Lyssa's Flame_A Hard Science Fiction AI Adventure

by M. D. Cooper

  “So… What do we have?” he asked, the phrase he had used to start all their other brainstorming sessions.

  Brit sighed, assuming this was going to become another hour of wasted words.

  “We have Jirl,” Starl said. He glanced at her. “Does Arla still buy your excuse for not being back yet?”

  Jirl nodded with a pensive look. “She ended our last conversation by telling me she was going to send a ship if I went another day without booking passage, so my time is running out.”

  “As I expect,” Starl said. He twisted his fingers in his hair on either side of his head. “So we have Jirl, who may or may not be trusted. We have Major Sykes, who can operate power armor and other offensive systems. We have Petral, who might be able to gain access to certain systems if given enough time.”

  Petral flashed a sour look, unhappy with the mention of her inability to hack any of the building’s systems so far.

  “We have Lowspin and its resources. We have me and my big mouth. We do not have Captain Sykes, the Sunny Skies or Lyssa.” He nodded to himself.

  “We’ve been over all this a thousand times,” Brit complained. “Why did you pull us back in here?”

  “We have something new,” he said. “We have Petral’s Weapon Born seed.”

  Jirl straightened in her seat. “You didn’t activate it, did you? They call back with location data.”

  “Please,” Petral said. “I appreciate your concern but that’s something you expect to happen with these sorts of systems. The hard part is isolating the thing and then convincing it that it was able to phone home.”

  “Were you able to?”

  “Yes,” Petral said.

  “I called everyone here because I think we should all meet our Weapon Born friend,” Starl said.

  Brit frowned. “You sure that’s a good idea?”

  “I have another surprise,” Starl said. He tapped the surface of the table and a second image appeared on the holodisplay. Sitting in the midst of the Raleigh skyscrapers was the flat-headed mech jaguar that had attacked them on the Furious Leap. Brit’s pulse spiked when she saw the thing, all flat black planes and claws.

  “You found another one?” Brit asked.

  “We found a cache of Heartbridge mechs,” Starl said, obviously pleased with himself.

  “Where?”

  “Raleigh,” Petral said.

  “Where in Raleigh?” Jirl asked, frowning. “There aren’t any Weapon Born facilities on High Terra.”

  “The TSF stole a few, apparently,” Petral explained. “They’re sitting in a hangar in the sublevels of the TSF headquarters, less than twenty kilometers from the Heartbridge building.”

  Jirl’s mouth hung open in astonishment. “I’ve been there,” she said. “That’s where Yarnes works.”

  Starl nodded. “I’ve been reviewing the private maglev paths between the TSF facility and the Heartbridge Headquarters,” he said. “I think that’s our in. If we can convince our Weapon Born friend to fight with us, we could get it into a new body, then deliver it to the Heartbridge building and let it start digging. During some sort of distraction, of course.”

  “What sort of distraction?” Brit asked, giving Petral an annoyed glance for having withheld the info about the Weapon Born seed.

  Petral shrugged. “It happened fast. I was just able to wake the Seed in the test environment. It still thinks it’s on the other clinic.”

  “It doesn’t remember what happened on the Furious Leap?” Brit asked. “The whole part of us blowing it in half?”

  “It’s not like Lyssa or the others we’re used to, apparently,” Petral said. “I was able to run a system reset and clear the recent mission logs.”

  “It isn’t sentient, then?”

  “It is,” Petral affirmed. “It’s just got tighter controls than the others. It’s a good little soldier. It’s possible to wipe a human’s memory. Does that make us non-sentient?”

  Brit shook her head. “We keep saying it,” she said. “Does it have a name?”

  “Tristan,” Petral said.

  A communication request tickled Brit’s Link and she checked the queue, surprised to find it was Fran.

  Petral must have seen her confused expression. She asked, “What’s wrong?”

  “I just got a recording from Fran.”

  “Did you check it?”

  “Not yet. Why would she be contacting me unless something had happened to Andy?”

  They shared worried looks.

  “Can I listen in?” Petral asked.

  “Sure.” Brit passed the recording to the room’s shared channel and Fran’s voice emerged from the speakers.

  “Brit, look, you probably don’t want to hear from me but I’m not going to hide information from you. Cara and Tim are fine. We’re not in Neptunian space anymore. I’m heading for Traverna. It’s a station in the Hellas asteroids. It’s not a particularly safe place, but they’re known for the medical facilities. Something’s happened to Andy. He’s having some pretty bad headaches and keeps passing out. It looks similar to what happened to Petral. Lyssa is able to monitor him and let me know when he’s about to go out, but that’s what’s happening. You probably know the Resolute Charity is gone along with Proteus. That’s all over the news.

  “Andy, Fugia and Harl were on Larissa when the launches happened. They found some sort of lab there from a company called Psion Group. Fugia pulled their data records. They seemed to have been controlling the nodal AI Alexander but Lyssa and Fugia haven’t figured out how yet. In the meantime, I’m taking Sunny Skies to Traverna to get Andy some care. After that, I think we’ll have better communication and I’ll send you an update, or hopefully Andy can do that. I’m not great at these kinds of messages, so that’s everything I know right now. I’ll send more info when I have it, like I said.”

  The recording ended.

  “She contacted you, not me,” Petral said. “That’s interesting. I’ve known her for fifteen years.”

  “She doesn’t seem that bad,” Brit said begrudgingly. “Which makes it harder to dislike her. Have you been to Traverna?”

  Petral nodded. “It’s a rough place. Probably equal to Cruithne but no JSF presence. Private security, mercs, privateers that might as well be pirates. It’s a fuel point that grew over the years. Look, if what what’s going on with Andy is similar to what happened to me, he’s going to be all right. He’s still there he’s just, paused. It was like falling.”

  “You were conscious while it was happening?”

  “No,” Petral said. “I wasn’t conscious. I remember the feeling, but I wouldn’t call it awareness. Can you have a memory of unconsciousness? I don’t know.”

  Brit crossed her arms, nodding to herself, hating the sense of helplessness overwhelming her. Without Andy, she couldn’t trust the kids would be all right, and now they were in the care of people she barely knew.

  “You can’t do anything until they reach Traverna,” Petral said. “And we’ll be done with Heartbridge before then.”

  “You think so?”

  “Can’t change distance. You going to send her a reply?”

  Brit nodded firmly. “Yes. Give me a second. I need to figure out how to say thank you.”

  “You just did.”

  “You think you’re funny,” Brit said. “But you’re not.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  STELLAR DATE: 12.08.2981 (Adjusted Years)

  LOCATION: Sunny Skies

  REGION: En Route to Traverna, OuterSol

  Cara was shocked awake by a clawing hand on her shoulder. Her first thought was that something had changed with her dad. She turned her head to find May Walton’s face close to hers. The senator’s eyes wide and frantic. Her breath came in short, hot puffs.

  “I need your help,” May whispered. She glanced back at the closed door, a bird-like movement, and then pressed closer, her fingers digging into Cara’s shoulder.

  “That hurts,” Cara said. The pain drove sleep away. />
  Cara pushed herself up in the bed and slightly away from the senator. She had never seen May look this way before. It was like someone else had possessed her body, someone with frightened tics, haunted by a ghost.

  “Are you all right, May?” Cara asked. She looked at the closed door over the senator’s shoulder. “Is Harl outside?”

  “I got away from him,” May hissed. “Sleeping drug. He’ll be out until morning.”

  Even with half a meter between them, Cara’s still felt the senator’s hot breath on her cheek.

  “What do you need?” Cara asked, doing her best to keep her voice even.

  “Do you have the robe?” May asked. “The comin-sa robe? The one I made for you?”

  “My birthday robe? It’s in my closet.” Cara pointed at the wall. “It’s right inside there.”

  “Get it,” May said. “Get it and put it on. I need your help, Cara. You’re the only one they’ll listen to. A young girl in the comin-sa robe. They’ll trust you.”

  “I don’t understand,” Cara said. “Why would anyone believe me over you? You’re a senator.”

  May’s chin trembled, tears welling in her eyes. Cara couldn’t recall having seen May since her dad came back on board with Fugia, and they finally talked to Alexander. The senator had talked to the AI for hours, getting no more information than it seemed they already knew: Ceres would be destroyed.

  “Please, Cara,” May asked. “I need your help. The Senate won’t listen to me, and if I sent a message to the people it would be seen as politically motivated. They won’t believe me. But if you send the message, they’ll listen.”

  Cara didn’t trust that anyone would believe her over May, but she did want to calm the woman down. She didn’t think she’d ever seen anyone this upset in real life besides Tim, before he went to Clinic 46.

  Cara wondered how she would feel if someone had told her that everything she knew and loved was going to be destroyed and no one would listen? It would be terrible. She had been watching vids from InnerSol since Proteus exploded and it seemed like the entire Sol System had gone crazy. No one knew what to believe.

  Pushing her covers back, she slid off her bed and crossed the room to the closet. The ceiling lights rose to a dim glow in response to her movement. The robe was behind Cara’s other three shipsuits, covered in a plas sheet to keep it safe. She pulled it off its hanger and held it up.

  “That’s it,” May said. “Oh, it’s going to look wonderful. You’re going to look just like Jee-quera.”

  “Who’s that?”

  “A girl who spoke truth to power, before the Collective moved to Ceres. It’s one of the oldest stories we have. There was no Senate then, just a council. The people that made up the Collective then, they were on the verge of abandoning the project. A girl named Jee-Quera stood before the leadership and told them to find a home and a purpose. Well, her name was Jee. The quera was added later to commemorate her bravery.”

  Cara gave her a sideways glance, not fully believing the story. Talking about it seemed to calm May. Her bloodshot eyes glowed in the low light.

  “I don’t have the recordings here or I would show you,” May said. “You’re going to look very much like her.”

  “What do you want me to say exactly?” Cara asked.

  May waved her hands. “Put on the robe. Let’s see it on you. Then we’ll talk about the message.”

  Cara slipped the robe on over her undershirt and shorts. It was roughly t-shaped, with straight sides and wide sleeves. A sash hung from the front waist area.

  “Hold your arms out straight,” May said. She stepped closer to pull the robe’s edges out tight, then wrapped them back against the small of Cara’s back. Holding the sides in place with one hand, May wrapped the sash around Cara’s waist, one end at a time, until she was able to tie a complicated knot against Cara’s bellybutton.

  “Good,” May said in a low voice. “Now drop your arms. Let me see the sleeves.”

  “It’s stiffer than I thought it would be,” Cara said. “Did a teenage girl really wear this? Like on a normal day?”

  May stepped back, clasping her hands under her chin as she looked at Cara. “No, of course not. This is the ceremonial robe that celebrates her stand. The robe represents the history of the Collective, taking us all the way back to the Peninsula on Earth. Without Jee-Quera, we would never have undertaken the terraforming project. She gave our people a purpose.”

  Cara stepped around May to look at herself in the wall mirror. The robe made her look like an ancient image.

  “Do you have a headband?” May asked. “We need to pull your hair back.”

  Cara pointed at her nightstand. May found the band and walked behind Cara to slide it through her hair. With the band in place, the costume was complete.

  “Oh my,” May said, standing beside the mirror so she could look at Cara. “You really do look like her. This is going to be perfect. This might even be better than I hoped.”

  May turned to face the wall beside the mirror and pulled a small box from her pocket. She attached the device to the wall at shoulder-height and stepped back. It was a holo recorder. A red light blinked in one corner of its body, while a ring of shifting blue lights lined the recording aperture.

  “I’m going to stand here where the recorder can’t see me,” May said. “I’ll say the words, and then you’ll repeat them. Some of the things I’ll say have special meaning for the Collective, so please don’t change them, even if they sound strange to you. Understand?”

  She gave Cara a trembling smile.

  “An in-joke,” Cara said. “I understand. Like Rabbit Country.”

  “Yes, like when your father says Rabbit Country.” She sidestepped away from the camera. “The recorder will edit me out, but you can also ask me questions if you’re not sure about something. Is that all right?”

  Cara hesitated. “You’re sure this is going to help people believe they’re in trouble? What if it just makes everyone go crazy like other places in Sol?”

  “It might,” May acknowledged. “But at least they’ll know the truth. I hope they’ll take action. We don’t know how much time is left.”

  Biting her lip, Cara nodded. “All right.” She didn’t like this new version of May. Anxious, desperate—she seemed like a malfunctioning version of the woman she had seen as such a rock during the last month. May had weathered every storm they encountered until Alexander turned into a death sentence for her world. It was a hard thing to imagine, and all Cara could think of as an example was Proteus exploding.

  “I want to help,” Cara said.

  “Good,” May said, nodding. “Thank you, Cara. Are you ready?”

  Cara faced the recorder. A tickle of blue light danced in her peripheral vision as the recorder activated. The blinking red light turned solid.

  May cleared her throat. “Friends in the Collective,” she said, her high, clear voice returning. The senator’s voice.

  May’s confidence helped Cara stand taller. She repeated, “Friends in the Collective.”

  With May’s guidance, Cara told the recorder, “I greet you in a time of danger. Everyone has seen the death of the moon Proteus and the mysterious launches from Neptune’s other moon, Larissa. People of the Collective, I am here with a grave warning. Those launches were not mysterious. They were missiles, and those that destroyed Proteus also stated their desire to attack Ceres and the Collective.”

  Cara took a deep breath, imagining a girl her age hearing these words.

  “From this moment, friends, every member must focus on evacuation. Our people have been adrift before and we can do so again. We have devoted ourselves to the terraforming project and we can rise to this same challenge. There may be safety on Ceres. But most must evacuate. You must evacuate.”

  May gave her a small smile.

  “For the future of the Collective and the dream we all share, listen to me. Heed this warning. Be thoughtful and use your prudent planning. Remember the Lesson of the A
nts. Together we are strong, and we will survive. But we must abandon Ceres.”

  Cara felt herself start trembling with the last sentence. She couldn’t stop imagining crowds fighting for exits, children separate from parents, ships crashing into each other.

  The blue lights faded, leaving only the dim ceiling lights.

  May clasped her hand and released a breath. She gave Cara a resolute nod, then turned and tapped the face of the recorder. The red light became blinking yellow. Cara realized it was connecting to the ship’s communication network. May was going to broadcast right now.

  “Don’t you want to make sure it’s good?” she asked. Her heart banged in her chest, the reality of the message going out to an entire world squeezing her chest.

  “It must go out now,” May said.

  The yellow light went solid. Cara counted, reaching eleven when the light turned green. The message was sent.

  “I’m afraid this is going to hurt a lot of people,” Cara said.

  May took her shoulders, looking at Cara’s face. “You have saved millions, Cara.”

  “How are they going to believe it’s even true? Couldn’t anybody make a message like this?”

  “It will be disseminated by trusted groups in the Collective, separate of the Senate.”

  “Couldn’t they have done this themselves?”

  “There was disagreement. As the missiles fly, they could not decide which door to take when all lead to safety. This will ensure the people are safe. At least some of the people.”

  “I hope so,” Cara said.

  May didn’t let go of her shoulders. “You were the vision of Jee-Quera. Clear and strong. You will be a force when you come into your power, Cara. Remember me then. I saw you.”

  Cara averted her eyes, uncomfortable with the praise. She couldn’t help her dad. She could barely take care of Tim.

  The door to her room slid open, showing Em standing in the doorway. The Corgi was doing his nightly checks. Cara was grateful for the distraction, and she took the opportunity to step out of May’s hands on her shoulders so she could pet Em. Lifting the hem of the ceremonial robe, she dropped to her knees and hugged the dog, finding comfort in his soft ears against her cheek.