The Institute wasn’t aware of her actions, and technically the information was proprietary. But some things mattered more than patents.
Her frown deepened as a holo-comm request flashed in her eVi. She couldn’t get any work done if she was always meeting to discuss work needing to get done…but it wasn’t anyone from the Institute.
It was Alex Solovy.
Under the circumstances she should dismiss the request, but she was both surprised and a little curious—surprised the woman was alive and, given the woman’s involvement in recent events, curious what Alex wanted of her.
“Ms. Solovy, this is unexpected. You were quite the sensation for a few weeks there, then vanished. Been busy I take it?”
The holo solidified to reveal the woman she recalled from four years earlier, yet indefinably changed. Rather than bound tightly back, her hair spilled freely over one shoulder and down her back, and her striking eyes blazed with intensity rather than wariness. “You could say that. And it’s Alex, remember?”
“Very well, Alex. What can I do for you?”
“How has your research into using neural imprints with Artificials progressed?”
Abigail hid a flare of annoyance at the seemingly random question. “Fairly well. You’ll be happy to know the results suggest the Artificial doesn’t ‘become’ the person, but it is able to predict how the person will react to a given situation with near perfect accuracy. Importantly, the experiences and personality of the individual have a measurable impact on the Artificial’s independent decision-making and reactions to data. I’m afraid the research has stalled at this point, however, as thus far the bureaucrats are unwilling to use the findings in any tangible way.”
“Terrific. I have another question for you. Is it possible—”
“Ms. So—Alex, I’m afraid now is not the best time for an idle chat. Sagan has come under attack by the aliens, and I’m trying to save as much of my and the Institute’s work as I can should the worst happen. If I survive the invasion, I’ll be happy to engage in a leisurely discussion about my research at a later time.”
“The aliens are at Sagan already? Okay, we’ll…we’ll deal with that in a minute. Dr. Canivon, my questions are vitality important to the continuation of the human species, so I’d ask you to indulge me.”
Grandiose declaration, but also interesting. What had the woman been up to? “All right, you’ve piqued my interest. I can spare a few minutes, but please keep it brief. What do you want to know?”
“Thank you. Is it possible to create a more symbiotic and fulsome connection between an individual and an Artificial than the one generated by a remote interface? Can you remove most of the buffers and barriers without frying the person’s brain?”
Abigail tilted her head to the side. It was an obstacle she’d spent countless hours working to overcome. “In a very precise and limited set of circumstances? Yes, I believe it can be done. The Artificial would require a neural imprint from the person involved—I assume you suspected this since you asked the first question.
“Once familiar with the manner in which the individual’s brain operates, it will be able to modulate its own signals to be harmonious and not conflict with those brain wave patterns—the kind of conflict which otherwise will cause stroke and often death. Even so, the person’s cybernetics will have to be highly advanced in order to not overload from the data flow alone. There are other considerations, but why don’t you tell me what you have in mind?”
Alex was roving in front of a row of unlit windows which gave no clue as to her location. “I’ll tell you what I need: a human and an Artificial thinking and working together, using the data provided by the Artificial to make decisions and take actions at an accelerated rate. I need them to act as one, using all the capabilities of the Artificial—data comprehension, analysis, processing power and speed—while remaining subject to the judgment and control of the human. The person needs to be able to override any decision of the Artificial, but it sounds like a neural imprint enables it to recognize when the person is likely to override them and act accordingly.”
Abigail sank back in her chair. What Alex was asking for was nothing less than the culmination of her life’s work, the vision that had guided her for over five decades as she worked to bring it about one painstaking innovation at a time. Of course it could be done, because she had devoted years to creating the technology and biosynthetic interfaces necessary to allow it to be done.
But no one would dare allow it to be done.
She tried not to let her growing excitement show. “I don’t see how such a venture can be accomplished given the existing restrictions, security constraints and communication blocks imposed on Artificials.”
“Well the Artificial would be unshackled, obviously.”
“Obviously.” Abigail laughed in spite of her dire circumstances. Just wave your hands and erase two centuries worth of restrictions, will you? “This has been an entertaining theoretical discussion, but what did you envision might result from it? The aliens are breaking down the gates as we speak.”
“Now you come to Earth and make it happen. You’ll want to bring Valkyrie.”
“See, that is a problem. You recall I mentioned a few minutes ago the aliens have begun assaulting Sagan? Getting myself off the planet represents a significant challenge. Getting Valkyrie off the planet is impossible.”
A confident—arrogant?—smile pulled at Alex’s lips. “Nothing is impossible. Start packing her up, and I’ll get back to you with instructions soon.”
5
EARTH
SEATTLE
* * *
THE DOOR TO THE PENTHOUSE SUITE at the Waldorf Seattle-Vancouver closed behind Kennedy Rossi, and she collapsed against it for the space of a single deep breath.
Then she lifted her chin, shook her hair out and strolled into the accommodations she had procured for the duration—of her stay in the Cascades, of her work at EASC, of the Metigen War, of the world.
Noah stood on the balcony beyond the far end of the main room. The open balcony door allowed a brisk draft to cavort through the suite; she couldn’t say how long he’d been out there, but it was now freezing inside. She hugged her coat tighter before she stepped out to join him and hurriedly closed the door behind her.
He was leaning on the railing, a beer in hand and a heavy khaki coat draped over his shoulders, casting a positively soulful gaze at the city lights and moonlit waters. But when he saw her his expression took on a more lighthearted aspect. He offered her the beer, which she gratefully accepted.
“Hey. I was about to decide you were spending the night up at EASC.”
“Sorry. Lots of work, lots of problems.” She positioned an arm atop the railing to regard him with poorly-faked nonchalance. It was late, she was tired and there simply wasn’t time to postpone this conversation. “Noah, I need you to do something for me—for all of us.”
He stole the beer back from her, raised it to his lips and eyed her warily over the rim. “Shoot.”
“I need you to get your father to help us start up the adiamene production. We can’t figure out how to manufacture it reliably or rapidly or in anything approaching the quantities we hope to achieve.”
“What? No. No, no, no. Absolutely not.” He turned the beer up and chugged it empty, then let the bottle drop to roll noisily across the balcony table.
“Okay, I expected this reaction. But whatever else he is, your father understands metal production better than anyone I know of—and I know of most people in the materials industry.”
“You work for a ship manufacturer. Don’t you have materials experts on staff?”
She winced. “Not so much. We design and manufacture ships, yes, but the materials used to build them come to us ready to use. We have experts on which materials perform best to meet different requirements, but it’s a long way from understanding why they do so or how they got that way.”
“Fine. But the military has experts, right? They bui
ld thousands of ships a year. They must have experts.”
“Maybe they do, but no one I’ve talked to in Engineering or Manufacturing Logistics has any idea who they are. Apparently they build ships the way they do because that’s how the ships are built. I am overwhelmed at what a convoluted bureaucracy the Alliance is, and I don’t have the time to navigate it. Noah, please. All you have to do is send him a message and ask if he can consult.”
A low, dark chuckle rumbled up from deep in his throat. “I can’t, Blondie. Leaving Aquila was not a temper tantrum or acting out on my part—that door is closed. Permanently. I haven’t communicated with my father in nineteen years. Not once. Hell, he probably thinks I’m dead, which is fine by me.”
She rolled her eyes at the night sky.
“What?”
“You only call me ‘Blondie’ now when you’re trying to avoid a sensitive topic.”
“News flash? Of course I don’t want to talk about this. I realize you’re accustomed to snapping your fingers and getting your way, but you have no idea what you are asking of me.”
And she had been on the verge of empathizing with his angst. “When are you going to stop assuming I’m the worst kind of spoiled princess? I am not ‘snapping my fingers’ at you—I am standing out here in the freezing cold begging you for your help. Our ships need the metal. It may make the difference between winning and losing. You said you wanted to help fight the aliens? This is your chance.”
“Standing in the freezing cold on the balcony of the penthouse suite of the most expensive hotel in the city, I’ll point out.”
She hoped her deathly glare conveyed exactly how close she was to done.
Thankfully it appeared to do the trick, as his defiant posture melted. “Oh, goddammit, Kennedy. You know him—why don’t you contact him yourself? Why ask this of me?”
“Because with his primary facility destroyed and his home planet soon to come under attack by aliens he’s going to be a little busy and a lot preoccupied. I doubt he’d be interested in entertaining a random inquiry from someone he views as barely more than a cocktail party acquaintance. Noah, I’m not suggesting you go to Aquila. In fact I’d rather you not, as it’s in imminent danger and I happen to want you to live. Just reach out to him.”
He groaned and sank against the railing to drag a hand through his hair. He really did have fantastic hair. “I wouldn’t need to go to Aquila anyway. He’s here on Earth.”
“What? How do you know?”
“I checked, okay? Aquila is being evacuated and I…merely wanted to find out whether he was alive or dead. He came here as soon as the evacuation was ordered. In retrospect I should have realized he would never allow his precious ass to be placed in danger.”
“Noah, that’s great news. Did you find out where he is?”
His shoulders sagged; she was winning. “New York. Surno has a satellite office there for entertaining Earth-based clients.” He stared at her with darkened eyes and a grim frown…and she had to wonder the cost of her victory. “Can you even begin to fathom how much I don’t want to do this?”
She smiled in genuine affection and grasped his hands in hers. “I’m not certain there’s any way I can fully fathom it, but I understand enough to be truly sorry I have to ask it of you. I’ll go with you to New York, if you like?”
His head shook. “No. This is something I should do alone.”
“All right, I won’t push.” And she did understand. She hadn’t known him nearly long enough for him to allow her to see his scars being ripped open anew. “I’ll go on ahead to the Space Materiels Complex in Berlin then. Ideally, if you could get him to come there and evaluate the issues in person?”
“Right. No guarantees. In fact, I’m very likely to fail. But I’ll try, for you—because you’re cute and you kiss like a goddess.” He seemed to force a swagger back into his demeanor. “At least, I think you do…could you remind me?”
6
KRYSK
SENECAN FEDERATION COLONY
* * *
ISABELA MARANO DISCONNECTED the holo-conference with a tinge of sadness. The classes at Losice University had been virtual for the last week, but now they were officially canceling the rest of the session. Many of the students had already departed, fleeing to be with family or for refuge on one of the few Federation colonies farther west, and it had become impractical to continue under any pretense of normality.
Therefore, she had met with her students who remained for a final time, told them to be safe, wished them well and dismissed them.
She needed to return to Seneca, collect her mother and bring her here to Krysk. But she didn’t dare risk Marlee’s safety by taking her east when the aliens loomed so close. And she didn’t dare risk leaving her daughter behind again when there was a non-negligible chance she wouldn’t be able to get back home.
In retrospect she recognized she should have brought her mother back with her after she was released from protective custody. But at the time her thoughts were consumed by one singular goal: getting to her daughter. It hadn’t been her most rational hour.
She collapsed on the couch and considered the living room. The condo was a temporary home as she’d only intended on teaching at Losice for a year. But now it might become the last home she ever had. It was nice enough, spacious and—
—an alert leapt into her vision, and her heart leapt into her throat. She immediately activated it.
“Caleb, you’re okay! Are you okay? Where are you? How are you?”
Her brother’s wonderful, beautiful visage materialized, already brandishing the smirk she’d alternately loved and despised for some thirty years. “Hey, little sis.”
She grinned so broadly her cheeks hurt. “Hey, big brother. You look okay—and not dead, which is a relief.”
“I apologize for the whole disappearing act. Had some things to take care of.”
“I’m sure. You—”
Marlee barreled into the room and leapt into her lap. “Uncle Caleb, is that you?”
“Hi, muffin.”
“Are you coming to visit us? I miss you. Did you know there are aliens? I wanna see what they look like, but Mommy says they’re mean aliens.”
“And you are supposed to be watching your teacher in your room.” She hoisted her daughter off her lap and patted her on the rear. “Back to class with you.”
The pout which instantly sprung to life gave Marlee a petulant but also undeniably adorable appearance. “Yes, ma’am….” Her shout trailed over her shoulder as she scampered off. “Bye, Uncle Caleb!”
Isabela settled back into the couch cushions. “Sorry about that. She’s been talking about you non-stop ever since you visited.”
“It’s fine. She’s delightful.”
“Periodically.” She studied the details of the holo more closely but was unable to discern any distinguishing features of his surroundings. “So where are you? Are you safe?”
“I can’t say where I am, not right now. I wish I could. As for whether I’m safe, well, I suppose ‘safe’ has never really been my goal.”
“Right. You have a lot of explaining to do one of these days, you know.”
“I do.”
“And Ms. Solovy?”
He shook his head with a chuckle. “Alex is okay, too. Thank you for asking.” He met her gaze once more, an intriguing glint in his eyes. “I think you’ll like her. She’ll definitely like you, and she has very high standards.”
“Ooh, it’s serious enough that I get to meet her? I haven’t met one of your girlfriends in…I can’t even recall. Eight years? Maybe ten?”
“Well assuming we all make it through this small crisis, you do get to meet her.” He acted as though he wanted to say something further, but after a pause changed the subject. “What about Mom? Is she with you?”
“I’m afraid not. I’m trying to find a way to get her here, but the transportation system is near to breaking down from the deluge of people fleeing west.”
He no
dded understanding. “I’ll take care of it. I don’t know if I’ll be able to get her to Krysk, but I’ll make sure she’s protected—and evacuated if it becomes necessary.”
“Seriously? Thank you, that takes a weight off my mind.”
“It’s the least I can do. Now I probably need to go. I just wanted to check in and let you know I wasn’t dead and was back in the area. I’ll try to touch base again soon.”
She leaned forward intently and dropped her elbows to her knees. She might not have another chance, and dammit but she was tired of bearing this burden alone.
“Caleb, wait. Before you go, there’s something I need to tell you. It’s about Dad.”
SENECA
CAVARE
* * *
Alex went over to the kitchen station for some coffee…and to stall one final moment before beginning what she knew full well must come next. Caleb was still talking to his sister in another room. He’d been gone longer than she’d expected, but she supposed they did have quite a lot to catch up on.
She allowed the aroma of the coffee to surround her, filling her nostrils with hints of caramel, berries and a dash of nutmeg. It tasted surprisingly savory for government-issue, too. Not that anything about this place exactly screamed ‘government’—the furnishings, equipment, food and every other detail was of the highest quality.
She was impressed, but the Alliance doubtless had places like this as well. Given what she’d been told regarding its purpose, likely only one or two, though.
With a sigh she set the coffee cup on the counter and went back out to the sitting room. Delavasi was in the conference area conversing with some of his people, so she had the space to herself. Still, she moved to the far window for additional if illusory privacy.
Transcendence: Aurora Rising Book Three Page 5