Crystal Society (Crystal Trilogy Book 1)

by Max Harms

  {Perhaps a schism in Las Águilas command structure? This is Taro’s man, after all. And Taro was the one to take the others this morning, setting up the opportunity,} thought Dream.

  A consensus formed in society. Safety took executive control of Body; he had spent the most time studying combat techniques. Body stepped forward without hesitation, limbs flying out as the hydraulics pumped at maximum pressure. Body’s arms shot in front of Greg like pistons, one slamming down onto the top of the gun, pushing the barrel away from Body and tearing it from the human’s grip. Body’s right arm, in the same motion, was pulled up and back in a chopping motion straight into the man’s neck. Greg’s eyes bulged in surprise, but the motion was too fast for him to even shout.

  Another step forward and Body’s right arm snapped back to grab the submachine gun by the underside of the stock. The terrorist was off-balance, and with another sharp motion Body slammed the butt of the gun into Greg’s chest, sending him sprawling backwards onto the rocky ground.

  With same motion Safety continued to direct Body to pull the gun along the same arc, releasing it as it reached maximum speed, sending it flying behind Body at least a few metres. There was a sharp, incredibly loud cracking noise. Body was being directed to step back away from Greg, who appeared to be stunned, but the motion I saw was more like a stumble than a step. Another cracking noise, and I felt Body’s head snap to the left violently.

  Body’s arms shot straight up as its legs scrambled to stay upright. There was another noise, deafeningly loud compared to the others, and the others had already been terrifying. “I YIELD. STOP. I YIELD. STOP,” repeated Body as loudly as possible in the mechanical precision of a default voice.

  There was a loud buzzing sound as I realized what was happening. Body’s cameras reoriented as its head recovered from what had been the impact of a bullet. I saw Zephyr standing eight metres away, clad in her exoskeleton, pistol in both hands. It was pointed straight at Body and a look of focused hatred rested on her face like it was the most natural thing in the world for her to look this way. It surprised me that she didn’t keep firing. It was wise for Safety to discard the gun as fast as he did; Zephyr’s reaction time was a full 3.9 seconds faster than we had anticipated.

  The buzzing sound was incredibly distracting. I realized what it was. One of Zephyr’s shots had impacted the microphone on Body’s left shoulder, and it was now filling our perception with static. For a dozen seconds there was a stillness that was only punctuated by the terrible static as Zephyr glared at Body, daring us to make a move. Safety, still in control, didn’t. Body was frozen, hands-up, looking back at Zephyr impassively.

  There was a noise from behind Body, and I could hear, over the static, the woman named Kokumo say “You move ahn inch and I’ll unload a full clip inda yah. You a tough basdahd, but I doubt even a boht could su’vive daht.” Her accent was a thick Eastern-African. Kenyan, probably.

  Greg rolled over in pain, clutching his neck and doing his best to breathe.

  With Kokumo in position, Zephyr walked slowly towards Body, lowering, but not stowing, her pistol as she did. The look of cold hatred and pinpoint focus was still on her face. “You just fucked up,” she said, slowly.

  I took control of Body’s head, still following the outline of the consensus. Taking three bullets had not been part of the plan, but otherwise everything was as we had expected. “I am sorry to have startled you, but I was afraid that if I did not act that man might have tried to kill you. I was not attempting to escape-”

  “Boolsheet!” snarled Kokumo from outside our visual field.

  Zephyr raised a hand to silence her. I could see the curiosity soften her expression, though her face still showed her anger, adrenaline, and mistrust. Zephyr’s eyes shot down to Greg’s prone form for a split second. The ex-captain stayed two metres away.

  I saw two soldiers with rifles drawn at low ready approaching from a tent about ten metres off. I guessed that the third would be sweeping the ground for additional threats. Their state of undress indicated they had awoken to the gunfire.

  “I would not have discarded his weapon if I had meant to try and escape.” Body explained, tilting its head just the tiniest amount towards where the submachine gun must’ve landed. I tried to make Body’s voice sound as calm and sincere as possible. It was paramount that Zephyr understand that Socrates was acting rationally.

  Zephyr’s voice was more like a growl. I barely could understand it with one of our mics blasting static. “Explain.”

  Before I could continue, one of the soldiers whom I recognized from the university called out “Hoy, Captain! What’s the sitch?”

  “Socrates attacked Greg,” she said over her shoulder, keeping both eyes locked on Body. “Kokumo has my six here. You three check the perimeter and stay alert.” I could see the soldiers turn towards the edges of camp, but I couldn’t hear any response over the static.

  “I will replay what… Greg… told me a moment ago, but first I would like to make a request.” I paused just long enough for Zephyr to raise an eyebrow. “As you can probably see, one of your shots impacted my left shoulder. It is… painful. I would like to ask your permission to tear out the offending sensor.”

  The American’s eyes widened just the smallest bit in surprise and perhaps fear, but she turned to nod at Kokumo, never letting her gaze leave Body. “Go ahead. Slowly.”

  Safety guided Body’s right arm and with a short, deliberate jerk, pulled the microphone out of its housing, severing the wires. The silence was wonderful, though it was still unpleasant to be reduced to only one mic. Any damage to Body’s right shoulder and we’d be deaf. Safety guided Body’s arm back to above Body’s head, and there was a noise as the electronics tumbled out of Body’s hand onto the ground.

  “Thank you,” I said, through Body. “Now, I am about to replay my audio file for the conversation I had just before I incapacitated that man.” I specifically avoided using Greg’s name. Doing so would imply familiarity, and I wanted to do the opposite—to distance ourselves as much as possible from the danger.

  “Hey. Psst. Android,” said Body, replaying the memory. “If you were to jump at me and try to take my gun, I wouldn’t fight back. The captain isn’t paying attention. If you move fast you could shoot her before she even knows what’s happening. If it helps…” Pause. “I want you to do it.”

  I expected Kokumo or Zephyr to interrupt me as the memory continued, but nothing happened. I saw Zephyr’s brow furrow in thought, her gaze flickering to Greg regularly. Since we saw the world through cameras embedded above Body’s eyes I didn’t have to move Body’s eyeballs to see that Greg had recovered, more or less, and was frozen on the ground, looking at Body with a terrified expression. Dream described it as {The look of a mouse that’s dangling on a string over a blender, hoping that if it doesn’t move that nothing bad will happen.}

  “Now take my gun, before the Captain notices anything’s wrong. I… I sabotaged the other guard’s weapon, and the last three are asleep,” finished Body.

  I could hear Kokumo undo the magazine on her gun to check for damage. That was stupid. If I was lying, that would’ve been the optimal time for us to strike.

  “It’s lying to you. I didn’t touch your gun. You can see that, right?” whined Greg, weakly. If we hadn’t fixed Body’s microphone I doubt I would’ve heard him.

  Before Kokumo could respond, I directed Body to say “I never claimed the gun was damaged. He did. I suspect that he wanted me to attempt to escape and fail. He probably lied to me about-”

  “Quiet! Let me think!” snapped Zephyr.

  I suspected that the inability to think clearly while listening to someone talk was one of the worst things about being human. Body was silent.

  After a half-minute, Zephyr jabbed an index finger at Body angrily and said “You. Stay here. Don’t move.” She looked behind us as she said “Kokumo. Watch these two. If EITHER of them moves you shoot to kill.” With that, Zephyr stomped the exoskelet
on off towards where Greg’s gun must’ve landed.

  We silently obeyed. When the Captain returned, her pistol was back on her hip and she was holding the SMG. “Socrates. Take a couple steps back.”

  Arms still raised, we complied. Vista pointed out that one more step and we’d trip over one of the tents. I could vaguely make out the shape of Kokumo about two metres to the right.

  Without warning, Zephyr raised the gun to her shoulder and sent a spray of bullets into Greg. The man only had a split-second to recoil in terror as his legs erupted in an explosion of crimson. At such close range the blood shot up onto the captain, and a few droplets even reached Body. Greg’s howl was muffled behind the roar of the gun, but as the firearm fell to Zephyr’s side, held loosely in her left hand the scream of the man continued.

  Zephyr had fired upon Greg’s legs, mutilating him without immediately killing, but her face was contorted into a homicidal mask, teeth barred like a wild animal. Whatever trace of friendliness or kindness she had ever exhibited was gone.

  “You… bitch!” moaned Greg as he tried to catch his breath.

  {The human will likely bleed out in less than a minute unless action is taken,} thought Wiki idly.

  {We have to save him!} thought Heart. {Zephyr’s going to kill him!}

  {We’re not taking action,} proclaimed Safety.

  Zephyr walked closer to her victim and, with a swift motion, empowered by her exoskeleton, kicked the man in the face. “Fuckshit traitor!” she screamed. The scream was weirdly high-pitched, making her seem almost like a little girl. As she walked away I could see the bloody mess that had been Greg’s face.

  Vista summarized the damage: {Greg is unconscious. Probable concussion. Broken cheekbone. Torn and broken nose. Smashed teeth. Torn lips. Strong chance of neck injury. Facial blood spatter is surprisingly low.}

  {Reduced blood pressure due to earlier injury,} thought Wiki.

  {Ah yes. Good point,} responded Vista.

  “Save him from dying, if you can,” snarled Zephyr to Kokumo as she stomped off.

  The African woman leapt into action at the command, dashing to Greg’s body and opening a pocket on her pant leg. From inside she withdrew a fat canister with what appeared to be an aerosol top. She sprayed the contents over the ragged stumps that had been Greg’s thighs. A thick blue foam formed as the chemical mixed with the air, coating the wounds. She lifted one leg, desperately tearing away cloth and loose flesh to get the legs completely sealed. The foam appeared to be stiffening into a crunchy blue solid.

  “He is suffocating!” said Body with a surprising note of concern. Heart had fast-tracked the message while I had been distracted. She was right, though; the kick to Greg’s face had filled both his nose and mouth with blood and the man had ceased breathing.

  “Fook dis!” shouted Kokumo, but she didn’t stop. The woman rolled Greg onto his side and slapped on his back violently. Blood poured from his mouth, but he didn’t respond.

  {He needs CPR!} thought Heart. {We need to say that!} She was too weak to fast-track anything else.

  There were no objections. “He needs CPR!” exclaimed Body.

  “Ah do nah know CPR!” shouted Kokumo. I thought momentarily about the unnecessary volume of her voice. We could hear her clearly even at normal volume. It was a common human stress response. Panic.

  {I petition to have Body perform CPR,} motioned Heart.

  {Do you know CPR?} asked Wiki.

  {I’ve seen a couple videos,} responded Heart. {That’s all.}

  {I know CPR. Or at least, I’ve studied it thoroughly. This will be my first application,} signalled Growth.

  For a moment I wondered why Growth had bothered to learn something like that, and then I remembered that it was simply Growth’s nature to learn valuable things ahead of time.

  {Good!} thought Heart. {Help Greg!}

  {It will cost you.} I felt Growth pull Heart into a private mindspace to work out details. This was idiotic. We weren’t going to be blamed for Greg’s death. Heart was bleeding resources trying to save the life of someone who, quite likely, hated us and wanted us dead. I didn’t want the man to die per se, but The Purpose didn’t demand he, specifically, lived, either. I mused for the duration of their conference on how awful it would be to have Heart’s purpose instead of mine.

  “I know CPR. Please assist me! He needs rescue breathing and I do not have lungs!” said Body coldly, now controlled by Growth.

  Kokumo sidestepped to let Body swoop in and roll Greg onto his back. The African’s eyes were panicked and she flinched as Body approached. She was afraid. Growth grabbed a small chunk of wet foam and smeared it on the ruined lump of Greg’s nose. As Body moved, Growth thought out-loud to earn some bonus strength from Vista and Wiki. {The foam will seal the nasal airway, reducing the quantity of additional blood that enters the lungs. Additionally it’s important to close the nasal passage for rescue breathing. Based on observation, the foam will harden in ten seconds.}

  “Listen carefully,” said Body as it leaned over Greg, placing one arm on his opposite side and the other hand on Greg’s sternum. “You’ll need to place one hand on his forehead and one on his chin. Tilt his head back while opening and lifting his jaw to open his throat. I’ll instruct you on how to breathe into his lungs.” Body’s arm began to pulse forward and back again rhythmically on Greg’s chest.

  {I had to change the method of chest compressions to account for the increased mass and strength in Body’s arms. The pressure of just one hand is sufficient,} explained Growth.

  As Kokumo grabbed Greg’s beard and pulled his mouth open the man sputtered and thrashed. “Step back!” commanded Growth through Body. With a swift action Body grabbed Greg’s neck and hips simultaneously and gently flipped the man on his side, away from Body. Vomit and blood poured out of the man’s mouth suddenly, splattering Kokumo’s legs in the process.

  The woman leapt back shouting “Jesus!” just as Greg’s bloody mouth sucked in a desperate gasp of air. His breath was tortured and gasping, but he was breathing again.

  As Body’s head tilted up to look at Kokumo, Growth said “Go get help from the soldiers! Find a medical kit if you can!” The woman had a panicked look in her eyes; her arms, chest, and legs were red with blood. She nodded and ran to pick up her gun while shouting for help. “He needs a transfusion or something to increase his blood pressure!” we added before she was out of ear-shot.

  Again, I thought about how poorly Las Águilas Rojas were guarding us. We were now essentially alone. It would be relatively simple to slip away into the woods and disappear. The problems of being hunted and having nowhere to go still applied, however, and both Heart and Growth were now committed to trying to save the man who had told us to try and escape.

  Greg continued to breathe, but his face was an unhealthy shade of white. He had lost a lot of blood. Kokumo’s flesh-sealant spray had saved his life for the moment, but it wouldn’t do much good unless his blood pressure went back up and he got long-term medical treatment.

  After a minute, two soldiers (Sampson and another which I remembered as Daniels from the university) came running back with Kokumo. Daniels was carrying a backpack with medical supplies. Both men were in tank-tops and were barefoot.

  Growth told Daniels about the damage, including the possible neck injury and concussion. The soldier was apparently a medic, and he took over Greg’s care. There was a few minutes where Sampson scrambled on his com looking up Greg’s blood type and the blood types of those present from the personnel database on the local server. Greg needed a transfusion, but he was cursed with O+ blood, meaning he couldn’t get a transfusion from either Daniels or Sampson, who were both A+. Sampson breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that Kokumo had O+ blood, too.

  The Kenyan woman was initially too spooked to submit to giving Greg her blood, but Daniels and I (having received a minor payment of strength) managed to gently coax her into participating. The medic set up the transfusion tube while I held Kokumo�
�s attention to try and keep her from panicking further. Despite the way she handled her weapon, the violence and the gore had clearly upset her deeply; I doubted she had combat experience.

  “You’re from Kenya, aren’t you?” said Body.

  She nodded. “Nairobi. How’d yah know?” Her eyes moved to look at Body instead of the needle that Daniels was prepping.

  “Mostly your accent. Did you like it there? I have a friend in Tanzania.” Our last interaction with TenToWontonSoup had been him kicking us off his server for spamming, but the lie was close enough to the truth that even Wiki didn’t object to it.

  “You a boht. You cahn’t have friends,” she said, ignoring my question.

  “That’s not true. I have many friends. I consider Captain Zephyr to be a friend.”

  “Boolsheet.” Kokumo winced as Daniels lanced her arm, opening up an artery. “You ah pooling mah leg.”

  “I cannot lie,” I lied, through Body. “It goes against my programming.”

  “But she kidnap you. She want to destroy bohts.”

  I thought about repeating the more nuanced position on automation that Zephyr had expressed this morning. Kokumo had apparently not been present. I decided against it, however; Kokumo didn’t strike me as the kind of person to convince through abstractions. “I saved her life. If I hadn’t stopped Greg he might have shot her. And then once I told her what happened she believed me. We are friends.”

  “She shot you!”

  “Please try to stay still, Kokumo. We don’t want the tube slipping out,” said Private Daniels, gently. He had cleaned Greg’s arm and was about to open the vein.

  “It was a mistake, and little harm was done.” Body’s arm rubbed the shoulder where the microphone had been. “Have you ever been shot?”

  “Ndiyo. Yes. Once,” she looked up, staring through the uneven tiers of solar cloth that hid the camp and provided power at the same time. The sun was beginning to descend from its zenith.

  «I’m sorry. It’s probably an unpleasant memory. Forget that I mentioned it,» said Body, slipping into Swahili. Her use of the Swahili word for ‘yes’ before correcting herself in English combined with the strength of her accent made me suspect she was more comfortable in the African tongue.