The Susquehanna Virus Box Set

by Steve McEllistrem

  The robots insisted the ship was in control and they wouldn’t interfere with its decisions. They also claimed they didn’t know the ship’s final destination. They seemed unconcerned by that.

  General Ban and the rest of the Chescala plotted against the robots, trying to figure out ways to retake the ship. The robots knew about the plotting, of course, but did nothing to stop it—almost as if they were indulgent parents, letting their children work out their anger issues. Or perhaps their human-first programming wouldn’t let them do anything to harm the Chescala, especially after the earlier mistake with the medication.

  General Ban had tried to recruit Aspen and her fellow cadets into their plot, but Aspen and the others refused. They had promised not to try to enslave the robots, and she was determined to keep that promise. Plus, the cadets knew what it was like to be manipulated, held captive to a puppetmaster’s desires. They could never condone taking over the robots now that they knew the robots were like them—intelligent beings with free will and no intent to harm anyone.

  Still Aspen wanted to know where they were going. She found it frustrating to be kept in the dark all the time.

  The door opened and Addam appeared, hands behind his back, flanked by Benn, Phan, Shiloh and Kammilee. They wore broad grins, looking angelic as usual: part of the process that had accelerated their aging.

  “What are you up to?” Aspen asked as she braced herself for trouble.

  They looked at each other and then back to her.

  “Happy Birthday!”

  “What? How did you . . .”

  “It’s not a secret,” Addam said as he slid a small box from behind his back and proffered it to her.

  “What is it?”

  “Silly,” Kammilee said. “You have to open it to find out what’s inside.”

  “You’re thirteen years old today,” Benn said. “The oldest of all of us. Or you would be thirteen if you hadn’t been genetically aged.”

  “But you still look good,” Phan said. “Not a day over twenty-five.”

  “Hush,” Shiloh said as she elbowed Phan. “Go ahead. Open it.”

  Aspen opened the box. Inside she found a simple necklace with a heart-shaped locket attached.

  “Open the locket,” Addam said.

  Aspen opened the clasp and separated the two halves. Out popped a holo-projection of three female cadets—Zora, Rendela and herself—her tong from the Moon. They smiled and waved at the holo-camera. Was that the happiest moment of her life? Certainly the happiest moment she could recall.

  She fought off tears as she remembered her long-lost friends: Rendela dead, Zora living on Earth, the three of them so close on the Moon and now separated forever.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  “You’ve done a great job,” said Addam.

  “How did you make such an intricate piece?”

  “Xinliu helped us,” Kammilee said. “She set the holo-projection. We did the rest.”

  “It’s beautiful,” said Aspen. She got to her feet and hugged each of them in turn.

  “We’re making a cake for dinner,” Phan said. “Well, we programmed it into the auto-cook.”

  “I’m sure it will be delicious.”

  Benn looked both ways down the hall. “Squeeze in,” he said.

  He stepped inside her room, closed the door and said, “A couple more things you should know. First . . .”

  He gestured to Kammilee, who took his hand and said, “I’m pregnant.”

  “You’re what?”

  “Three months. I wanted to tell you earlier, but there was some concern about whether I’d be able to carry the baby to term, what with all the genetic and nano-modifications we’ve all endured, plus the fact that I’m really only twelve years old.”

  “Wow.”

  “Aren’t you happy for us?”

  “Of course I am. I know this is what you wanted. Do the robots know? Of course they do.”

  “Yes,” Kammilee replied. “Xinliu assigned Mei-Xing to monitor my condition.”

  Aspen smiled. “Mei-Xing must be thrilled by that.”

  “Surprisingly, she’s been very pleasant, very professional.”

  “I don’t trust her,” Benn said.

  “That’s probably because she doesn’t trust us,” said Shiloh.

  “I wish Xinliu had assigned someone else to help.”

  “Well,” Aspen said to Kammilee, “take Benn to all your checkups and keep one of the male med robots there at all times.”

  “I will,” Kammilee said.

  “What else?” Aspen asked. “You said there were a couple of things.”

  “It’s the Chescala,” said Phan. “I think they’re preparing an attack on the robots.”

  Aspen shook her head. “Sixteen against forty, and the forty are faster, stronger and maybe smarter, not to mention aware of their plot to retake the ship—doesn’t seem like a very bright move to me.”

  “I didn’t say it was a smart move,” Phan replied.

  “What makes you think they’re getting ready to attack now?”

  “I asked some of the robots, none of the leaders—I’m sure they wouldn’t tell me. But some of the other robots have been talking, and they think it’s coming soon.”

  Addam nodded. “What do you think we ought to do?”

  Shiloh leaned forward. “Should we side with the Chescala or the robots?”

  “Or should we take advantage of the situation,” Benn said, “and grab control of the ship ourselves?”

  “The ship won’t be easy to take,” said Aspen. “It has a mind and a will of its own. I’ve been thinking about this quite a bit lately and I believe the ship has no intention of going anywhere.”

  “What do you mean?” Addam asked. “We’re clearly flying through space. Unless it’s all some elaborate hoax and we’re still orbiting Mars?”

  “No, we’re flying through space. I think. What I mean is, I don’t believe the ship wants to set down on any particular planet or moon. I think it wants to keep flying, doing what it was created to do, so I don’t think it has a specific destination in mind. I believe the robots know that and they’re just happy to be free so they don’t care about an end destination.”

  “Assuming you’re right,” Kammilee said, “what should we do about it?”

  “I’ll have a talk with General Ban, see what he’s planning. Maybe I can convince him not to do anything stupid. If not, then I guess we’ll have a decision to make. Meanwhile, let’s go get some cake and celebrate my birthday and your pregnancy.”

  Chapter 5

  The ride back to Washington felt much longer than ninety minutes. Soon after they started down the road Jeremiah had pulled back inside himself. Zora wished she could somehow ease his suffering, but he saw the pity in her eyes and shook his head slightly. “I’m fine,” he said. “Just a bad day.” Yet each breath made him wince, making it difficult for her to breathe as well. It probably didn’t help that he’d seen Curtik wearing Julianna’s face.

  Curtik, to his credit, tried to engage Jeremiah half a dozen times but Jeremiah mostly nodded or shrugged and Curtik finally gave up, rolling his eyes and exhibiting that unfocused stare that told her he was using his implant, probably to listen to the Crystal Skull Bangers’ newest song.

  As she studied Jeremiah, Zora sent Devereaux a message via her interface, asking if there was something she could do to help him. It was a fraction slower using an interface than an implant like Curtik’s, but they had plenty of time. Yet no reply came. So they rode in near-silence, Jeremiah sitting without moving, meditating or more likely centering himself in his dungeon to escape the pain.

  In the past year, Zora had come to realize that as much as she cared for him, she wasn’t in love with him. She cared for him more than any other person she’d known, but the love she’d felt be
fore, the sexual desire, had transmuted into the love of a daughter for her father.

  He’d been telling her for a long time that she would come to that realization some day and he’d been right. She no longer wanted him, no longer dreamed of him. But she still missed the idea of him—the goodness, the vitality, the dignity and kindness, all those qualities Curtik had yet to master.

  She sensed that Jeremiah was receding from the world, fading into invisibility, as if he were no longer connected to it. That frightened her. He looked as if he’d be dead in months, but with his fantastic healing abilities, he would probably continue to live in agony for many years.

  Had he given up? Was he going through the motions for her sake and Curtik’s? She wished she could make him see how badly he was needed.

  As the sedan pulled to a stop in front of the CINTEP building, a message arrived from Devereaux: Take him to see Sophie.

  Zora turned to Jeremiah and said, “You should come inside and see your daughter.”

  Jeremiah shook his head. “Too much to do.”

  Zora elbowed Curtik.

  “She’s right, old man,” Curtik said. “Sophie misses you.”

  “I have a meeting with Devereaux,” Jeremiah said.

  “He won’t mind,” Zora said. “In fact, it was his idea.”

  Jeremiah smiled briefly. “You’ve been in touch with Devereaux?”

  “I’ve been worried about you. So has Curtik, though he tries to hide it. It feels like you’re slipping away from us.”

  Curtik said, “I just got a message from Lendra. She said to remind you that your PlusPhone is turned off and she asks for the pleasure of your company before you depart.”

  Jeremiah sighed.

  Zora gestured for Jeremiah to precede them out of the vehicle and again he smiled. “Are you afraid I’ll drive away if you get out first?” he asked.

  “The thought occurred to me.”

  He took a deep breath and stepped out of the sedan. When they joined him, he hobbled toward the building, pain evident in every stride.

  “I don’t want your pity,” he said as Zora and Curtik flanked him.

  Zora glanced at Curtik but he made no response. They rode to the top floor without speaking, looking straight ahead. When they arrived, Jeremiah dutifully entered the nursery.

  Zora and Curtik stopped outside the door. Curtik called over a vending robot and selected a couple raisin/walnut croissants and fizz waters. They took a few minutes to eat, occasionally glancing through the window in the door, noting how stiffly Jeremiah moved as he played with Sophie.

  “What next?” Curtik asked after they finished their meal, depositing the empty bottles in the vending robot’s recycler and sending it away.

  Bring him to Lendra’s office after his visit, Devereaux sent to her interface.

  “Did you get that?” Zora asked.

  “Yeah,” Curtik replied. “Freaks me out every time he does that. It’s like he just pops into my head. Maybe I should get my implant removed and use an interface like you do.”

  “I was just thinking maybe I should get an implant again. My brain is almost fully healed. Dr. Poole says I could tolerate one now.”

  Lendra emerged from her office and walked down the hall to where they stood. Looking through the window at her former lover and her daughter, she said, “It’s nice to see him with Sophie. I wish he would visit more often.”

  “Yes,” Zora replied.

  “He’s got some issues,” Curtik said. He spotted Lendra’s frown and added, “What? We all know it’s true. He’s a good man, but he’s kinda messed up.”

  “How did the mission go?” Lendra asked.

  “I don’t know,” Zora said. “We did what we were told, but I’m still not sure what that was. Planted some sensors and a couple of bugs, got shot at, returned fire and ran away.”

  Curtik said, “Is that Fowler guy really involved in conditioning people’s minds?”

  “We believe so, yes. The bugs and sensors are intended to help us confirm or discount that intelligence.”

  “Who’s he workin’ with?”

  Lendra looked at Jeremiah and Sophie again.

  Zora answered for her, “There must be a group in the media, putting out the message to keep the sheep in check.”

  “A lot of the big companies, probably,” Curtik said. “Gotta keep that money rollin’ in, no matter what.”

  Jeremiah spotted them through the window as the nanny approached with a tray of food for Sophie. He kissed his daughter goodbye and opened the door. Shaking his head, he asked, “Now what?”

  Lendra said, “How are you feeling?”

  “Fine.”

  “Only hurts when you’re awake?” Zora said.

  Jeremiah smiled. “Something like that.”

  “I’m sorry,” Lendra said, “but you need to see some things.”

  Jeremiah sighed. “Lead the way.”

  As they traipsed into Lendra’s office, Zora noticed Dr. Poole sitting behind a second, smaller desk situated next to Lendra’s. Hannah stood over Jay-Edgar, who was sitting at his old comm console. What was he doing here?

  All three of them studied Jeremiah as he made his way toward the sofa. When he sat, they looked over at Lendra.

  “There have been a few changes to CINTEP,” she said. “From now on, Dr. Poole will be my co-director. She will focus on the Susquehanna Virus, while I will lead the search for these God hackers—though we will be working together on both projects. We’ve recalled Jay-Edgar to assist us with the hacking issue.”

  “How do you feel about sharing power?” Jeremiah asked.

  “I welcome the help,” said Lendra.

  Jeremiah glanced at Zora, then at Lendra, who was fingering her glass bulb necklace, then back at Zora.

  Zora smiled. So Lendra was still fighting her addiction to neo-dopamine.

  “What?” Curtik said. “What are you two on about? I’d think you were sending each other messages except Jeremiah doesn’t have an implant.”

  “Nothing,” said Zora. “What about these hackers? Why is that a big deal? It seems like a harmless prank.”

  “There have been some new developments,” Lendra said. “Jay-Edgar?”

  Jay-Edgar pressed an icon, and a holo-projection of Devereaux appeared. Devereaux no longer possessed the simplistic robotic shell he once had; instead, he’d created a new body following the Wong-Tech design, and he had altered the features so that he looked like he had when he was human—though a little younger than before his body died. He even wore a lab coat over a set of clothing, which probably captured energy with every movement.

  “Hello,” the robot spoke in Devereaux’s voice. “I hope you’re well. It’s good to see you all, particularly you, Jeremiah.”

  “I was just on my way to see you,” Jeremiah said, his voice sounding weary. “What do you need now?”

  “It’s not what I need from you, it’s what I can do for you.” The robot smiled. “I’ve found a way to eliminate your pain.”

  “That’s great,” said Lendra.

  “Wonderful,” Dr. Poole echoed.

  Zora watched Jeremiah, but he didn’t appear happy to receive the news. She noticed Curtik watching Jeremiah too.

  “What’s the catch?” Jeremiah said.

  “No catch,” said Devereaux. “I just want you to feel better.”

  “Okay, and how are you going to do that?”

  “A relatively simple procedure entailing further genetic enhancement.”

  “Meaning?”

  The robot nodded. “Minor improvements to your strength, endurance and speed. That’s not what we’re attempting, of course. They’re simply side effects of the treatment. Do you remember when you were shot by a Las-rifle on the Moon, that brief surge of exhilaration, almost invincibility?”


  Jeremiah nodded. Zora thought she detected fear on his face, but when she looked closer, she saw only a blank expression.

  “I’ve found a way to essentially duplicate that process in your body all the time.”

  “What about long-term consequences?”

  “Ah,” Devereaux replied. “Of course, I can’t know for certain but I don’t think it will shorten your life by much, if at all. Likely, you will simply live a pain-free existence.”

  “But there could be unintended consequences.”

  “Yes.”

  “I’ll think about it.”

  “Jeremiah,” Lendra said, “isn’t it worth it to eliminate your pain? Don’t you want to feel better?”

  Jeremiah glanced at Lendra before turning back to the holo-projection. “Anything else?”

  Devereaux said, “There have been a few new messages from these hackers claiming to be God, and I believe they’re referencing you.”

  “Me?”

  “I think they believe you’re their prophet,” said Devereaux.

  “I’m no one’s prophet.”

  “The really odd thing,” Devereaux continued, “is that one of these messages was sent to me.”

  “Why is that so odd?” Zora asked.

  “The message,” said Devereaux, “apparently originated inside my organic computer, inside my brain, if you will.”

  “That’s not possible,” Jay-Edgar said.

  “I realize that,” Devereaux said. “It’s quite vexing how a message could get inside my systems without me being able to trace it.”

  “Unless it really was from God,” said Hannah.

  Lendra said, “We’re going to assume that’s not the case for now.”

  “What did your message say?” Zora asked.

  “‘Listen to my prophet, who is more than human, less than whole.’ Typical biblical ambiguity, though it may be referencing you, Jeremiah.”

  “That message is so vague it could be referring to you as well.”

  Devereaux said, “True. But my analysis suggests they may be attempting to get you back in the game, so to speak.”