One of the guards produced a baton. A swift strike dislocated a knee, eliciting a howl of pain from the governor.
“Charming. Do as I say, and I’ll allow you to live. Attempt to cause further trouble, and you’ll join the rest of your administration.”
He struggled to stand tall and proud, but collapsed when his now useless leg gave way. “I won’t take orders from thugs.”
“Suit yourself.” She slid the hilt of her gamma blade down her palm, activated it and with a single flick of her wrist sliced his throat open.
“Throw him over the side. Let the news cams see him. Let the galaxy see him.”
A darker-than-black void stared back at Olivia from outside the viewport. She spent far less of her time at her primary headquarters on New Babel these days. Able to execute all but the most particular elements of her strategy with a simple intentional thought, she could be anywhere at any time and control what she wished.
So she did.
Twenty-four crates of Skies+ shipping out from Argo Navis per day.
Four initial distribution center destinations: New Babel, Atlantis, Pandora, Requi, diverging to thirty-six final destinations.
Divert 17.6% of production to Lab 2B at Dolos Station.
She had moved first against the independent colonies scattered along the northern border of the Senecan Federation, because they were quick and easy, providing maximum return for minimal investment. Small, with skeleton governments and barely token defenses. Zelones had long maintained a strong presence on each of the colonies—Cosenti, Argo Navis and Andromeda—and it was a trifling manner to topple their leadership and install her own.
The greater efficiencies and economies of scale she’d uncovered and implemented throughout her organization since joining with her Artificial were translating into money, and a lot of it. She was spending the windfall in equally large sums. On increased defenses for New Babel, so there would not be a repeat incursion by military forces. On new ships, new weapons, new worlds.
Forty-two crates of Daemon mode-locking mods and laser fiber upgrades shipping from New Babel and Cosenti every week. Increase of 42.3% in the previous two weeks. Projected 127% increase by the end of the month.
Upgrade assembly line 4C at New Babel plant and line 2A at Cosenti plant using prototype nanobot fabricator units: projected throughput increase of 12.3%.
Her next move, in truth already well underway, was to create chokepoints between the southern border of the Federation and the rest of settled space, including virtually all Earth Alliance worlds. This wouldn’t be done through outright colony control. As powerful as she was, she was not yet powerful enough to topple the leadership of Pandora, Romane, Atlantis or Pyxis, though some of the smaller, more distant worlds were on the list.
But through effective domination of the black market, on the ground and in the trading lanes, she would not merely be the ferryman to whom the toll must be paid. She would be the only arbiter left standing.
Eight new cybernetic mods developed at Dolos Station this week. Demand is now outstripping supply by 31.7%.
Expand Dolos Station manufacturing space by two new modules. Funds allocated. Materials ordered. Job assigned.
Acquire suitable existing manufacturing facility on Argo Navis and repurpose for cybernetic mod production. Estimated time until first run: 6 days.
Pandora had long fought her attempts to grow beyond her allotted share of its market, but there was nothing the colony’s handlers could do to stop her if her competition no longer existed. Those competitors were now collapsing under the force of increased manpower, weapons, goods and credits. As well as the occasional targeted assassination.
Romane posed a more formidable challenge. But its citizens and government were nothing if not practical, and when the time came they would do what they must in order to survive. And the time was coming very soon.
She’d already bought ownership of the entire black and gray markets and criminal trade on Atlantis, even if no one, not even the law enforcement there, knew it. The magnitude of the proceeds which flowed from the wealthy spending their credits on illicit sins impressed her. The investment would pay for itself in—
5.2 weeks.
She glanced down at her arm, admiring the way the fine quantum circuitry glowed and pulsed. The web extending throughout her body had been painful to grow, but once it was done she enjoyed unprecedented access to all her quantum processes, plus a few valuable tricks. She hid her skin only when necessary, for in most encounters it served as a useful unspoken threat.
People feared what they did not understand, and they without a doubt did not understand her. Those who believed they did least of all.
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 advers
aries, 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 so
ldiers 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.
Dissonance: Aurora Renegades Book Two (Aurora Rhapsody 5) Page 2