“You shouldn’t have these here,” Burke said quickly. “This is too big of a risk. If they get out and burrow, there’ll be no getting rid of them.”
“We know,” Havard spoke slowly. “The security doors serve another purpose other than privacy. This entire part of the facility can be sealed off and flooded. There are layers of reinforced barriers in every direction. We never let them leave this part of the planet. We’ve taken precautions.”
Burke shook his head. “You should keep them on a station far away from any planet. Earth is theirs now. Mars was infested from just one ship that had captured a few for experiments. Only a few, and they dug and bred and now Mars is theirs too. This is too risky.”
“We’ve had them for years,” Havard said, still keeping his voice calm. “Most of the soldiers that survived the war weren’t able to reacclimate to society, so I know how difficult this is for you. The suicide rate of the veterans alone is a staggering figure. If it makes you feel any better, it might help explain why Adam turned on you.”
Burke’s face tensed into a glare that would have made any other man crumble. His upper lip curved into a silent snarl.
“It’s okay,” Cass said.
“What possible reason could you have for showing me this?” Burke growled. “I was born on earth. There was nothing to debate when I chose to sign up to defend it. I was there for all six years of the war. Six years of constantly losing ground, leaving bodies behind to be eaten because there was no time to extract them. Six years of new strategies from desperate generals that brought new ideas with a flourish of fanfare, proclaiming that it would end the war just to raise our spirits for a little while.
“And each time it failed. Each failure was worse than the one that came before it. Do you know what it’s like to live in orbit above your planet and watch as less parts of it light up during each night? You spout out statistics and theories like it helps you understand or sympathize with me. Fuck you. Why the fuck are you showing me this?”
He kept his jaw firm as Havard looked at him with pity, not anger, and it made his temper flare even more. He was out of line and he knew it, and the fact that Havard wouldn’t call him out on it made it worse.
“Because,” Havard said finally, “I need you to go back to earth and get something for me.”
“No. Absolutely not. Send someone else.”
“I already have. They never came back,” Havard said. “As you said, you fought the entire duration of the war. You’re among the few in the galaxy that have more experience fighting the dross than anyone else. I’ll pay you double your usual rate.”
Burke shook his head.
“That would be enough for our top choice of ship,” Cass said in his ear. “But if you don’t want to do it, then that shouldn’t be a good enough reason.”
“Fine,” Havard said. “A better reason, although this can’t leave this room. We’re on the verge of creating a weapon that will wipe them from the planet. Conventional weapons, as you well know, don’t work because of how entrenched they are below the surface. To kill them that way would be to render the planet uninhabitable. We’re working on a biological weapon, one that will sweep through their population and kill them.”
“You sound exactly like our commanders. It’s yet another brilliant idea that’ll require hard work and sacrifice but ultimately won’t make a difference.”
Havard turned to the cell and looked down at his tablet. Within a few minutes he had a compartment open from one of the walls and the dross backed away from it, wary of a potential threat. There was a low hissing noise, a gas being released within the cell, but no visible change that Burke could see. A few more moments passed before one of the dross fell onto its side. Its chest expanded and contracted quickly, like its breathing was labored. The second alien collapsed similarly a few minutes later.
“They’ll be dead within the day,” Havard stated. “They’d spread the virus to every dross they’d come in contact with during that time and, most importantly, they cannibalize their own dead. We’re in the late stages of ensuring there are enough varying strains that random immunities won’t let a percentage of their population survive. If we don’t get this right the first time, it’ll be two more decades until we can try again.”
“That looks promising,” Cass said. “I hate to admit that he might be right, but it might work.”
“You’d be helping end the war, finally after all this time,” Havard added.
Burke took a deep breath and then exhaled slowly, never taking his eyes off the dross dying in the cell. He thought of the conversation he had with Cass in the ship’s armory prior to reaching ACU. He wondered if this was another change that had happened to him without him realizing it. Would his former self have hesitated at any chance of striking back at the aliens that destroyed his home?
“What do you need me to do?” he said quietly.
“I’ll send the details to your ship when your aegis is repaired. Thank you, Burke.”
* * *
Two days passed before Burke’s armor was delivered to his ship. He stayed outside of ACU’s facility while he waited and didn’t hear from Havard again after receiving his instructions. Burke spent the time reviewing all of the information over and over. The dross were an enemy that he knew demanded careful planning, especially after he read what was required of him. It was far more dangerous than anything he had done during the war.
Natalie was among the group that brought the repaired aegis to his ship. She was, excluding Havard, the only person Burke knew in ACU. She was one of the people that designed parts of his armor and had worked with him over a week when he first purchased it. The suit had to be customized and altered to properly fit each wearer and his had been no exception. She had taught him the basics of how to operate it and conducted tutorials before she was satisfied that he understood how to work the aegis.
She stayed behind on the ship after the armor was deposited in the armory. The rest of the people that helped carry the pieces left the ship without saying a word. When they were alone, she looked at Burke and grinned.
“Your armor is worth more than your ship, you know,” she said. “You should do something about that.”
“I’m working on it,” he admitted.
She moved close to embrace him and was taken aback when he stepped away from her. He held his hand out and she looked confused as they shook hands instead.
“I was going to say I’m glad you’re not dead,” Natalie said. “But maybe that’s not entirely true. You’re different.”
“Like I said, I’m working on it,” he replied with a small smile.
“You could have sent a message before now. You didn’t have to wait until Havard contacted you. Did you forget how to send a message here?”
“No. I needed to be alone for a while.” Silence hung in the air between them before he added: “I still do.”
Natalie’s face went cross with anger and Burke felt it like it was a blow to the stomach. The expression on her face soon turned to something that hurt him far more: concern. The tension in her forehead softened and her mouth eased from its frown.
“I don’t understand,” she said. “But after what happened to you, maybe you’re the only one who can. I’ll be here when you’re ready.”
She was being more understanding and fair than Burke thought he deserved. He wanted to undock the ship and fly away. He turned to his armor and saw that it looked significantly different than when they arrived. They had done more than repair it and he grasped at it to change the subject.
“What did you do?” he asked, harsher than he intended.
“What?” she replied. “Oh. We’ve developed some new features since you were last here. I took the time to incorporate what I could into your armor while making the repairs. I added them for free, so don’t tell Havard.”
She smiled at him like the awkwardness of the last conversation never existed. He walked to the armor and circled it once. The structure of it looked th
e same but the colors had been stripped away to white and black. He guessed it was a result of the reparation process and old coloring had been worn away. The helmet was the biggest change: it had been entirely replaced, not restored. He knew the damage it had sustained was bad but he had no idea the extent of it had been so drastic. He held it in his hands and rotated it to check every part. It was heavier than the previous one, and the faceplate looked to be sturdier to offer more protection to his head. He was surprised that he liked the new design better than the old one.
“Thank you,” he said when he turned to her.
“Don’t thank me yet. We didn’t get all of the pieces, so I’m not finished. Whoever came to get the armor forgot one of the leg plates. I should be able to fix it tonight, but I’ll need to find it.”
He kneeled down without saying anything and gripped the right leg of his pants. He pulled it up and showed her the prosthetic. Once again, her look of concern was overwhelming. He stood up straight and looked back at her.
“Oh Burke,” she shook her head.
She stepped in too fast for him to back away and wrapped her arms around his chest. She squeezed him tightly, just for a moment, and then stepped away before he could respond. She said nothing else and turned to leave the ship. He was dumbfounded as he watched her, trying to put himself into her position. He admitted that if the situation had been reversed, he probably would have done the same thing
He heard the ship’s doors close and he climbed the stairs to the helm. He sat at the command console and initiated the undocking procedure. He should have been happy that his armor was repaired and the alien’s core was finally off the ship now that he was leaving ACU behind. He wasn’t sure what was making him feel worse: the conversation with Natalie, or the looming task of returning to Earth laid out in front of him.
“You should have messaged her,” Cass said when they left the planet’s orbit.
“I know. But I can’t trust her.”
“You won’t trust her. There’s a difference,” she said gently.
“We work alone. It’s one of our rules.”
“But we decide what the rules are.”
Burke didn’t respond and engrossed himself in setting the ship’s course instead. It would be just under two weeks of travelling until they reached Earth: three days back to the jump carrier, and one additional jump in the next system. The Solar system was still fairly populated despite what happened to Earth and Mars. Most humans lived in stations around Venus and Jupiter. Even though the stations were out of reach of the dross, none remained around the infested planets.
“This isn’t something that’s going to be fixed with a conversation,” he said firmly without taking his eyes from the command console. “Besides, we have more important things to discuss now that we’re away from ACU where they were undoubtedly listening in on us. Was Havard telling the truth about you? Has no other AI lived as long as you have?”
“No,” she answered. “Yes. I don’t know.”
Burke felt more worried. It was unlike her to be vague.
“Cass,” he said.
“I don’t have access to their records, and they might have the only computer network in the galaxy that I can’t hack my way into. Maybe with a few months I could get into it. There are no outside records of any functioning AI without restriction programs. You voided my warranty when you did that,” she said with a small laugh.
“Is something going to happen to you?” Burke said, keeping his mouth a straight line. “If going back to ACU will prolong your life, maybe you should do it.”
“No,” Cass said firmly. “No, I won’t. I’m fine. I don’t know why I’m fine, but I know that I am. I’ll start working on getting into their systems to see what’s been done differently for me that’s let me survive. We’ll be working as I do it. It might take years.”
“If you start showing signs of degradation, do you promise to consider Havard’s offer?”
She didn’t answer.
“If you ever become inoperable, do I have your permission to take you back to them?”
“I’d be dead if that happened,” she whispered.
“I wouldn’t give up on you that easily.”
“If it gets that bad,” she said slowly, “then yes. I’ll make sure it doesn’t, though.”
“Always have a backup plan. That should be another one of our rules.”
Burke reviewed Havard’s instructions several more times before they reached the Solar system. The jump carrier arrived at the gate in orbit around Jupiter and only a handful of ships exited from it. He set a course directly for Earth and knew they would arrive within a day.
The mission was to retrieve the data stored on a crashed robotic drone that had been operating near the planet’s surface. The information Havard had provided was vague about its purpose and it frustrated Burke, as he was unable to see how it could be connected to the weapon he had seen at ACU. Still, the potential of finally winning the lost war had stirred something inside him and he couldn’t bring himself to walk away from the job.
The drone’s location was still being transmitted to ACU’s satellites around Earth and could show its location on his ship’s console. The rest of the drone’s functions were inaccessible. By design, it had been intended to only be interfaced physically to prevent any possibility of someone copying the data. That precaution had backfired on them now that the drone had been disabled. It was lost on the infested planet and someone had to go down and get it by hand.
In the final hours of their journey, as they passed Mars’s orbit, Burke withdrew to the ship’s armory. Cass was busy making her final preparations on controlling the ship while simultaneously travelling with him onto the planet. Similarly, he strapped on his armor sooner than he usually would have for a mission. Now that he was facing the dross again, he wanted to be as comfortable in his aegis as possible and it had been weeks since he had last worn it.
There had been no changes made to the interior of the armor that he could feel against his skin. When the last piece, the helmet, was equipped, the inner layer of the aegis slowly inflated to fit around his body as it always had. The only change he could see was the visor’s display, feeding him visual data of his surroundings and allowing him to see while being sealed away from dangers. The suit’s display looked crisper than it had been, and he wondered if it was something that had been improved, or because it had finally been repaired after years of quick fixes.
The suit completed its initialization. Burke was about to walk around the armory when the display abruptly changed to a video recording. The display flashed blue for a second and then Natalie’s face was there, in front of his eyes like she was standing before him. She had used the helmet’s perspective to record a message and the sudden change made him dizzy for a moment. Gone was the armory around him, replaced by Natalie’s work station at ACU. As she spoke, he felt like he was standing once again in the facility.
“Hi. Hello. This is strange, talking to you while it feels like I’m talking to myself,” she began, her voice a low whisper. “I just finished the repairs and I’m about to come up and see you in your ship. Since you decided not to message me,” her eyes widened slightly and she gave a quick shake of her head, “I don’t know how that meeting will go. I might be too angry with you to explain the new additions we made to your armor. So, a message. So, me talking to myself.”
Despite the flash of guilt Burke felt, he found himself smiling.
“The close quarters weapons in the arms now function in two directions. Before you could twist your forearms in any direction to activate the blades. Now you can set up a trigger for protruding them at something behind you, or in front, by releasing half of the blade from your wrists. You can set that up however you like.
“Kinetic barriers around the armor have been improved. They were already in place but we’ve found more efficient ways to create them. This means that you can either operate the aegis for longer periods of time before requiring more ene
rgy, or Cass can create stronger barriers for you to deflect projectiles. I’m close to perfecting a permanent version of the barrier, one that only loses energy when something collides into it. Cass would be better to talk to about that, but I can’t talk to her right now because you didn’t message me from your new ship.”
She smiled at the camera and then laughed.
“This was definitely a good idea,” she continued. “I don’t think I’m getting through the meeting without having a fight. And as much as you might deserve to stumble around, oblivious to all the improvements, I don’t want you to get hurt.
“Lastly then, a propulsion system has been added to the legs of the aegis. You should be able to use it to launch yourself from the ground, with varying results depending on the gravity of the planet you’re on. Only one of the legs from your armor was brought to me but I should have gotten the second one from you by the time you watch this. Strange though, since they keep insisting that they didn’t forget any pieces.”
She nodded once.
“That’s everything. Now, if you’re avoiding me because you don’t want to talk to me that’s fine. But I’d like to hear your reasons. More importantly, there are other things we need to talk about. Not just about me and you. If you understand.”
The video abruptly ended and the visual of the armory returned on the screen. Several diagnostic messages popped up over the display, one signalling that Cass had joined with the armor. He was about to speak but she was faster.
“I didn’t want to interrupt in the middle of that,” Cass said. “I think she means something is happening at ACU that she can’t speak about.”
The Bounty Hunter: Into The Swarm Page 4