"Such would be the case with any technology captured from an enemy. This is a test. It is a test of ability, adaptability, and resolve. I expect you all to pass it."
"Understood," the engineer said with a nod, hurrying back to the lab equipment to get to work.
She watched as her team began to pick apart the designs one final time before production, and slowly a smile came to her face. This was what it was all about. This was why she fought, why she took up the command. Karter had been attempting to manipulate her, that much was almost certain, but it didn't matter. He was right. He had the vision and skill to show the galaxy what is possible if you never allow yourself to stop moving forward. They would find a way to control him in time, and he would fuel the technological revolution that had been building strength for so long. It would be glorious.
#
In the Armistice, Ma's carefully plotted course had taken them safely to their second money gathering destination. By the time Silo had finished in the ship's 'shower,' all aboard had wisely chosen to pretend as though the slapping incident and the exchange that had prompted it had never happened, at least until they landed. This was somewhat difficult for Garotte, who had required three applications of ointment to heal the bruise from the final slap. The last few minutes had been spent getting Silo ready to take her first steps into public since her incarceration. Her blond hair had been dyed brunette, and her green eyes changed to brown to match. She was wearing a pair of large but stylish sunglasses, blue jeans, and black jacket over a white tank top. As a finishing touch, she'd even applied a dash of makeup. To the average onlooker she may as well have been out running some errands rather than on the run from terrorists and the authorities.
Garotte straightened himself up and looked to Silo, who was analyzing her new look in her slidepad's reflection.
"I don't know about the brown hair," she said with a frown, adjusting a few stray hairs.
"I'd suggested that you dye it red. I've always rather fancied redheads."
"Maybe if it was longer... So, how do you want to do this? Split up so that we can get through it faster?"
"Seems sensible. Our helpful little computer system has got your slidepad set up with a few of the accounts. Visit a few gambling kiosks, keep your payouts below, say, a half million, and meet back here in an hour."
"What's our story? Are we husband and wife?"
"After that little domestic incident, I'm thinking of getting a divorce," he said, rubbing his jaw.
Silo bit her lip, "Ooh. I'm sorry about that. I let my temper get to me. You deserved a wallop, don't get me wrong, but I might have overdone it."
"Water under the bridge, my dear," he said, flashing a charming smile. "It is what happens when a pair of soldiers quarrel. And besides, you are my darling Dora Gillespie, wife of six years and mother of our two beautiful children Dennis and Rochelle."
"Not Rochelle. I like Marie better."
"Dennis and Marie then. And I am your beloved husband, Peter. We are, oh, let's say public relations representatives on our way back from a trade show for composite flooring."
Silo smirked. "You really enjoy this a bit too much."
He pulled her hand to his lips and gave it a kiss. "Impossible. Shall we go?"
"Please. I'm ready for something larger than a jail cell or a space ship."
The pair opened the side door of the ship and marched out, allowing it to shut behind them without a second glance... and leaving Ma to watch them go. The AI flicked an ear and considered the mix of sensations and notions drifting about in her head. In the strictest sense, they hadn't wronged her in any way with their actions. They had all of the information necessary to perform the task at hand, and it had already been established that her presence would greatly increase the likelihood of their group being noticed and remembered. There was thus no reason for them to address her before leaving. Nevertheless, she was experiencing a pair of emotions that she, upon consulting the data available to her, believed could be positively identified as abandonment and resentment. They had not even said goodbye, something that neither would forget to do when departing one another. She grappled with the puzzle of whether these emotions were called for, and why they seemed to have asserted themselves so powerfully, when her slidepad finally managed to connect to the supply station's communication network and deliver the messages she'd missed during their journey. One message, from Lex.
She eagerly tapped and reviewed the message. As she did, she took careful note of what appeared to be a disproportionate enthusiasm for news from the pilot who, by rights, was no longer of concern for the current mission. He had been attacked, but was now safe, prompting what she felt certain was concern and relief in roughly equal measure. Prolonged usage of an organic brain was providing her with a marvelous amount of valuable data about the human condition, or at least what she was reasonably confident was a representative approximation of the human condition. She glanced at the time on the message and decided it was probable that he would be in communication range at this time. The appropriate menu was pulled down and a call was connected.
"Ma?" Lex said, his face sliding into view on the screen of the device. He looked anxious, and seemed to have ducked behind a piece of machinery.
"Lex. What is your location?" she asked, routing the device's text-to-speech through the connection.
"I'm at some planned community planet, CZ something or other. The SOB took some damage when..." he glanced left and right. "Well, you know when it happened. So I stopped here to see what I could do to fix it."
"You are showing strong stress indicators."
"Yeah, I'd say I'm pretty damn stressed, Ma."
"Your coarse language is not called for, Mr. Garotte."
"I'm sorry but I... wait, Mr. Garotte?"
"I apologize. It was the most accurate prepared statement available. How may I help you, Mr. Alexander?"
"Remember how I didn't want to get too involved? Because I was afraid I was going to have to do something I didn't want to do?"
"Yes."
"Well... I'm pretty sure these guys just forced my hand. I mean... Well, you got my message, right?"
"Yes."
"How likely do you think it is that they'll come after me again?"
"Exceedingly likely," Ma stated. She swiped out some more words. "And if you are able to escape them, they will likely seek means to motivate you to reveal yourself."
"You mean they'll go after the people I care about."
"That is a reasonable assumption."
"Okay, that's what I thought. How likely is it that these guys are going to get completely wiped out before that happens?"
"Exceedingly unlikely."
"So it seems like giving you a hand is pretty much the only option left."
"While it would be pleasing to me to once again include you in the mission, it is only proper that I inform you that joining us, even if it leads to the successful liberation of Karter, will not necessarily remove the terrorists as a threat to you."
"Maybe not, but it will keep them from coming after me by using some Karter-created prototype to wipe out whatever planet they think I might be hiding on. And it beats hiding in a hole and hoping they don't kill my friends and family. Plus, I figure if I help you out with this, you and Karter will have a pretty good reason to help me out with my problem."
"That is an intelligent and well-reasoned interpretation of the facts."
"Okay, so what can I do? How can I help?"
"Currently, Garotte and Silo are unavailable. Are you able to travel immediately?"
"Yeah, I think so. I'm not the best repair guy, but I've got it so the internal diagnostic checks out fine."
"I will deliver coordinates. How quickly can you reach them?"
Lex glanced at the lower edge of the screen as a set of stellar coordinates scrolled by.
"That's pretty far, but through freelancer-friendly space. I should be able to push SOB pretty hard... say a day and a half?"
&
nbsp; "Dock there within two days, find a secure location with room for your own ship and a Mobius Armistice C to land. We will arrive there in approximately 49 hours, assuming there are no interruptions to the schedule. Please run a full ship diagnostic, internal and external, with the command code 'level 3 diagnostic' and send the results to me. I shall endeavor to have the materials available to perform more reliable repairs to your vehicle."
"Yeah. Sounds good. Will do. I'll see you then."
"Lex."
"Yes?"
"I must express my deepest and most heartfelt apologies for involving you in this venture. It has caused a disruption to your life that may have far reaching consequences, and has endangered your own well-being and that of those you care about. If you are angry with me, or feel betrayed, that would conform to my expectations."
The sentence came quickly, without any need to assemble it. She'd had it ready for some time.
In return, Lex offered a weak smile. "Hey, knowing my luck, I would have got caught up in this mess anyway, right?"
"For you, this is probable."
"Okay, I'll see you in... Uh," he remarked, squinting at his screen, "Ma? Are you wearing jewelry?"
"Yes, Lex. Thank you for noticing."
For a few moments, the pilot struggled for an appropriate response. When none came, he simply shook his head and smirked. "No problem Ma. I'll see you soon."
"I eagerly anticipate your arrival."
The AI tapped the connection closed and processed the new information and associated emotional responses. Her installation onto this body had introduced the issue of motivations originating from two different sources. What she considered to be her primary emotions originated from her databases and algorithms dealing with appropriate responses and behaviors based on various circumstances and interactions. The others were distinctly chemical in origin, occurring without regard to logic or reason. It was getting progressively more difficult to differentiate which emotions were stemming from which origins. She wasn't sure if she was pleased or concerned about that, and she wasn't sure if her uncertainty regarding her pleasure or concern was rooted in logic or chemistry, and she wasn't sure if her uncertainty regarding her uncertainty... this line of reasoning needed to be terminated to avoid infinite recursion.
A welcome interruption popped up, in the form of Lex's scan results. She looked over the list of faults, most of which were minor or cosmetic, and assembled a list of necessary replacement parts. They were on a supply station, so a fair number of the more industrial components would be simple enough to purchase. Some deft tapping and swiping of paws on her slidepad screen connected to local retailers, queried inventories, placed orders, issued payment, and produced pickup instructions. She briefly pondered why it took Silo so long to do her own shopping. It warranted further study. All that remained was to contact the others for pickup. She opened communications to them both.
"Peter here," came Garotte's voice over the audio connection.
"It's, oh... Dora," Silo said. "Sorry. I'm not used to having a pad yet."
"I have been in contact with Mr. Alexander. He is now willing to offer aid. He has been given the coordinates of a position near to the scheduled pickup position."
"Really? I wonder what brought about this change of heart," Garotte mused.
"I will explain later. There is a small order waiting to be picked up at the maintenance desk of the station. Please bring it with you when you return."
"I'll get it, sweetheart. I think I'm right near there," Silo offered.
"Excellent. We'll have to discuss the new opportunities our latest recruit will offer," Garotte said with an almost giddy air. "Oh, how delightfully reminiscent of old times. Isn't it wonderful, my sweet?"
"I hate to admit it, but there are some parts of this life I'd missed," Silo said.
"I knew you'd come around," Garotte remarked, a grin in his voice. "You just wait until you see what sort of goodies I picked up for you. I'm telling you. Just like old times."
Chapter 25
Lex pulled on a jacket and checked the time. The planet he'd been directed to wasn't a planet at all, but a moon. It wasn't even one of those pleasant, tree-scattered moons swarming with fuzzy creatures that people sometimes conjure to mind. Sure, it was pretty. The whole surface was covered with multicolored rock formations, like a cross between the painted desert and a black-light poster. It had earned the place the name Jawbreaker. Scientists said the layers had something to do with the fact that twice a year the moon passed through the thin, wispy rings of the gas giant it orbited, collecting a layer of whatever happened to be drifting along in them at the time. No one really cared what the scientists said, though. The reason there was air to breathe was because it was extremely pretty and had enough gravity to hang on to a layer of breathable gas. That meant people wanted to look at it and could survive the experience, and that meant people would pay to look at it. So the corporations showed up and pumped enough oxygen into the thin atmosphere to support human life, set up a few monitoring posts and a few kiosks, and made the whole place into what was basically a planet-wide campsite, complete with firewood and marshmallows for sale.
With the thin, artificially maintained atmosphere it got very cold at night and very hot during the day, but since people were mostly interested in roughing it and taking in the scenery, that didn't matter much. There wasn't any water, either, but judging from the scattering of beer bottles, people had taken care of that problem themselves. Things weren't terribly formal or regulated. You simply stopped at the automated check-in kiosk, tossed them a recommended donation, picked up any supplies you wanted, and spent as much or as little time there as you wanted, with the understanding that the operators of the moon were minimally liable for any misfortunes that might befall you while you were there. It was a bit like a cross between the wild west and a boyscout picnic.
Lex had picked a spot near a series of divots that had been blasted into the terrain. People liked to blow holes in the hills to see the pretty colors underneath. It might not have been environmentally friendly, but these days there were more environments than there were environmentalists, and after a few weeks it would take an expert to tell the difference between a man-made crater and a natural one. He tossed some specially treated logs into one of the smaller craters, lit a fire, and stuck a few marshmallows on one stick and some hotdogs on another. There had only been enough time for him to begin to ponder the strange tendency for his psychotic escapades to have little moments of calm and serenity in them when the Armistice showed up and set down beside the SOB.
The side crew doors hissed open and lowered.
"Lex, my boy!" Garotte said, with hand extended. "Welcome back!"
"I just can't seem to stay out of trouble," Lex said, shaking his hand.
"More like trouble can't keep away from you," he said. "This lovely lady, by the way, is Silo."
"Pleased to meet you, Lex," she said with a shake. "I've heard some very impressive things about you."
"I can't say I've heard much about you, I'm afraid. Mostly just big guns and such."
"There isn't much more to say, hon."
The sound of tapping toenails drew Lex's gaze to the lowered door, where Ma was holding her slidepad and heading toward him with what could only be called a prance to her step. It was a decidedly "Solby" piece of behavior, further strengthened by her decision to leap to his shoulders without so much as a pause.
"Hey, Ma. Good to see you," he said, scratching her head.
She managed to twist her head and trigger a message. "It is very good to see you again, Mr. Alexander."
Lex marched around the ship in which they had arrived.
"An Armistice C? I can't say that I pictured you showing up in one of these. This is basically a moving van."
"Now, now, Lex," Garotte said. "This may look like an Armistice, but it is actually an Aggressor waiting to come out of its shell."
"Seriously? There are a lot of differences between an Agg
ressor and an Armistice. I mean there's-"
Garotte tapped at his slidepad a few times and handed it to Lex. The pilot reviewed it for a few moments.
"Yeah, that just about covers it," Lex said with a nod. "Let me guess. We'll be hooking all of this stuff up."
"I trust you know your way around an auto-spanner," Garotte remarked.
"I can bluff my way through most of the easy stuff."
"An admirable skill."
"What comes next, though? We're going to turn this thing into a gunship, and then what?"
"And then we're going to pick up one last weapon, and then we're going to go get our boy, come hell or high water. Time doesn't really allow for much else."
"Do you think we can do it?"
"Does it matter? It is the mission, Lex. We do what we must. Now," Garotte announced with a slap to Lex's back, "Let us get to it, shall we?"
The work was slow. Of the group, only one of them had a really firm understanding of every piece of work that needed to be done, and unfortunately for all involved, she didn't have any thumbs. Ma spent an hour carefully creating high-level tutorials for the others to work off of, then spent the remainder of the time supervising whoever happened to be working on the most critical system, unless it was Silo. This wasn't so much due to the fact that Silo didn't need the supervision, but because every time she approached, the protective sergeant would shoo her away with warnings that she might get hurt.
Close to six hours later, the four of them smeared with grease and worn ragged, the work was nearly done. You would have hardly imagined that it was the same ship. Every weapon mount was populated, vicious gun barrels and field emitters studded the hull, and the throaty purr of a replacement reactor promised that it could provide the shields and weapons with power to spare. It might not have been quite a match for the monstrosity that Lex had just survived an encounter with, but a fight between the two of them would have been one hell of a show. While Silo and Garotte were tightening the final bolts and connecting the final wires, Lex saw to the SOB.
"Are you certain that you do not want the others to help you?" Ma asked.
Unstable Prototypes Page 37