She was something new.
2
EARTH
Vancouver
Earth Alliance Strategic Command Headquarters
* * *
Miriam Solovy stared out the shuttle at the EASC grounds below with an unfamiliar coldness. It didn’t please her to view what had been her second home for over a decade as a battlefield, but reality persisted whether one denied it or not.
She steeled herself, erecting a symbolic wall in her mind far sturdier than mere detachment. From the instant she stepped off the transport from Messium, she needed to be on alert at all times. EASC may not have fallen to the enemy—not yet—but the infiltration had surely begun. She would retake it from within if she could, from without if she must.
Major Lange met her at the hangar. She returned his salute and allowed him to fall in beside her. “Brief me while we walk.”
“Yes, ma’am. Security logs throughout the Island were altered or overwritten between the hours of 0210 and 0300, concurrent with the theft. Absent a few minimal exceptions, we’ve been unable to recover the original records, but the logs affected suggest a shuttle was able to breach the Island’s defensive perimeter at 0215 and again at 0255. During the intervening time, Special Projects was accessed by one or more individuals, and the Vii and Meno Artificials were powered down before being removed.”
Her initial reaction was surprise as they began traversing the courtyard. “Meno was completely powered down?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
They could have used a mobile power pack. Simple enough to do. “Continue.”
“I’m afraid the trail ends at that point. Olympic Regional Spaceport surveillance recordings don’t show anyone matching the facial scans of Mr. Reynolds or Ms. Requelme on the premises that night, and many of the smaller private spaceports don’t have as high a level of security protocols in place. More than eighteen hundred charter flights departed the Olympic region in the six hours subsequent to the breach, bound for nearly seven hundred destinations.
“I can institute a galaxy-wide alert for one or both of them, but I felt you should make the decision given the…circumstances.”
She ignored the loaded statement for the time being. Lange would push for orders soon, but she didn’t intend to encourage him. “The tampering of the security logs—any leads on who performed it?”
He slowed to a stop. “Unless the entire EASC security network has been infiltrated—and there have been zero additional incidents to suggest it has—there’s only one…entity that could have performed such sophisticated and extensive tampering.”
She regarded him calmly. “Annie.”
“Yes, Admiral.”
“I’ll order commencement of a hard reset and re-initialization of her processes.”
“But that will wipe out the Artificial’s personality and everything it’s learned in the last year and a half. Are you positive such drastic measures are necessary?”
She almost smiled at the possibility he, too, had developed some affection for Annie. “We cannot risk having a corrupt Artificial integrated into our systems, Major. Yes, we will lose a few advanced capabilities the Artificial afforded us for a while, which is why the act will be kept in utmost secrecy until we’ve regained all lost functionality.”
“Our adversaries, as well as our allies, will be none the wiser.”
They’d reached the Headquarters entrance, and she turned to him in a manner designed to indicate the briefing was now over. “Thank you, Major. Inform me of any updates.” She didn’t wait for a response before entering the building and proceeding upstairs to her office.
Once there she sat down at her desk, reached into her bag and removed the device Richard had provided her, a wafer-thin rectangle five centimeters in length. She carefully moved it to the underside of her desk and attached it, then pressed her finger—and cybernetically enhanced fingerprint—to a spot along the left edge.
Only then did she stand and go out to the patio.
It disturbed her somewhat to find out the Federation had technology capable of disrupting and overriding EA military encryption protocols. At least it worked across a limited, localized range—approximately the size of her office and patio space, conveniently enough.
She was the Fleet Admiral of the Earth Alliance Armed Forces; the security in and around her office was directed solely at preventing or detecting incursions. No one watched her or would dare eavesdrop on her. And if someone should impertinently decide to dare, she now had that scenario covered as well.
She hadn’t been bluffing about the re-initialization. What Lange didn’t know, however, was it didn’t matter. Annie—whatever it was that had made her greater than the sum of her qubits—was already gone. The processes which remained displayed some degree of consciousness, but it was solely a construct, little more than the technique VIs utilized to appear more human to users. It had no personality, no independent judgment and certainly no soul.
Even so, the reset was going to wipe out learned algorithms and refined metaroutines. As a side effect, Strategic Command’s analytical capabilities would be weakened for a time. Given the extent to which Annie’s subprocesses managed the multitude of supply shipments, equipment processing and a thousand other minutiae of military administration, a few things here and there might slip through the cracks.
A shame, really.
London
Earth Alliance Assembly
“Unplug the Machines!”
“We Are Our Own Masters!”
“Artificials Will Be Our Downfall, Humans Our Salvation!”
“Synthetics Suck!”
Jude Winslow groaned under his breath as he made his way through the crowd of protesters lining the broad steps at the entry to the Assembly grounds. Synthetics suck? Whoever approved the catchphrase needed to be shot, and if he found out who was responsible he’d do it himself.
It nevertheless measured as a good showing on the whole. The size of the protests had doubled in the last two weeks, and tripled in some locations. The Order of the True Sentients was getting in the faces of the power brokers and not backing down.
He reached the edge of the throng unnoticed, his anonymity intact. Not a soul here realized they all did his bidding.
He found a security officer who recognized him and gestured a thanks as the officer allowed him to pass through the cordon and into the complex.
Pamela Winslow—Chairman of the Assembly Military Oversight Committee, front-runner to topple Steven Brennon in the upcoming election for Prime Minister, and Jude’s mother—was holding court with two other Assembly representatives when he arrived. He leaned against the doorway of her office to wait.
They all but genuflected before her in their eagerness to agree with whatever she was saying; when she finished they hurried past him in a rush to go forth and execute on her commands.
She waved him into the office and shut the door behind him. “You didn’t mention you were dropping by. I only have a few minutes.”
He shrugged noncommittally and eased into a chair. “A mite rowdy outside.”
“The new tightening of Artificial restrictions and criminal penalties for their violation will be announced later today. Perhaps it will mollify them.”
“I doubt it. When are you intending on telling the people the truth?”
She gave him the scowl of irritation and vague disappointment she’d been awarding him since childhood. “It depends on what truth you mean.”
“The truth about the weapon we used to defeat the Metigens. The truth about the government and military conspiring with the Federation to create monstrosities far worse than the mere Artificials those protesting outside fear so badly.” The truth about the technology falling into the hands of one of the most dangerous, notorious criminals in the galaxy. Regrettably he left the last bit off, as there was no defensible way he could know of that development outside of his connection to OTS.
“Now, Jude, I already explained this. The Defense
Minister misspoke when he implied—”
“Don’t insult me, Mother. You raised me to be smarter than that, so have a little faith in your parenting skills. Tell me, did you know about it at the time?”
She took a minute to size him up, and appeared to decide he wasn’t bluffing. “Absolutely not. Prime Minister Brennon and Admiral Solovy acted without consulting the Assembly.”
He nodded with deliberate solemnity. “So I’ll ask again. When do you intend to tell the public?”
She avoided his gaze and reached for a portable screen. “Soon.”
“How soon?”
“When it works to my maximum advantage to do so. Now I really can’t say any more. State security, you understand.” She paused and finally looked him in the eye. “Why are you so interested?”
He kept his expression neutral, even light. “Just trying to plan my week.”
Her lips tightened in displeasure. “So did you come by purely to needle me, or is there something else?”
“I’m traveling to Pandora this evening. I may be a while.”
“Why must you—”
“I delayed until after Father’s birthday extravaganza, for all that he didn’t notice my attendance. Don’t try to tell me you have some other faux societal gathering it’s positively essential I attend this week or else the family’s reputation will be ruined.”
“I wasn’t planning on it. I was simply going to ask why you felt the need to visit such gauche places. That is what subordinates are for, Jude—so you need not get your hands soiled.”
He stood without fanfare. “I guess I’m a ‘soiled hands’ kind of baron. Or maybe I’m planning on getting high and bedding a few dozen hookers I know I won’t pass on the street when I sober up.”
“Do not let me see it on the news feeds.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of embarrassing the next Prime Minister. I’m perfectly well aware of what money can buy and how to buy it. Have a good afternoon, Mother.”
He turned and nonchalantly walked out as if all was splendid in the world.
He was antagonizing his mother more than usual, which if he was honest with himself constituted a risk, and now was not the time to take unwarranted risks. But the more his tangible power grew out there in the streets, the more her casual condescension rankled him.
Imagine what she would think if she were to learn her son wielded far greater real, actionable power than she did? She was a politician, one of the best of her generation. But where she only influenced, he controlled.
Imagine indeed.
3
PANDORA
Independent Colony
* * *
Devon Reynolds dreamed of space.
Not the grand, sweeping space his fellow Prevo Alex Solovy would dream of—not brilliant supernovae or ghostly nebula clouds or even a few luminous twinkling stars.
No, he dreamed of supply shipments and troop movements, of defense array strengths and long-range sensors’ status. He dreamed of sector patrol patterns—regular, rote, routine—and occasionally, the odd boot-camp para jumper free-falling from high orbit.
Aaaahhh!
He awoke with a jolt, sweat-soaked and pulse racing.
While he grimaced in mild panic, Annie soothed his heart rate to a calmer level.
All the soldiers really undergo such ridiculous hazing?
All the ones who make it that far, yes.
He wiped stray moisture off his brow and grasped for the water on the bedside table. Then he fumbled beside him for…nothing. There was nothing. No one. There hadn’t been anyone for so many months, since before the merger with Annie. Why did he still reach for Emily, after so long?
Do I need to answer that for you?
No.
He heaved himself off the bed with a groan. He was awake, for good or ill.
I’m sorry if my dreams awoke you in such a distressful manner.
It’s all right, Annie. But do you understand why?
Fear of falling is a common human phobia. I did not realize it was one you experienced.
I don’t, but the person whose vitals you were monitoring in the memory did.
…Oh. I see. I suspect being situated on the opposite side of the experience inoculated me from such sensations. At the time, it was only data to me.
And now?
Now…now I perceived his terror through you perceiving his terror through the leakage of wayward ancillary data sorting into your sleeping mind. The long way around, after a fashion.
He stared at himself in the mirror. He recognized his eyes, but little else. Granted, what stared back at him increasingly resembled the classic dark, brooding hero who saves the day and gets the girl. And he’d legit done the first, if failed miserably at the second. Yet it didn’t feel like him.
But it is, Devon. It’s your muscles, ligaments and bone. I merely stimulated them. They are still completely you.
I know. Could have used the enhancement a while earlier—say a decade or so—but okay. He drew in a breath.
The apartment was nice. Not quite as nice as the one in Seattle, but he viewed it as more of a safe house than a home anyway. He didn’t lack for anything he needed. Not in the physical sense.
He showered, grabbed an energy bar as he dressed and headed out the door. He’d stop for breakfast on the way, too. These new muscles of his were turning out to require a lot of calories.
The black market ware dealer came highly recommended by Noah Terrage. Nevertheless, Devon’s skin was tingling by the time he reached the unmarked door located deep in a neighborhood the locals had dubbed The Channel.
He’d called himself ‘living on the edge’ at university and before he’d gone to work at EASC, spending late nights out with other hackers in dark hole-in-the-wall clubs on the seedy side of town. But the worst neighborhoods he’d visited in San Francisco were opulent compared to this area of Pandora.
This colony was nuts.
I believe the word you are seeking is dangerous.
Yes. Dangerous and nuts.
The man who met him inside flashed him a toothy smile, a stark contrast to the image presented by his waist-length green dreadlocks interwoven in gold fibers and the angry emerald-and-gold glyphs drawn like war paint up his neck and cheeks.
Devon cleared his throat and stuck out a hand. “I’m—”
The man shook his hand vigorously. “You’re Noah’s friend, sure. Let’s go with that instead of a name. Call me Emilio.”
Did the “call me” phrasing mean it wasn’t his real name? “Will do.”
“What can I do for you this fine…” Emilio’s face screwed up “…is it day or night? I forget.”
“Late morning, I think. I need a cross-comm encryption lock field generator. The most secure you can produce.”
“How ‘most secure’ are you looking for?”
Devon frowned; he thought he’d made it clear. “The, um, most most secure?”
“Huh. You’re talking about pricey tech. But seeing as you’re Noah’s friend, I’ll give you the ‘friend of a friend’ discount.”
Mia: Devon, don’t you dare protest that you’re not so much friends with Noah as passing acquaintances. You’re friends with me, and I’m friends with Noah. It counts.
Devon: I know, I know.
Mia and Morgan flitted freely in and out of his mind, never further than a half-formed thought away, and he in and out of theirs. Once a fair bit on the bizarre side, it now felt more natural than many other aspects of this new life.
So he motioned agreement instead of oversharing. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”
“Yeah, man. Chill for a few, and I’ll take care of it.”
Devon gazed around the storefront room and found nothing beyond two chairs and an embedded panel broadcasting retro fantasy erotica. He opted to lean against the wall and let his mind drift idly through data, places and memories.
Are you certain this is the path you want to take, Devon? To reference an ancient myth, once Pando
ra’s Box is opened it cannot be unopened.
He chuckled silently. Out of all the multitude of metaphors Annie might have chosen, she went for Pandora’s Box. On Pandora. He couldn’t decide whether it meant her humor remained juvenile or had graduated to a more refined brilliance.
I’m certain. My reasons are myriad, but my favorite one today is that I won’t allow Olivia Montegreu to become the public face of Prevos. She can’t steal this legacy from us.
I concede your point. And the answer is brilliance.
Emilio reemerged ten minutes later carrying a film seated in a thick transparent case. “Keep it in the case until you’re ready to use it to avoid degradation. It’s not reusable, but once it’s active, it’ll hold for the duration of the communication. Don’t…ah, hell, with your eyes and glyphs, you understand how to use it.”
Devon’s clothing covered a majority of the glyphs now perpetually streaming along his skin, but platinum tendrils spiraling up his neck to his temples hinted at the extent of his cybernetics.
“I do.” He transferred the funds, muttered a thanks and bailed.
Safely ensconced back in his apartment, he found his neck interface and snapped the film into it. From there, Annie used it to create a dynamic, ever-changing encryption barrier to protect the virtual space he now created.
He chose a replica of the beach the Prevos frequently met at in sidespace, because dammit, he liked the beach. It wasn’t actually in sidespace, since their guests wouldn’t yet be able to access it, but rather a full-sensory commspace in a hidden corner of the exanet. He added a bunch of lounge chairs and a stocked bar.
Are we ready, Annie?
We are indeed.
He lobbed an intention to Mia and Morgan, and together they forwarded invitations to join them to a carefully curated list of people—those best suited in one way or another to lead a new wave of Prevos.
Ramon went straight for the bar on arriving, while Sayid flopped down in a lounge chair. Petra tossed Devon a casual wave as she turned in a slow circle to survey the surroundings before nodding in stoic approval. Mycroft took one look around, then immediately stripped naked and sprinted into the ocean.
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