Of course, Mallory thought, even before Mosasa said, “In a sense, I’ve had several.”
The Race’s warfare relied on artificial intelligence. Not only was it impossible to run their cultural modeling on anything else—even if humans could duplicate the coding—the only way they could fight against the humans in direct confrontation was to have autonomous weapons that could act without direction. The implication of those weapons, which fought long past the end of the war, was one of many reasons that possession of an AI device was still a capital crime in most of human space.
Except on Bakunin, of course.
But it went deeper than that. Everything slid into unnatural clarity for Mallory. With Nickolai’s comment that Mosasa wasn’t human, and that even a cursory search for records showed Mosasa Salvage and Mosasa himself being here for over three centuries, there was only one credible explanation.
Mosasa wasn’t using a Race AI.
He was one.
The realization filled Mallory with a moral dread unlike anything he had felt before. He could feel a spiritual eclipse, where the anarchic mass of Bakunin drifted between this small gathering and the light of God, leaving them all in a darkness that was felt rather than seen.
Mallory forced himself to listen to Mosasa explain the details of his expedition. Part of him wanted to leave now, convinced that he sat in the epicenter of something terrifying and godless. Another part, the soldier, the man who was here on a mission for the Church, knew that, if anything, it was God’s providence that had taken him here.
And, in the end, Mallory knew that quitting this job was not something Fitzpatrick would do and would lead to many uncomfortable questions for someone trying to keep a low profile.
That last decision was vindicated when Mosasa introduced the woman who was going to be the military commander for this expedition. When the petite, white-haired woman walked from the shadows of Mosasa’s tach-ship, Mallory made little effort to conceal his shock. It was not an emotion that Fitzpatrick would be hiding right now.
“My name is Vijayanagara Parvi,” she introduced herself, looking at everyone assembled in front of her in turn. With the exception of Nickolai, Mallory noted. When she looked at Mallory, she said, “Some of you already know me.”
This cannot be a coincidence, Mallory thought.
Mallory waited by the exit to the hangar and watched Kugara and the tiger leave together. It only surprised him for a moment, as a moment of reflection told him that the two of them probably shared more in common than any other two members of the small mercenary squad that Mosasa had hired. They weren’t his primary concern at the moment. Not his, not Fitzpatrick’s.
Wahid left on his own. If things had gone differently during the briefing, he might have chosen to follow him. Either surreptitiously, or in a gesture of false camaraderie akin to what he supposed was happening with Kugara and Nickolai. A drunken conversation might go a long way toward assessing Wahid’s potential dual allegiances.
At the moment that wasn’t his concern either.
His concern was the short white-haired woman who walked out of the hangar about fifteen minutes later.
When Vijayanagara Parvi stepped alone into the night air, Mallory walked out in front of her. To her credit, she didn’t appear too surprised.
“I think we need to talk,” Mallory told her.
“Perhaps,” Parvi said. “Talk, then.”
“Not here,” Mallory said.
She cocked her head. “Are you worried about Mosasa hearing this? He’s paying me more than he’s paying you.”
“No,” Mallory cocked his head at the hangar. “Back inside.”
Parvi shrugged and walked back into the hangar. Mallory already assumed that anything between him and Parvi would make it back to Mosasa. Back inside Mosasa’s EM-shielded hangar, he could at least be confident that would be the extent of it.
Mosasa had gone, leaving the vast hangar space empty but for the two of them and the tach-ship. Once they were both inside, with the door shut, Mallory faced Parvi. “I was not expecting you to be part of the first job I have on Bakunin.”
Parvi shrugged. “I’ve recruited a lot of people.”
“So you don’t find it a little coincidental?”
“The universe is full of coincidences.”
“So when you recruited me, were you working for Mosasa?”
“You’re acting as if I knew you were going to apply for this particular job.”
“Did you?”
“How could I?” she asked. “Did you?”
“No.” Mallory was not about to admit that he had known the destination, if not the means to get there. But it was clear that if Mosasa had known his goal in advance, he had deftly manipulated Mallory.
“Then I don’t know what we’re talking about.”
“Did Mosasa have you recruit me?”
Parvi laughed. “You’re being paranoid.”
“Wahid has a good point about professional paranoia.”
“You should go get some sleep.”
“Did Mosasa have you recruit me?”
“You aren’t anything special, Fitzpatrick.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“You chose to be here.”
“That doesn’t mean that Mosasa didn’t plan for me to be here.”
“His AIs aren’t magic.”
Mallory shook his head. “You aren’t going to answer me, are you?”
“What’s the point? What if I told you that he had every intention of luring you here, hiring you, and taking you off toward Xi Virginis? Would that make any difference at all? Would you quit and go hire off to fight some corporation’s brushfire war?”
Mallory got the strong feeling that Mosasa and Parvi knew quite well why he was here and were exploiting it for some reason. Unfortunately, Parvi’s assessment of the situation was accurate. Confirming that knowledge probably wouldn’t change what he was doing.
“I still would like to know why.”
“Asking that question would presuppose that Mosasa is in the habit of telling me the reasons he does things. I assure you, he doesn’t.” There was an edge to her voice, and it was hard to tell if the displeasure she felt was directed at him or Mosasa.
“Perhaps I should bring this up with him,” he said.
“Perhaps you should.” When Mallory turned to go, Parvi added, “For what it’s worth, he has me recruit a lot of people.”
“What?” He turned around again.
She looked off toward the tach-ship back in the hangar. The displeasure hadn’t left her face or her voice, but he began to feel that it wasn’t directed at him. “He has me recruit a lot of people.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that for the past five years I’ve been paid very well to make sure certain people signed with the BMU. You’re one of many, like I said. Nothing special.”
“Do you have any idea why?”
She turned and glared at him. “Because the pay is damn good for negligible risk,” she snapped at him. “This conversation is over.”
The anger was directed at him now, but Mallory got the sense that it was only because he was convenient. He thought back to how she acted around Nickolai and Kugara, and even before that, when he’d pointed out the tiger that almost had to have been Nickolai at ProMex.
“Get used to it. If you stick around Bakunin, you’ll see more.”
“You sound like you don’t approve.”
If she didn’t approve, Mallory wondered how she felt about Mosasa. Working for a Race AI was several steps beyond working with Nickolai. The Church certainly placed machines outside the sphere of God’s grace.