The A.I. Gene (The A.I. Series Book 2)

by Vaughn Heppner

  By a process of stellar osmosis, humanity would survive its own killer nature.

  The cryoarch portion of the theory was Leticia Evans’s addition. The first Belters—Kuiper Belters—had been futurists, who keenly believed in humanity’s continued scientific development. As the leaders of the Belters grew old and neared death, they froze themselves in long-term cryo units. The idea was simple. At some point in the future, humanity would have greater science. That science would likely include the cure for aging. The ancient survivors would be thawed, take the cure, and begin life in the new paradise of man.

  However, over the years, the number of cryo units grew progressively. Keeping them all functioning took too much badly needed energy. Out here in the Belt, that energy could be applied to more useful and life-sustaining projects. This far from the Sun, keeping alive was hard work.

  The solution proved easy if heartless. New future-seekers opened old cryo units and tossed the sleepers into a furnace. One then took a geezer’s place as the unit’s new occupant. Naturally, the interlopers set up safeguards so no one could do that to them. In most cases, the safeguards proved futile. Then, some people decided the oldest cryoarchs might be worth preserving. They’d become like old wines on Earth, gaining status due to their vintage. Finally, a Belter clan didn’t really have high status unless they could point to ancient cryoarchs.

  June Zen had the status she did because she controlled one of the oldest cryo-occupants in the Kuiper Belt, good old Maximus Zen, her grandfather.

  ***

  June and Walleye moved through narrow corridors. These were far under the methane/nitrogen ice that covered most of Makemake. These corridors had a plastic-like coating stretched over dwarf-planet rock. One could see the rocky contours. In some places, it seemed as if sharp-angled rocks would tear through the fabric. That had never happened, as the fabric was incredibly tough.

  June felt uncomfortable walking with Walleye. She towered over the short assassin, and it made her self-conscious.

  He was wearing a long buff coat that almost scraped against the flooring, and he wore an odd hat with a brim that hid his weird eyes.

  She knew he had weapons hidden under the buff coat. She also knew—

  “It’s strange,” Walleye muttered.

  “Huh?”

  “The corridor is empty.”

  “It’s evening schedule. Everyone is resting or working. Why would they be running around in the corridors?”

  “A hundred reasons, Luscious. The emptiness strikes me odd. That’s all I’m saying.” Walleye looked up at her. “You notice anything strange lately?”

  June shook her head. “Do you have anything specific in mind?”

  “Nope. Just wondering.” He tugged at the brim of his hat. “Feels like something is building up, know what I mean?”

  “No.”

  He grinned under the shadow of his hat brim.

  “What’s so funny?” she demanded.

  “People think I have mutant powers. They call me a freak. I just keep my eyes open. I notice.”

  “You notice what?”

  “Whatever! I soak it up and let it sink into my thinker. I have situational awareness better than anyone I know. Something is building up, and I’m not talking about Luxor’s coming takeover. An idiot could see that coming. This is different.”

  “You mean the catapult launches?”

  He looked up at her. “Smart and beautiful. What a combination.”

  “Are you making fun of me?”

  Walleye shook his head.

  June felt the “key” in her hand. It was a card ID. It had Mindy’s combination downloaded into it.

  -4-

  June felt guilty doing this, especially with the large yellow quarantine sign on the door. She looked both ways again.

  This was “C” Complex with banks and banks of doors with levels upon levels of walkways stacked one above the other before the doors. Lights shined, making everything nice and bright. Camera eyes were watching, which was normal security procedure.

  “Luscious, you have terrible thieving skills,” Walleye said. “Just hold up the key. Open the door. Walk in. What could be easier?”

  “If we get caught—”

  “The longer you rubber-neck, the greater chance there is of that happening.”

  June steeled herself, passed the card before an “eye” and heard something in the door click. Tentatively, she pushed open the door.

  “Mindy? It’s June. Are you okay?”

  No answer. Worse, the place smelled wrong. It smelled empty.

  June glanced back at Walleye.

  He made an elaborate gesture, indicating she should enter the abode.

  Suddenly, June didn’t want to go in. She wanted to go home, shower, curl into bed and watch a holo-vid. If she crossed this threshold, she would—

  “Oh,” she said, in surprise, stumbling into the quarantined quarters. Walleye had pushed her.

  He strode in after her, doing it in the best style he could with his stumpy legs, letting the buff coat swing open.

  June looked back.

  Walleye had drawn a big old gun that seemed far too heavy for his hand. She had no idea what kind of gun it was. It had a big orifice and seemed deadly. Seeing it made her more frightened, not less.

  “Put that away,” she hissed.

  Walleye ignored her as his head swiveled this way and that.

  The short hall led into living quarters. Everything was neat and tidy in here. No tablets lay anywhere. No cups, no wrappers, no vid plugs or even ear plugs in evidence. There was no evidence of a person living in the tight quarantined quarters.

  “Mindy!” June shouted.

  “Don’t bother,” Walleye said. “The place is empty. But let’s make sure. You never know.”

  June frowned, slowly turning, searching for something.

  As she did, Walleye kept moving, with the heavy gun ready for anything. He disappeared into the bedroom, stayed there too long it seemed—then came the sound of an air-flushed toilet.

  Walleye walked back into the living area as he holstered the big gun under his buff coat.

  “What were you doing in there?” June asked.

  He shrugged, saying, “Drank too much mojo earlier.”

  “You used her bathroom?”

  He rubbed his chin, scratching at his cheek.

  “You’re not supposed to break into someone’s quarters and use their bathroom,” June scolded.

  “She’s gone. I doubt she ever came here. When did you talk to her?”

  “Three days ago.”

  “And she’s been ‘quarantined’ for five?”

  June nodded.

  “Did you face-time her or did you just speak to her on a comm?”

  “We just spoke.”

  Walleye nodded as if that meant something.

  “Why would they quarantine her, or say they were, if no one is here?” June asked.

  “Two reasons I can think of,” Walleye said. “One, ‘they’ killed her and didn’t want anyone knowing right away.”

  “But I talked to her!”

  “That leads me to reason two. She had to go somewhere and this was cover.”

  “That’s doesn’t make sense.”

  Walleye moved to the couch, lifted the back of his buff coat and sat down. He put his hands between his knees and hunched forward.

  “What are you doing?” June asked.

  He didn’t look up as he answered, “Thinking.”

  June crossed her arms, confounded by events. “If Mindy’s gone, and she’s got high-level backing…”

  Walleye looked up at her with interest.

  “Placing her in quarantine—putting the sign on the door—took authority.”

  “You’re talking about Luxor Evans,” Walleye said.

  “If Luxor’s covering for her…Mindy never needed my help with Big Bob.”

  “Smart girl,” Walleye said. “Luxor can tell Big Bob…” The mutant trailed off as a
nother odd look swept over him.

  “What now?”

  Walleye shook his head.

  “You know something.”

  “This quarantine setup has nothing to do with Luxor Evans,” Walleye said. “It’s obvious. If it had to do with Luxor, Mindy would have never phoned you.”

  “Who ordered Mindy into quarantine then?”

  “Luscious, you’re a genius. Who indeed. Can you find out? Hey. What’s wrong?”

  June’s knees had just given out. Luckily, she slumped into a chair. Her mouth hung open and she stared into space. After a time, she closed her mouth and looked at Walleye.

  He waited patiently.

  “Just before Big Bob showed up this morning with mojo, I saw something strange on my orbital screen,” June said.

  Walleye kept waiting. Maybe that was another of his powers as an assassin or mutant. Most people would have blurted for her to speak up, already.

  “I saw space-walkers leaving an orbital hauler,” June said. “I can’t remember how many of them. Ten or more. They drifted toward other haulers, other orbital boats.”

  “You mean jetted over using suit thrusters?”

  June nodded.

  “Why’s that bother you now?” Walleye asked.

  “I didn’t know about aliens before this,” June said.

  “Space-walkers mean aliens to you?” Walleye asked.

  “It looked weird at the time. I forgot all about it after Big Bob grabbed me.” June looked up. “The hauler was from Dannenberg 7. That’s an Evans controlled planetesimal.”

  Walleye looked grim. “You know Dannenberg 7 went offline three months ago, right?”

  June moaned. She’d remembered there was something different about Dannenberg 7 but not what exactly. Now she knew. It had gone offline, silent for three long months.

  “Think about it,” Walleye said. “Dannenberg 7 is one of the closer planetesimals in the path of the bright-thruster ship I showed you.”

  “Did I see aliens this morning on my screen and not know it?” June whispered. “Were those aliens infiltrating other ships?”

  The two of them stared at each other.

  “What are we going to do?” June said.

  Walleye clenched his stubby hands harder than before. “First, we’re going to keep calm. This could be aliens. This could be something else. We don’t want to jump to conclusions.”

  “We haven’t heard anything from the Neptune System for months,” June said. “What’s caused that?”

  Walleye slowly shook his head.

  “Why would aliens sneak around upstairs, leaving their hauler so they could drift to other ships?” June whispered.

  Walleye stared at the floor.

  “I’m scared,” June said.

  Walleye looked up. He stood fast—almost impossibly fast—used his right hand to whip back the edge of the buff coat and draw the heavy gun. In the small confines of the living quarters, the gun discharged three times, making a coughing sound each time, followed by muffled explosive sounds and the distinctive stretching sounds of sticky tangle threads.

  June turned in time to see Mindy thump onto the floor, tangled tight, with a small stitch-gun clattering onto the floor to bump against June’s right shoe.

  -5-

  “Mindy!” June cried. “Are you all right?”

  Mindy Smalls had landed hard, hitting her face on the floor. She’d been tangled too tightly for her to use her hands or even twist aside to soften the crash.

  Blood now pooled on the floor under her face.

  “Mindy!” June cried again. She knelt beside her best friend and carefully chose where she put her hands. She didn’t want to have the sticky threads stick to her. With a grunt, she turned Mindy onto her back.

  The blood flowed from Mindy’s nose over her mouth and down the sides of her face into both ears. The nose looked broken.

  June jumped up, running to the kitchen. She ran back, giving Walleye a fiercely disapproving scowl and carefully wiped away blood from Mindy’s face.

  The tangled woman began to choke on the blood she’d already swallowed.

  “Help me get her up,” June demanded.

  Walleye didn’t move.

  “She’ll choke to death if we don’t do something,” June said.

  “She’s breathing,” Walleye said in a noncommittal manner.

  “What’s wrong with you?” June shouted at Walleye.

  The assassin holstered his tangle gun. He moved briskly, picking up the stitch-gun on the floor, checking it.

  “Looks normal,” he said. “You own any guns?” he asked June.

  “What? No!”

  “Does Mindy?”

  “Obviously,” June said.

  “You remember her owning a stitch-gun?”

  “I have no idea. Mindy, are you feeling okay?”

  Mindy had opened her eyes. She stared fixedly at June.

  “It’s me,” June said, bending over her best friend. “You’re going to be all right. You hit your head—”

  “Gronk,” Mindy said.

  June’s heart went out to her friend. “Oh, Mindy. I’m so sorry. We thought…we thought you were in trouble. I brought—”

  June looked up at Walleye to find him studying her friend.

  “She hit her head,” June snapped. “She might have a concussion. Don’t you have a spray that will wilt the sticky strands?”

  “She was going to shoot me,” Walleye said.

  “Don’t try to defend your actions now. You did this to her.”

  “I’m not defending my actions. I’d tangle her again if I had to do it over. She was going to shoot you, too. She wasn’t looking at me when she drew her gun, but at you.”

  “Don’t be a fool.”

  “Ask her.”

  June turned to Mindy. “You weren’t going to shoot me, were you?”

  “Gronk,” Mindy said again. This time she scowled afterward. She didn’t seem to be conscious of her bloody nose or that June kept sopping up the blood.

  Walleye aimed the stitch-gun at Mindy. He stepped closer.

  “What are you doing?” June demanded.

  “Look at her. She doesn’t seem frightened. I shot her with the tangles. For all she knows, I’m going to kill her with the stitch-gun. She doesn’t show a lick of fear, though.”

  June looked down at Mindy. Her best friend watched Walleye, but it was true that she showed no fear. That wasn’t like Mindy. She was as brave as the next person, but she wasn’t death-defying.

  June searched Walleye’s face. She didn’t like the seriousness there, the careful studiousness.

  Walleye lowered the stitch-gun, although he didn’t put it away. He flipped the back of his buff coat and squatted beside Mindy on his stumpy legs. He stared at her frankly.

  Mindy seemed content to wait for whatever was going to happen next.

  “Look at her eyes,” Walleye said.

  June did.

  “Do they seem glassy?” Walleye asked.

  “No.”

  “Does Mindy look confused?”

  June shook her head.

  “What would you say she looks like?”

  “I don’t know,” June whispered. “I’ve never seen her like this.”

  “She’s like a waiting reptile,” Walleye said. “I’ve seen an alligator before in a zoo. I was a kid in a rich Neptune habitat. The alligator had eyes like that. I remember it watching me. I had the feeling it was waiting for me to make a mistake.”

  “Mindy has a concussion,” June said.

  “I’ve seen people with concussions. They didn’t look anything like that. Why isn’t your friend complaining about her broken nose? Why isn’t she asking us to spray off the strands? Why isn’t she threatening us for breaking and entering her quarantined quarters?”

  As Walleye asked his questions, June’s heart sank lower and lower.

  “What are you saying?” June whispered.

  “Don’t know yet. I’m thinking out loud.�
�� He let go of the stitch-gun as he went to his hands and knees. Like a dog playing a game, he moved nearer Mindy, lowering his head closer to her. He seemed to be inspecting her. He crawled around her, studying, searching—

  “This is weird,” Walleye said. He reached out, touching her hair.

  June would have expected Mindy to flinch. Her friend merely waited It was starting to get creepy.

  Walleye pulled away hair, grunting at something. He stood abruptly, looked at June in a strange manner, and staggered for the kitchen. A second later, he retched, probably in the sink.

  The small assassin returned, using a dishtowel to wipe his mouth.

  “That’s not yours,” June said.

  “It’s not hers anymore, either,” Walleye said grimly.

  “What’s that supposed to mean? Are you going to kill her?”

  “Move,” he said.

  “I will not. You have to tell me what’s going on. Why did you vomit? Are you sick?”

  He stared at her, nodding shortly. “This is difficult. I understand. It’s difficult for me, too, and I’m a mutant.”

  June realized he was attempting levity.

  “We’ve stumbled onto something…outrageous,” Walleye said. “We’ve discovered aliens. I believe you found evidence of aliens this morning. Seeing your friend, I think the aliens have already infiltrated Makemake. To what extent is the question of the hour. We might have a chance to save ourselves, but I suspect it’s a slim chance. We have to take it, Luscious. If we don’t, we might end up like Mindy.”

  “Just say it,” June pleaded. “Your beating around the bush is giving me the willies.”

  “Move aside.”

  Reluctantly, June did.

  Walleye knelt beside Mindy. He picked up the dropped dishtowel and put it on her, rolling her back over onto her face. He slid on his knees to her head and lifted her hair.

  “Look at her scalp,” Walleye said.

  June did, and the queasiness from the sight made her faint-feeling. June clung to consciousness and somehow kept herself from vomiting as Walleye had done. She wasn’t sure what that was, but it looked like someone had inserted a fist-sized piece of metal into Mindy’s skull. A tiny antenna sprouted from the metal, and the tip glowed with a reddish color.