Combat Frame XSeed

by Brian Niemeier

  Max sucked in a lungful of metallic-tasting air and slowly let it out. “How close is the XSeed to completion?”

  “The only remaining design hurdle is the XCD-001-1’s core operating system,” said Browning. “Megami specified an artificial intelligence capable of real-time learning to enable adaptation during combat. Therein lies your one chance to avert democide.”

  “It’s not much of a chance,” said Max. “Megami will have her people go over my code with a scanning electron microscope.”

  “Undoubtedly,” said Browning. “Perhaps the best way to influence a learning machine is with the right teacher.” He produced a dark blue handheld device from his lab coat’s inside pocket and handed it to Max. A familiar GUI flashed to life on the rectangular screen.

  “Hello, Max,” Marilyn’s voice greeted him. “I hope you can hear me over this device’s crude speakers.”

  “I can hear you just fine, honey,” said Max. “And it’s music to my ears.” Concern tempered his joy. “Marilyn wasn’t Megami’s only hostage,” he told Browning. “Do you know where she’s holding an EGE Navy Lieutenant named Li Wen?”

  Browning straightened his glasses. “The intelligence officer who convinced you to defect? She’s not here on Metis to my knowledge. The only ones who’ve been brought up from Earth recently are you and Sieg Friedlander.”

  “Sieg’s here? What does Megami want with him?”

  “She brought him to test the XSeed, but so far he’s been indisposed due to illness.”

  Browning and Sieg are here with me helping Megami build a next-generation murder machine. She lied about Wen, but she let Browning transfer Marilyn from the Thor Prototype. Max tried to arrange the pieces, but no coherent picture emerged.

  “Did something I said distress you?” asked Browning.

  Everything, thought Max, mostly because I’m not sure I can trust you. He slid Marilyn’s temporary housing into his flight suit’s front pocket. “Let’s get to work. The sooner we’re done here, the better.”

  A glimpse of blue amid the muted earth tones of the Siberian woods alerted Ritter to the Ein Dolph’s position. His Grenzmark III’s state-of-the-art sensors locked onto the Soc CF from half a klick away. Ritter aimed his 115mm rifle and fired on full auto. Deafening staccato booms resounded through the trees, many of which exploded into splinters in the giant shells’ path.

  The dust and waste heat dissipated. Ritter got a clear view of the Dolph thanks to the felled trees. The boxy Soc CF’s blue armor bore a coating of sawdust but not a single scratch.

  The Dolph’s black visor fixed itself on the Grenzmark III, but Ritter fired his new CF’s rockets before the enemy could level his plasma rifle. The g’s crushed Ritter into his chair. This’ll help break it in!

  Ritter’s view of the woods blurred into a panorama of gray clouds. He brought the throttle down to hover above the forest canopy, through which a red flash blazed. A line of trees stretching from where he’d just stood to the horizon disintegrated in a cloud of flame.

  Where is he? Ritter’s sensors reacquired the Dolph in the woods below. An orange-white burst on his thermograph told him the Soc CF was firing its thrusters. The Dolph blasted up through the leafy canopy, its plasma rifle trained on Ritter’s Grenzmark. Ritter launched a warhead from each of the missile pods attached to his CF’s legs. The Dolph obliterated one missile in a crimson flash, and the other streaked past the target’s left shoulder.

  Ritter slid left on maneuvering thrusters ahead of the Dolph’s next shot. His return machine gun fire didn’t penetrate the Soc CF’s armor, but it did distract the enemy from Ritter’s second missile, which had curved around to home in on the Dolph’s back. The impact took out half the blue CF’s thrusters and blew it toward its opponent.

  Racking his machine gun, Ritter drew his plasma lance. He ignited the double weapon and impaled the Soc’s cockpit on the longer front blade. The Dolph fell smoking into the trees.

  “The Grenzmark III is even better than I thought! If the production models perform this well, the Socs won’t stand a chance.”

  “Not a bad cockpit shot.” Zane’s voice over the comm and the Grenzmark’s chirping proximity alarm interrupted Ritter’s celebration. A bright speck on the rearview monitor suddenly grew into Dead Drop’s hard-edged black form. “Let me show you how it’s done!”

  Dead Drop screamed toward Ritter’s back, leading with its violet plasma sword. Ritter spun in time to block with his plasma lance. Humming sparks flew where his green blade and Zane’s purple blade clashed. Ritter levered his lance’s rear blade up toward Dead Drop’s right side, but Zane bisected the lance’s two-gripped hilt with a diagonal slash and jabbed his sword’s blazing plasma column into Ritter’s cockpit.

  Ritter groaned as the hatch in front of him hissed open. The warm dry air and industrial clamor of Zeklov’s factory inundated him. The recently upgraded Dead Drop stood in its maintenance dock across the wide aisle from Ritter’s unfinished Grenzmark III. “I know you’re itching for a fight,” he shouted to Zane, “but did you have to gatecrash my simulation?”

  Dead Drop’s cockpit opened. Zane poked his platinum blond head out. “Anything can happen on the battlefield. I just threw in a wild card. You should thank me.”

  “Hey, Zane,” a familiar feminine voice called from the floor below. Dorothy ran around an approaching column of EGE soldiers to stand at Dead Drop’s feet. She wore the same olive jumpsuit as the soldiers, and her light brown hair peaked out from under a matching field cap.

  Zane’s brow knotted. “What are you doing here?”

  “She tagged along with me.” Major Collins signaled the column to halt between Dead Drop and the Grenzmark. The scar traversing his dark left eyebrow was visible from ten meters up. “Colonel Larson has ordered our new CF teams to train on Zeklov’s simulators. I’m to oversee their training and liaise with Zeklov on the Army’s behalf.”

  Ritter hopped out of the cockpit and climbed down the scaffold surrounding the incomplete Grenzmark III—one of many arranged in rows across the expansive factory floor. Bare of the improved armor he’d co-designed, the new CF resembled a burly steel skeleton with carbon nanotube muscles and a thick black halo minus a head.

  Collins saluted when Ritter reached the ground. “We haven’t had a chance to talk since the Socs attacked the fleet,” the Major said. “I saw Dellister’s recording of your action against that Zwei Dolph. Damn fine work. Somewhere, Zimmer is smiling.”

  Zane landed hard between Dorothy and Collins, preempting Ritter’s reply. “What about me?” asked Zane.

  “I’d commend you if you weren’t just out for yourself,” Collins said.

  Dorothy clutched Zane’s arm. “He’s not selfish, Major.”

  “Thanks,” said Zane.

  “He’s crazy,” she explained.

  “I won’t argue,” said Collins. “Look here. Governor Troy has seized North Africa and could strike at any time. Our Shenlongs are no match for the enemy’s combat frames. McCaskey wants both of you, du Lione, and Naryal to reinforce the EGE fleet off the African coast.”

  “Dead Drop’s almost ready,” said Zane, “but who cares about this Troy guy? I want a rematch with Masz.”

  “See what I mean?” Dorothy said.

  “I won’t have a combat frame until the Grenzmark IIIs roll out at the end of the month,” said Ritter.

  Collins set his jaw. “Let’s hope the Socs do us the courtesy of waiting.”

  31

  Is this what I fought for? Sieg pondered in his seat on the blue-curtained stage erected in Metis’ cavernous hangar. Elliot, Werner, Chase. Is this what you died for?

  The stage had been set up by a small detail of the 300,000 Kazoku who’d assembled to hear the Secretary-General’s address. Megami stood front and center at the glass podium with her back to Sieg and the handful of other dignitaries on stage. Her full attention remained fixed on the sea of gray-uniformed soldiers arranged in ordered columns on the wide deck.

>   Though seated above the crowd, Sieg couldn’t shake the feeling of being surrounded. Perhaps the silence fostered his unease. As the son of a prime minister, he’d been dragged to countless speeches, rallies, and assemblies. The white noise of a thousand conversations always preceded the main event—except this time. The Kazoku waited in silent obedience.

  “The Coalition has failed.” Megami’s breathy voice swept through the enormous room like a chill breeze. “Guilt drove them back to the barbarous earth. Fear made them too risk-averse to combat barbarism.”

  His sister’s words came to Sieg as an epiphany. Maintaining skepticism took an act of will.

  “My predecessors spent their careers fumbling to contain Earth’s corruption,” Megami continued. “Mitsu sought political and economic quarantine. Sanzen lusted for conquest. What blind fools!”

  Sieg knew without looking that Eiyu Masz lurked just behind the giant screen traversing the back of the stage. Officially Masz was running security—not that Liz could get much more secure in the midst of her own fanatical army. And they don’t get more fanatical than Masz.

  Megami’s already cool voice turned frigid. “What did Mitsu and Sanzen achieve besides the deaths of our brethren?”

  The first faint murmurs arose from the crowd. Sieg felt their mounting anger as if it were his own.

  “Man crawled from the primordial muck only to bathe in blood,” Megami said. “Stumbling toward the stars made him no more able to curb his murderous appetites. His disease threatens to contaminate the stars. A force beyond man is needed to end man’s brutal reign. That force stands massed here, today.”

  A susurrus of assent passed through the Kazoku ranks.

  The skirts of Megami’s blue trench coat swirled as she pivoted toward the towering screen, which cut to a live view of the asteroid’s cratered gray surface. The frame was centered on a titanic cluster of rocket nozzles jutting from the rocky ground. “This moment marks the start of our triumph and the beginning of history’s end. There is no past, no future; only an eternal now. I hereby decree that all dates be reckoned from this current and final year!”

  A whiteout mercifully dampened by image processing enveloped the screen. Sieg felt himself, and everything around him, nudged forward. The picture cleared to show the colossal engines spewing pillars of fire into the black sky.

  “Our task is clear,” Megami told her Kazoku. “We will purge the human infestation from the earth and cleanse the sky.”

  Rapturous cheers filled the hangar as Megami left the podium. She nodded to Sieg, who rose and followed her into the hallway behind the stage. Personnel of every class from officers to technical crew lined the narrow corridor. They paused and stared in awe as the girl who’d led the Coalition—who’d now decayed into something monstrous—passed them by.

  Sieg waited till his sister entered a door giving on an empty hallway before grabbing her arm. “What the hell was that speech, Liz?”

  Megami spun to face him. Her face betrayed mild amusement. “The beginning of the end.”

  “You’ve become everything Dad spent his life fighting. He’s spinning in his grave right now!”

  “He doesn’t have a grave,” Megami said. “I made sure there wasn’t enough of him left.”

  The strength drained from Sieg’s hand. Megami slid free of his grip just before wrenching pain shot up his other arm. Sieg doubled over in agony as hands like iron forced him into a joint lock.

  “I’m sorry he touched you,” Masz said from behind Sieg. “I tried to stay hidden.”

  Through the red fog of pain, Sieg realized he’d lost his constant sense of Masz’s whereabouts. The unnerving sensation returned with interest.

  “It’s okay,” said Megami, circling Sieg’s bent, helpless form. “He can’t hurt me. He never could.”

  Sieg tried to struggle against Masz’s grip, but he may as well have been arm wrestling a Grenzie. He could only emit a pained gasp.

  “Disappointing,” Megami said. Her voice reinforced the sentiment. “He’s nowhere near your level, let alone mine. Genetics really is a throw of the dice.”

  The pressure on Sieg’s arm increased, bringing unimagined levels of pain. “Should I kill him?” asked Masz.

  A moment passed. “Let him go,” said Megami.

  Masz inflicted one more jolt of maddening pain before releasing his hold. Sieg straightened, rubbing his tortured shoulder, and glared at his sister.

  “I’m taking you off Project S,” Megami said. “Masz is the XSeed’s new test pilot.” She nodded to her bootlicker. “I’m putting you in command of Metis and moving Irenae Zend to Astraea. Put my brother on a shuttle to Byzantium colony. He tried so hard to get into Sanzen’s compound. Let him wait for me there.”

  Masz grabbed Sieg’s upper arm, more gently this time, and forced him down the hall toward the hangar.

  Sieg looked back at his sister. “I wish I’d never found out you’re alive.”

  Max had begun work on the XSeed’s operating system under duress, but he’d soon come to savor the challenge. Megami wanted a strong A.I. that could supplement a pilot’s skills by learning to make its own combat decisions. She coveted the same capability the EGE feared.

  She’d also stipulated that Prometheus—as Max had christened his experimental OS—have the ability to coordinate XSeed’s targeting systems with a command vessel via free-space laser. Max was strictly forbidden from discussing that feature, even with other techs on the same top-secret project.

  Thanks to the extravagant resources the Socs had provided, Max had surmounted the technical challenges set before him in rapid succession. While he felt a swell of pride at having brought Prometheus to near-completion in record time, knowing that a genocidal tyrant would reap the fruits of his labor tarnished his achievement.

  That was why today, when Max expected to finish work on the XSeed’s OS, he also planned to throw a wrench in Megami’s schemes.

  Figuring out how to screw her over presented another dilemma. Max’s workstation had no external connectivity, just a keyboard and a mic for verbal commands. Soc software engineers checked every line of code prior to insertion in Prometheus’ architecture. A single guarded door secured with biometric locks gave access to the palladium glass-enclosed lab.

  It was Browning who’d pointed Max in the right direction. An emergency override or backdoor in Prometheus’ code would have been spotted. Instead, Max would give Megami the learning A.I. she demanded and give Prometheus the best possible teacher.

  Marilyn still resided on Max’s handheld. Outside devices were banned from the lab, but today the inhumanly vigilant Kazoku guards were scheduled to attend some kind of rally in the main hangar. Max bet he could sneak Marilyn in under the temp guard’s nose for a quick chat with Prometheus. A fraction of a second would be long enough for his first A.I. to impart her wisdom to her successor.

  Once they made it inside, the operation would be out of Max’s hands. He’d be counting on Marilyn to sway Prometheus. Plus he had no way of knowing what she could convince him of and no say in how she’d go about it. He couldn’t discount the possibility that the more advanced A.I. might talk Marilyn into joining the Socs.

  The risks were high, but so were the stakes, and Max had no other options. He strolled down the polished stone hallway toward the microalloy glass door with the handheld’s hard rectangle tucked in his belt. Max breezed past the bored-looking Soc guard and submitted his thumbprint and retina scan. The door hissed open, letting the low hum of cooling fans emanate from within.

  “Aren’t you forgetting something?” a breathy feminine voice called from the hallway.

  The hairs on Max’s neck stood up. He turned.

  Megami stood ten paces behind him dressed in a Kazoku uniform and a navy blue trench coat. Her two-bit thug Masz leered at Max from over her shoulder, but the SecGen had locked eyes with the guard.

  The round-faced Soc on the door snapped out of his malaise and stood up from his desk. “Empty your pocket
s,” he ordered Max.

  “Weren’t you giving a speech today?” Max said as his mind raced. He put on a cocky grin, hoping to buy more time.

  “I already did,” Megami said. “I hate long speeches. You heard the man.”

  Max turned out his pants, shirt, and lab coat pockets, producing only a couple of chewed plastic pens. He shrugged.

  “Use the wand,” Megami told the guard. The dumpy fellow ran a spatula-sized metal detector over Max’s body. The device squawked when it passed over the small of his back.

  Trying not to show his panic, Max reached back and pulled out the blue oblong handheld.

  “You always keep that back there?” Megami asked.

  “I must’ve forgot,” said Max.

  “Right.” The SecGen pointed to the guard. “Hand it over.”

  Max slapped Marilyn’s current vessel into the guard’s chubby palm. The suddenly conscientious sentry switched off the device and locked it in a drawer of his metal desk.

  “You can have it back when you’re done,” Megami said. ”I expect nothing less than greatness.” She turned on her heel to leave. Masz skulked after her.

  Max’s anger boiled over. “Where are you keeping Li Wen?” he shouted at her back.

  “You’ll see her after tomorrow’s successful test flight,” said Megami. “The XSeed’s OS had better be finished by then. And Max? Cross me again, and I’ll slit your throat.”

  32

  Naryal sat back in Jagannath’s pilot seat and panted for several moments after the simulation ended. She lowered her green jumpsuit’s zipper to dangle between her breasts and took some relief in the coolness of evaporating perspiration.

  “You fought well, my dear.” The main monitor showed Jean-Claude poised halfway out of Veillantif’s cockpit, striking a naturally dashing pose with one foot on the open hatch.

  Naryal opened her fully repaired CF’s cockpit to face her opponent across the subterranean factory floor. A mechanical chorus drifted from the distance, where Zeklov’s men hurried to finish the Grenzmark IIIs. “Thank you,” she said, her respiration still slightly elevated. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you let me win.”