"Sir, the Points would like to know if you require them to present themselves in person or if slip-com will suffice?" He hadn't even heard his assistant come back in.
"Tell them they'll need to come to me," Mok said after a moment's thought. "Nothing can be left for chance in this."
"I obey."
Mok had nothing definite to hang his feelings on, but he was getting the sense that something big was in the works, something that even his vast network had missed. If he was right, he'd want his most trusted people close and couldn't risk that his encryption had been compromised by interacting with them via a thirteen-way slip-com channel.
The more he considered whom the major players seemed to be, the more he hoped his instincts were wrong.
17
"You don't have to watch this if you don't want," Jason said.
"I feel I must," Tauless said, though he looked like he'd rather be anywhere else at the moment. They were gathered in the lounge of the Phoenix as she loafed through slip-space on a lazy course back towards Khepri. Once he'd agreed to help unlock all the data cards they'd found in his father's crypt by providing the necessary contextual keywords it hadn't taken Kage long to develop a master algorithm that devoured them in a single pass, spitting out enough raw data to keep a team of analysts busy for a year.
Fortunately Vulban had also left a set of clearly labeled videos, the first of which was of him sitting at a cluttered desk explaining the organizational system he used before compressing the data. It would make sifting through it that much easier, but it was still a lot and other than reaching out to the Cridal Cooperative Jason didn't have the resources to tackle it all. He sure as hell didn't trust Saditava Mok enough to hand it over just yet.
Once they learned all of the videos were the same sort of lecture-style instructional given by Vulban himself, Jason had told Kage to pipe it down to the lounge and called in everyone so they could go through it together. Lucky was up and about and seemed no worse for wear other than being unusually quiet, even by his standards. His new chest armor lacked all the scratches and micro pitting and had a fresh coat of matte black smart-skin on it making him appear as if he’d just rolled off the assembly line. Tauless was obviously invited as his impressions were the most important, but Jason didn't want to seem callous and at least gave the appearance that he sympathized with someone about to watch their father from beyond the grave.
"It's probably important that I be here to give background," Tauless said.
"Agreed," Jason said. "Roll it Kage."
"Roll what?"
"The first video."
"How do you—"
"Just play the damn file!"
"Greetings," the voice of Noyut Vulban began. "If you are watching this I will assume that you've either earned the trust of those I've left the decryption key with or have devised a way to slice it yourself. Either way, I will be giving a blunt and unvarnished accounting of myself, my team, and what we did. I can only hope that if these files have been located that it isn't because our worst fears have come to pass and our creations have been unleashed for ill.
"My name is Noyut Vulban. I was a research scientist for the synth program working under the direction of Krunt Teludal, one of the most brilliant minds I've ever known. Our function was twofold: First we would usher specialized lots into consciousness and assess the success or failures of the changes made to the primary processing matrix. Second, we would study these units long-term and interact with them closely in order to make adjustments to the process on future lots.
"The reason for this was that despite the maturity of the program and success of synth units already in use, we've yet to understand why each matrix comes through the creation process so unique and unrepeatable. Corporate headquarters wants to improve the woefully inadequate yields of the current generation and we think if we can get the matrix stable and duplicable in the initial stages we not only won't have so much loss, but the integration steps will be more routine and streamlined."
"Pause!" Jason said.
"Nothing we didn't already know here," Twingo said with a shrug. "The synth program was a corporate endeavor to create working machines. The fact that their full-sentience was an accident isn't necessarily a secret."
"But what is he saying about low yields?" Jason asked.
"The primary processing matrix of a synth is still a mystery even to those who designed and produced them," Tauless spoke up. "I suppose the best way to describe it is that they're grown more than produced and the necessary looseness in the parameters given to the machine during fabrication results in wide variations."
"I guess there's an obvious reason they didn't more strictly control the parameters, but why don't you go ahead and explain that too," Jason said.
"Every attempt to do so resulted in the total loss of a lot," Tauless said. "The first successful attempt at a stable matrix resulted from an experiment a research crew ran when they widened the tolerances well past what would be acceptable for any sort of mass production."
"Interesting," Jason said. "Resume!"
"Don't you mean roll it?"
"Crusher, hit him."
There was a sharp smack from somewhere in the darkened room accompanied by a squeal of pain, but the video continued.
"We did begin to notice that each successful lot did seem to have uniform personality traits within that lot once they emerged," Vulban's likeness continued. "This led us to develop more specialized units and, ultimately, to something I wish we'd never agreed to create: battlesynths." Jason looked over quickly to see how Lucky took the news that basically one of his parents wished he'd never been born. As always, his friend sat impassively.
"It was an idea that we could market them as security enforcers, but in the overzealousness of the mechanization group the body that was developed was overpowered and, in our opinion, far too dangerous to just hand over without controls.
"In the accompanying data you'll find the specs on the internal and external inhibition protocols we built into most battlesynths. These not only keep them in check while allowing them to operate autonomously but also give the buyer the option to remotely shut down weaponry or recall units from the field. A small concession, to be sure, but it was the best we could do. The mind of a synth is not easily restrained and we warned Corporate that overuse of the inhibition methods would only lead to them discovering ways to circumvent it.
"While Teludal was sickened by the synth matrixes he brought through awakening being put into battlesynth bodies, I viewed it with a more pragmatic eye. If we gave Corporate something they wanted badly enough we'd be able to continue our research … I felt he developed an unhealthy attachment to each unit as the years passed. But then came my own moral quandary: Lot 700."
"Pause," Lucky said.
What is it?" Jason asked.
"Do you remember my designation?"
"Sure, Combat Unit 777," Twingo said.
"That's right, Captain," Tauless said. "He's the missing member of Lot 700."
"And by your words I assume that my lot-mates are no more?" Lucky asked.
"No, they're still alive," Tauless said. "But you went missing and they were never able to account for your whereabouts."
"Please resume," Lucky said.
"Lot 700 awakened during the political upheaval that led to the decision that we would no longer be allowed to produce battlesynths. Early deployments had led to a level of collateral damage that the government found unacceptable, and the press sensationalized the events as much as they could. To be honest, I simply think the effectiveness of the battlesynth units terrified them; it's one thing to have a weapon of such power at your disposal … it's quite another when that weapon has a will of its own. There were of course some early and widely publicized … misunderstandings … when battlesynths were first allowed out into the public. We'd corrected the issue with our conditioning program, but these incidents were never forgotten.
"The company agreed that after the last lo
t of battlesynths they would close down and dismantle the mechanical line so no more bodies could be produced. The Kheprian government agreed and gave us a strict deadline on when the last battlesynth could be built; the problem was that we had no suitable matrixes for the bodies that were left. Lot 700 was just beginning to emerge and had been classified as Type Four, completely ill-suited for battlesynth duty. Type Four matrixes exhibited calm, calculating demeanors and an intelligence that put them above even the Type Two matrixes that served as administrative assistants and surrogates. Type Fours were exceedingly rare, only three lots total ever emerged, and were able to become scientists, researchers, even artists … the possibilities seemed endless.
"Corporate had no such sentiment. To them a synth matrix was a product that they owned and could do with as they pleased. They ordered Teludal to use Lot 700 to complete the remaining battlesynths within the deadline. Teludal resisted and was threatened with termination and punitive action if he didn't comply. I convinced him that we could do more for them if we appeared to go along with the demand."
"Pause!" Doc called out.
"Now what?" Crusher demanded, apparently really getting into the story and somewhat oblivious about its implications for his best friend standing behind him.
"Lucky, have you always known about your … uniqueness?" Doc asked. "I'm aware of the five different synth matrix classifications … did you know you were a Type Four?"
"I am aware that I am not the same as other battlesynths I have encountered," Lucky said. "But I was not aware of the exact reason for this."
"Synths aren't told their classification for a reason," Tauless interjected. "We felt they needed to be free to self-determine the same as any other sentient species. It's especially delicate in beings that will live for so long: A synth may change functions dozens of times over the span of its life."
"We?" Kage asked.
"Forgive me," Tauless chuckled. "I've been so immersed in my father's work from such an early age that sometimes I forget that I didn't actually work in the synth program."
"Are they still producing new synths?" Jason asked.
"Yes," Tauless said slowly. "But in much fewer numbers and only basic 'helper' body types."
"What if they produce a Type Three lot and there are no battlesynth bodies to put them in?" Doc asked.
"The matrixes are … destroyed … after they emerge," Tauless said, the anguish plain in his voice. The room sat in a stunned silence for a moment, nobody daring to even look in Lucky's direction.
"Please resume, Kage," the battlesynth said after a tortured minute.
"In order to give those of Lot 700, individuals we'd all become quite fond of, the best chance at realizing their potential, Teludal and I devised a plan to limit the amount of control that could be imposed on them," Vulban said when the video lurched back into motion. "We recruited help from the mechanical staff and quickly made a set of inhibiter modules and transponders that would pass all inspections without issue but would have one critical flaw: They would not actually be able to influence or disable the battlesynth they were installed in.
"The units themselves would have no idea that they were different than those around them, but eventually, if they so chose, they would be allowed to go their own way and nobody could stop them. There is more technical data on what we did in the provided documents." At this point Vulban paused and rubbed at his ears with both hands, looking very stressed and worn down.
"There is something else, something that I'll get to in the other videos and documents in this bundle," he went on. "During our scramble to protect Lot 700 from being misused their entire life, we stumbled upon a set of secondary protocols built into the subsystems of all the other battlesynths that gives cause for concern.
"Built into the inhibiter units is an adaptive algorithm that, once active, allows whoever is in control to override the battlesynth’s own moral and ethical foundations, essentially turning it into an indiscriminate killing machine. We were unable to find out who ordered this or why … but our inquiries have alerted them to what we did. I am now on the move with my family to stay ahead of whomever they will send for me. Teludal stayed on Khepri, determined to expose what he sees as a complete betrayal of what the synth program was supposed to be. I fear I will learn of his death sooner than later, as the people who did this likely won't have any compunction about silencing one troublemaking scientist.
"If you're watching this … please know that we did what we could."
"I think we should go ahead and call it a night," Jason said when the video stopped and the lights in the lounge came back up. "This is … a lot to process. We still have twenty-six hours before we need to make a decision on course change or destination, so let's take the time to rest and then start going through the other data."
The others consented and began filing out of the lounge, each member of the crew stopping to either offer words of comfort or a supporting hand for Lucky before retreating to their quarters. Jason watched closely but couldn’t see any obvious sign that the battlesynth had been affected by news that, had similar been given to a human, would have been nothing short of life-shattering.
"You know what I'm about to ask," he said once everyone else was gone.
"I can assure you, Captain, that my performance will not be affected by what we have heard," Lucky said.
"And you know that I don't give a damn about your job performance, Lucky," Jason shot back. "My only concern is how this is affecting you personally. This is still your mission … if you want to continue on, we will. If not, we'll send a final report to Mok and head home."
"I have thought often of my lot-mates," Lucky said after a pregnant pause. "I never knew what happened to them once I had been captured. So far my efforts to locate any of them since you freed me have been unsuccessful. If it would be acceptable, I would see this through to the end."
"Then we're in until the end," Jason said.
Lucky didn’t respond. He stared at Jason for a moment and then turned towards the stairs for the command deck to take his shift on the bridge. The video had sent a cold chill down Jason's spine and he was trying to stay positive for his friend's sake, but if someone had the ability to override nearly every battlesynth's freewill and turn them loose on someone it didn't bode well. Worse still, given they'd been recalled, an event without precedent, he had to assume there was a significant risk someone planned to do just that.
While they were all caught up in the details of Lucky's past and the intrigue surrounding the battlesynth program, Jason was concerned they were missing the point entirely. This wasn't happening by random chance; someone was pulling a lot of strings, and so far all they had were some vague notions of an attack on a Kheprian computing center. What if the battlesynth recall really was just a reasonable response to a credible threat and they were out chasing the wrong thing? More to the point, would they even want to chase anything with enough juice to mount an attack on one of the ConFed's Pillar Worlds?
"This isn't going to end well," he muttered before trudging back to his quarters.
LUCKY STOOD ON THE BRIDGE, watching the simulated star field streak by. The video had been devastating for him. He'd always wondered more about where he fit into the universe, but to watch a Master describe him as a product and in terms of profit and loss had destroyed any notion he might have had about one day being an equal among biological species. He would always be a technological oddity. A fortuitous accident that had resulted in a pile of credits for the corporation that had built him. Was there any real reason to care what happened to him now?
"Hey."
Lucky turned and saw Kage walking onto the bridge. The Veran walked over and slouched into one of the sensor station seats, making some pretense about bringing up and checking on their speed and position.
"Was there something you needed, Kage?" Lucky asked, much preferring to be alone at that moment.
"Did I ever tell you about growing up on Ver?" Kage asked.
&nb
sp; "Kage, I am not sure that right now is—"
"So I was in the back third of all the offspring my parents had," Kage went on as if he hadn't heard Lucky's protest. "Verans are unbelievably prolific. My parents, or some combination of parents of which one was mine, gave birth to thirty or thirty-one children … they were still at it when I left. Imagine that considering that all Verans procreate with the same enthusiasm and we only have one planet. It's some hardwired evolutionary holdover that our government is helpless to stem. My species didn't evolve from apex predators like Crusher's. Likely we'd have been their food source.
"Anyway … growing up it was obvious that my parents weren't overly concerned if I made it to adulthood or not. I don't hold it against them; no Veran parent is overly attached to their children since the solution is always to just have more. But I had the misfortune of living near a consulate in one of the sub-capitals and I would regularly watch how other species would dote and fret on their offspring. It led me to an existential crisis at a fairly young age. Why did my life not matter and the Eshquarian child's did? Did it make me less of a being? Was I disposable in the eyes of the galaxy?"
"And you feel I am experiencing the same existential crisis right now because of what a long-dead research scientist has said?" Lucky asked.
"I'd be surprised if you weren't." Kage didn’t shy away from the matter. "Your family may not be of the conventional biological type, but it's there nonetheless. The Masters were your parents and your lot-mates siblings. To hear a parent talk about you in such callous terms is painful."
"I suppose you have some advice on how I come to terms with these feelings you seem to think I have?"
"Not really." Kage shrugged and looked away. "How many times do you think you've saved my life?"
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