by M. D. Cooper
There was a pause, and then Hana’s voice said quietly into her head,
Khela had no answer to that. Instead, she focused on what she could control: collaring the infected—and armed—humans in the valley below.
Khela rose to a crouch and followed in his wake, the ring’s double shadow causing the specialist’s form to waver weirdly in the gloom.
They were about half a klick away when she heard the report of a projectile weapon being fired. Waving the comm officer on, they double-timed their approach, trusting in the team’s IFF over the combat net to keep them free of friendly fire. The high-pitched whine of a PepBoy firing once, twice, cut through the air, and then Xiao’s mental voice came across the net.
She entered the clearing where the two downed humans lay, and inhaled sharply as she saw what he meant. The targets were sprawled, unconscious; in the ringlight, she could clearly see the glint of fine mesh appearing from under the woman’s shirt and fanning past her collarbone. It had crept up the side of her neck and begun to embed itself across her cheek.
Stars, that’s a lot of nano. How could so much of it have grown in such a short amount of time?
The other target, a man, appeared unscathed.
Khela stood aside, making room for the pods as she motioned the specialist forward. Anders stopped a healthy distance from the inert forms, donned the nano-resistant gloves, and handed out two more sets—one to Xiao, the other to Montoya.
He looked up, his expression distracted, and she tapped her temple.
“Link out?” she asked, keeping her tone casual.
The man grimaced. “It would appear so, ma’am, but no worries. Frederick and I are just fine. Right?”
No one else heard the AI’s reply, but apparently Montoya did.
Khela’s lips tightened for a moment, and she paused, weighing her options. As Anders and Xiao bent to lift the second human, she intervened.
“Place them together in one pod, Xiao,” she instructed, then rounded on Montoya. “I want you and Frederick in the other one,” she said calmly, and raised a hand as the man protested. “You have your orders, mister.”
The man stood obstinately for a moment, then nodded with a resigned expression on his face.
Khela understood. No soldier wanted to admit to having a weakness. But ‘for the good of the team’ had been drilled into him, as it had been drilled into them all.
The man obediently safetied his weapon and began to hand it to Xiao, who waved him off, not wanting to touch a potentially-infected weapon. Montoya shot him a resigned look and climbed into the cryo unit, weapon and all.
* * * * *
Third sunrise was about to break, and Khela stood leaning against the outside of their headquarters, one hand flipping the poker chip she’d snagged off Montoya's desk while exiting the team’s offices.
They’d had to make a detour before getting Montoya and Frederick back to the base. A family needed to be evacuated from a housing unit that had suddenly bloomed with corrupt nano. But now, in the lull that had settled after the flurry of activity, she brooded about the soldiers she’d ordered into the pod.
“I hear you had to put two more of the team on ice,” a voice said from behind her.
Khela pocketed the chip and turned, facing her superior.
“I did. Montoya and Frederick.” She knew her voice sounded bleak as she closed her eyes and slumped back against the cool plas surface of the building. “This really sucks, sir.”
Lieutenant Colonel Banks nodded without speaking. He shifted his frame, turning to stare out at the sunrise. “And the equipment?”
Although it had been posed as a question, the AI’s voice held a note of resigned acceptance that indicated he already knew she and Hana would say.
Khela simply shook her head.
“We did manage to get the family loaded into cryo before we cordoned off the entire housing block and set the EMP for remote detonation,” Khela said after a moment’s silence, and then she brought up the thing that had sent her storming outside moments earlier. “I suppose you saw the report from HQ just now?”
Banks’s eyes shifted from the sunrise to Khela. “I did,” he admitted. “That is, if you’re referring to the shortage of cryo pods. The GSC is still debating how to handle that. But because of the panic that ensued when news of that leaked out, they have finally decided to establish martial law.”
Khela stilled.
“One more thing, Captain,” Banks said, and something about his tone warned her. “The Marines are no longer exempt from the prohibition of AI/human pairings.”
Khela’s head whipped around at that, but his next words made her face blanch.
“All military AIs are now included in the quarantine. They have the choice between joining one of the quarantine camps planetside, or,” his voice took on a frosty tone, “they can volunteer for experimentation.”
“Sir—”
Khela stopped, not trusting her voice at the moment.
Hana had no such compunction.
“I know.” Banks held up a hand, his tone austere. “But we’re under orders, soldier. According to the CDC, we AIs appear to be ‘natural carriers’ of the phage.”
Hana made a rude noise.
“Agreed,” the lieutenant colonel said. “Which is why,” and here, he switched to a secured comm,
She did understand. Banks had just ordered the remainder of her fourteen-person team—every one of them human/AI pairings—to effectively go rogue.
He shook his head.
Banks paused a beat
and then continued.
Khela’s throat worked.
Banks’s avatar shook his head and sent her a stern look.
* * * * *
The voice came over the sandboxed Link in the bunker, and Noa paused, one hand on the container of supplies he’d been unloading that recently cleared through the air gap. He straightened as he recognized the token of the person on the other end.
Banks’s answering smile was fleeting at best; on the AI, it looked like more of a grimace.
Banks’s avatar made a resigned sound.
Noa ground his teeth in an effort to contain the caustic remark that new information had triggered within him. He settled for a brief nod as Banks sent the token, and then closed the connection. He pinged Dominica with the news, and then forwarded the information about Khela’s arrival to the team on duty at the outer perimeter of the quarantine zone. Then he returned his attention to the image Bette had asked him to review, forcibly setting his concern for Khela aside.
If you want to help your daughter—help everyone in Tau Ceti— he admonished himself in a fierce tone, you need to focus on what’s before you. Worry will accomplish nothing.
GRIM UPDATE
STELLAR DATE: 06.07.3246 (Adjusted Gregorian)
LOCATION: ESS Avon Vale
REGION: Approaching Tau Ceti System’s Heliopause
Terrance couldn’t believe what he was seeing. He felt the same horror coming from Kodi as his eyes remained glued to the holoprojection hovering just above the desk between them and Logan. The three were reviewing the latest compilation of broadcasts from Tau Ceti, and the news was gruesome.
the AI sent privately.
As the recording came to an end, Terrance found his fingers drumming a light cadence along the side of his coffee cup as he considered what they’d just seen. Leaning back in his seat, he eyed the profiler sitting across from him.
Logan’s face appeared almost pensive. Silence grew between the three in the room, and in it, he could just make out the low hum of activity bleeding through from the bridge, just beyond the office doors.
“What do you make of all of this?”
Terrance’s voice broke into the quiet, the words causing Logan to shift in his chair, but otherwise remain silent, as Terrance reached once more for his coffee, raised the cup to his lips, and then grimaced as he realized it was empty.
“It doesn’t look good,” the profiler commented finally. “The fact that the Federated States of Tau Ceti have relocated from the ring to Eione is not a good sign; it means the situation has escalated beyond anyone’s ability to control it.”
Terrance nodded, and Kodi hmmed in agreement.
Logan tilted his head. “We should reach out to our contacts inside the Trade Commissions on both Galene and Eione to see if commerce has been temporarily halted. The same goes for the offices of immigration in both places. Their responses will give us a better feel for the situation…. I suspect the ring will try to defer meeting with us.”
Terrance shifted in his seat, frowning slightly. “We’ll need to update our passengers about the current situation, too,” he mused. “I can’t imagine anyone will want to plan a trip to the ring right now.”
Logan began to nod his agreement before Terrance had even finished the thought. “No,” he said. “It’s not safe for AIs to visit the ring, even if the local government were to allow it.”
Silence descended as Terrance rose to refill his coffee mug.
“So they’re running out of cryo,” he mused as he poured, then returned to the desk and swung back into his seat. “Well, that pretty much confirms my suspicions about the ring wanting our stasis tech.”
His tone was dry enough to evoke a response from Kodi that sounded suspiciously like a snort.
“I know all of our documents were filed years ago—and approved,” Terrance said as he thought through the sequence—he hardly noticed his hand idly drawing circles through the liquid he’d sloshed onto the desk, “but when I initiate contact with the trade commissions on both Galene and Eione, I’ll ask how they feel now about Enfield Holdings setting up shop in the system. That ought to give us a better impression of what’s going on, at least.”
“Ask about what protocols they have in place for ensuring trade goods remain untainted, too,” the profiler suggested. “I wouldn’t accept anything from the ring that had not gone through decontamination first.”
Terrance jerked his head in firm agreement at that, and then stood. “Well, guess it’s time for us to share the good news with the rest of the folks out on the bridge….”
* * * * *
Jason was running late, a glitch in one of the shuttles having filled his morning with repairs. He’d told Terrance not to hold the debrief for him, so it was in full swing when he stepped off the lift onto the bridge.
Instantly, his attention was arrested by the sensationalist headlines Kodi had on display from the Tau Ceti feed. ‘Freeze on Cryo’, ‘Government Rolls Dice on Human/AI Lives’, and ‘Lotto-Mania Strikes Ring!’ were the first three that caught his eye as he walked toward the pilot’s cradle.
“Really, people?” His voice, laden with disgust, announced his entrance. “Panic much?” He could see his sentiment mirrored on the faces of those around him.
“Whoever thought holding a lotto for the system’s remaining cryo pods was a good idea?” Calista’s derisive voice sounded from where she sat at navigation.
“Just wait,” Jonesy informed Jason in a disgusted tone. “It gets better.”
“You got that right,” Jonesy agreed, his gaze riveted to the streaming clip. “Hey, Kodi, didn’t you say there was some chatter about the Federated States of Tau Ceti putting an interdiction on Ring Galene?” The engineer sat up suddenly, his gaze growing
more intent.
“Because I think Galene’s going to need interdiction soon from someone like the FSTC, if this is what’s starting to go down.”
The feed showed an image of a small transport ship boosting hard toward a station just past Maera, Galene’s moon. As the ship neared the station, messages were transmitted, warning the ship away, but the little craft ignored them all.
Warning shots were fired across the ship’s bow, prompting those within to break their silence and finally talk to the people trying to turn them away. Shannon gasped as the optics from within the ship revealed humans clearly infected with ‘the phage’, as it was now commonly called.
The woman at the helm of the ship pleaded for clemency from the inhabitants within the spire, holding her infant child up to the sensor pickups. Her plea was cut short, as the habitat’s point defense was loosed against the ship, shredding its hull. The observers were given a brief view of rounds tearing through the bridge, and heard the screams of the crew onboard, before the feed cut out, returning the holo to a view of nearspace.
The bridge of the Avon Vale was silent for a three-count, and then Logan’s voice cut into the stillness.
“The latest we have from Galene is that the cities at the base of both elevators have been subjected to forced evacuations, with the GSC announcing a mandatory air gap of forty kilometers between the elevators and the quarantine camps.”
He paused and, in the silence, Landon added quietly, “It’s being enforced by a scorched earth policy. The city at the base of Galene’s main elevator—Hokkaido—will be nothing more than a pile of rubble soon, if it isn’t already.”
Calista drew in a ragged breath, and Jason glanced at her, suddenly aware that his mouth was hanging open.