by Lee Bond
Vasily stepped forward. “A function of the overall display of today’s events was the testing of several new and unique weapons systems, some of which worked with undeniable efficiency while others did not perform so well. I would like to begin by talking about the Fully Automated RailSniper or 'FARS-gun'…”
Revelations of a Machine Mind
Griffin bit off a curse as he dropped out of warp; the suit hadn’t diminished the pain of translation at all and his every nerve ending burned like fire. No doubt, a human would be incapacitated with endlessly shrieking pain. “What in the motherfuckin’ hell.”
Trinity’s ‘authority voice’ boomed loudly, turning Griffin’s head into a clapper, his helmet the bell. “Who do you think you are, Griffin Jones?”
Floating limply in space, limbs still wracked with translation pain, Griffin found the strength to yell. “Ah’m a fuckin’ Kin’kithal warrior, you asshole. Ah’m a conqueror! Ah am the goddamn end-all be-all of your precious human race and when Ah git the fuck outta this here suit Ah’m gonna burn yore worlds to ash. Ya’ll don’t know what the hell ya’ll started, fuckin’ with me!”
Trinity chuckled, a particularly chilling sound given that It’d been hitherto suspected by endless legions of scientists and philosophers that Trinity felt no emotion whatsoever. “Fool. Buffoon. You are a weakling and you exist at My sufferance. Go; reach for your vaunted Kin’kithal power. Burn your Suit away from your flesh. As what you are, you should easily survive the vacuum of space. I give you leave to do as you will.”
Gritting his teeth in anger, pain and a bit of doubt that he could in fact survive the harsh rigors of deep vacuum, Griffin grabbed at his power. Nothing. A cool, empty void where the riot of fire normally existed, waiting with eternal patience to come burning outwards. “Whut th’ fuck.”
“I am thirty thousand years old, Griffin Jones. I am neither the machine the Armies of Man developed to aid in the eradication of the M’Zahdi Hesh nor am I something you can ever hope to understand. Your mind is too small.” Trinity paused. “I ask again, who do you think you are? Bearing in mind that, encased in that suit, you live or die at My whim.”
Raging, body feeling like it would burst from the pressure of containing his anger, Griffin found the strength to speak calmly. “I am an Enforcer.”
“Indeed you are, Griffin Jones. You are my most unique and cherished Enforcer, even with your incredibly inappropriate attempt to kill Garth N’Chalez only a few moments ago. What were you thinking?”
“Ah admit, son, strictly speakin’, Ah wasn’t thinkin’ atall.” Now that his death was no longer so imminent, Griffin readopted the cornpone persona he found solace in. “But ya’ll gotta admit it was a perfect opportunity.”
“It was, indeed. I wish you would share with me the reasons behind your perfectly incandescent rage, Griffin. As I recall, you and he were the greatest of friends, a description of purest synergy. Mentor and student, unstoppable.”
Griffin shook his head. “No. Not now. Not ever. That one thang’ll be mahn ‘till the day Ah die”.
“Come now.” Trinity said gently. “The anger in your voice when you speak of him, this reference you made to him being a black hole … does he in fact possess Heshii Continuum-spawned powers? I know the Armies of Man believed it to be so, that they doubted the proof he so willingly provided. Sadly, my own records of that time are unreliable. Tell me.”
Griffin bit off another curse. Trinity was always the fucking same. He shook his head. “Go tah hell, Trinity. Ah tole you last time that there fella never did have no special powers, ‘lessin’ you count his mind.”
“His father…”
“Was the goddamn legendary First Kith Antal, Ah know, Ah know! An’ Ah don’t give a fuck. All’s Ah wanna know is why him and not me! Ah’m a goddamn Kin’kithal too, you know!”
“The spaceship designated ‘Bravo’ by the ancient Armies of Man is not, strictly speaking, in my catalog of hy-tech weapons or vessels developed by Humanity to counter the M’Zahdi Hesh, Griffin Jones. There are no records of its creation, no signs it is supposed to exist, yet it does. The language etched onto the outer shell is similar in form and function to that of Alpha’s, but is not the same; Alpha’s engravature translates into warnings for Kith, Kin, Heshii and Harmony soldiers. Bravo’s is indecipherable.” Trinity waited.
“There was never no proof that … that they were even real, Trinity.”
“Who? You forget. My records of that time are barely useable; I was still just a loose collection of applications. Give me your knowledge.”
“The motherfuckin’ Ushbet M’Tai, goddamn it, an Ah know ya’ll know what the fuck Ah’m talkin’ about. They were only ever a fuckin’ red herring thrown out by Antal and Garth, a concession to the commanders of the Armies of Man. What does this have to do with anything Ah’m askin’?”
“It is simple, Griffin. Garth Nickels was, right up until very nearly the end of your part in the wars against the Heshii and their minions, the sole generator of hy-tech artifacts. It is not until well after your interment in Alpha that teams of men and women began designing hy-tech equipment remotely close to Nickels’ genius. Since this is the undeniable case, it makes sense that Nickels designed Bravo. After you and the others were interred. Time does not exist inside the suspension fields, Griffin. There is no adequate way to judge the length of time he was out in the world while you and the others were locked in time. Since he took such obvious and great pains to manufacture Bravo without your help or knowledge, it is only logical to assume that he is the only one who can open it.”
“So why ya’ll keep askin’ me if Ah know what’s inside if ya’ll know I cain’t know?”
“As I said, you and he were thickest of thieves until that night. Even my paltry records of that time indicate a great friendship gone awry. Then there is your absolute reluctance to tell me what I know you know.”
Griffin threw a hand up. “Why don’t ya’ll just fuckin’ dig through my brain an’ take whatcha need? Ya’ll got the tech in this here Suit, Ah know it.”
“I could indeed do that. Easily. I could’ve done so years ago, at any time. Unfortunately, the process would kill you and I have several incredibly important reasons to keep you alive, even if you continually disobey my orders.”
This was something new. Not since the moment Trinity had approached him with It’s offer of wearing an Enforcer suit had the AI suggested anything remotely resembling a plan concerning one Griffin Jones. His temper cooled, albeit slightly. “Do tell.”
“I thought that might capture your attention.” Trinity chuckled without mirth. “I never once implied I have any need of Garth N’Chalez beyond his singular skill in being able to open Bravo. It is relatively safe to assume that once it is open, anyone can operate the machinery inside. I cannot imagine Garth N’Chalez would limit himself so entirely. He is a man who relies on teamwork, and whatever true plan he hatched would certainly require more than a single man.”
Griffin smiled underneath his helmet, a big grin that stretched from ear to ear. Alpha was purely a containment vessel; the only things inside that ship were the stasis chambers. Bravo, on the other hand, most likely held a treasure trove of hy-tech machinery, equipment that not even Trinity could replicate. “Ah do like the thought o’ that. Ah do indeed.”
“As do I. With what is inside, it is entirely probable I can bring the imminent conflict with the forces waiting beyond The Cordon to a quick and speedy conclusion.”
Griffin didn’t think that was likely at all, but kept his yapper shut. Trinity spoke exceedingly rarely about the ‘threat’ lurking trillions of light years away. All Griffin knew for certain was that The Cordon had initially come about in an effort to keep ‘the threat’ away while It gathered power. It was only in the last twenty thousand years that it’d become an impenetrable wall keeping not just Trinity’s unnamed enemy out but also a hundred million variations on Humanity.
Supposition from conversations over the last de
cade, though, told Griffin that Trinity’s antagonist had been around for at least as long as the AI Itself, out there in deep space for virtually the entire time, probably operating without the same restrictions It ‘suffered’ from. Irreplaceable hy-tech weapons or not, fighting a war with an enemy that’d had that much time to prepare was never going to end ‘quickly’ or ‘speedily’. Griffin wished Trinity would name this threat; he was of the opinion that it was the M’Zahdi Hesh, though how they had gotten so far away from the center of things was well beyond him.
“What’s th’ other thang?”
“It has no doubt crossed your mind on more than one occasion as to my … wisdom … in allowing the Latelians to live as they do.”
Griffin nodded brusquely. “Got that right in one, son.”
“It has never been my choice. I know now they are in possession of a HIM.”
Were he not floating loosely in the void, Griffin would’ve fallen to the ground in stone-cold shock. A Heuristic Intelligence Model? In the hands of the freaking Latelians? That was a nightmare of gigantic proportions. “How in the goddamn hell did they git ahold of one of them? And how are they not controlling ya’ll like a fucking puppet raght now?”
“I can only assume that the operating system has become corrupted over thirty thousand years; their rabid dislike of me and their incessant poking into corners better left undisturbed would have surely yielded precisely that situation long ago.”
“Well, did they find the goddamn thing or whut?” Griffin’s brain spun in his skull. A HIM. In the hands of the Latelians. Christ on a fuckin’ cracker!
“Unknown. As with all HIM systems, I am incapable of detecting their locations. It was a security precaution designed directly into both my hardware and software. Ancient Man held no trust for artificial intelligence.” Trinity paused. “As their entire netLINK is powered, at its base, by the HIM’s extra-dimensional connectivity, I cannot even probe their historical data without alerting the machine to my presence.”
“And ya’ll’re just finding out about this now?”
“Indeed. I can only assume Garth’s presence, the theoretical awakening of Bravo’s onboard systems in reaction to his arrival or your own presence on Hospitalis somehow managed to provoke the HIM into briefly, so briefly, revealing its existence. Through your suit, I detected a brief attempt at an overriding data destruction signal that was originally designed to shut me down. I initially thought it was an attack on the Suit.”
“’s called a Sigma Protocol, ole hoss, an’ the Chairwoman uses ‘em to basically erase all digital signs of somethin’, be it a person, a thing or some damn fuckin’ mess at a Museum.” Griffin shook his head. He hated beating a dead horse, but damn. “How in th’ hell you ain’t learn about this afore now?”
“The Chair is in the habit of seeking out signs of my agents, apparently with the aid of the HIM. Prior to now, I’ve never had an Enforcer in Latelyspace for any duration at all.”
“What happens to ‘em?” Griffin did not like the notion of Enforcers being killed.
“The Chairwoman is unaware of it, but the HIM commands she uses to detect my agents also disrupts my communication links with the Suit. Without the infinitesimal connection between myself and Enforcer armor, there is a catastrophic overload.” Trinity replied, dryly. “And that is that.”
“All raght, Ah’m ready to head on out.” Griffin nodded. “Done mah duty, Ah did. Saved that there asshole Chadsik from gettin’ killed so Ah reckon ya’ll want me to move on.”
“I need for you to locate the HIM, Griffin. It is of paramount importance. With the HIM in my possession, I will be able to dominate the Latelian netLINKs and I can find the location of Bravo with ease. I can then ensure that Garth has immediate access to it, neatly avoiding this foolishness of the Game. Once he opens Bravo, it is probable the security systems inside will scan him deeply. I find it highly unlikely the Armies of Man ever intended their neural sheathing technology to take Garth N’Chalez to such a level of strength and speed. Those security protocols will identify him as ‘too much the Kin’ and open fire before the rest of the systems can catch up. As I intended from the very moment he was forced into Special Services. Then you will enter Bravo and discern a way to pass control to me.”
The Enforcer narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. Trinity didn’t know about the extra-dimensional chicanery that’d taken place inside The Museum. Hell, truth be told, Griffin didn’t understand too much of what’d gone on, but he was willing to bet his left nut that that ex-dee explosion had probably shorted out every single one of Garth’s atomic-level hy-tech sheaths, transforming him into just a regular fella.
Or so he’d like everyone to believe. How long, he wondered, would it take N’Chalez to reawaken fully?
Griffin suddenly realized that if he could get hold of the HIM for his own purposes, he could rid himself of the damnable Suit, take control of Trinity and force Garth into admitting the truth. He wasn’t able to build any of the wondrous machines his old commander could, but he was no slouch, he knew he could figure out a way to tell whatever operating system existed inside Bravo that Garth was a liar.
“Ah dunno, Trinity, this sounds kinda risky. Whut if the ole Chairwoman runs a search for folks like myself?”
“As you are so often wont to remind me, Griffin, you are Kin’kithal. You and all your kind are extraordinarily hardy. There is a chance you’d survive. Or not.” Trinity chuckled mirthfully this time. “So I suggest you work quickly to locate the HIM, before she engages in the hunt.”
“Will do, patrone.” Griffin summoned his silver surfboard and sat down cross-legged. The Latelians were using one of the precursor elements responsible for Trinity’s evolution. Wasn’t that a kick in the pants? Since it had been built along vastly alien concepts -compared to the standard diamond optic patterns in widespread use-, they couldn’t even test it properly for self-awareness. Griffin laughed long and loud at the crazy Latelians and the games they played. Since he was heading back to Hospitalis so quickly, Griffin contemplated grabbing a bite to eat in one of the many restaurants they had there.
Superuser Code Required
Alyssa Doans was tired. She was always tired, these days. Along with what many assumed was endless power, being Chairwoman for Latelyspace guaranteed long, sleepless nights and days filled with interminable minutiae.
She wanted to lean against the First Main, but dared not. With it being so … fussy … lately, she didn’t want to do anything that might provoke it.
They were such fools, the lot of them. The so-called Noble Opposition saw only that she was in the Chair. They failed to understand what actually holding the title meant, the demands and stresses being a Chairperson brought.
Today, though, she was bone-tired. Vilmos Gualf had very nearly brought her to wit’s end. His strident pleas that she rise up and be the conqueror he rightly knew her to be still echoed in her ears. Hearing her one-time partner literally beg for a return to the bad old days had almost … almost … conned her into revealing an unspeakable truth.
Alyssa Doans, Chairwoman of Latelyspace, had never stopped being a dictator, had never quenched her mighty, rapacious hunger for power. She’d merely turned her gaze outwards. Part of what she’d told the worlds under her command tonight was true. Latelyspace needed to expand or they would all surely die. There simply wasn’t enough room to house the untold trillions of men and women in her paltry system any longer.
And yet, they were surrounded on all sides by Trinity, and the threat of It’s multitudinous weapons and Enforcers and everything else had always kept other Chairs at bay; Trinity might accept the loss of one or two of It’s systems, but for how long? What would the punishment be, for overreaching?
Alyssa Doans knew things those ancient, cowardly, despotic or just plain greedy men and women had never known, had never even tried to learn.
Trinity was afraid of Latelyspace.
It was afraid because It couldn’t stop them. Alyssa knew the AI could
n’t stop them because, frankly speaking, if It was as in control as It claimed It could be if It so chose, It would’ve never allowed the horror that was the Gunboys to be dreamed up, let alone fabricated, ‘Sovereignty Act’ or not.
Offhand, Alyssa knew of at least a dozen different systems that’d done similar things through the centuries and in every single instance, the Trinity AI had hammered the perpetrators into the ground, salted the earth, and turned off their Quantum Tunnel.
Therefore, Trinity was afraid. Whatever miracle –yes, miracle- kept them immune to the machine mind’s wrath would be It’s undoing. Because It was afraid for another reason; Latelyspace was immune to the Dark Ages, and one was approaching. Rapidly. Everyone could feel it. Whispers in the dark, coming from agents seeded throughout Trinityspace, said the same thing over and over again.
Dark would fall. When it did, systems would sleep.
But not Latelyspace. Oh no, not this time. This time, Latelyspace would move. Since Trinity was either blind to the things her teams of scientists developed or just plain old couldn’t move to prevent their innovations, they’d turned their eyes and minds to propulsion. Soon or late, they’d have engines capable of moving the God army beyond their borders and fall upon their nearest neighbors, all without needing the Quantum Tunnel. And they’d do it again and again until they held dozens of systems and Trinity, locked down along with everything else, wouldn’t know until a thousand years or more had passed.