“Okay, so… I’ve just ordered you to ignore another of my orders, under specific circumstances. And…” I wriggled around until I was facing him, trying to seek out his eyes in the darkness. “And you can work with that? It’s not going to create some unmanageable conflict in your programming?”
“No,” he said, after a pause. “I might not end up doing exactly as you’d intended under all circumstances. But it makes the point that preserving my own life is a priority. At least outside of military missions,” he added, a wary note in his voice. “There’s an inherent danger in our work that could complicate that. In that context I’d have to assess each situation on a case by case basis.”
I nodded. We’d discussed the dangers of running missions before, and I was confident about Kade’s ability to make appropriate choices.
“Okay. So… Now I want to make things even more complicated. When the court case resumes, I want to present your actions tonight as evidence that you’re capable of independent decision making. That would solidify our defence against the Eumadians’ claim that you’re just well-trained livestock. But to prove that, the court would need to see you actively demonstrate disobedience to me. So I’m ordering you to disregard any order I give you in court, if ignoring it would help our case to allow you to stay with me.” Based on the orders I’d already given him, that should be possible for him.
But Kade hesitated before answering. “The only reason I disobeyed your orders was to protect you,” he said, his tone dubious.
“I know. But you still disobeyed me. And that proves that you’re independent of me, and if we can prove that to the court, then they can’t force you to go back to the Eumadians.”
“I am not independent of you,” Kade told me. He trailed a gentle finger across my jaw. “I have been trained to obey you.”
That much was true. And yet, under extreme circumstances, he’d broken his training. Bryce’s words from weeks ago came back to me. Was I trying to keep Kade happy, or was I trying to rehabilitate him into a fully autonomous person?
I shook my head. I’d never get a chance to do the latter if the Eumadians took him from me now. “My intention right here is to keep the Eumadians from taking you away. If we succeed at that, then we’ll have plenty of time to work out the other details later.”
Kade nodded. “Yes, sir. I will disregard your orders in court if it serves to win the case. Am I allowed to lie to the court, if they question why I’m disobeying you?”
My heart skipped a beat as I realised the very obvious gap in my haphazard plan, and thank god Kade had thought of it. “Yes,” I said emphatically. “You may lie to the court if they ask for any information that we don’t want them to know.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Aiden
“Let me ask you a slightly different question, sir.” A day and a half later, the Solof defence lawyer was back in action in the court hearing, firing on all cylinders. “What is the benefit to the Alliance if we return Kade to you?”
By all reasonable measures, there was no benefit. But at the same time, I thought it was a bad question. By giving the Eumadians more room to shore up their case, we were only asking for trouble.
And to my dismay, Volgoch didn’t disappoint. His lawyer whispered into his ear, then he rose and spoke – though it was still in the same disinterested monotone from the previous session. “In the last few days, we have been considering that exact question. And we believe we have come up with a suitable arrangement that would benefit all of us. The Alliance has long complained about the Eumadians making unauthorised use of your wormhole. The truth is that we lack the resources to generate our own wormhole into the Helix systems, and up until now, it has been financially beneficial to us to make use of yours, regardless of the cargo we sometimes lose along the way. However, in the interests of generating peaceful relationships with neighbouring species, we are willing to negotiate an arrangement to pay a fee for the use of your wormhole, which would hopefully result in fewer technological failures and less lost cargo. Our losses have not just been confined to dimari, but also to food, medical supplies and electronic equipment. We are keen to find a resolution that would put an end to the unfortunate conflict over interstellar travel.”
I saw a number of the Associates in the room sit up and take notice of that, on both sides of the case. I remembered Nors’ speculations about money changing hands behind the scenes, and that meant that this new proposal did not bode well for us. One man in exchange for interstellar peace was a reasonable trade, according to many of the opinions in the room.
But thankfully, we still had a number of strong voices in our corner. “This solution would be entirely unacceptable,” Associate Nors stated, once she’d been invited to speak. “Negotiating for tolled passage of the Eumadians through the Rendol wormhole would constitute aiding the slave trade, even if we weren’t actively participating in it. And this still disregards the fact that Kade is an Alliance citizen. He was registered by his master six days after his arrival on Rendol 4, which places him squarely under the jurisdiction of the Alliance Personhood Protection Act.”
The debate went on. We had toll agreements with a number of other species who bought dimari, so the Eumadian side attempted to argue that treaties with slave buyers were no different from treaties with slave sellers. And, of course, we kept coming back to the issue of Kade’s legal status on Rendol 4.
“Throughout this case,” the Eumadians’ lawyer said, at one point, “it has been an ongoing theme that Kade is not capable of independent thought or action, and is therefore not qualified to be considered an Alliance citizen. The assertion earlier in the day from the defence was that Kade disobeyed his master during a battle with Geshtoch in a winery, thus proving him capable of independent thought and action. We would like to put that to the test.”
Thankfully, we’d had time to brief the defence legal team on the intricacies of Kade’s actions at the winery. I’d stopped short of telling them exactly what I’d ordered him to do, with regards to disobeying my own orders in the courtroom. But they were aware enough of the issue to not be caught unawares by it.
“What sort of test did you have in mind?” our Sedgeged lawyer asked, her feathers ruffling.
“A simple demonstration of his capacity to disobey his master,” the Eumadians’ lawyer said, sounding immensely smug about it. “Lieutenant Hill should order him to complete a simple task. And if the dimari is able to disobey him, we will consider him an autonomous person.”
“Truly?” our lawyer asked. “Would that be conclusive evidence for you? If he can disobey his master, would you be prepared to abandon this case as null and void?”
The Eumadians’ lawyer looked to Volgoch, who nodded once.
“Yes,” the lawyer said. “Ifhe can do so.” They were awfully confident in themselves. And if I hadn’t had that late night planning session with Kade, they would have had reason to be. As things stood, though, I was almost as confident as they were. Almost.
“Fair enough,” our lawyer said. “Kade, would you step into the witness box, please?”
He stood, smoothing his suit, and walked calmly over to the witness box. He sat, giving our lawyer a nod.
“You understand that for this demonstration, you are required to disobey any order that your master gives you?” the lawyer clarified.
“Yes, ma’am,” Kade replied.
