The War Machine: Crisis of Empire III Read Free

discovered how to defeat their own hardwired instruction. AIDs who knew what was good for them cooperated with their owners, even in the commission of minor crimes. Everyone used AIDs to figure their income tax, for example.
    But Al Spencer knew as well as anyone that an AID’s desire for self-preservation was no guarantee against the damn thing turning informer. Some models—including the standard military issue units—were known to rate revenge above survival. Every AID left the factory knowing how unpleasant things could get if it helped its owner commit murder or treason. The Kona Tatsu had ways of sucking information out of an AID that were just as nasty as what they did to people.
    So what it came down to was that AIDs were supposed to squeal, but they never really did it, except sometimes.
    There was an old, old theory that uncertainty was a cornerstone of deterrence. Usually, that was true—but today it wasn’t going to work. Al had no choice but to use his AID in the commission of a major crime. One that might even be regarded as treason. No danger would stop him.
    “AID, report ship name and location and confirm if certain person is aboard.” Al spoke a bit stiffly to the gadget, and found himself holding it the way he would a small dog that might bite. He made sure his finger was over the scram button seal and forced himself to relax.
    “What is the ship?” the AID asked.
    “Senator Hildebrandt Windsor’s ship.” Spencer held his breath. This was the moment of truth. If this AID was going to betray him, this was the moment. “Such information is under security block,” the AID announced. Al felt his mouth go dry. Either he’d get his information, or the KT would be all over this toy store in four minutes. At the first hint that his AID was reluctant to help, Al was going to scram the thing and toss it into a bin of stuffed toys. “One moment, please,” the AID continued. “Sidestepping security may take a moment.” Al breathed a sigh of relief. “Security overcome. I have access to all in-system ship locations.”
    “So which is his ship?”
    “The governor does not own any ship, but he is billeted aboard the Bremerton, currently in parking orbit.”
    Damn smartass machine. But he’d settle for a helpful smartass. “Is his niece aboard?”
    “Confirmed, Captain Spencer. Bethany Windsor billeted compartment four, B deck.”
    That was another little stab in his gut. This AID not only used Al’s new rank, but Bethany’s maiden name.
    Somehow, hearing it from the damn machine made it seem real, official. He felt a surge of anger welling up inside him. “Thank you, AID. Now—how do I get aboard to see her?”
    “You cannot,” the machine said flatly. “Special orders have been issued specifically to keep you off. The crew has been told that Guard officers may attempt to desert and escape to Harmony Cluster by talking their way onto the Bremerton. You cannot get past them.”
    Spencer felt his anger turn cold, calculating. “All right, then AID, I cannot get aboard. Then at least tell me how I can try.”
    Even as he listened to the AID’s patient instructions, Al knew the attempt would fail, knew that the KT could not fail but to keep a watch for him, knew that he was chasing toward disaster.
    Deep in his heart, Captain Allison Spencer wondered if it was heroes or cowards who rushed toward their own destruction.

Chapter Two
Wires

    Al Spencer came back to himself, just a little, and felt sick. How much time had passed? How long since he had been thrown off the shuttle, how long since the last drunken bar fight? How long since he had paid the Cernian to cut open his skull and put wires in there, install the pleasure implant in his brain?
    Disorientation. Confusion. A feeling as though he had just appeared here.
    A gap in his life.
    Bethany, his life, his career. They all seemed a lifetime ago. What had become of them all? How had he gotten here?
    But then his worries faded. He blinked,