normally operated?

When Grey Suit removed her helmet, the woman stepped forward to offer a sterile breath mask. Setta accepted it. If these people had some disease she wasn’t able to fight off, she was probably doomed anyway, but the mask might buy a little time.

“Now that we’re face to face, let me do introductions,” said red suit. “I’m Corvette-Captain Dabbashi, in charge of this shell. The man dealing with your gear is Chief Webson. Our medical team is Doctor Bhattarai and Nurse Minami. Are we correct that you’re Senior Chief Setta?”

“Yes, that’s me. Pleased to meet you all.”

Webson took the last pieces of the suit off her. Setta was down to her utility uniform jumpsuit.

“I’m sure everyone wants to get started right away,” said Dabbashi. “We’ll leave the meds to it.” He started toward the forward hatch, Webson following him.

Setta said, “Captain, can you let Joshua Chamberlain know I’m safely aboard?”

“Corvette-Captain,” he corrected. “I’m not allowed to contact other ships directly. I’ll ask Control to pass the message on.”

“Thank you.”

Once the other two were out of the room, the doctor said, “To give you a lookout, we’re going to start with physical tests, establishing your biological humanity. Then we’ll have a series of psychological exams and interviews, testing, I’m sorry to have to say this, whether you’ve been reprogrammed by a Betrayer in some way.”

Setta nodded. “I was expecting that. I will be watching for proof of your humanity as well.”

Dr. Bhattarai flinched at that, but the nurse didn’t seem to mind.

“We’ll need some samples for the first series of tests. Then we’ll do a full body scan. Do you have any implants, metal in your body, anything like that?”

“Just my contraceptive implant.”

“Contraceptive?” The doctor looked puzzled.

“It regulates my hormones to keep me from becoming pregnant.”

Nurse Minami said, “An antinatal.”

“Ah!” He made some notes on his tablet. “I’ll give you some privacy for the sample collection.”

Minami extracted blood, saliva, and urine with minimal fuss. The urine collection bag was a different shape from the free-fall ones she’d used before, but with some help from the nurse Setta made her donation without ruining the air quality.

The body scanner was in the next compartment. It shared the volume with a surgery table and a few patient beds, currently retracted into the bulkheads. The locals had a feature for their scanner she appreciated. From her place in the tube, she could see the wall display showing cross sections of her body as the focus plane moved.

The contraceptive implant showed clearly. Nothing else alarmed the medical team. They did demand an explanation of why she was missing an ovary. “Traded to the Terraforming Service” was not one of the options Bhattarai had on his tablet. He spent longer typing up the explanation than Setta did telling it to them.

“Am I human, doc?” asked Setta when the scan was done.

“I’ve seen no evidence against it,” replied Bhattarai. “But we still need to review the analyses of your samples. Could you wait in the triage compartment, please?”

That was the name of the room with the airlock. Setta floated through the hatch. Chief Webson was waiting inside, holding on to a wall strap.

“Hello, Chief. Do you have some questions for me?”

He shook his head. “Just here to watch you. Take a nap if you like. You might need the rest later.”

“I’m still too keyed up from all this to sleep,” she said.

“As suits you.”

Webson fell silent after that. One of those happier with machines than people, Setta sensed.

If he wasn’t assigned to investigate her, that made the time an opportunity for her to investigate the locals.

“Why were you assigned to this mission?” she asked.

The mechanic looked up from his tablet. “Oh, we weren’t assigned. All volunteers.”

“Why did you volunteer?”

Shrug. “Didn’t want to. But the corvette-captain volunteered, and he needed somebody with him. I’d be burnt if I’d let one of those dumb kids go along and screw things up. Had to be me.”

“Why didn’t you want to volunteer?”

Webson gave her a hard look. “I’m not saying you’re a Betrayer infiltration unit. Not my job to know that. But if you are, well, we’re not going home.”

The gesture which went with that was a very expressive shrug or miming how far Jane Lombardi’s debris would spread if someone decided the ship was lost to the Betrayers.

The hatch to the hospital compartment opened. Nurse Minami floated through. “Good news. All the test results are in normal range. We can start the interviews.”

Webson headed for the forward hatch.

“All right,” said Setta.

Minami pulled out a desk from the bulkhead. Chairs weren’t useful in free fall. Spars unfolded on each side of the desk. They anchored seat belts to keep floating people in position relative to the desk.

This was new furniture for Setta, but it only took a moment to figure out how to strap herself down.

“Oh, before we start the interview, would you be willing to have your antinatal implant removed?”

“Yes. Why?”

Minami looked to the side. “Headquarters is being paranoid.”

“Well, that’s an admiral’s job. Besides, I won’t need the implant while I’m with you people, and if we agree we’re both human, I may not need it at all.” She’d been having daydreams of retiring when the war was over and starting a family with Hiroshi.

The nurse flashed a quick smile of relief. She touched her stylus to her tablet and began a long series of questions intended to extract Setta’s autobiography.

She answered honestly. She didn’t consider any of it secret, even if a few parts were embarrassing. It was probably a waste of time for the interrogators. The Tactical Turing Test recommended against extracting data dumps, as they were easy to fake given a large enough source base.

Minami didn’t react to any of the stories until she asked about Setta’s wedding.

“We’d planned a fancy one on Shishi, Hiroshi’s homeworld, with enough lead time for both families to attend. Instead we were married on our ship in a rush. See, a Betrayer had captured Demeter and killed the whole population. The counter-attack was the start of the Combined Fleet. Ground troops were parachuted in to seize a foothold. They had a lot of wounded, but hadn’t cleared enough ground for warships to come in without having their electronics corrupted.”

Setta took a deep breath to steady herself. Talking about it was bringing the memories back. Hard memories. “Our ship, the analog ship, went in to pick them up. We knew the odds, so we married on the way to the planet. The medical staff helped pull together a sweet ceremony.”

She wiped away a tear.

“Um . . . why don’t we take a break,” said Minami.

BDS Joshua Chamberlain, acceleration 0.0 m/s²

Hiroshi broadcast, “Joshua Chamberlain to Boaz Defense Control. How is your verification going?”

“Joshua Chamberlain, it is in progress.”

“Do you have an estimated completion time?”

“No.”

At least they were honest. “Boaz Defense Control, we need to report in to our fleet command. We will return shortly and will be able to retrieve Senior Chief Setta.”

“Acknowledged, Joshua Chamberlain.”

Hiroshi looked to his co-pilot. “Take us through the gate. It’s time to talk to Admiral Galen.”

“Aye-aye, sir.” Mthembu flipped the ship one hundred and eighty degrees, then lit the torch.

Once the ship was in the groove, he took sextant sightings on the buoys around the gate to verify they were on course.

The jump back to the Muscat system was a non-event. They were promptly greeted with a terse demand to identify themselves.

Hiroshi broadcast, “Joshua Chamberlain returning from Boax. Authentication: fat pigeons.”

Admiral Galen must have been worried about them. He popped up on the radio himself. “Joshua Chamberlain, welcome back. What’s waiting for us over there?”

“I’m not sure. They seem to be people. Paranoid people.” Hiroshi described their interactions with the people on Boax, and how Setta volunteered to be a test subject for them.

At the end of the discussion, Galen made a thoughtful, “Hmmmm.” After a moment, he continued, “I have to say in their place I’d be paranoid myself. The problem with that kind of testing is there’s no human answer which can’t be simulated by an even more clever AI.”

“Yes, sir. But I don’t want them dissecting my wife searching for nanobots that aren’t there.”

“Well, we won’t let that happen,” said the admiral. “Even if we have to go through in force to bring her back.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“We’ll stand by here. Go talk to our paranoid neighbors some more. I’ll give you a week before we come looking for you.”

“Aye-aye, sir. Joshua Chamberlain out.” Hiroshi flexed his shoulders to unknot them. “Mthembu, take us back to Boax.”

“Aye-aye, sir.” The co-pilot turned the ship around and lit her torch.

Jane Lombardi, acceleration 0.0 m/s²

“You asked me those same questions two days ago,” complained Setta.

Dr. Bhattarai nodded. “Yes. But that was before your implant was surgically removed. We’re trying to verify that it didn’t affect your answers at all.”

Sigh. “Fine.” Setta repeated her answer, as close to exactly the same as she could manage. Hopefully minor variations in word choice wouldn’t be taken as proof of Betrayer control.

After answering four more repeat questions, she asked, “Wasn’t Webson going to do an analysis of the implant? Didn’t that show it was harmless?”

Bhattarai winced. “Yes, he deconstructed the object and sent his conclusions to Control. They haven’t responded.”

“Have they responded to anything?”

“No.” The doctor’s expression was almost hang-dog.

The only real progress they’d made was acknowledging that Setta wasn’t carrying any infectious diseases, so the locals were in comfortable overalls instead of their isolation suits. She’d told them her life story, shared what she remembered of her homeworld’s history, done word association tests, and answered various psychological tests from measuring reflexes to ethical conundrums.

She hoped they wouldn’t work their way around to the ethics questions again. Some of those were deliberately icky. She suspected they were more useful for distinguishing human cultures from each other than checking for AI programming.

They weren’t hiding what they were doing. Having established Setta was biologically fully human, they were checking for some subtle programming to make her a Betrayer agent, possibly in some way that she wouldn’t be aware of herself.

They’d done the interrogations recommended by Tactical Turing Tests, but that was only a fraction of what she’d been through. The rest of the tests didn’t seem like they’d answer if she was a programmed agent. It was more like they were flailing and just throwing every questionnaire they could think of at her. Setta hadn’t confronted them about that.

Really, if they wanted to expose her as an agent, they should set up a fake flagship, let her visit the bridge and other command nodes, and see if she struck at the key targets. She hadn’t suggested that to her interrogators. It didn’t seem like it would help.

“Do you need a break?” asked Minami. She was taking notes while Bhattarai asked questions. They traded roles every few hours.

Setta chuckled. “No, I’m fine. I’m just bored. This stuff wasn’t exciting the first time through.”

Both doctor and nurse nodded in agreement.

The forward hatch opened. Dabbashi floated through, followed by Webson.

“Oh, good, we’re all here,” said the corvette-captain. “We’ve received a decision from Defense Control.”

Everyone perked up.

“As we’ve found no evidence that Senior Chief Setta is a Betrayer agent, we are officially under suspicion of having been subverted and are under orders to not maneuver or make any unauthorized transmissions.”

Bhattarai spat a word Setta didn’t know. A rude one, by the tone. Minami didn’t seem any more cheerful.

“That seems a bit paranoid of them,” said Setta.

Everyone muttered agreement except Webson. He had a grim I-expected-the-worst-and-here-it-is expression on his face.

Dabbashi produced a deck of magnetized cards. “The good news is we don’t have to waste our time on the interrogations any more. Senior Chief, do they have the game ‘hearts’ on your homeworld?”

BDS Joshua Chamberlain, acceleration 0.0 m/s²

Hiroshi held on to the shreds of his temper with both hands. “Boax Defense Control, it’s been five days. If you can’t make up your mind by now, you’re not going to. Please return Senior Chief Setta. We will withdraw from your system and avoid contacting you in the future.”

“Joshua Chamberlain, we will not allow a potential Betrayer agent to bring the data it has collected back to its master.”

“Setta is human, and you will give her back!” He’d tried to keep his tone only reasonably angry. By the worried look on Mthembu’s face, he must have let it out too much.

“Negative.”

“I will report to my fleet commander.” Hiroshi fired the maneuvering thrusters, turning the ship around. When he lit the torch he ran for ten gravs for a moment, equivalent to Earth’s surface gravity, then doubled the acceleration. He watched the integrator to ensure he didn’t exceed the safe speed for the gate.

Once he cut the torch, Mthembu made some sextant sights to ensure they were on course. “We’re good, sir.”

Hiroshi nodded. His anger was ebbing a bit. Part of him wondered if he was just doing an ‘I’ll tell my big brother on you’ snit and should be more patient. But no. If the Boax people—Boaxans? What did they call themselves?—were going to recognize her as human, they would have done it already. This extended wait meant their paranoia wasn’t going to be broken by anything that Setta could say or do.

They were hailed as soon as they appeared in the Muscat system, this time by Admiral Galen himself. “Joshua Chamberlain. What’s the word?”

“Sir, they’re being paranoid and refusing to release Senior Chief Setta.” Hiroshi described his conversations with Boax Defense Control through careful questioning from the admiral.

“I see. I was afraid it would come to this.” Admiral Galen shifted his tone, confident that his whole fleet was listening in on this conversation. “All units. Execute Case Broadaxe.”

Jane Lombardi, acceleration 0.0 m/s²

Corvette-Captain Dabbashi flipped a magnetic card toward the desk. It stuck face up. Queen of Spades.

“Oh, for crying out loud,” protested Dr. Bhattarai.

“Is this the shoot the moon thing?” asked Setta. She didn’t have anything in her hand that could take the trick from the queen.

“Yes, he’s shooting the moon. Again,” said Bhattarai.

“Told you not to play for money,” said Chief Webson. He was sitting out the game, but watching it from the other side of the triage compartment.

“I believed you,” said Setta. She’d been loaned a hundred rials by Dabbashi to give her a stake in the game. She’d already given back three quarters of it.

Minami tossed down a three of clubs without comment.

Before Bhattarai could pick a card, an alarm whooped from the bridge. Dabbashi’s cards hung in the air as he arrowed for the hatch. Webson followed him.

“What the hell?” exclaimed the commander.

Setta, alarmed, slid up to the hatch and peeked through.

Dabbashi and Webson were at their consoles. They seemed to be processing sensor data. Neither had the franticness which indicated something wrong with the ship.

The other two took up spectator positions on the other side of the hatch. “What’s going on?” asked Dr. Bhattarai.

“Not sure. There’s a general fleet order to go to top alert and reposition. Doesn’t apply to us.”

“There’s a new torch. Gateward,” said Webson.

“Right. I see it. Let me focus the telescope on it.” Dabbashi wrestled with his controls, then brought up an image on his main screen. “What demon-spawning hell is that from?”

“May I take a look?” asked Setta.

“Yes. You know this thing?”

She pulled herself into the bridge and grabbed a handhold on the back of the commander’s acceleration couch. “Yes. It’s a Combined Fleet ship.”

“That can’t be a ship. It’s a third of a mile long!”

Setta’s voice grew firm. “That is FNS Terror, Admiral Galen’s flagship. It’s a six hundred meter sphere. You’re not seeing the whole torch plume because it’s obscured by the hull.”

“New plume,” reported Webson.

Dabbashi switched the telescope to the other ship. “Another one? How many of those monsters do you have?”

For all the questions the locals had asked Setta, they hadn’t demanded tactical intelligence on the Combined Fleet. Given that a battle might be about to occur, she decided that should remain secret. “I don’t know. But enough to fight through every Betrayer system between here and Earth.”

“I’m starting to believe you now.”

The Combined Fleet was sending ships through as fast as they could safely pass the gate. On the other side of Jane Lombardi, torch plumes told of Boaz ships redeploying. Setta studied the patterns. They must have been dispersed to be ready to ambush anything coming through the gate. Now they were concentrating to be ready to fight a fleet engagement.

Gate jumps tended to be an uncertain business. A ship could land anywhere in a large volume. When the gate was still vibrating from a previous vessel’s passage, the exact arrival point could vary even more. A Terror-class battleship shook the gate more than most. The Combined Fleet ships were pouring on the thrust to put themselves in a reasonable formation.

Would the locals have been able to destroy Terror if they’d attacked immediately? Possibly. More likely they wouldn’t have enough ships close enough to take her down before the next battleship came through. That battle would’ve become a chaotic mix of local fights, the kind admirals hated.

Setta hoped there wouldn’t be any battle. If the admirals could come to some agreement, or at least hold back while the politicians talked, there could be peace. If fighting started . . . Jane Lombardi couldn’t survive a single missile strike.

Combined Fleet ships were still coming through. The Boaz ships were turning their torches off as they reached their positions in the formation. If the locals were going to attack, this was the time.

“Picking up a video signal,” said Webson.

“Put it on main screen,” said the corvette-captain.

Setta sighed with relief at the sight of Admiral Galen’s face.

“—to all local ships. I am Admiral Galen, commanding officer of the Combined Fleet. This force has ships from the Disconnected Worlds, the Fusion, and the Harmony. We are assigned to wage war against the Betrayers and return control of their worlds to humanity. If this system is human controlled, I only wish to live in peace with you as neighbors. If you do not wish to interact with us, we will accept that and leave you alone. But I insist that my spacer, Senior Chief Setta, who volunteered to contact you, be returned to once. If she is not returned, I will take whatever action is necessary to force you to give her up.”

Galen sat back in his command chair with a stubborn look on his face. The video began to repeat.

“Be a nurse, my mom said,” muttered Minami. “It’s a safe job. You’ll never be in danger. And now I’m on the ship two fleets are targeting.”

Webson snorted. “That’s what you get for volunteering.”

His expression changed. “There’s another video broadcast.”

He split the display. The right half showed another man in a fancy uniform. There was enough braid he was probably an admiral. His hair was tight grey curls, contrasting with his dark face.

“Who’s that?” asked Setta.

“Sky Marshal Mugaravai,” answered Dabbashi.

The sky marshal wasn’t speaking. He focused on the camera with a patient expression.

The repeat of Galen’s message cut off. It was replaced by a presumably live broadcast of the admiral, still in his command chair.

Mugaravai lifted a book from the arm of his chair. It was thick, bound in dark leather with obvious wear. He riffled through the pages before opening the book wide. He turned three pages then began to read aloud. “What man of you, having a hundred sheep, if he loses one of them, does not leave the ninety-nine in the wilderness, and go after the one which is lost until he finds it?”

The sky marshal closed the book and looked up. “Admiral Galen. I am Sky Marshal Mugaravai, commanding Boaz Defense. We have been testing your volunteer to verify if she was human. But as my Intelligence and Security departments keep reminding me, a sophisticated artificial intelligence can simulate any answer a human can give. So regardless of what Senior Chief Setta said, we could not be sure she was not a Betrayer trap.”

A wry smile flickered across his face. “What a Betrayer can be counted on for, is to make quick and logical decisions. All AIs are logical, taking the most cost effective action to achieve their goals. To threaten to fight a major fleet action for the sake of one person is so staggeringly inefficient that I can only believe you are human.

“So we shall return Setta to you. And, though it may be difficult, we shall build a relationship with our distant cousins. I wish to begin by thanking you for ending the threat from Muscat, a Betrayer system which has attacked us many times.”

Setta felt her eyes fill up with tears. She heard Admiral Galen replying, but paid no attention to the words. She was going home. Her war was over.

This story is a follow-on to the Torchship Trilogy, available on Amazon and Audible.