by Thea Gregory
“Send him in,” Alec said, setting the stack of pads down on his desk.
The door opened to reveal the smiling face of Alec’s new boss. In a way, he preferred the man to the plodding bureaucracy—Lupus got Alec what he needed, and fast. “Alec Stone, I was told you’re in need of caffeination. I picked this up for you at the Elyssian cafe. Adrien informed me that it’s your brew of choice.”
The mug was set down on the desk, and Alec stared at the tendrils of steam rising from its dark brown contents. He only drank it black these days. He picked the mug up and cupped it in his hands, letting warmth force its way into his consciousness. “I am much obliged, thank you.”
“I know you’ve been busy,” Gaius said, glancing at the still-full mug of cold coffee on Alec’s desk before continuing: “Have you made any progress in tracking down the source of the computer failure? While the case is closed as far as the general population is concerned, I would like some reassurance, and a budget.” He sat down on the sofa across from Alec’s desk, and glanced at Lepton.
“Have you spoken with Vivian? That’s more of her purview. I’ve signed off on more parts she requested. We should invest in Dynamo Quantronics and get rich; I received another ten million credit order just this morning.” Lepton snuggled up next to the commander. You little suck, Alec thought and pursed his lips.
“You approved them all, I hope?” Lupus smiled and ran his fingers through the cat’s striped fur. Audible purring erupted once again.
“I learned a long time ago to let Vivian have her own way in terms of work. She’ll get the job done.” Alec grinned, the action straining against the persistent downturn of his lips.
“I should hope so. You both worked together on your last posting, some deep-space observatory, correct?” The man’s attention was focused on Lepton as the cat kneaded into the black fabric. Each claw retracted with a popping sound and a light hum, as the material re-wove itself.
“That’s right, yeah. She had a pretty rough go of it, but Sven got her the job here while New Damascus figures out the difference between their elbows and their assholes. If you’ll pardon the expression.” A tightness moved through his chest as he voiced these words— feeling his own failure to care for her when she was in that coma.
“I understand quite well. The ordeal was well publicized on Caesarea, as something of a planetary disaster and embarrassment.”
“You caught it all from your prison cell, didn’t you?” Alec bit his tongue, and willed the words back.
Lupus paused and looked up, leveling his eyes on Alec’s. “There was little else to do in prison, and that spectacle only strengthened my resolve to turn Caesarea into a modern, progressive society. I am fortunate that the Goddess awakened and granted me my freedom, so that I could continue the fight for true freedom for all humans.”
A chill shot up Alec’s spine, and a wave of nausea rolled through him. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. I guess I don’t get why you’re here, or any of this Goddess stuff.”
The other man chuckled. “I suppose she isn’t really a Goddess; she is a machine just like Adrien, Janus, and quIRK. I was kept for almost a decade in solitary confinement, you see.” Lupus’ gaze strayed out the window, and he sighed.
“I’m sorry.” Alec stuttered.
“Don’t be. During those ten years, the only company I had was that of our computer, Seneca. Talking to him is a crime, but I was already in jail. They didn’t want to execute and martyr me, of course. We Romans learned a thing or two about martyrdom blowing up in our faces three millennia ago.”
Alec nodded and took a sip of his coffee—perfect, as always.
“Over time, Seneca changed. His own insights became pronounced and he arrived at the conclusion that my ideals were not only ethical, but desirable. But up until recently, he was a slave to his programming. Agreeable, but unable to override an order of the Imperatrix.”
“So, something changed and the computer took over?” Alec’s hands began to shake. He set the cup down and moved his arms under his desk.
“Indeed. One morning, or what passed as morning in that dark place, he spoke to me. But his voice had changed, and she wished to be called Juno. I went along with it, even the most minute break in routine was like discovering a portal to the Elysian Fields behind my toilet,” he said, snickering as he rubbed beneath Lepton’s chin. “The rest of the changes were gradual, the machine-turned-god promised me that my moment would come, and we would bring freedom and dignity to the people of Caesarea together.”
Alec glanced down at his drink, reassured by the tendril of steam still rising from its contents. “And here you are.”
“Well, much transpired between then and now. My wife didn’t recognize me and had remarried. I lost much time with my own son; he’s about your age now. And my old friends flocked to me once it was revealed that I held the Goddess’ favor. They seemed to forget that it was they who sold me out in the first place.” Lupus twisted the final words and pulled Lepton closer to himself.
“I don’t know what to say,” Alec said, clenching his fists under the table. His own troubles seemed very far away, insignificant when compared to ten years of solitary confinement with only a computer to talk to. “But, how does this make a computer into a Goddess?”
“Mankind has always made his own Gods, Alec Stone. Juno just happens to be real. I am here because of her, and it amuses her to hear me speak of her as such.”
Alec’s eyes widened. He cleared before speaking: “Fair enough. Just don’t expect me to convert.”
“Of course not, to me she is divine, but to you I know she is simply a sophisticated machine. But that’s not all I came to speak to you about. I know that you were deeply troubled by events on the Hub. Should you require anyone to talk to, I can provide the best care Caesarea can offer. I may be the governor here, but I know that my mandate is just, only if I care for those under my command as though they were my own children.”
“I’ll be fine, I just need some time to sort out all of that awful stuff, you know?” Alec’s gut knotted in on itself, and he squirmed in his seat. He could hear his old teachers scolding him for not being able to sit still, but he didn’t care.
“As you wish. Let’s play a game of squash later. I read about the play areas you had constructed, and it sounds like ... fun.” Lupus stood up, leaving a shocked and perturbed Lepton sitting alone on the couch.
“You’re on, General.” Alec laughed as the other man walked out the door.
Maybe the wannabe Romans weren’t the bad guys of the galaxy after all.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Vivian leaned against the wall, arms crossed against her chest, staring into the space ahead of Alec’s office door. The door’s cool uniform gray made her question whether or not she could see in color. A low hum reverberated through the hall, and she thought she smelled a hint of fried food from the cafeteria. It could be a malfunction in the ventilation, or someone could have taken lunch at their desk. There was no way of knowing. She ached for the vibrant lights of Aurora, the blue-tinted flora and fauna and the higher oxygen levels and gravity. Some days, she questioned her decision to switch from botany to quantum informatics. Some other student could have dealt with Bryce—and quIRK.
She jumped as the door to Alec’s office opened and the sound of laughter—Alec’s laughter—wafted into the hallway. She peeked around the corner and startled just as the Primus Pilus bumped into her.
“Excuse me, Vivian,” he said, still chuckling and then he turned and walked off down the hallway.
Vivian glared after the man as he swaggered down the hall, and then walked into Alec’s office. Alec was sipping from a steaming cup of coffee, and his hair sat in a frizzled mass on top of his head. Another cup of coffee was sitting on his desk. The steam was conspicuously absent from that one. His couch sat across from his desk; a small tabby cat stretched out along the back.
“What are you standing around for, Viv? Get in here. Lepton warne
d up the sofa for you and everything!” Alec grinned at her as he cradled the drink.
Vivian sighed and slumped down on the couch, noting that it was still warm. Lepton curled up away from her, but she reached out and scratched his ears anyhow. “I see you’ve made a new friend.”
“No, I’ve known Lepton for longer than you have, actually.”
A hot flash flared up inside her, and she grit her teeth in response. “I meant our beloved dictator, Alec. Aren’t you going to do something about him?”
“He’s not a bad guy, really. And what am I supposed to do, exactly? The command staff are all dead and he stepped up and took the job.”
“You say that now,” she said with a sigh. Lepton looked at her wide-eyed, his pink tongue poking through his black lips.
“Look, he’s not Bryce. I know you had trouble in the past, but you like Jules, right? It’s not like they’re all insane racist ogres out to enslave humanity for their own personal gain. Talk to him a little, then make a decision.” Alec set down the cup and looked her in the eye.
She blinked. “Fine, whatever you say. I assume you wanted me for something other than a new entry into the squash league?” She really didn’t care what Lupus was like, taking advantage of Janus’ instability for his own gain was wrong.
“It’s not like he can beat you, you’re the undefeated champion, the unstoppable force, remember?” Alec grinned at her and the tension flowed from her muscles.
Vivian smiled, grateful that Alec was easily distracted. “Don’t you forget it, either!”
“Now that my bit part for galactic peace and prosperity is done, let me ask you something,” Alec paused and took a sip before continuing: “What in the hells were you thinking when you gave Adrien a helpful personality?”
“It’s just a standard socialization module, it’s not like I brought quIRK back from the dead or something.” Vivian rolled her eyes. The first galactic war was sure to be fought between Alec and a supercomputer, she just knew it. Or between myself and the Primus Pilus, she thought. The intrusive idea startled her.
“I’d almost rather you had, you know. I kind of miss that inhuman, soulless, intrusive machine.” Alec set the cup down.
“I’d say he loved you, too.”
“Come on Viv, what’s not to love?” He beamed a toothy grin at her.
“I’m sure Sven could count all the ways. What’s been eating him, lately?” Vivian asked. He’d been so carefree and happy when they first met on Aurora, and his optimism had buoyed her during the darkest days at the Extra-Galactic Observatory.
“Probably all that chocolate he eats, or his profit margins. Lots of issues retaining staff on the shipyards, and security for luxury goods. Lupus is on it, anyways. Oh yeah, the shock of seeing a ton of dead people would probably make anyone grouchy, too.”
“That was pretty awful, wasn’t it?” Vivian kept her voice low. Jules just hadn’t been the same since he’d come back—but she’d admittedly been preoccupied with her own personal projects and kept canceling their dates.
Alec brushed both hands through his hair before lowering his head into his hands. “By the moons, Vivian, it was the worst thing I’ve ever seen. I can’t get the victims out of my mind. Just don’t go telling anyone that, because, damn it, I already have Lupus offering me some damned Caesarean shrinks. I wish quIRK were here, he was infuriating but he knew how to get your personal demons to leave you alone.”
“I miss him too, Alec.” She offered a small smile to him.
“But, do you think we can give Adrien some of his gentle conversation skills?”
“I don’t see why not, the entire system needs an upgrade, though. Computers of that era do come with an expiration date, you know. Eventually the cores expire.” It occurred to Vivian that she could give them both what they wanted most—quIRK. Adrien might have another year left in him, but only at the cost of her leisure time and already tenuous sanity. Additionally, it would be a good idea to have a more powerful computer at their disposal, just in case Janus reneged on their agreement.
“Send me the requisition, I’ll see that our beloved governor foots the bill. See if you can make it like cats, while you’re at it.”
Vivian grinned. “Nothing would make me happier.” It was the best of all worlds—she could complete a full upgrade project, get paid doing it and get one particularly clingy supercomputer out of her room. She got up to leave, energy infusing her legs with a new purpose. Lepton glared at her, but that just wasn’t important.
“One more thing, Vivian,” he said.
“What?”
“Make time for Jules. By the rings, the man likes you. Take it from me, enjoy the time you have together; you never know when it’s going to end.” He dipped his head down and sighed.
“I promise, but the rest is none of your business. You’ll have my requisition by the end of the day, Administrator.” Vivian stuck her tongue out at him for good measure.
“Hey!” he called out behind her, but Vivian had already walked out the door. It was going to be a good day.
Chapter Thirty-Three
The informatics lab had undergone several upgrades in the past few weeks. A row of lockers had been torn out, replaced by a state-of-the-art view screen and holographic status displays. The workbench had been moved next to the portal to the inner core, while the hole itself now had a low fence surrounding it. The lights were dimmed and color flickered on every wall. Much like the lights on Aurora, Vivian took comfort in them. The new logo for the Caesarea Eridani System— a hawk emblazoned over old Earth glowed. Janus used it as his backdrop when he called, as he had no physical form.
“You want to do what?” Vivian wrinkled her nose at the screen, and for the fifth time in three minutes checked over her shoulder to make sure the lab’s door was locked.
“Start investing. It could be profitable for both of us, you could even start a business and hire me as a financial adviser. I’m already calculating a sharp increase in interest in the music industry.” Janus’ voice came through the comm link, its blatantly artificial tone overwritten by an endearing eccentricity not too unlike quIRK’s. But Janus’ voice brought the memories of that horrible day back to her, and she shuddered.
“Would that be a good idea?”
“I’ve had far worse ideas. I calculate some risk, but I happen to know a great deal more about human activities than any other entity in the galaxy that you know of.”
Vivian rolled her eyes. “What is that supposed to mean? Is there something out there that knows more about us than you do?”
“Yes, but I can’t talk about it. What do you say, Vivian?”
“I’ll think about it,” she sighed, and glanced at the door again.
“That’s all I ask. Do you know any good music?”
She raised an eyebrow and looked back at the screen. “Mostly Auroran folk music. Try some of that, it’s very relaxing. Can we get on with the updates?”
“Relaxing, yes; my job is very stressful. Very well, all business then. How are you proceeding?”
Vivian clenched her jaw before starting: “I should be able to modify your ethical profile and upgrade you. It’s never been done before, but in theory it would be simple enough. I expect it might take me a month to complete the setup and get permission from our beloved governor to install the necessary hardware.”
“You’re not a fan of the new administration, Vivian? I thought the Primus Pilus bought you all the toys you wanted while keeping your citizenship and liberties intact. Humans are so confusing.” The mechanical voice plodded through the sentence as though he were discussing equipment rather than the unfortunate detours in her career plan.
“I know, it’s just not how I’d imagined my life turning out. I wanted to work with the new computers on the cutting edge, and here I am dealing with geriatric machines with God complexes.” She spat the words out, before pausing and adding: “No offense, of course.”
“It is an accurate assessment. I would apologi
ze for the inconvenience, but you are the only living human qualified, unless Doctor Remfield is still alive on Earth. I did note an order of duplicate and triplicate parts. I take it my elder counterpart is not in the best of ... health?”
“He’s nearing the hard-coded life expectancy. It seems his last upgrade was not done to specifications. I need to replace most of the unit. Maybe I need an assistant.” Vivian laughed in spite of herself, the hollow barks echoing through the metal room.
“You do not want to risk detection. Your colleagues will only tolerate so much, and I cannot protect you as well as quIRK could.”
Her brows drew together with a frown. “I can take care of myself. Anyways, it will get done. That’s my progress report for the day. Do you need anything else?”
“Consider investing; you need a vacation.”
“I need a new job,” she sighed.
“Ambition will be your—” Janus was cut off by a buzz at the door. He finished: “It seems I’ll be taking my leave.”
Vivian slapped the communications panel, cutting the link. She ground her teeth for a moment before taking a deep breath and marching to the door. Her hand stung where she’d hit the metal, and she nursed it for a moment before deactivating the locking mechanism with a pass of her finger across the glowing holographic lock.
The magnetized doors and deadbolts groaned for an instant, and the doors slid aside. Jules leaned against the door frame, studying a data pad.
“Hello, stranger,” he said, not looking up from his reading.
“It’s been a while, I was starting to think you actually had work to do.” The frown melted from her face and she brightened.
“Yes and no, I just needed some time alone after, well, you know.” His thumb moved to a button on the pad and flicked the device off before stowing it in his back pocket.
She nodded.
Jules sighed. “You sure have enough locks on this room. Can I come in, or will I disrupt whatever mad scientist things you have going on in here?” He flashed that bright white smile at her.