workstation on the bridge of the Monster. Kiyoshi felt a sharp pang of homesickness at the sight of his ship’s familiar wooden panelling and checkerboard floor.
Jun steepled his hands under his chin. His eyes danced with elation. “It was so easy, Kiyoshi! Of course, winning the trust of the CTDF was the tricky part. But once I got them on board, the rest was a spacewalk.”
“Yeah, the CTDF,” Kiyoshi muttered. Tiangong Erhao, of course, had a guard of Chinese Territorial Defense Force ships. He wondered how, exactly, Jun had talked them into cooperating—and how hijacking a mammoth space station could be described as easy.
“I appealed to their honor,” Jun said. “They’re as keen to attack the PLAN as we are; very frustrated with their government’s official wait-and-see stance. With their help, I infiltrated Tiangong Erhao’s hub and captured its AI. Credit where it’s due: the current resident, Prince Jian-Er, gave me his passwords for the command-and-control interface.”
Kiyoshi laughed out loud. “That’s awesome! Lemme guess. You sedated the dork and lifted his passwords out of his BCI. Sweet. And of course, Chinese ships are programmed to obey anyone with an Imperial Family ID.”
Although Jun wouldn’t hear this for another 19 minutes, he nodded on the screen. “Now I’m effectively the captain of Tiangong Erhao. We’re gonna enter stealth mode as soon as possible. Mendoza’s over there now, installing my Ghosts in Tiangong Erhao’s distributed processing centers. Um, yeah, I made some more Ghosts. Gave some to the CTDF ships, too.” A chunk of black hair fell into his eyes. He brushed it back with a work-toughened hand, and looked straight at the camera. “Once we enter Ghost mode, I’ll be able to receive your signals, but I won’t be able to respond. So if there’s anything we need to discuss, we should do it now.”
Kiyoshi sucked on his cigarette. He was torn. He felt proud of Jun’s exploits, and didn’t want to sour Jun’s moment of triumph. He also knew that the situation had to be a lot more precarious than Jun was describing. Owning a Chinese AI was a freaking huge computing challenge … second only to the challenge of owning the PLAN. This had been a practice run for the big fight. Jun now had to devote every erg of power to maintaining his mastery of Tiangong Erhao, and preparing for the battle to come. Worrying about the folks at home would only distract him. ASI or not, Jun was very human in that way.
Through a cloud of nicotine-laced vapor, Kiyoshi glanced at the exterior optical feed. A gaggle of children in spacesuits were towing hydrogen fuel cells down to Engineering & Maintenance. That was their hack for the metal halide lamps. Run them on rechargeable fuel cells. But they didn’t have enough fuel cells. They didn’t have enough anything. Meanwhile, a near-infinite supply of stuff resided over there, on the other side of the rubble cloud …
Kiyoshi spoke. “Jun, I need money. Can you deposit some into my account? A hundred thousand spiders would do. The more the better, obviously.”
The boss-man wouldn’t give him fuel cells, but he’d sell them to him, Kiyoshi was sure. Water, too. Pig feed. The boss might harp on about the death of fiat currency, but if he was offered it, he’d take it. The problem was Kiyoshi’s capital was all tied up in illiquid assets.
This time he had to wait the full 38 minutes for a response. He spent the time tinkering with his home distillery. The Galapajin considered liquor a life-support essential. Their Catholic faith did not prevent them from appreciating the finer things in life. Homebrewed potato liquor was not what Kiyoshi considered a fine drink, but he’d never been big on alcohol, anyway. He was trying to get this working for the others. Morale.
Jun came back on the screen. “I’m glad to hear everything’s going well. But in that case, what do you need money for? Anyway, I haven’t got any. What’s
Jun steepled his hands under his chin. His eyes danced with elation. “It was so easy, Kiyoshi! Of course, winning the trust of the CTDF was the tricky part. But once I got them on board, the rest was a spacewalk.”
“Yeah, the CTDF,” Kiyoshi muttered. Tiangong Erhao, of course, had a guard of Chinese Territorial Defense Force ships. He wondered how, exactly, Jun had talked them into cooperating—and how hijacking a mammoth space station could be described as easy.
“I appealed to their honor,” Jun said. “They’re as keen to attack the PLAN as we are; very frustrated with their government’s official wait-and-see stance. With their help, I infiltrated Tiangong Erhao’s hub and captured its AI. Credit where it’s due: the current resident, Prince Jian-Er, gave me his passwords for the command-and-control interface.”
Kiyoshi laughed out loud. “That’s awesome! Lemme guess. You sedated the dork and lifted his passwords out of his BCI. Sweet. And of course, Chinese ships are programmed to obey anyone with an Imperial Family ID.”
Although Jun wouldn’t hear this for another 19 minutes, he nodded on the screen. “Now I’m effectively the captain of Tiangong Erhao. We’re gonna enter stealth mode as soon as possible. Mendoza’s over there now, installing my Ghosts in Tiangong Erhao’s distributed processing centers. Um, yeah, I made some more Ghosts. Gave some to the CTDF ships, too.” A chunk of black hair fell into his eyes. He brushed it back with a work-toughened hand, and looked straight at the camera. “Once we enter Ghost mode, I’ll be able to receive your signals, but I won’t be able to respond. So if there’s anything we need to discuss, we should do it now.”
Kiyoshi sucked on his cigarette. He was torn. He felt proud of Jun’s exploits, and didn’t want to sour Jun’s moment of triumph. He also knew that the situation had to be a lot more precarious than Jun was describing. Owning a Chinese AI was a freaking huge computing challenge … second only to the challenge of owning the PLAN. This had been a practice run for the big fight. Jun now had to devote every erg of power to maintaining his mastery of Tiangong Erhao, and preparing for the battle to come. Worrying about the folks at home would only distract him. ASI or not, Jun was very human in that way.
Through a cloud of nicotine-laced vapor, Kiyoshi glanced at the exterior optical feed. A gaggle of children in spacesuits were towing hydrogen fuel cells down to Engineering & Maintenance. That was their hack for the metal halide lamps. Run them on rechargeable fuel cells. But they didn’t have enough fuel cells. They didn’t have enough anything. Meanwhile, a near-infinite supply of stuff resided over there, on the other side of the rubble cloud …
Kiyoshi spoke. “Jun, I need money. Can you deposit some into my account? A hundred thousand spiders would do. The more the better, obviously.”
The boss-man wouldn’t give him fuel cells, but he’d sell them to him, Kiyoshi was sure. Water, too. Pig feed. The boss might harp on about the death of fiat currency, but if he was offered it, he’d take it. The problem was Kiyoshi’s capital was all tied up in illiquid assets.
This time he had to wait the full 38 minutes for a response. He spent the time tinkering with his home distillery. The Galapajin considered liquor a life-support essential. Their Catholic faith did not prevent them from appreciating the finer things in life. Homebrewed potato liquor was not what Kiyoshi considered a fine drink, but he’d never been big on alcohol, anyway. He was trying to get this working for the others. Morale.
Jun came back on the screen. “I’m glad to hear everything’s going well. But in that case, what do you need money for? Anyway, I haven’t got any. What’s
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