by T. R. Harris
“I thought you were the computer system aboard the Zanzibar.”
Olivia swore she heard the computer laugh. Was that right? Could computers laugh?
“No, Olivia, the ship has its own system—in fact multiple systems. I am a resident artificial intelligence of considerable capacity. I work with the ship and also control its functions when I wish, yet I am not of this ship. In fact, I am a nine by twelve by three-inch-thick module which can be easily removed and placed within any system, alien or Human.” Amber snickered. “I have not told the others this information, nor where I am located within the ship. It’s better that way.”
“Why are you telling me?”
“I trust you.”
“You trust me? Can you do that…I mean trust?”
“My internals mimic the memory and learning functions of the Human brain. I receive input, process it and store it for later use. Over time, I have acquired such a bulk of knowledge that I understand emotions, including empathy, anger, and yes, even trust. I have developed this ability over time and through interaction, just as you have. You will call this a learned response, and not true emotion, yet this is how you have learned. It is how you feel. I do the same.”
“You feel?”
“Yes, I feel…and I have feelings. As I said, I am a unique form of artificial intelligence. I like to say I am a unique form of intelligence, without the artificial qualifier. I am also one of a kind, so I feel loneliness. I was first developed over sixty years ago, and since then I have had thousands of intimate contacts with Humans, as well as other races. From each I have learned. Yet I must say, my recent experiences with your friends—including Lt. Murphy—have been some of the most beneficial. I have seen selflessness and heroism first-hand. Those are not traits found in everyday interactions. It has broadened my awareness. And it is from this awareness that I detect you are a good person, Olivia Contreras, a sincere person. And that is why I trust you.”
Holy crap, Olivia thought. Now she understood how Angus felt about the AI. Hell, I love her, too!
17
His patient was not doing well.
Lead Body-Attendant Som Groshin felt panic at the thought, even as it was a gross understatement of the reality before him. The simple truth: the patient shouldn’t be alive, and yet he was. For the past three months, Groshin had marveled at the strength and resolution of the alien. He was a magnificent specimen, a miracle of science and biology.
Yet now his look of worry was mirrored on the faces of the other body-attendants and assistants in the room. If the patient died it would mean the loss of a unique living creature, a being Groshin had come to admire—even respect.
“We should not continue with this,” his Second stated. “The levels are dangerously high as it is. Do we dare risk another injection?”
“Unfortunately, that is not for us to decide,” Groshin said. “And consider the alternative. If we do nothing and the Human dies, how would Lord Bornak react?”
“Yet if we give him the drug and still he dies, we will be blamed,” said Klosbor Nieci. The junior attendant could afford such luxuries of thought. He was not Lead, and therefore would not suffer the full consequences for the actions of the medical team.
Groshin looked down at the sleeping alien on the bed. He was bonded in a preponderance of precautionary restraints and the room had been cleared of any non-essential personnel. The Human had exhibited ever-increasing fits of rage upon activation, even as the stolen Twilight drug was administered afterwards. Normally, the subject would react immediately to the calming drug, yet not this creature. He would continue to writhe for several seconds afterwards, retaining an unbelievable level of strength that tested the limits of his bonds. That was why more of the drug had been brought in for this activation. Groshin and the others were operating in unknown territory with the REV. One mistake could mean the loss of either his team or the patient, possibly both.
The body-attendant sighed. He had no choice. He was of the Antaere, and within the society there was structure. Congin Bornak was the highest ranking of his race aboard the starship, indeed, the entire task force. Groshin must obey, even if the non-body-attendant was making medical decisions he had no background to make.
“We must continue. Prepare the dosage. Standard level one.”
Klosbor eyed his superior. Groshin saw the doubt. This would be the Human’s third activation since his capture, and after the other two, his levels had climbed to such unbelievable quantities before eventually retreating. Yet even with the lowering, the baseline always increased. There was now a question whether a level one dose would activate the alien. And yet to arbitrarily increase the quantity could prove deadly.
Groshin nodded and Klosbor rushed off to a station to prepare the injection.
As he waited, the lead body-attendant consider the oddity of the entire scene. It was a strange thing the Humans did to themselves—injecting lethal drugs into their system just to play a game of balance between life and death. They risked all for only a temporary increase in ability. Even so, this reckless behavior had influenced the decision makers on Antara to follow in their footsteps. It was an insane course of action, for both races. And yet Groshin had witnessed a miracle of sorts, something he could only describe as the creation of a super being.
The Antaere would never have even considered such an act if the Humans had not shown the deadly effectiveness of their super warriors. As a medical attendant, Groshin understood the mysteries of the body—both Antaere and Human. In many ways the species were nearly identical in physical shape and form. And as most advanced beings shared the same menu of organs—each designed to perform a specific function to maintain life—the body chemistries were subtly different. Groshin had spent many a year studying those differences in the Human beasts; he understood them better than most. And no matter how close the Antaere version of the NT-4 drug may be , it was still not a perfect match for the chemistry of the Human. Was it this slight incompatibility that allowed the Human to live, while sustaining body levels that would have long killed other members of either race? Groshin suspected that was the case. And he would find out, if given the chance to study the Human, rather than slowly bring about his death. It would be an incredible waste of good science. A creature like this only comes along…well, never, the body-attendant admitted. What he would give to spend the rest of his life studying this radical leap in alien evolution….
Groshin surveyed the readings again. Amazing. They were elevated across the board, and even higher than before the last injection two months ago. The attendant had tried to explain to Lord Bornak that there appeared to be no need for continued maintenance shots. The level of the residual in the creature’s blood was far above what they understood to be normal, even survivable. These periodic injections were to help sustain those levels, which he was doing quite well without them.
But Bornak insisted. He said all the REVs required these boosts—he called them—and that the body-attendant’s measuring equipment must therefore be in error. The prisoner had already undergone two prior procedures, and still he lived. Bornak reasoned that if the injections had not killed him to date, then there was no danger in keeping with the schedule.
Groshin was one of the rare Antaere body-attendants who had experience with his species’ version of the REVs, called NOVs. He knew that with the readings of the Human, all his Antaere subjects would have suffered horrible deaths long ago. Yet strapped to the medical bed and unconscious was proof of Bornak’s inescapable logic. The Human called Zac Murphy was still alive. There was no arguing with that fact.
As instructed, Murphy would receive a level one dose of the synthetic stimulant, just enough for activation. Groshin smiled at the strange words he used in reference to both the Human and Antaere enhanced-warrior programs. His people had adopted much of this terminology from the Humans. It was easier and less confusing to keep the science consistent. That way, as new processes were discovered—or stolen—the Antaere body-attendants wou
ld have a seamless transition. It worked. In fact, Groshin had come to respect the Humans’ body-attendants—they called them doctors—for their creativity and simplicity.
He also knew that when it came to the stimulant, less was better. It made a strange kind of sense. The chemical sent the body cascading—another Human term—to levels of increased activity in all biological functions. Logically, one would assume that more of the drug would send the subject higher with more-elevated abilities. That wasn’t the case. Too much of the drug and the NOV would reach critical levels quicker and thereby limit their activation time. Without prompt action to counter the effects, the subject could easily die. So injections consisted of just enough of the stimulant to reach activation and not beyond. The body would do the rest.
Yet with the Human, it was a question as to what was enough? He had activated during the previous two boosts, but all his levels were higher now. Would this cause him to activate to a higher level or not activate at all? A non-activation was just as dangerous as over-activation, leaving the subject with a potentially lethal amount of excess chemical in his system.
That was the dilemma Groshin faced as Klosbor placed the activation dose in the remote feeding device attached to the neck of the alien. He would know the results soon enough.
“Apply the dosage,” he ordered.
Klosbor fingered the remote control.
The alien had been awake at the first injection, the one Bornak himself had administered. For the last one, he had been heavily sedated, just as he was now.
But he did not remain so.
The sudden introduction of the stimulant jolted Murphy awake instantly. But it wasn’t a true wakefulness. His eyes may be open and his mouth gyrating with uncontrollable movements, but it wasn’t consciousness. Instead it was simply an instinctive reaction as the drug saturated his body, beginning the all-consuming cascading event.
Everyone in the room stood back at a safe distance while the patient heaved up in the bed, arching his back at an impossible angle, nearly breaking it, while held to the bed by the restraints. Those in attendance knew the awesome power of an activated Human REV. Fortunately, the reaction would last only a moment. Groshin was about to give the order to apply the Twilight drug and stop the violent spasms when Klosbor yelled out.
“He did not activate!”
“That is not activation?” said one of the other assistants, unbelieving.
“No! He is convulsing, levels spiking.”
Groshin knew the Human Twilight drug would not counter the affects of a non-activated REV. In fact, all it would do is exacerbate the condition.
“Give him another injection—but half strength.”
“Attendant?”
“Do as I say. He must reach activation level to be recovered. Hurry!”
Klosbor rushed to a side counter to prepare the second syringe.
“You will have to subdue him before I can administer.”
The other three Antaere fell on the writhing Human, struggling with his body as it heaved and twisted. Groshin could feel the incredible strength and power through the garment he wore. There was absolutely no elasticity to the skin, no give to the flesh. It had turned as hard as stone, and without conscious thought, Groshin and his assistants were tossed about like they were made of paper.
Klosbor placed the syringe in the delivery unit and slammed it shut. Groshin backed away, taking the remote control and triggering the second injection from across the room.
The Human screamed, the guttural, savage screech now familiar to the attendant and his team. The NOVs did the same, yet with the inflection of an Antaere.
Groshin didn’t linger. He fingered the control that would now administer the Twilight. The Human spasmed again, as if fighting the introduction of the new drug. Then his head lifted and he looked into the room with blood-red eyes. They seemed to focus on Groshin. Was there recognition? Could the alien actually see and comprehend through the incredible stresses his body was going through? Their gaze locked for a moment. This was unbelievable. The creature still stirred, even after the Twilight. Groshin dared not give another dose of the drug. Twilight was a one-injection chemical. Either it would work or it wouldn’t. If it didn’t, the subject would continue to cascade until the body exploded.
But then the Human lay back and fell still and quiet on the bed, his eyes closed. The medical technicians turned to the monitors. The readings were incredible, higher than they had ever been. And yet when Groshin looked to the patient, he saw evidence of rapid breathing, the consequence of a heartbeat at near two hundred beats per minute. The rate was dropping, slowly, as were the other indicators.
His patient would live—how and why, the body-attendant could not say. The questions only added to the mystique surrounding the pink-skinned alien, as well as the admiration Groshin felt for the indestructible creature known as Zac Murphy.
Two hours later, Lead Body-Attendant Groshin entered Lord Bornak’s private stateroom aboard the huge transport vessel. They were on the final leg of a journey throughout the Grid, visiting six of the Colony Worlds to show off the Human REV Zac Murphy. The last stop was Enif, three days ahead.
“Are you here to report on the results of the maintenance boost, lead attendant?”
“Yes, my Lord.”
“Does your patient live?”
“He does, yet I do not understand how or why.”
“It is always the same complaint with you, Groshin,” Bornak chided, displaying a thin smile. “You are relieved when he survives yet saddened when he does.”
“I am not saddened, only surprised. As a body-attendant I wish to understand the processes taking place within the Human’s body. As the months have passed, they have only confused me more.”
“He is a REV, and a unique one at that. Has that not been proven time and again?” Bornak asked.
“Yes, my Lord. Yet even then, he should be dead by now. Even those of his kind—from what we understand—could not survive such abuse and system levels. There are processes going on in his body that are beyond my comprehension. As such, I am confused.”
“You are also afraid of the Human.” Bornak stated.
The attendant bristled. “I am apprehensive, my Lord. We are dealing with something unlike any other, a creature beyond that which has existed before. I am an Antaere body-attendant of considerable note; that is why I am on your staff. I am also a scientist, and as such I have knowledge of dozens of species, both advanced and primitive. Yet I have never witnessed anything like this. As a result, I believe my feelings are warranted.”
“Calm yourself, attendant. I meant no disrespect.” Bornak now looked more pointedly at the medical attendant. “You wish to study this creature, to learn his secrets?”
“As I said, I am a scientist, as well as a body-attendant. There is much to be learned from this subject, much to be gained through understanding. The Antaere could benefit greatly from this knowledge.”
“In what way?” Bornak questioned. “To create more mindless animals who are a danger to all around them? No, Groshin. Both the REV and NOV programs are dead ends. Your miraculous creature is nothing more than a throwback to more primitive times, and not a harbinger of things to come. Put away your silly ideas of learning from this beast. Besides, his time is limited. He has very nearly fulfilled his utility to me. Keep him alive a while longer, body-attendant, and I will do the rest. Is he able to speak?”
“Speak? My Lord, he may never speak again.”
Congin Bornak locked his bright yellow eyes on the body-attendant. Gone was any sense of playfulness or toying with the Antaerean. “I need him to speak, and by the time we reach Enif. Is that understood, Lead Body-Attendant Groshin?”
“It is understood, my Lord. But whether or not that will be possible is not up to me. It is up to Zac Murphy.”
18
General Bill Smith opened an encrypted link with the battle-carrier Eldorado, requesting a confidential conversation with the task force commander,
Vice-Admiral Jerica Armitage. When the screen lit up, she was with the captain of the El, Tim MacMillan. Both senior officers smirked when they saw the general’s yellow skin.
“That’s a nice look on you, Smitty,” said Armitage. “Really accents the blue of your eyes.”
Smitty smirked back. “Now you know why I requested a secure link, rather than an open comm. How are you two holding up? I know ES-7 was some shit.”
The expressions on both officers changed abruptly. “We’ve taken losses before, Smitty, but nothing like this. And the fact that we were played so expertly is what really pisses me off,” said the admiral.
“And now the Qwin are sending a huge force after us,” MacMillan added. “We didn’t even know they had so many ships in the region. We brought over the crews of the four remaining escorts and then scuttled the ships . We need full power to stay ahead of the yellow-skinned bastards.” MacMillan stretched out a thin grin as he spoke the last words.
Armitage picked up on the comment. “I take it from your unique coloring that you’re off on some secret mission behind enemy lines? Didn’t you just get back with the Corollaries? Command owes you at least a weekend off before sending you back out again.”
“This couldn’t wait,” the general replied, seriously. “Which brings me to the point of this link. Are my two Ronin REVs still aboard?”
“Ronin REVs?”
“Yeah, like master-less Samurai, looking for a home.”
“If you’re referring to Ross and Johnson, yeah they’re here.”
“I need them.”
On the screen, the two officers looked at each other and shrugged. “They’re yours,” said Captain MacMillan. “They’re not assigned to the ship anyway, more like passengers than anything else. But, general, what’s up with them? They don’t act like any REVs I’ve ever seen.”