by Gwynn White
His mind bathed her in golden light as a complex net of neural relays, bio-nodes, and synthetic synapses flashed in shades of yellows and reds, lining stark white feathery appendages that shifted in the air as if moved by some invisible current. One of the feathery, white tendrils disengaged from a port in the ceiling and waved in front of the clear barrier.
“Approach the barrier,” his drone instructed. “Hold your arm out so I can scan the key.”
“Okay,” Liv agreed. She inched her way closer to the barrier and slowly held her forearm out toward the tendril that waved in anticipation of their contact. Beneath her skin, golden light swirled from the biometric key as it merged with the pleasant warmth of Ven’s mind. For a brief moment, his consciousness touched hers, a link being established between them, but it passed as quickly as it had formed. The feathery tendril retracted, recoiling to join with the rest of the neural network, and his drone sighed behind her.
“We’re finished,” he announced. “Thank you for trusting me, Liv.”
Liv held her arm to her chest and tried to smile at him, but he gestured her forward where the aperture stood open. Together, they marched back into the hallway. As soon as she was out of the room, the portal slid closed, and the bulkheads snapped into place.
“I’m going to announce the lockdown and the update,” he told her as he settled cross-legged on the floor and braced his back against the wall. “However, my drone will lose consciousness and go into his own form of standby mode. Don’t be afraid went that happens. It’s normal.”
“Oh,” Liv said as she blinked down at the drone.
There was a hum and crackle of static that told Liv the communication system had taken substantial damage, but it cleared and Ven’s voice boomed across the ship. “All crew, prepare to assume control of vital systems. Spire AI VEN-0115-343 preparing to update primary memory core. Migrating system controls now.”
The terminals came online all over the ship, giving the crew access to all systems. Her fellow crewmembers would be tripping over each other in an attempt to stabilize systems and assess damage as well as Ven’s sanity. If he’d told them he needed to assimilate a latent telepath who had been aboard the whole time as his acting telepath, who would have believed him? And they didn’t have time to waste trying to prove their story. The rogues could come back at any time.
“Controls migrated. Primary core update initializing,” he announced. “Primary core going offline now.”
His drone slumped over, and her heart raced even though he’d just warned her this would happen, but she kept returning to the thought that he looked dead. This update couldn’t end soon enough. All along the corridor, the sentinels went into standby mode, their weapons lowering, those long cords around their heads stilling, and the rows of optical sensors along the faceplates darkened. After a two second delay, the warning lights running along their shoulders pulsed back to life, but instead of the steady amber glow she was accustomed to, they now flashed between bright white and dark red.
At the opposite end of the hall, sharp pops and crackles were accompanied by the sparks from crewmembers’ separators as they attempted to break through the secondary bulkhead and gain entry into the corridor that led to Ven’s primary core.
That hadn’t taken long.
But they weren’t the only ones with a separator. She dug through a pile of supplies she’d spotted earlier when one of the sentinels had been bringing it in. Ven had likely foreseen this possibility.
She hoisted the straps onto her shoulders and adjusted the tool’s substantial weight then took a deep breath and stood up straighter. “This is Journeyman Engineer Liv Hawthorne, requesting sentinel,” she paused to glance at his manufacturing number on his breastplate, “VEN-0115-343-2965 to cycle up and prepare to receive orders.”
With a soft hum, the sentinel transitioned from standby to weapons hot. “Request denied. Invalid personnel security clearance for this area. You have ten seconds to remove yourself immediately or be neutralized.”
Liv gasped as the weapons pointed at her, but she held her ground.
“Nine seconds,” Ven counted down.
She slowly extended her forearm so that the sentinel could scan the biometric key, still faintly glowing beneath her skin.
The sentinel’s optical sensors locked onto the key, and a flash of warm red light scanned it. “Security code authentic. Sentinel VEN-0115-343-2965 acknowledges Journeyman Engineer Liv Hawthorne’s authority.”
“Okay,” she sighed, the tension in her back slowly easing. “We have work to do.”
Ven still hadn’t finished his diagnostics, or he would have acknowledged the biometric key instead of the sentinel. Damn it. Since sentinels were designed to function separately from an AI when necessary, which was exceedingly rare, they had rudimentary cognitive functions and could follow basic commands. But the finer points of reasoning, like ethics and morality, were lost on them.
“There are members of your crew on the other side of that bulkhead,” Liv informed him. “They intend to terminate your commanding AI, who they think has gone rogue. He hasn’t. I am acting on the last orders and wishes of Primary Link Renee. I am here to protect Spire AI VEN-0115-343 from destruction. You and the other sentinels will aid me in my mission. You will not harm any member of this crew unless they represent an immediate threat to myself, Spire AI VEN-0115-343, or to your own functionality. Do you understand?”
“Acknowledged.”
“Wake the others.”
As the other sentinels cycled up, their weapons came on line, targeting her and then just as quickly swinging around to face to the threat currently cutting through the bulkhead door. Liv stalked down the corridor, allowing each sentinel to scan her forearm and acknowledge her command. As she reached the end, she stayed clear of the hot sparks raining from the top of the door and studied how much progress the crewmembers had been able to make in such a short amount of time.
Whoever was on the other side had managed only one vertical cut about her height. They still had a long way to go before cutting an opening through the dense material.
She estimated that Ven would be back online long before the crew managed to cut through the bulkhead.
Fools.
Perhaps desperation had caused them to act without thinking through their actions, but when confronted with a rogue AI, neutralizing it by accessing its primary core was a suicide mission. They should have ordered all personnel to life-pods, overloaded the critical systems, planted explosives along the way, then detonated them once all crewmembers were safely out of the blast radius.
But Liv wasn’t going to stand around and do nothing while the crew further compromised the defenses around Ven’s primary core. Not to mention, every second the crew continued to cut through the bulkhead, the greater the likelihood that the sentinels would retaliate.
She slapped the control panel on the wall and ordered it to open. The locking mechanisms slid out of place, and with a shudder and deep groan, the door slid back into its recess. She braced her feet apart and lifted the separator’s heavy severing nozzle. A quick adjustment set the nozzle from a narrow dispersal pattern into a more panoramic spray of carnage. She hoped, of course, she wouldn’t actually have to use it, but the crewmembers on the other side needed to know she meant to defend Vengeance with her life… and theirs, if necessary.
“Back away,” she warned the two startled engineers kneeling in front of her.
The military personnel who’d accompanied the engineers pointed their weapons at her. The commanding officer cautioned, “Ma’am, put the tool down and come into the hallway.”
She quickly looked over his uniform. A major. This day kept getting better and better.
“Can’t do that,” she answered. “You are the one in a restricted area, and you need to take your men and these engineers back to Welner. I’m not letting you hurt Vengeance.”
The major tried to look over her head into the hallway behind her. “If I don’t have cl
earance here, there’s no way in hell you do.”
“I have clearance,” she responded and quickly flicked her arm over to show him the biometric key.
“Goddamn it,” he muttered.
“I’m acting on behalf of Link Renee,” Liv continued, ignoring the major’s exasperation. But Ven had to be back online soon. She only needed to buy him a few more seconds. “He isn’t rogue, and he transited safely. He needs time to assess damage and begin repairs, and I will protect him at all costs.”
A soldier in the hallway shifted, the noise drawing the suspicions of the sentinels who crowded past her. Liv couldn’t see around them, but a clicking sound made her heart jump into her throat.
“Hold your fire!” the major shouted.
More sentinels poured into the corridor, and a familiar battle-scarred unit pushed Liv gently against the wall, standing protectively in front of her.
“Ven?” she asked softly. “Are you all right? No, of course you’re not… not after everything…” She ran out of words and let the sentence die.
She instinctively reached up to the sentinel’s dented breastplate and let her hand rest there then stared at it as if it had acted on its own and she didn’t know how to remove it. Her cheeks warmed, and she tried to pull it away, but the sentinel caught her arm first, flipping it over so that the biometric key was exposed. Instead of scanning it, he ran his fingers over it gently, slowly, and asked her in that deep, rich, sexy tone, “Vengeance acknowledges Acting Telepath Olivia Hawthorne’s command authority. How may I serve you?”
A light squeak escaped her throat as she gaped at him. It wasn’t everyday so much power was dumped in her lap.
Soft but strong fingers touched her arm, and the sentinel released his grip on her. Liv blinked up at the man who held her now, and he smiled at her, that crooked, seductive grin. “Come on,” Ven’s drone told her. “We need to explain what’s going on to the crew before they mutiny.”
“Please tell me you’re joking.”
Ven shrugged. “Welner’s insisting I surrender control to him.”
“You mean he’s trying to force that endgame protocol on you?” she asked incredulously.
“Yeah, but—”
“But it’s not happening,” Liv insisted. “Tell him Acting Telepath Olivia Hawthorne says he can take his endgame protocol and shove it. You can also inform Captain Welner that Acting Telepath Hawthorne trumps his authority, so he can take his endgame protocol and have it tattooed on his ass if it’s so important to him.”
Ven arched an eyebrow at her, and for a few seconds, Liv wondered if she’d ever learn to keep her damn mouth shut. But Ven’s laughter erupted from his chest, and he released her arm. “Do you want me to deliver that message verbatim?”
“Um… maybe you should reword it a little,” she answered with a sheepish smile.
Ven nodded then gestured toward the hallway his sentinels had just cleared. “Let’s figure out how to diffuse this situation.”
Before he could walk away from her, she grabbed his hand and, as usual, spoke too quickly. “Ven… about Renee. I am so sorry. I can’t be her though. I just can’t.”
“I’m not asking you to,” he quickly assured her. “You’re a good person, Olivia. You’ll see this crew safely to Teutorigos, and you’re under no obligation to me or anyone else once there.”
“But,” Liv whispered, letting her thumb trace the back of his hand lightly, “I can offer you my friendship until then.”
His cheeks brightened, and he dislodged his hand and stuffed it into a pocket. “Thank you. I’ll need your friendship over the coming days.”
Liv blushed too, realizing both her actions and words had likely seemed oddly and inappropriately seductive. She’d only wanted to comfort him, not come on to him. “After we confront Welner, I’ll stay with you in medical,” she offered.
The drone nodded and guided her away from the wall. The sentinels moved aside to let her through but quickly reformed around her. While they were shuffling around like giant pieces on a chessboard, Captain Welner, Commander Lisk, and the other senior officers were doing the same on the other side of an invisible boundary. When everyone was in position, Liv found herself facing Welner across a twenty-foot stretch of corridor. And for the first time that day, she felt completely and utterly out of her league. What did she know about negotiations or diffusing potentially volatile situations?
It was only sheer stubborn will that allowed her to lock eyes with Captain Welner’s furious gaze.
“Journeyman Engineer,” Welner barked. “Your report. Now.”
“Sir,” Liv answered after a slight hesitation. She glanced at the other faces staring back at her, some of them comfortingly familiar, like Master Engineer Goodwin and Lieutenant Turner, two of the more sensible and levelheaded high-ranking persons onboard. In the wake of the disaster, the ship’s hierarchy had been thrown into disarray. Her life and role had been thrown into disarray too. With her functioning as the only telepath for Ven now, she no longer knew where she fit into the chain of command.
“Sir,” she tried again, “both Ven and I have been following the last directive of Primary Link Renee. Ven isn’t rogue, and I haven’t betrayed my Engineer’s Oath.”
“The safety of this crew is my responsibility,” Welner barked. “And at this moment, I’ve deemed Ven the greatest danger to this crew. He has exhibited irrational behavior and extreme emotional instability, to the point where he shut us out. And I’d very much like you to explain how Vengeance ignored a fully sanctioned Spire-issued directive.”
Liv squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. “Of course Ven is emotionally compromised! He just lost his entire telepathic family. But Renee maintained consciousness long enough to help him through transit. I was with them both the entire time. Ven isn’t rogue. He’s mourning. Who among you wouldn’t mourn for the loss of your best friend and entire family?”
Welner scowled at the sentinels and crossed his arms defiantly. “That doesn’t explain how he ignored the override.”
“Endgame? That’s simple. It wasn’t valid,” Liv replied.
“Not valid?” Welner repeated. Suspicion marked the captain’s expression and tone.
Live the lie, Liv thought. You know your personnel file inside and out. Just repeat what’s there, the same lie Ven is willing to pretend is truth for you.
“It’s not valid because he has me,” she explained. “It’s all there in my personnel file. My grandmother was a telepath so I carry the gene, but it’s always been latent. Somehow, during the attack, it awoke, and I managed to help Link Renee with the transit. She vetted me and instructed Vengeance to allow me to serve as Acting Telepath until we reach Teutorigos and he can have a full telepathic crew restored to him, as well as a link-level telepath. I can help us transit safely to the Spire.”
Liv extended her arm to show the small glowing mark to Welner and Lisk, and the other officers crowded around them to see as well.
“That doesn’t prove Vengeance is in a sound and sane state of mind. Or that he isn’t about to self-terminate,” Welner countered.
The drone standing at Liv’s shoulder stepped forward and addressed Welner directly. “Acting Telepath Hawthorne is correct in her assessment. I have not gone rogue, and while I am emotionally compromised, I’m not in danger of self-terminating or harming my crew, either willfully or accidentally. To ease your mind, I am surrendering control of half my sentinels to you and instructing the rest to assist the drudges in repairs. Weapons systems are being turned over to your people and control of other critical systems, like life support, are being transferred to engineers as we speak. Does that satisfy you?”
Welner gave the drone a sharp nod. “That’s a start.”
Welner didn’t relax. Even with her telepathic gift sealed up tight, she could feel his turbulent emotions bombarding her. Some humans were better at controlling their thoughts, and right now, she was grateful Welner wasn’t one of them because she preferred to know whe
re she stood with him.
She cleared her throat, and Welner’s attention snapped back to her. “Ven will be keeping a complement of sentinels stationed in a security perimeter around his primary core, of course.”
Welner’s dark expression shifted from Liv to Ven’s sentinels then back to Liv.
“As my Acting Telepath commands,” Ven instructed. She thought she detected a hint of amusement in his voice. The sentinels began to separate, heading in the different directions as they’d been ordered.
The Captain remained silent, but continued to scowl unhappily.
“Captain Welner, I should also inform you that all communication channels are still down, though repairs to arrays three and five are nearing completion,” Ven said, taking advantage of the momentary silence “But other Spire vessels will have received Trinity-Nine’s emergency dispatch about the rogue battle cruisers. I estimate rescue ships will find us within a day at most. Once they do, I’ll request one of the ships lend me a triad of telepaths so I’m transit worthy. Goodwin, if you would personally oversee the repairs to my transit drives.”
“I’ll help as well,” Liv said, but didn’t mention that she thought he was being too optimistic about another ship lending him three telepaths. And that was assuming three telepaths would volunteer since his primary core still needed to be examined so he could be deemed fit for service.
“Good,” Welner grunted and started tapping away at a mobile energy web. “Goodwin, as she’s also your Journeyman Engineer, get something that resembles an official report from her and have it on my desk in fifteen minutes. Then I want you both in briefing room C for a full report. Same for the rest of you. Emergency meeting in twenty minutes. I want to know if our asses are out of the fire or if we’re still sitting on the coals.”
Liv glared at his back as Captain Welner stormed down the hall, fielding questions and scanning reports as he walked.
“Asshole,” Liv mumbled.
Ven’s drone shifted his weight, and she glanced up at him, realizing he’d heard her. But his amused smile told her he most likely agreed with her.