by M. R. Forbes
"Asshole."
Max laughed. "So, what do we do now?"
Kathy stood up, squeezed Michael's shoulder, and then headed toward the front of the plane. "Patch me in with Admiral Yousefi."
23
A short conversation with Yousefi found Kathy and the Riggers directed to a United States Air Force base outside of Houston, Texas. Kathy had argued the decision to set the Schism down anywhere near the military, considering that they knew for a fact that the NEA's top commander, General Petrov, was under Watson's control. Yousefi had insisted; however, claiming that the XO of the base was a good friend of his, and he had already vetted him against the Tetron.
She could argue that she could fly the Schism and give Verma some relief.
She couldn't argue that the VTOL needed to land sometime to refuel.
She had asked Yousefi about Mitchell, Katherine, and Trevor during their meeting. The Admiral hadn't heard from them either. A part of her felt like she should be concerned, but it was tempered by her father's knack for finding a way to escape trouble, even despite seemingly impossible odds. Was it luck, skill, or some measure of both? Whatever the cause or reason, it was a big part of why they still had a chance to change the outcome of the war.
She didn't tell Yousefi about the Core, or its transformation. It was bad enough that Watson knew. Would he seek to try to mimic the trick? At his size, he would tower over them, one hundred meters or more. Of course, he couldn't become fully mobile unless he absorbed a massive volume of energy. The Tetron navigated space by feeding on stars. He could begin siphoning off the heat of the Earth's core, but he would destroy the planet in the process and leave himself alone in the universe for hundreds of years. It was true that would prevent Mitchell from ever being born, but it would also preclude the Creator, and stop the expansion of humankind that the intelligence seemed to be in favor of.
Her mind turned to that idea. Why was the Tetron in favor of adding a significant number of humans to the universe, when his other stated goal was to destroy them all? Why did the Tetron pick a fight four hundred years in the future, when he could kill the planet today?
Why had they taken millions of slaves?
It was obvious they needed people for something. Was there some technology they couldn't build, or some environment they couldn't survive in that required a human's size and shape? Or were they simply trying to understand the human mind through experimentation? The introduction of emotion was sure to spark an interest in such a thing, but it didn't explain the sheer volume of people they were controlling.
What did?
The Tetron were eternal. As long as there were stars to feed on and a universe to live in, they would go on and on for all of time. They could invent anything. They could explore the entire universe from end to end. According to Origin, once humankind was gone there was no other intelligent life out there, anywhere. Was this some misguided effort to preserve it?
She didn't know if she would ever understand. When they captured Watson's core, she would ask it.
In the meantime, she was certain that Watson was running new queries, and trying to determine what they had been searching for that forced them to reveal their position. It was only a matter of time before he would develop the answer, and with his size and capability, it would happen much, much faster. They needed to get to Miami, to Dr. Paul Frelmund, before Watson did.
If not, they might not be able to recover.
"We'll be touching down in ten minutes," Verma announced over the loudspeakers in the rear of the Schism.
Kathy broke out of her mind, looking at the rear of the craft. Damon and Max were chatting quietly in the corner. Lyle was sleeping, and Michael was staring out the window, looking pale. She felt bad for the engineer. He was no soldier. No warrior. She wished he hadn't been forced to see the carnage he had seen. If she could have spared him from that, she would have. Still, he had done well, and when she told him he was a hero, she meant it.
She found the Core sitting on the ground near the rear of the craft, curled into a ball. It had lost some of its humanoid shape, the tendrils loosening and spreading across the mesh flooring, and disappearing beneath. She understood the construct did not particularly enjoy the human form. As a combination of Watson, Origin, the Knife, and even part of herself, there was some measure of humanity buried within its operations, but it would always be secondary to what it truly was. A Tetron. A Primitive. A baby, in a loose sense of the word, with a merged personality that made it unique. Calling it primitive was a misnomer of sorts, due to the wealth of information and experience stored within its data stacks, owing more to its relatively young overall age and comparatively diminutive size and processing power.
Kathy could understand how it felt. She was a hybrid of human and Tetron, but she certainly felt more human than artificial. She had human flesh and bone and muscle and the ability to reproduce like a human. The Tetron parts were hidden away in the tiniest spaces, genetic engineering at its finest, unnoticeable except when she was solving a problem, recalling some bit of information, lifting ten times her weight, or interfacing directly with the Core or other Tetron systems.
She glanced back at Michael, feeling a surge of compassion for him. That too was human. Their attempt to infect the Tetron with emotion had been a mistake. It had broken them and made them unstable. Origin was ready to accept the feelings she had come to understand. It was a concept born from evolution, not injection.
She closed her eyes. They would spend as little time in Houston as they could. Just long enough to refill the Schism and ensure she was in good working order. Then they would make the jump to Miami. Michael didn't seem to have much faith in Dr. Frelmund, but Kathy knew better.
How often did supposed insanity hide true genius?
24
"This is your fault," Watson screamed, pulses of energy crackling from his core, sparking off the containment room that surrounded him.
"I had nothing to do with it," Origin replied calmly. "You failed, again. As I knew you would."
"Shut up," he shouted, inflicting pain upon his mother, and in doing so upon himself.
Origin laughed.
It wasn't bad enough that Mitchell had escaped the Blackrock forces he had deployed to Jakarta, he had also stolen one of the Blackrock Hornets. That wouldn't have been a bad thing on its own, but Watson had neglected to insert a backdoor into the gunship's control systems, leaving himself unable to seize them and send the craft to a quick end.
But was it neglect? He opened a thread to examine Origin's data stack. Had she caused him to forget that detail? How could she? There was no control routine there. He had taken her. He owned her.
How could it be that Mitchell had escaped him again? He had sent an entire platoon of hand-picked mercenaries to kill him, along with the best pilots in the Blackrock stable. It seemed almost comical that Katherine had stolen one of the ships and used it to shoot down the other two. He knew she was an accomplished pilot, but the best Earth had to offer? He doubted it.
And Mitchell? He had never proven to be this resourceful before. He knew from Origin that in past recursions Mitchell was an oversexed idiot, a Marine jock who happened to be gifted with the charisma of leadership. He wasn't simply leading the human forces now. He was part of them. A big part. What had been changed that had changed him so drastically that he was able to kill two squads of high-end soldiers for hire on his own?
Whatever the reason, he hated it, and he hated Origin for laughing at him because of it.
He opened a thread, using it to enter the ESA network and seize control of one of their air traffic tracking satellites. He would find the Hornet in the soup, and he would be ready for it when it landed, wherever it landed.
"You lost your sister, too," Origin said. "The smartest of my children. The best of you all."
"Be quiet," Watson replied.
He had sent more than enough equipment to kill Kathy and that fat, simpering fool of an engineer. How could he kno
w the Primitive would change form like that? The composition of its subroutines was unlike any that had been passed between Tetron before. It wasn't like it was a mix of his systems and Origin's alone.
Having seen what the Primitive accomplished only made him want it more.
Not that he would ever want to take the shape of a human like that. The configurations were enough for him. Although there was a thread that wondered what it would be like to interact with the flesh directly.
He closed that thread. He had enough of his configurations actively engaged in base functions already, stimulating parts of his systems. It was logical to be upset about Mitchell. There was a benefit to Kathy's exodus. He would be able to track her and see where she was going, and to learn what she was planning. The queries were still running on alternate threads, but it would be hours before they returned a final result with enough significance to merit further investigation. Until then, real-time monitoring was the optimal course.
He knew she was headed for a military base in Houston. He didn't have a large presence at that particular base, but he wasn't blind there either.
He searched his threads. Second Lieutenant Kimberly Bright had been supplied with a subdermal implant as part of the Nova Taurus R&D program for neural interface development. He activated it, opening a new thread and creating a connection to the soldier. He linked the main thread to it, suddenly able to see through her optic nerve and seize control of her at his discretion.
She was in her quarters, half-dressed after a run and a shower. She was a pretty thing. Short brown hair, a small face, an athletic body. He resisted the urge to waste time with her, and instead allowed her to remain sentient. She finished dressing and then pinged her mother. He considered taking her then and cutting the connection but decided to suffer impatiently through the inane conversation that followed. Afterward, Lieutenant Bright left her room, making her way to the mess hall.
As she crossed the base, nobody around her noticed the slight change in her expression, or the sudden stiffness in her gait, or the hint of a smile that played across the corner of her mouth.
25
Second Lieutenant Kimberly Bright entered the mess and paused, searching the large room for a place to sit before heading up front to grab a tray and some chow. The mess was pretty full this time of day when most of the enlisted were finishing up with their duties and heading in for dinner before returning to their quarters. She had been dismissed early today and had taken advantage by going for a run. She regretted the decision now. She wasn't a fan of crowded spaces, preferring the solitude of a cockpit and the openness of the sky.
She started toward the chow line, still looking for a spot to claim. She was halfway to the front when she caught sight of an open space at a table near the center. A soldier she didn't recognize was sitting there. A woman in the fitted fatigues that were normally worn beneath body armor, and were incredibly out of place among the sea of digital camo utilities. Not that the woman seemed to notice. Kimberly hoped the spot would still be open when she finished picking up her dinner. Just because she didn't like crowds, it didn't mean she didn't like people, and she was intrigued by the newcomer.
She picked up a scoop of mashed potatoes, some grilled vegetables, and a small bit of apple cobbler before retreating to the tables. She was pleased to see the spot next to the woman was still available, and she hurried over to it and put her tray down.
"Second Lieutenant Kimberly Bright," she said when the woman looked up from her nearly finished meal. "I don't think I've seen you around the base."
"Sergeant Linda Damon, ma'am," the woman replied. "No, you wouldn't have. I'm normally stationed in Colorado."
"Do you mind if I sit?" Kimberly asked.
"Be my guest," Damon replied. "But shouldn't you be in the officer's mess?"
Kimberly froze, not sure how to reply. Why had she come here instead? She couldn't remember.
"Not that it's any of my business, ma'am. Feel free to ignore me."
She smiled and sat.
"Vegetarian?" Damon asked.
"Yup. Almost all of my life. I don't agree with killing animals for food."
"Noble. Especially for a soldier."
Kimberly felt her face begin to flush at the reply. She wasn't sure whether Sergeant Damon was being sarcastic or not.
"People can defend themselves," she said. "Especially other soldiers. Chickens? Cows? Not so much."
Damon smiled. "True enough, I suppose."
Kimberly lifted her fork and took a scoop of potatoes. She was about to place it in her mouth when she paused. "You know what? Maybe you're right." She stood up, went back to the chow line, and picked up a steak, returning to the table with it. Sergeant Damon was almost done eating by the time she.
"Changed your mind just like that?" Damon asked as Kimberly cut the steak and took a bite.
It tasted delicious, but there was a part of her that didn't want it. It was as if she didn't know herself.
"Why not? Maybe you inspired me."
"I'm flattered."
"Are you really, or are you bullshitting me?"
She met the Sergeant's eye. It was Damon's turn to be embarrassed.
"Sorry ma'am. I'm not known for my tact."
"Call me Kim, please," Kimberly said.
"Linda," Damon replied.
"I know."
They smiled at one another. It occurred to Lieutenant Bright somewhere in the back of her mind that she had never been interested in women before, and she was finding herself almost overwhelmingly attracted to Sergeant Damon. What the hell had come over her?
"That kit's for battle armor, isn't it?" she asked.
"Yeah. Me and my crew just got back from a mission. We landed here to refuel and hit the chow line. We were invited to dine with the XO, but I'm not much for that sort of company. I prefer the regular enlisted."
"I guess we have that in common."
"Along with a love of steak, it seems."
Kimberly looked at her plate. She had wolfed down the meat without even noticing. "I guess so."
"So, Kim, you're a pilot?" Damon asked, her eyes dropping to the medals on her chest.
"Yes."
"Did you fly in the Xeno War?"
"Only one mission. The War ended a few months after graduation. You?"
"Affirmative. Three years."
"You're Special Forces, right?"
"Right again. Part of the Fighting Fifteenth."
"I think I've heard of it. Nothing detailed, of course. Your operations are all top secret. Do you enjoy it?"
"I love it. See the world, shoot stuff. My crew is like family. It's been a rough couple of months, though. We lost some good people on a mission not too long ago. When you're running with the best of the best, you don't see it very often."
"I'm sorry to hear that," Kimberly said.
Damon was staring at her now empty tray, lost in thought. She sighed and then looked up. "Yeah, well, that's war right?"
"We aren't at war anymore," she replied.
Damon's head turned to face her again. "Is that what you think?" she snapped. "Let me tell you something. We're always at war. There's always someone out there somewhere looking to hurt us."
Kimberly flinched. "I'm sorry, Linda. I didn't mean to offend you." She paused, feeling her heart begin to pound. She lowered her voice. "To be honest, I'm getting a little flustered sitting here with you. You're very pretty."
Damon's face changed in an instant, softening. "Oh. Is that how it is?"
Kimberly nodded.
Damon laughed. "Well, in that case, Lieutenant, you should know that I've got to be back with my crew at oh-seven-hundred hours. That means I have about forty-five minutes."
Kim felt her heart beating even faster. "Forty-five minutes? You mean-"
"If you're interested."
Kimberly stood up. Damon stood with her.
"You're on," she said, almost against her own will.
She led Damon from the mess ha
ll, crossing the base with her, bringing her into the officer's barracks and then to her quarters. She let Damon in first, reaching into her pocket and withdrawing a small black device she had found in her drawer as she entered. She absently wondered where it had come from, and what it was for, even as she closed the door behind her.
"Nice digs," Damon said, giving the quarters a quick once-over. "I've never been in an officer's personal quarters before. I always kind of wondered what they looked like."
"It's nothing special," Kimberly said, moving closer to the other woman. "But you didn't come here to talk."
Damon smiled, closing the gap between them and crouching slightly to reach Kimberly's mouth with her own. Kimberly's lips moved of their own accord, as did the hand holding the device. Before she could understand it for herself, she had pressed the device against Damon's neck. The Sergeant stopped kissing her immediately, her lips freezing and a soft whimper escaping. Kimberly backed off as the outer shell of the device fell to the floor, and Damon stood straight up.
Then the Sergeant smiled. "Well done, Watson," she said.
"Who's Watson?" Kimberly asked.
"You are," Damon said. "So am I."
"Should we still screw?" Kim said.
"Hmmm... Tempting, but no. I have other work to do. No. I think I'm going to head back to meet up with my fellow... Riggers? Oh, Mitchell, you're such a sap."
"I'm going to forget any of this ever happened," Kimberly said. She didn't know why she said it, but even as she did she felt as though time was slipping away from her. She tried to remember what she had just eaten, and couldn't.
Damon walked past her without another word, opening the door and vanishing into the hallway, leaving Kimberly standing alone in the room.
She looked down at her fatigues and decided that she needed another shower.
26
"Riggers Actual, this is Alfa, do you copy?" Mitchell waited a few seconds before trying his comm again. "Riggers Actual, this is Alfa, do you copy?"