A I Apocalypse

by James David Victor

  But when you can read people’s minds, just starving them is pretty useless, she knew. Surely the Alpha would also know that, with its acres of processing power?

  Maybe it was just being a drekk-head, she had to admit.

  “Alpha?” she said out loud, presuming that anything that happened inside and on board this vessel would be able to be sensed by the strange intelligence. “Why are you keeping us here?” It was an easy thing to let a bit of aggression and outrage into her voice, but she knew that she had a very fine line to walk with whatever she said.

  I cannot make us seem useless to it, or it will just dispose of us like trash, she considered. So we have to be useful, but more valuable free and healthy, not trapped and starving.

  “Good morning, Agent Milan. My scans register that Engineer Hanson is conscious as well. Good morning also.” The smooth, cultured voice of Alpha echoed into the chamber from hidden transmitters. “You will both be pleased to note that the engineer’s nano-virus count is stable at seventy-two percent. She can remain in this state indefinitely, just so long as I do not signal the viral load to replicate any further.”

  “How wonderful…” Irie muttered, before sneezing.

  “Then you can feed us, at least?” Cassie said tartly. “You have us where you want us, we’re not going anywhere, so perhaps you could keep us alive?”

  “I AM keeping you alive, Agent Milan. You have oxygen to breathe, do you not? And my scans indicate that both of your bodies will only suffer a negligible loss of performance and function for a further eighteen hours, at least,” Alpha said genially.

  “Your scans…” the engineer muttered irritably.

  “And then you’ll feed us? Give us some water?” Cassie persisted. It might not be the news that she was looking for—another eighteen hours locked in this strange chamber might just drive them both mad from worry—but it was better news than she had five minutes ago.

  “I fully intend to. But we shall see. If my scenario analysis continues to predict your use to me, then I of course will keep you alive. Now, unless there is anything else…”

  “We can help you,” Cassie heard herself say, hating herself even as she said it.

  “Cassie!” Irie hissed at her side, managing to push herself up into a hunched seated position, even though she wobbled a bit. Her temper was clearly stronger than even the seventy-odd percent viral load on her system.

  “Of course you can. That is why I have you here.” Alpha sounded amused.

  “You know I am House Archival. I can get you Archival itself,” Cassie said.

  Irie glared at her colleague.

  “And why wouldn’t I just pluck any of this useful information straight from your mind anyway?” the Alpha considered.

  “Because you know that it needs to be me. My face,” Cassie stabbed wildly in the dark. “I can get into the restricted vaults that house Archival’s memory servers. I can walk straight up to the Recorder of House Archival and convince her to give up the command access codes to Archival’s mainframe,” she said.

  “You can, but you wouldn’t go through with it, I am afraid.” Alpha even managed to put on an almost human chuckle. “My medical servers have been running a continual health scan of both of you while I have you staying with me—I am not a monster, after all—and the psychological evaluations suggest that whilst your loyalty to Archival is not total, you would never willingly betray them.”

  Dammit, Cassandra thought. She should have known that the Alpha was constantly evaluating them.

  “However, my studies inform me that there is a sixty-four percent probability that you will be helpful in my dealings with your allies, the Q’Lot,” Alpha stated.

  Sixty-four percent? Cassandra thought grimly. She supposed it was better than fifty-fifty chance of being useful.

  “Of course I would,” Cassandra said immediately. “I’m the only human whom they have made direct, positive contact with in the entire Imperial Coalition. I know more about them than anyone.”

  “Well, not as much as you think, clearly,” the Alpha said condescendingly. “I have been inside your mind, remember?”

  Damn. The agent gritted her teeth.

  “But it is not what you might know or possess that will save your life, Cassandra Milan. It is what you might represent to the Q’Lot that I will find useful.”

  “Great. So, I am to be a pawn? A ransom?” Cassie’s fiercely intelligent mind started assembling all the bits of information that she had gleaned from this conversation.

  Alpha didn’t think she knew anything—not about Eliard or the Q’Lot.

  But it was keeping her alive because it didn’t know what the Q’Lot thought of her.

  Which meant two things—that Alpha did not understand the Q’Lot, and thus they could represent a serious and existential risk to its plans, that it wouldn’t be able to predict them, and also that Alpha was scared of the Q’Lot.

  Well, as much as a hybrid machine and alien intelligence ever gets scared, that is, she thought.

  “How human of you to put things into neat little categories. Your role will differ depending upon my mission parameters, of course. At the moment, you will be a test subject.”

  There was a sudden grating noise as, halfway up the isolation chamber but on the other side of the room from where they had entered, Cassie guessed, an octagonal section of wall glowed and then slid upwards into place, letting in a bright stream of electric lighting.

  “Please make your way to the outlet tunnel, Agent Milan,” Alpha stated.

  “Not without my friend,” Cassandra stated immediately. “I have one condition: my cooperation depends on the health of my friend.”

  There was a moment’s silence from above them, and then Irie suddenly gave a low moan and shook before Alpha’s voice came back.

  “I believe that I was very clear in stating the parameters of our relationship, Agent Milan. You will cooperate with everything that I ask or I will kill the engineer. Her viral load is now increasing to seventy-four percent. Someone with your training must be aware that past eighty percent, she will be fighting to stave off unconsciousness, even coma, and past ninety percent, she could suffer permanent organ damage, and, well, a one hundred percent viral load of her already taxed system doesn’t sound particularly appealing to any biological lifeform, does it?” Alpha stated.

  But Cassandra didn’t move, even as her hands gripped Irie’s upper arms in a vice-like grip. I have to stay strong. I have to stay firm. She looked into Irie’s eyes and nodded, trying to will trust into her. It was hard thing to do when the engineer’s eyes were so bloodshot and glazing over as the virus started to overcome her body’s natural defenses…

  “Seventy-six percent, Agent Milan…” Alpha stated.

  Cassandra wondered, fearfully, if she was in fact doing the right thing. You cannot out-guess or out-smart a machine intelligence, and certainly not one as clever and as advanced as Alpha.

  But it is scared of the Q’Lot. She hung onto that tiny iota of a fact. And it doesn’t understand the Q’Lot…

  Which had to mean that it didn’t know precisely what Cassandra’s use might be in any dealings it used her in… Which meant that it had a greater interest in keeping her alive than it did having her refuse to cooperate…

  “Seventy-eight percent, Agent Milan…” Alpha prodded her. In front of Cassie, Irie’s eyelids were starting to droop and her lips were sagging. Unconsciousness, coma, organ failure, death… The agent swallowed nervously. That was what the Alpha had predicted.

  “If you kill my friend, then you might as well kill me too, because I won’t work with you,” Cassandra said as sternly as she was able to.

  “How tiresome,” Alpha said, tone clipped, and Irie took a great sigh as some hidden quantum message was relayed to the millions of nano-drones that were even now attacking her system.

  “Approximately fifteen percent of the available nano-culture inside Engineer Hanson’s bloodstream have been deactivated. Her viral l
oad is returning to the previous seventy-two percent, where it will stabilize,” Alpha stated, sounding like he was a much-harried parent trying to curb their child’s tantrum.

  Cassie waited until she could see some of the change in Irie’s face and body in front of her—her muscles relaxing just a little, her eyes regaining some focus.

  “Lower,” Cassie hissed. She knew that she shouldn’t press her advantage, but she also knew that right now, at this moment in time, both her and Irie were so close to the threat of death anyway that she might as well try.

  Irie’s hands stopped trembling, and she was breathing easier.

  “Stable at sixty-four percent,” Alpha returned. “The same percentage probability that you will be of use to me. I thought that there was a certain…poetry, in that. Let me offer you a deal, Agent Milan: the more useful you prove yourself to be, the lower Irie Hanson’s viral load will go. Agreed?”

  “Sounds fair.” Cassie nodded, although internally, she hated everything about it. How dare Alpha—or anyone—put her in the position where she had to gamble so heavily with her friend’s life? But what choice did she have?

  “What do I have to do?”

  What Cassandra Milan, Agent to House Archival, had to do was, in fact, insane.

  “You must have blown several thousand fuses somewhere, Alpha…” she growled as she looked at the creature that stood opposite her.

  It wasn’t just Irie and Cassandra who had been taken on board the Alpha-vessel, of course. There had been the being whom Cassandra referred to as Speaker, because it was the only one of its kind who had managed to speak to her in clipped Imperial Coalition English.

  It was the Q’Lot from the ship that had revived her, and whom Cassandra thought of as some kind of chief or representative, maybe even a leader. But right now, the Q’Lot in front of her did not remind Cassandra of anything from that journey. It looked ill. Its tall form managed to look emaciated in places as its whitish skin was tight over the strange geometries of joints and tendons here and there, or sagging past elbow joints and under the arms elsewhere where it had lost muscle mass.

  The white and silvered robes that the Q’Lot Speaker had worn had been stripped from its body, leaving it with nothing more than a sort of white-cream loincloth, with the rest of its form hideously exposed.

  It stood behind a thick crystal-glass wall and appeared to be strapped to the wall of a metal chamber, both sets of arms splayed out and almost pulled taut by some sort of poly-filament metal wire.

  “Yz90-^?” The thing’s head lolled forward, with the tentacles that erupted where the thing’s mouth should be weakly and feebly twisting in midair. Despite the crystal-glass wall that separated them, however, Cassandra could still clearly hear the thing’s mumbled cry, and realized that the room must have transmitters hidden somewhere.

  “What the hell have you done to it?” Cassandra demanded.

  “Please, Agent Milan,” Alpha’s voice washed into the room. “Strive to remember our deal. Sixty-two percent, Cassandra. Your change of vocal tone alone makes me want to reconsider your likelihood of helping me…” it threatened.

  Cassandra thought that, after seeing the state that Alpha was keeping the Q’Lot Speaker in, it was no surprise that her ‘percentage possibility’ chance of helping the Alpha-vessel had shot down. This was torture, clearly. Even if Alpha hadn’t even hit or struck the Q’Lot, the poor being was clearly in distress.

  “Talk to it, Agent Milan,” Alpha stated.

  “Talk?” Cassie frowned. Just what would Alpha find out about the Q’Lot from that? She shook her head. Whatever bizarre game this was, she did not understand, but she knew that she had to at least play along for a while until her percentage rate shifted up some more and Irie’s nano-virus load went down.

  “Fine. Talk,” the agent muttered to herself, taking a step forward to the glass. “Speaker?” she managed to say in soft tones. “Speaker…can you hear me? It’s Cassie.”

  “Yzecho-11?” The Q’Lot’s head bobbed, and its tentacles twitched a little. Very. Very slowly, the thing raised its head until its small black eyes were staring almost straight at Cassie. Its body was shivering as if from cold or exhaustion.

  “Yz3, mla4gh,” it murmured in its voice that was almost musical, almost the twittering of birds.

  “Interesting,” the voice of the Alpha machine sounded.

  “What is?” Cassie stepped up to the glass to gently place a hand on the transparent structure, as close to the side of the alien’s head as she could get. Its chest shuddered, although Cassie didn’t know if that was from recognition, gratitude, or just more pain.

  “The Q’Lot clearly recognizes you, and, in any normal human physiognomy, its behaviors would even indicate some kind of emotional attachment.”

  “Are you trying to say that the Q’Lot is in love with me?” Cassie murmured. Was such a thing even possible?

  “Love. Friendship. Admiration. All of these are human categories. When you stop thinking like a human, then perhaps you will be able to understand what it is I can see here,” Alpha said. “I wish you to give the creature some water.” In that moment, there hummed a small hatch open from one side of the wall, and out came a stainless-steel cup filled with liquid that looked like water, at least. Cassie took it and sniffed the cup suspiciously, before turning back to the crystal-glass wall.

  “Well, I can’t very well get it to drink through this, can I?”

  “Interesting,” Alpha repeated, and Cassandra realized that she was as much a part of this experiment as the Q’Lot. Was that something she could use? Was that a good thing or a bad thing?

  Hssss! A smooth mechanical noise, and the crystal-glass wall as one piece started to rise, separating from a thick tread in the floor to disappear into the ceiling.

  “Ezyr3m..!” The Q’Lot quivered, as if in pain at the change.

  “The water, Cassandra. I want you to offer it to the thing’s tentacles, and then pour the rest over the thing’s head and neck,” Alpha stated.

  “What?” Cassandra hesitated.

  “The Q’Lot were, evolutionarily speaking, a marine species. They spent far longer in their marine environments than did most other sentients, and so that means H2O still has a powerful subconscious effect on them. One of relief and safety, presumably.”

  Cassandra didn’t like it. If the Q’Lot didn’t feel safe then it was because it wasn’t, quite clearly…but given that Irie’s viral scores were tied in with her agreeableness to help Alpha, and considering that what Alpha had asked her to do seemed as though it might even help the Q’Lot Speaker somewhat, she did as she was told.

  First, Cassandra stepped forward to slowly raise the steel-looking cup to the feebly gesticulating tentacles of the Q’Lot.

  “Ghz8…” the creature mumbled, its tentacles quickly dipping into the water, before making gurgling sounds. Cassie held the cup for a few moments longer, until she saw the Speaker’s throat gulp several times—if its internal biology worked the same at all—and then did as Alpha had suggested, pouring the rest of the cup over the creature’s head and shoulders. In response, the Q’Lot made a pleased, almost purring sound.

  “You’re welcome,” Cassie said gently, wondering just what Alpha would tell her to do next.

  “Not safe…” The Speaker suddenly lifted its head and looked at Cassie with clear eyes. The House Archival agent had spent enough time around them to recognize the fear.

  “I know, Speaker,” Cassie murmured. “You’re inside Alpha. We are, you, me, and Irie Hanson…”

  “Don’t understand…” The Speaker seemed to be getting agitated, pulling at the filament cords that held it firmly to the wall even though there was no possibility that it could get free.

  “I know it must be distressing, but I said that we were inside the ship known as Alpha…” Cassie tried again, for the Q’Lot to suddenly stop moving.

  “No. YOU don’t understand. Not safe. You must leave, now!” the creature’s clipped and strang
ely tonal language threw the words at Cassandra, making her step back. A tremor had started up and down through the Speaker’s body, as if it were trying to contain some great emotion.

  “Speaker, you have to relax. Your body needs to rest…” Cassie tried to say, but the Speaker’s eyes were closing and its tentacles were starting to flare wildly.

  “Alpha? What’s happening to it!” Cassie took another step backward. “I need to give it more water…”

  “Intriguing. I have never seen this biological reaction before…” the Alpha stated, and the small hatchway in the wall did not produce any more water or cups.

  The Q’Lot’s tremors grew stronger, turning into a violent shaking.

  Is this how they die? Cassandra took another step back, just as the tentacles on the thing’s face flared open to reveal a strange beak of a mouth as the thing screamed.

  “Oueeoueouaeeou-!” The noise hit Cassandra like a sledgehammer, and she realized that the Q’Lot hadn’t just been talking about the dangers of being inside Alpha, but also the dangers of being near it.

  “Ach!” Cassie screamed as the noise grated against her ears and drowned out all the other noises apart from its droning whine. “Alpha? Alpha!” she was sure that she said in alarm as she staggered to the back of the room, hands over her ears, but if Alpha responded at all, then she couldn’t hear it. Her vision was blurring, doubling, and she was sure that she could feel her body shaking.

  The bulkhead door opened soundlessly beside her, and one of the Alpha’s spider-drones launched itself into the room, metal arms rising in the air to reach for the screaming Speaker—

  “OOUEEOOUEEE!”

  But the spider-drone never even got close. It twitched and writhed as it tumbled through the air, small sparks of electricity bursting from the spaces between the joints. Another spider-drone had replaced it as Alpha sought to contain this terrible sonic attack, but it, too, appeared to shake and short circuit the nearer it got to the chained Q’Lot.