by M. D. Cooper
He didn’t answer immediately, listening to the soft tread of their booted feet as they approached the lift that would take them to the cargo bay. As the lift doors swished shut, he tapped their destination into the panel, then turned his gaze to Calista. Her eyes looked a bit haunted, and he wondered for a moment if she saw an answering echo in his.
After a moment, he shrugged. “Well, he can’t hurt anyone ever again. We made sure of that.”
Calista looked for a moment as if she would say more, but then nodded and dropped the subject. That was fine with Jason. He’d been there when the killer was taken down, had seen the killer’s last victim—his own sister—shot right in front of him, just five weeks earlier.
At least we managed to save her, in the end. Unlike his other victims.
Forcing his thoughts away from that scene, he cocked his head to one side. “Any idea what ship Terrance has found for us?” he queried, dangling a topic in front of Calista that he knew she couldn’t resist.
He was rewarded with a slight upturn of her lips as a mysterious light sprang into her eyes.
“As a matter of fact, I do.” Calista’s tone held a hint of laughter, and he could see she wasn’t going to give up the information without a bit of wheedling on his part.
“We’re really doing this?” His question was laden with disgust, and she burst out laughing.
“I can’t tell you, sorry. Terrance made me promise.” She held up her hands as he began to protest. “I think he just wants to make sure that the deal is going through before it’s officially announced, okay?”
Jason sent her a scowl as the lift doors opened and they exited.
Terrance Enfield was the ostensible leader of their team; it was his company, Enfield Holdings, that served as the shell corporation—the cover—for Phantom Blade’s covert operations. The team, formed to bring down an AI trafficking ring, had just two more souls to rescue before their mission would be complete, and the task force’s charter fulfilled.
For the past year, their tactical leader had been an AI commodore named Eric. He’d been embedded with Terrance until a few weeks ago.
But now….
As if the direction of her thoughts had paralleled his own, he felt Calista’s eyes on him. He turned his gaze away from the passageway they were approaching, and his eyes met hers.
She quietly asked, “Did you hear about Eric?”
“That he’s been called to join the FGT in Lucida?” He shot her a look, brow raised, as he sought clarification. The Future Generation Terraformers he mentioned had ventured from Sol centuries ago to prepare planets for colonization. Thanks to the FGT, star systems like Alpha Centauri and Tau Ceti now existed.
At her nod, he admitted, “Yeah. Tobias told me earlier today. Said he and Eric had met with Terrance to ask if he’d lead the retrieval of our last two AIs.”
She looked up at the overhead, her eyes skating from spar to spar as they passed each cross-sectional seam. “He’ll do well in that role,” her voice sounded thoughtful. “He’s an Enfield; they’re born to lead.”
Jason grunted his agreement and then, as she slanted him an inscrutable glance, raised a brow. “What? Is there more?”
She nodded. “Terrance asked me to captain the new ship.” She paused a beat as they came to the intersecting corridor and turned into it. “And I want you to be my number two.”
“Your executive officer?” Jason couldn’t keep the surprise out of his voice. “I’m not former military; you know that. Wouldn’t one of the other Space Force veterans be a better choice for XO?”
Her headshake was firm. “No dodging this one, flyboy. It was unanimous; Terrance, Eric and Tobias all think you’re the best one for the job, too.”
After a momentary pause, she heard him mutter, “Damned Weapon Born,” under his breath, a small grin playing around his mouth. “I’ll get Tobias back for that one.”
“So is that a yes?” Calista’s eyes danced with mirth at Jason’s imprecation.
He remained silent for another beat as he considered the idea.
“Wait, does that mean I’ll have to give up my space jockey persona? Took me a lot of years to build that reputation, you know.” He shot her a warning glare. “I’m not giving up the pilot’s seat for an XO position.”
“Not a whole lot of piloting involved in one of the big ships,” her tone was mild. “Especially with a decades-long transit between systems. Shannon flew the Speedwell between El Dorado and Proxima,” she reminded him.
Jason scratched behind one ear as he considered her point.
“True,” he admitted. “But once we’re in-system, I’m not sure I want to hand off piloting the shuttles just because I’m now some high-and-mighty XO and it’s beneath my pay grade.” He straightened suddenly, snapping his fingers. “Hey, this does come with an increase in creds, right?”
He scowled as Calista burst out laughing.
“What?” he demanded.
“Since when have you cared for anything but the next airframe—or spaceframe—you can fly?” Her voice was filled with amusement as she nudged his shoulder with her own.
He affected a wounded tone as he shot back, “I’m more than just a pretty face, you know.”
He knew he’d stepped right into her trap when she stopped and rounded on him, one finger jabbing him gently in the pecs.
“Told you so.” Her eyes were serious now, her tone devoid of her earlier merriment. “Say yes, Jason.”
His eyes met hers, his searching and hers earnest. Slowly, he nodded. “It goes against my better judgement, but if you all think it’s a good idea, then…yes.”
She turned back to face the length of the corridor and resume their walk, but not before he saw the satisfied look in her eyes.
“Good, then. That’s settled.” She nodded once. “Shannon’s already decided to embed with the new ship. You’re going to love it, by the way, it—”
She broke off as he paused and raised his hand to draw her attention to the sound he’d just heard.
In the quiet of the corridor, an angry shout drifted toward them.
He turned a puzzled look her way. “I thought we were the last…?”
Calista shrugged, her expression perplexed. “Sounds like it’s coming from medical.”
He nodded. “Let’s go check it out.”
As they approached the entrance, a voice they hadn’t heard in over a year rang out.
“You killed him? Without me?”
Jason exchanged a glance with Calista, and he knew she saw the unspoken question on his face: ‘Should we intrude?’
Her expression set, she nodded firmly and pushed her way past him into the anteroom of the medical department.
* * * * *
The first thing Calista noticed as they paused in the shadowed entrance, were two figures frozen in a tableau. Both were AIs, ensconced in identical frames, the posture of one telegraphing anger, while the other somehow managed to communicate dismay.
Her eyes feasted on the welcome sight of a face she thought she might never see again: Logan’s twin, Landon, lost to them for nearly a year. Then her heart twisted painfully as she caught the flash of pain that crossed Logan’s face at the accusation Landon had flung at him, before it was wiped away, replaced by his normal taciturn mien.
Most would not have noticed the fleeting expression, but Calista had spent many an hour with Logan during their journey to Proxima, and she knew how the angry words must have hurt the twin who had so grieved his brother’s loss.
Jason stood quietly in the shadows next to her, but she could hear the question in his voice as he sent privately over the Link,
“Yes, I killed him.” Logan’s voice cut quietly into the silence that had fallen after his brother’s accusation. “I had to. I…needed to avenge you.”
Calista was perhaps the only one who knew what that admission cost the AI, and she
winced in sympathy.
“You…” Landon sputtered, “You avenged me?”
After a brief hesitation, Logan nodded, clearly at a loss to understand what he had done wrong. The more reserved of the two, Logan was more accustomed to Landon taking the lead, while he stood back and observed those around him. As the team’s profiler, it stood to reason that he was more comfortable in that role than he was in interacting with others.
Oddly, Logan had failed to profile his own brother.
“I saw the recordings Prime made,” Landon said, his voice harsh. “All of them. Do you have any idea how it felt to watch that bastard force me to crush my own core, Logan? He did it right in front of my primary sensors.” The AI’s voice lowered, his tone turning ragged. “He forced me to kill myself. And he enjoyed it. You didn’t think I might want to get a bit of my own back?”
Before Logan could respond, a large Proxima cat moved past Jason, the soft clicking of her claws on the ship’s sole announcing her arrival. Tobi’s ears were flattened, indicating her distress at Landon’s anger. Calista suspected that the cat, Jason’s companion ever since she’d known the pilot, was fed up with the bickering and had decided to take matters into her own paws.
Calista nudged Jason into the room, knowing that the two AIs had spied them lurking in the shadows when the cat had walked past. As she did so, she realized they weren’t the only ones witnessing this confrontation. Marta Venizelos, the ship’s doctor, was standing in the shadows of her office door, quietly observing.
Tobi stretched her neck toward Landon, gave his hand a sniff, and then ducked beneath it, nudging her nose into his humanoid hand to demand his affection.
Landon turned a startled look toward Calista and Jason, the cat’s sudden appearance defusing his argument with his twin. She knew the cat’s words came as a surprise; the last time Landon had seen Tobi, she’d been a highly intelligent animal, but without the ability to communicate.
Before either she or Jason could explain, a new voice broke in.
“She’s been recently uplifted, lad. Jason’s mum handled the neural interface just a few days ago, after things settled a bit.”
Calista knew Landon would be surprised to see the owner of that voice residing in a humanoid frame, rather than riding around in the harness of the cat currently stropping his legs. The AI standing in the entrance looked like an Irish imp, a physical manifestation of the avatar he’d always favored, with bright green eyes peering out from beneath a shock of red hair. That visual belied the AI’s seniority and his heritage, for Tobias was no rapscallion; he was Weapon Born.
“Uplifted,” Landon said musingly, his eyes on the cat who was busy rubbing against the legs of his humanoid frame.
“Oh yeah, and things have been infinitely more interesting ever since,” Calista heard Jason mutter under his breath, causing her to smother a laugh.
Where the cat’s remark and Tobias’s explanation appeared to defuse the situation, Jason’s interjection actually had Landon smiling.
“I’ll just bet,” Landon murmured. He shot Jason an amused glance before returning his attention to the cat, who was insistently burrowing her nose into his palm.
As he turned his hand and began scratching her under her chin, she blinked up at him.
A chuckle slipped from Landon at that, and he returned his gaze to his brother. “Don’t think we’re cool just because Tobi’s being all cute,” he warned, but his voice had lost much of its heat. A reluctant smile played across Landon’s face as Tobi redoubled her efforts to gain his attention. “I still say it would have been nice if you’d waited,” he grumbled, and Jason saw the tension leave Logan’s frame at his brother’s words.
The only reason Landon was with them today was because the brothers always backed up their consciousness on immutable crystal storage prior to an op. Should one of them fall in the line of duty, the other would be able to restore his brother back to the point prior to deployment.
They’d never needed to use it before. But on the last op, Landon hadn’t made it back. Worse, his murderer had forged a DNR, signed with Landon’s personal token, in an effort to ensure that he was never revived. That last bit of evil had nearly broken Logan.
Calista straightened as she recalled that fact. “Landon, did Logan tell you about the DNR?”
The newly-revived AI shot his brother one last half-hearted glare and then swiveled to regard her. “A what? A Do Not…?”
Calista nodded. “Do Not Restore, yes. It was filed using your personal token.” She tilted her head to indicate Landon’s twin. “Logan found it when he retrieved your ICS cube.”
Landon looked confused. “Filed…but I never….”
Tobias nodded as he stepped closer. “We figured that out, lad,” the Weapon Born said. “Eventually. But it took us some time to realize it was a forgery.”
Calista grimaced. “Plus, we couldn’t exactly ping Prime and ask him about it. So, there was still some uncertainty.”
Landon’s confused expression turned thoughtful, then after a moment, he turned back to his twin and slowly nodded. “Sorry, I’m still coming to terms with it all. Everything you showed me…it’s a bit surreal to see your own death from the point of view of your killer.”
Marta took that opportunity to intervene. She pushed away from the frame of her office door and tucked her hands inside the large front pockets of her medical jacket as she approached.
“Well, now that we’ve got that out of the way,” she said as she approached them, her eyes on Landon, and her tone brisk yet warm. “I’d like to pop you back into a medical expanse and run a few more tests to make sure there aren’t any issues with your restoration, if you don’t mind.”
She stopped next to Logan, holding up one hand as Landon began to protest. Eyebrow lifted, she shot him a firm look. “I know AIs process things much faster than we humans do, but you just received almost an entire year’s worth of content. That’s going to take some time to process, even for you,” she said as she crossed her arms loosely, glancing over at Tobias for confirmation.
At his nod, she continued.
“Give yourself some time, okay? And meanwhile…” She gestured toward her office and allowed herself a slight, professional smile as a bemused Landon joined her.
When Logan made as if to follow, she held up a hand, then made a small, shooing motion. “I hear we’re about to hand over the keys to Speedwell’s new owner. I’m sure you all have other, more important things to do? Landon and I will join you on the dock shortly.”
“Ma’am, yes, ma’am,” Calista heard Jason utter softly with a smile as he slung an arm over Logan’s shoulder and led him out the door, Tobias in their wake.
With a nod to Marta and a smile for Landon, Calista followed.
AVON VALE
STELLAR DATE: 04.08.3192 (Adjusted Gregorian)
LOCATION: Observation Lounge, Chinquapin Construction
REGION: C-47 Dockyards, Proxima Centauri System
Terrance Enfield stood in front of the expansive floor-to-ceiling plas windows, staring out at a ship anchored to the edge of the C-47 dock. The vessel that held his attention soared high above the observation lounge in which he stood, its running lights flashing the red-and-white of a moored ship. The light from Proxima’s red dwarf bathed the ship in a golden glow and mingled with the light that Chinquapin Construction used to illuminate the ship. The combined lighting caused it to stand in sharp relief against the inky blackness of nearspace.
Its form was crisp and well-defined, and Terrance could see a clear difference between the gleaming silver of the ship’s original surface and the areas where it was being reskinned. Panels formed into a thick metal foam had been fabricated to precisely overlay the craft’s existing frame. These Elastene panels were
slowly encroaching upon the ship’s surface, enveloping the craft in the matte grey substance. Pretty, it was not. But what it lacked in aesthetics, it more than made up for in safety and performance.
Elastene was a relatively new Enfield material. Its shape-memory properties allowed it to absorb impacts from micrometeorites, space debris, and—stars forbid—weapons fire. It could transfer the kinetic energy from such strikes, spreading it across a much greater surface area. And that made it superior to any other substance currently in use in the Centaurus systems.
Terrance was determined that Phantom Blade have the best tech available for this mission. As a civilian ship, he couldn’t really arm the ship the way he’d like. But he could damn well ensure it had the same defensive capabilities of any fleet ship—especially given that his company had invented the stuff.
He spotted tiny flickers of light as far up the ship’s frame as he could see, lights that signified worker-bots darting about, executing the refit to his specifications. Before him, Chinquapin workers maneuvered large maglev trucks from the dockyard into the wide-open maw of the cargo bay amidships. The trucks were filled with equipment to be installed within the vessel—new sensors, upgrades to the craft’s medbay, and an endless stream of requisite supplies for those embarking on a decades-long interstellar voyage.
As Terrance craned his neck, leaning forward to try to spy the bow of the ship that towered a full kilometer and a half above where he stood, he heard the sound of a low laugh come from behind him.
“You don’t do things by halves, do you?”
He turned to see Eric, the El Dorado Space Force commodore who had, until recently, been embedded inside his head. As the AI approached, Terrance smiled and gestured to the ship. “Not too late to change your mind, you know.”
He experienced a brief wave of disorientation as the AI cocked an eyebrow at him. It was a familiar expression, one Eric would often send to him privately, along the pathway inside his head that the two of them shared, but he wasn’t used to seeing it two meters away from him on a physical body.