New Blood Episode Three: Whispers
By AMRAAM
Part 1
Jak was in charge of his first patrol. He had four Peewees and a couple of Jeffies who didn’t seem too happy about being left in his charge, and Rocko Sue. He was glad Lancer had given him Sue even if she slowed them all down, because he knew he could count on her if something unexpected happened.
His orders were to take his units along a narrow declivity, too narrow for anything wider than a Jeffy, and look for enemy activity. Whether he saw anything or not, he was to turn back at a certain point and return to base. Lancer had briefed him pretty thoroughly about the terrain and known Core troop movements, but Jak couldn’t help but remember his first patrol with the Bulldog pilot. That one had been supposed to be routine and had turned into anything but.
Jak didn’t want that kind of action, but he hoped something would happen. Maybe encounter a couple of A.K.’s out for a look-see. He could handle that easily. Even a Weasel or two. Just a nice, small patrol, about half the size of his. He’d have Sue stand back; the Peewees and Jeffies could take care of it handily.
He did not expect to find a bewildered Peewee standing in the middle of the narrow channel. Jak set his communication to a general but localized setting.
“Identify,” he said. The Peewee’s faceplate turned toward him slightly, but there was no answer. Jak sent a brief message back to base. That was one advantage of an airless world: it was difficult for personnel to slip out of the base unnoticed. Chances were good someone would know who this Peewee was and what he was doing here.
Or rather, not doing. After swiveling his upper section that once, the Peewee had not moved again, rather effectively blocking the way.
“Move, Peewee.” The unit took a single, halting step. Jak decided there had to be something wrong. Maybe the oxygen processor wasn’t working properly, or the motor controls were out. Any of a number of things could have malfunctioned ... but why was this unit out here by himself?
No Peewees are unaccounted for, came the message from Base. Can you get its number?
If there were none missing, then this Peewee could be a Core booby trap of some kind. Jak didn’t relish the thought of sending one of his units around it to find the number, particularly when he realized he was the only one who could get by it. He took a couple of deep breaths and sidled past; the Peewee’s faceplate followed him as he went.
Once past, Jak started to look for the number...and stumbled backward in revulsion. He had seen this kind of thing before, when Hammer Pike had been killed by a laser. There was a small hole in the suit, right about kidney level, with stringy, dry globs of reddish-brown meat dangling from it. There was no way the person who had worn that Peewee suit could still be alive.
***
Jak was glad to see that Lancer was already back by the time he marched the orphan suit into the base under override command. The Bulldog pilot simply stood by while Jak handed over his charge to the waiting cluster of scientists and dismissed his troops. But as soon as Jak had finished his duties, Lancer beckoned to him.
“When you get out of your suit,” he said, “come to my quarters.”
Not his office, his quarters. That meant it wasn’t official business, even if Jak was certain it had something to do with the Peewee suit he’d found. He wasted no time in shedding his Zipper chassis and finding Lancer’s quarters.
There was a woman with the captain, and Jak had no idea what their relationship was. She introduced herself as Tera, of the northeast Sentinel, which didn’t tell him much, although he wouldn’t expect a Bulldog pilot to have much professional contact with a Sentinel. Tera was probably Lancer’s friend then, maybe more.
Once Jak was settled in, a beer in his hand, Lancer wanted to know more about the Peewee.
“You said it moved on its own.”
“Yes, sir. It...looked at me, sort of, and when I ordered it to move--just a verbal order--it took a step.” As Jak recalled these movements of a suit with a dead pilot, he shuddered and took a gulp of beer. Units didn’t move on their own, not in the Arm. Only the Core had thinking machines, and that only because they contained the patterns of previously living beings.
“Did it try to talk to you?” asked Tera. Jak was faintly amazed when he realized she was serious.
“No, ma’am.”
“Probably need a neural link connection for that,” said Lancer. Even though it had been millennia since there had been an external connection for the neural link, he rubbed the back of his head as he thought of this. Being a clone, Lancer’s link had been grown in place, and there never had been any opening there. “I wonder if they’ll let me get into the suit.”
Tera said what Jak only thought. “You’re crazy, Lancer.”
Lancer gave them a lopsided grin. “I almost wish I were,” he said. “Of all possible explanations, that’s the simplest of the lot.”
Jak wasn’t quite sure what was going on, but what he thought he understood seemed insane. “You expect the suit to talk to you? Through your neural link?”
“That’s right, kid.” Lancer caught Tera’s eye for a moment, and the two of them exchanged glances before Lancer turned to Jak again. “I guess your Zipper suit never...I don’t know...communicates with you?”
Jak had never heard of such a thing. A suit talking to its pilot. But Lancer seemed quite serious. “What kind of communication?”
Tera was the one to respond to his question. “Does it have a personality?” she asked. “Or seem to have a gender?”
Jak thought about this. He felt tall and powerful when he was suited up, and he liked the sleek Zipper chassis, but it was solidly an it, neither male nor female. A machine. “No.”
Now Tera looked at Lancer. “Our control?”
“I guess so.” Lancer set down his beer carton and stood up. “All right, kid, how do you feel about joining us in a little experiment?”
Jak wasn’t at all sure how he felt about it, but he didn’t hesitate. “I’m game,” he said.
Part 2
Lancer knew it was up to him to set the example, but he felt a little strange about inviting the others to try his tank. The Zipper might not be so bad--after all, he probably wouldn’t even be able to listen if Lancer’s Sweet Lady was inclined to speak to him. But Tera--what confidences might she and his Bulldog exchange?
He climbed in first. He’d only been talking to his tank for a couple of days now, and he wasn’t sure how much she understood, but he tried to explain the experiment. Her reply wasn’t in words, but he thought she was ready to trust him.
“Okay, kid, you first.” Lancer heaved himself out and then knelt by the hatch to give Jak help if he needed it.
The Zipper seemed quite at home in the control pod, although he made no attempt to adjust it for his own comfort. It was good enough for this experiment. He gave a couple of display commands to verify he had made contact with his neural link, and then he closed his eyes.
It was a long couple of minutes before he opened them and looked quizzically at Lancer, who still hung over the hatch. “Just what is it I’m supposed to feel?”
“You didn’t feel anything?”
“No, sir.” He sounded almost disappointed. “Should I try again?”
Lancer considered it, but he decided he was more curious to see if Tera could hear his tank, and if she would understand more or less than he did. “Maybe later. Let’s have Tera.”
He knew she probably didn’t need his help, but Lancer steadied Tera as she slid into the couch. He had never touched her before, and he found he rather liked it. She did, too, to judge by the little smile she gave him, although he supposed he shouldn’t be too surprised. He already knew she liked him.
She started with the same tests Jak had used, bringing up a map and marking it with a couple of dots, one for the current location and the other for her own heavy laser tower. This mapping capability was fairly standard for all units, which made it a good test.
Lancer expected her to relax and close her eyes, as well, but instead she looked at him and started talking. “I don’t get any words,” she said. “But she’s young.” She gave him an impish smile. “And I think she’s jealous. Does she know something I don’t?”
Lancer hated to be pinned down like that. “She’s probably just protective.”
“Oh.” The mischief in her smile faded, and she started to climb out. He offered her a hand, but she didn’t seem to notice as she grabbed a cleat instead.
Lancer was pretty sure he had hurt her feelings, but he still didn’t think he wanted to get personally involved with her, so he didn’t try to smooth things over. She went on as if nothing had happened, though, and he had to admire that.
Tera wasn’t on duty at the Sentinel, but she assured him she had checked to make sure there was only one operator there just now, and that one her good friend. Dee didn’t mind company, and she made them welcome, but she didn’t spare much of her attention from her job.
“Dee never hears the Sentinel,” said Tera, her voice low. She sat in one of the secondary couches, and Lancer thought a minute before he motioned to Jak to take the other.
They were an interesting trio--the working Sentinel operator, intent on her displays; the young man trying not to seem bored, and the woman tilting her head, moving her eyes and pursing her lips very much as if she was engaged in conversation with someone. Tera’s eyes shone and her cheeks glowed as she communicated silently with the Sentinel, and Lancer wondered what subject had brought about this change. She had never spoken with such animation to him.
Lancer gestured to Jak, and when he stood up, Lancer took his place. He felt his neural link engage, and almost immediately he understood words.
*So you’re Lancer! You are a juicy morsel, aren’t you?* The Sentinel went on to tease him with very thinly veiled innuendo, and Lancer was repelled. He glanced toward Tera, and although she was careful not to look at him, he could see she was blushing at the Sentinel’s outspoken remarks. Couldn’t it tell it was embarrassing its operator?
*Am I?* The Sentinel seemed taken aback, even contrite.
There was a minute of silence, and Lancer judged from Tera’s facial expressions that she and her unit were engaged in a serious discussion.
“She is sorry if she offended you,” said Tera at last. Her voice was still very soft, but it seemed loud compared to the faint neural whisper of the Sentinel. “She thought that kind of teasing was acceptable to men.”
If Tera hadn’t been there, Lancer might not have minded, but he was still trying to figure out what to say when he was interrupted by an insistent message from the Sentinel.
*Core!*
Tera sucked in a surprised breath and gazed intently into the space in front of her. Lancer guessed she was calling up maps, so he tried it himself. It worked just as it did in his Bulldog, although the scale was a lot smaller. There was a scatter of red dots approaching, although they were still too far away to identify yet. They could be A.K.’s or Goliaths, either one, for all he could tell...although they seemed to be moving too fast to be the latter.
About the time he determined it was a massed squad of Weasels, the HLT opened fire. The building reverberated with the energy of each shot, but it was a higher frequency vibration than that of the Bulldog’s plasma cannon. Even through that, he could discern an exultant laugh from the Sentinel as she and her counterpart to the west blasted each of the Core scout cars into flying debris.
It was all over in a few minutes. To hear the Sentinel crow, Lancer might have thought the sole purpose of the Weasel attack was to provide entertainment for her. He had seen that kind of thing before, and he knew that the Core was sending out expendable units to test the Arm defenses as well as get a better picture of the layout of the base. And it usually meant the Core was just about ready to launch a full-scale attack.
The experiment was probably going to have to wait awhile.
Part 3
Jak spent the following day running around the perimeter of the base, but he didn’t see so much as Weasel’s whisker the whole time. And even though from the standpoint of physics his suit had done all the work, he was still tired and sweaty when he was done. He didn’t care if it would be a popular time for it, he wanted a shower.
Before this, Jak had been careful to shower at odd times so he could have the room to himself, but today the echoing and steamy chamber was filled with men and women cleansing themselves. Jak had never seen a naked woman in the flesh before, and he tried not to stare at any of them, but he soon noticed one staring at him--and not at his face.
“It’s so small,” she said, and she nudged her companion, who turned, looked, and giggled.
Jak fought down an urge to cover himself. Better to pretend he didn’t notice, but he was sure he was blushing bright red.
“You’re right,” he heard someone else whisper. “It’s tiny.”
He didn’t think he was any smaller than anybody else. He glanced at the man next to him. No. Clones were no better endowed than he was, except ...
Jak laughed suddenly. A clone had no navel. They were making fun of his belly button!
Once he was dry and dressed, he gathered up his courage and approached the first woman. She wouldn’t have teased him if she wasn’t interested, right?
“My name’s Jak,” he said. It was inane, but at least it was safe. She smiled, so he was encouraged to continue. “I was wondering if...um...you had any plans for later?”
Her lips turned down a little. “Oh. No. I mean, yes, I do have plans.” She patted his arm comfortingly. “I’m sorry.”
Oh, well. He was pretty tired, anyway. He ate dinner by himself and then went back to his bunk, figuring he’d get in a little studying before he went to sleep. Much as he liked being the fastest thing on two legs, he didn’t want to be a Zipper forever. That Bulldog of Lancer’s, for instance...
He was half-dozing as he imagined what it would be like to pilot such a massive battlewagon when he got a message signal. It took him a second to realize his neural link couldn’t switch him from his textbook to a communications channel when he was in his bunk, and the signal sounded again more insistently. He reached up to touch the answer button.
“Jak.” He wasn’t going to put up a picture until he knew who it was. He was clean, but he wasn’t sure how tidy he might be after lying in bed for a while.
“Cyclone.” She did send an image, and Jak was impressed. He’d seen her only once before, right after she lost the simulator exercise to Lancer, and she’d looked pretty beat up then. Right now, though, she was something to look at. He wondered what she wanted him for.
Etiquette required he let a superior officer see him, so he quickly smoothed down his hair and straightened his clothes. “Yes, ma’am?”
“I just wondered how you’d like to keep an old lady company.”
“Old lady?” He knew who she meant, but he tried to sound bewildered. She was older than Lancer, who was supposedly about two thousand, but she certainly didn’t look it. On the other hand, even if she didn’t look it, she was ancient.
Cyclone chuckled. “So how about it? Are you up for an adventure?”
Jak wasn’t sure. Maybe he could at least find out a little more about what she had in mind. “I--“
His words were cut off by a call to general quarters. He was half-relieved and half-disappointed when Cyclone broke the connection without so much as a word. He rolled out of his bunk and ran to the suit locker.
Once he was suited up, he could go much faster, and he checked his maps on the way to his station. The attacking force was far bigger than the dozen Weasels that had rushed in the day before, but Jak wasn’t sure what the Core hoped to accomplish. Unless there were a lot of units under cloak, there were still nowhere near enough to do significant damage to the base.
Lancer gave him the Peewees and Jeffys again, but this time Rocko Sue went with a slower group. It was a Zipper’s job to be fast, and he couldn’t very well do that if he was burdened with a comparatively slow-moving Rocket Kbot, but he had to admit he’d miss her.
Overall, Jak was not impressed with the organization of the Core attack. The faster--and more lightly armored--units hit first, and he, his Jeffies and his Peewees had a jolly time dashing out from behind Bulldogs and Stumpies, ganging up on an A.K. or Weasel each time, and then quickly taking cover again. There were getting to be Storms in the mix, too, but Jak never called one of those as a target--better to leave them for somebody with more firepower. His platoon did take out a couple of Thuds, though, and they went up in very satisfying orange poofs.
By the time the Core artillery--no Goliaths, but what looked like about three dozen Raiders and a few Reapers--began threading their way through the outer defensive passage, several of the Peewees had taken damage, and it seemed like a good time to move back for some repairs. Jak hadn’t had any orders from Lancer in a while, so he assumed he was doing an adequate job, but he wasn’t quite sure what to do next. Maybe take out any smaller units that slipped through the formidable gantlet of Arm cavalry...
Jak and two of his Peewees fired on a damaged and foolhardy A.K., bringing it down with only a few shots. Another of the Core infantry ‘bots made it past the front line of defense, but while it kept firing its machine guns gamely, it was staggering with the damage it had already sustained. Jak almost felt bad about administering the coup de grace, but there wasn’t much else he could do. A construction Kbot who was working the detail almost immediately began to reclaim the metal from the still-hot wreck, and Jak looked away.
It was fun to shoot them, but it wasn’t so much fun to remember that even a Core killing machine was a thinking being. This was a very unhelpful reflection in the middle of a battle, and Jak tried to get back the proper attitude. He wasted a couple of shots on a Storm that was out of range, and then he went to form up his patrol. Lancer had orders for them: shift to the eastern side of the base. The Core attack seemed to be along only the northern front, but it might not hurt to check the sides and back of the base, as well.
The big perimeter defense guns blazed away overhead, keeping the night sky almost as bright as daylight, but the light had an eerie orange cast to it. Even the false color of his visual pickups was affected.
Jak kept his Peewees and Jeffies in the relatively open area between the main Arm defensive line and the curtain wall of the base as they made their way east. There were still repair stations and mobile artillery they needed to thread their way through, but they were making pretty good time. So far there wasn’t much action this far back, but the few surviving Core tanks would be coming into range soon and could start lobbing their fortification-busting shells at any time. Jak didn’t particularly want to be too close to the targeted structures when that started. An occasional range-finding shot kicked up some dirt here and there, but there wasn’t much ordnance making contact yet.
It was simply pure bad luck that he was just passing a light laser tower when a shell hit it. Jak didn’t see the shot that did it--all he saw was the massive pylon coming down on top of him, and even a Zipper wasn’t quite fast enough to avoid going down under it. As he was borne to the ground, Jak wondered if he would miss his bellybutton.
Part 4
Lancer bitterly regretted his orders to Jak. Light Kbots like Zippers and Peewees had no business in the pounding match that was shaping up, but he hadn’t wanted to wound the young officer’s manly pride by sending him back into the base. The east wall had seemed just as safe, and not much farther than the entry ramp...
Damn, now he was going to have to break in the kid all over again. Damn. He emphasized each angry syllable with a round from his cannon, and every shot told on its target.
The Arm had augmented the natural defenses of the terrain with treble rows of dragon’s teeth, so the Core tanks had to make their way through a narrow opening where the Arm artillery could pick them off one at a time. The lighter Core tanks didn’t have the range to hit the main Arm fortifications, but an occasional shot from one of the Reapers came close.
Lancer wasn’t sure what the Core hoped to prove with this attack, although if it was their intention to do damage to the mobile units, they were succeeding there. Lancer’s outfit had been wiped out recently, so he had been assigned to the periphery, but Cyclone was near the center and bearing the brunt of the attack. Her less well-armored units had been cut up pretty badly even if her eager Bulldog pup seemed to be holding its own.
Lancer watched with interest as one of the Reapers began to maneuver its way through the wreckage in the dragon’s tooth corridor, and he held his fire. He was waiting for the right...moment... Now. He fired twice in rapid succession; his first round splashed on the Reaper’s side, rocking the vehicle over slightly, and the second hit the ground directly under it, rolling it onto almost onto its back. Lancer would have left the tank helpless like that, but others kept pouring fire into it until it erupted into flame as its fuel and oxidizer mixed all at once. And the slag that remained just as effectively closed the entrance as the turtled tank would have.
The Core spent a couple more Raiders before they finally decided today wasn’t their day and began to withdraw. Lancer left Cyclone and some of the others to harry their retreat. He needed to take care of some administrative detail and then he planned to hit the sack.
He’d only lost a couple of units; one Jeffy who’d thought he was a Flash, or something, and one Zipper. Lancer started down his roster to make sure everybody who needed repair or medical attention was getting it. So far, it looked good, except for one badly-damaged Zipper. Jak? What the...?
Lancer called up his spotting map, and if he hadn’t remembered where the LLT had stood, he never would have seen the faint blip in the wreckage that had to be Zipper Jak.
“Casualty support--I’ve got a hot one.” Somebody would have found Jak anyway when the LLT was reclaimed, but with a damaged suit, and who knew what injuries, the kid might not make it that long. “Yeah, and it’s probably urgent.”
***
Jak opened his eyes once the noise and confusion of the falling tower had subsided and realized he was still alive. He checked his visual sensors and found that they still worked--there was just nothing to see. After all, there was a laser tower on top of him, wasn’t there? At least, he hoped that was the case. He’d never been a cloned restoration, so he had no idea what that was like...but his last memories wouldn’t be of getting crushed, would they?
He tried moving the Zipper’s limbs and found he couldn’t. The left leg felt numb below the knee, and he wondered if it had been severely damaged there...
What was that? Jak heard a faint whimper. One of his Peewees? And the sound was being transmitted by the metal of the tower? Except Jak couldn’t see any of his troops making that kind of noise, and besides, it didn’t sound like an adult. As he thought about it, it didn’t really even sound like a sound. But it was a whimper, as if a scared child had wandered into the battle somehow.
An icy realization coursed through him. It was the Zipper. Jak felt a stab of fear at being trapped inside a suit that was not simply a machine. This was what Lancer and Tera had been talking about, except it hadn’t seemed to frighten them the way it did him.
Now the Zipper began sobbing in earnest. Its feelings were hurt, besides being scared. It was, after all, a very young being. Jak was still a little nervous, but now he felt contrite, as well. He hastened to reassure the suit.
“It’s okay,” he said aloud. “Someone will come get us. Then a construction Kbot will fix you up as good as new, and I’ll take you back to the nice, warm suit locker where you can hang out with all of your friends.”
The Zipper suit cheered up immediately. The sobs ceased and were replaced by a happy little childish hum. Jak didn’t recognize the melody, if it could even be called that, but it was strangely soothing. Having nothing better to do, he went to sleep.
Part 5
When the hastily repaired Zipper suit carried Jak in, he was unconscious from all the painkillers the suit’s medpack had pumped into him. His left leg was so badly mangled the specialists opted for reconstruction over repair.
Lancer knew it would take a while, so he went back to his quarters and dozed, but he was up in an instant when he got the call from medical that they were finished. He would have been hard put to explain why, but he wanted to be there when Jak woke up. Maybe he still felt guilty about exposing the Zipper unnecessarily, or maybe he just remembered how he always felt when he woke up in a reconstruction bay. And this would be the kid’s first time.
Jak was just starting to come around by the time he got there, but Lancer was puzzled when the young officer, even before his eyes were open, pulled his arms under the covers and started feeling his midsection. Lancer would have expected him to flex his new leg, or possibly even reach down to it, but as far as he knew there had been no internal damage. So what was the kid doing?
Jak smiled, and then chuckled softly in some kind of private delight.
Lancer could contain his curiosity no longer. “What are you doing?”
Jak’s eyes flashed open in surprise. “Oh...sir...I didn’t know anyone was here.” He blushed visibly. “I was just checking to make sure I still have a navel.”
Lancer hadn’t even thought about that. He himself had no way of knowing if he had just undergone extensive repair or a complete restoration when he woke up in the reconstruction bay. Usually he banked his memories after a pleasant experience he wanted to recall, so when he woke up without any memory of a recent battle, it usually meant he had been cloned and restored. But not always. Sometimes a traumatic injury could wipe all recent memory, too.
“You just needed a new leg.” Lancer walked around the cot so Jak wouldn’t need to twist his neck to look at him. “Your suit was pretty badly crushed--it’s amazing that’s all the damage you got.”
“But it’s okay?” Jak sat up in his bed. “The suit, I mean? I promised it the c-bots would fix it, and I’d take it back to the suit locker.”
“It’s fine.” This was interesting. “I gather the Zipper spoke to you?” If it had, that took care of one theory, that only a clone could communicate with a chassis, and that only after centuries of contact. It hadn’t been Lancer’s favorite anyway. “Then I have a job for you.”
So far Lancer had pursued a hit and miss investigation on his own, somewhat limited, authority, but it was only a matter of days until the Arm forces would be ready for the campaign designed to reduce the Core base to rubble. He knew the colonel was busy, but Lancer was beginning to think this was important enough to bring to his attention.
The colonel was at the airbase, and he seemed harassed when he finally returned Lancer’s call, but he became very attentive when he listened to the Bulldog pilot’s proposal.
“I’d heard about the Peewee,” he said, “and I was about to order the destruction of the suit, but you say you’ve got others?” The colonel frowned grimly, and Lancer held his tongue and merely nodded in the affirmative. He could understand why the other man was inclined not to take chances with a machine that seemed to have developed self-determination but believed he would hesitate before writing off other, more valuable units.
“Very well,” the colonel decided after brief deliberation. “You have my authority to investigate.”
The first step in Lancer’s plan was to try to discover which units were affected, so he, Jak and Tera tried on suit after suit and more vehicles than any of them were aware existed on Delbay 4. A surprising number of units could communicate with them, and a fair number of pilots admitted to carrying on private conversations with their chassis. Jak was keeping the records of all of their findings, and it was going to be his job to tabulate the results to present to the colonel.
Before the formal results were in, however, the probable source of machine self-will became fairly apparent. No level 1 vehicles were affected, but every K-bot, whether level 1 or level 2, and every level 2 vehicle they tried had at least some ability to think for itself.
This base had not been established by a Commander. Instead, a Maverick--the colonel--had brought a single construction K-bot to get started. Lancer had Jak check the records, and he discovered that after building solar arrays and metal makers, the C-bot had next built a vehicle facility. Then, while the Maverick oversaw the production of level 1 vehicles, the construction K-bot went on to erect a K-bot lab.
Building the lab while churning out vehicles exceeded the existing metal production capabilities, and the two projects had labored in nanostall for some time. Perhaps that slow-down was responsible for the glitch that made every unit produced by the K-bot facility and all subsequent units built by its construction ‘bots have self-awareness. Or maybe it was a fluke that would have happened anyway. Lancer didn’t have the scientific background to even begin to speculate why and how the blueprint for the K-bot lab had been subtly altered. He only knew that was where the evidence led.
Interestingly enough, the original C-bot had then gone on to build defenses and fortifications, none of which were any different from usual. Only those built by the ancestral C-bot’s “grandchildren” showed signs of a personality.
Lancer still hadn’t been able to persuade the scientists who were studying the Peewee suit to let him examine it. Other suits could communicate, but this was the only one ever known to move on its own, and Lancer wondered why this one was different...or if it really was. All he wanted to do was talk to it.
He finally called the colonel to ask for specific authorization, and he had to go into considerable detail not only about his reason for wanting to talk to the Peewee but about his findings so far. The colonel was not pleased.
“You mean that, besides my Maverick, the only units I can count on are my level 1 vehicles and a handful of LLT’s and Defenders?”
“I think they’re trustworthy, sir.” As trustworthy as people, at any rate, maybe more so. “And very loyal to their pilots.”
The colonel muttered a filthy epithet. “All right. I’ll authorize it. But I want to be there, so wait for me.”
The colonel’s transport was not long in coming, and Lancer, Jak and Tera were by to greet him. He brushed off their courtesies impatiently; he was a busy man who could ill-afford the time, and he wanted to get started.
At first Lancer was surprised that the colonel remained suited up, but as the three investigators scurried to follow the striding K-bot, he realized the colonel saw self-aware units as a threat. A Maverick could make quick work of a Peewee should the need arise. And of a certain Bulldog pilot, too, if he should happen to be in the suit at the time. Oh, well, he was used to taking risks.
The scientists were considerably taken aback by the colonel’s looming presence, but they hastened to assure him there was plenty of room for a Maverick in their lab. Lancer grinned triumphantly as he entered behind the colonel.
“We’re here to talk to the Peewee suit,” he said.
The scientist glanced pointedly toward the rather belligerent-looking Maverick that dominated the room. “It’s your skin.”
The Peewee suit, completely repaired and cleaned of its grisly contents, walked out under external control and stopped directly in front of Lancer. He twisted the lock, and the pod opened for him.
“Lancer...” he heard Tera call softly. Her eyes were unusually shiny, and he was afraid she was going to go all weepy on him, but she managed a smile. “I still think you’re crazy,” she said.
Everybody seemed afraid of what the suit was going to do to him, or more probably what the Maverick might, and Lancer had to admit he was a little concerned himself. It wouldn’t do to let them see that he was, though.
“It’ll be fine,” he said, and stepped backward into the pod. He felt a few qualms when it drew closed around him, but he’d had a chance to try on a few Peewee suits in the last few days, and he quickly got used to the restricted space.
The Peewee’s words came clearly, all in a rush, faintly annoyed and very concerned. *Who are you? Where’s my pilot? I want my pilot...*
Part 6
“She wants her pilot,” Lancer said aloud, his neural link opening a voice connection to the others in the room.
*Who are you?* That was one thing he’d already observed about all of the units. They said what they thought without any concern--or perhaps even knowledge--of social conventions.
“I’m Lancer.” This Peewee had never been in his company, but she might have heard of him anyway.
*Lancer?* She had. Her tone was a degree more respectful. *Why are you here?*
“You were moving all by yourself,” he said. “We didn’t think a suit could.”
*My pilot was hurt.* She grew angry. *Everybody went away. He was asleep and couldn’t say stop. So I had to take care of him.*
Her pilot had probably died almost instantly, considering his wound, but the poor Peewee hadn’t known. He’d still been there, and his neural link had still been within her detection field.
“She was trying to help her pilot,” said Lancer. “Surely he’s been restored by now...?”
“Is it wise?” This was the first scientist, who probably wasn’t aware that he stood between the Peewee and the Maverick.
“Remember the story of the dog who stood over her master’s grave for years?” Lancer hoped the Peewee wouldn’t know what a grave was, or if she did that she wasn’t quite bright enough to figure out what he meant.
“Send for him.” The Maverick’s voice was thunderous in the room, and Lancer could sense the Peewee’s mingled fear and awe.
At least, the awe had to be hers, although as he thought about it, the fear was just as likely to be his own. What would she do when her pilot arrived? Could she take over? And would the Maverick blast first and inquire after?
It was several minutes before a young man in off-duty clothes was brought in. He seemed rather bewildered by the unlikely assembly until he saw the Peewee suit.
His face became almost radiant. “Maggie! Oh, Maggie!” He ran toward the Peewee and threw his arms as far around her as he could manage.
Until he touched her, the suit was unaware of her pilot’s presence, but as soon as his face came into contact with her faceplate, she began to tremble, ever so slightly.
“It’s all right,” said Lancer quickly. He didn’t want the Maverick to be too hasty if he happened to notice the movement.
The pilot, surprised to hear a voice issue from his suit, jumped back. “You gave my suit to someone else?” he asked, appalled. “You can’t do that.”
“Private.” The Maverick’s voice again filled the room, and the Peewee pilot went white when he realized the colonel was present. Lancer hadn’t thought it possible to overlook a Kbot that took up some 20% of a room, but apparently the man had been so excited to see his beloved Maggie he hadn’t noticed the Maverick.
Lancer popped open the pod and stepped out, but as the pilot would have gotten in, he stopped the man. If it were up to him, he’d have no hesitation, but the colonel might feel differently. “Sir?”
“Go ahead.”
The pilot eagerly entered the suit, while Lancer stepped back. He didn’t want to be in the way if the colonel happened to get a little excited about something. They had no way of knowing what the Peewee suit was saying to her pilot, nor of what he said to her, but the Peewee simply stood where it was, and everyone could relax.
***
The colonel told Lancer bluntly he still wasn’t entirely convinced of the harmlessness of machine intelligence. If it had been only the one Peewee, he’d have scrapped her without a qualm, but if most of his best units were affected, he didn’t have much choice. He’d have either the ancestral construction Kbot or a construction vehicle build a new Kbot lab, and all new units would be descended from them.
“Sir, I understand your decision, but may I make a suggestion?” Lancer was sticking his neck out on this, which was not something he normally liked to do. “Keep the current manufacturing facilities, even if you leave them idle, just in case we decide we like the thinking units better.”
The Maverick was just about to step into the airlock, but he turned. “You like having a tank that talks to you?”
Lancer knew that what he liked would carry very little weight with the colonel. “Yes, sir. But more than that...I mean, think if your Maverick had a personality.” Actually, even standard units developed a personality of sorts after a while. “If it cared what happened to you. If it sometimes called your attention to something you hadn’t noticed, maybe. Something the AI wouldn’t know you might be interested in.”
The Maverick made a slight gesture of resignation. “Very well, we’ll keep the facilities, but idle.”
Lancer honestly felt the colonel would think differently if his Maverick suit wasn’t just a carefully crafted hunk of inanimate material. But it was something.
He had sent both Jak and Tera to his quarters to wait for him, and it didn’t occur to him until he was on his way there that it might not have been the most intelligent thing he had ever done. He had been very careful not to give Tera any reason to think he was interested in her as a woman, and Jak was a good-looking and personable young man. What if she...or he...
Without realizing it, Lancer walked a little faster.
He needn’t have worried. They were sitting about as far apart as the small compartment allowed and talking about what they had seen between the Peewee and her pilot, and both of them were almost pitifully glad to see him.
“What did he say?” Tera asked.
“He’s going to build a new Kbot lab.” Lancer gave a sigh as he sat down on the bed, which was the only place available. “But he’s going to leave the old facilities alone, for now, at least.”
“That’s good,” said Jak. “So I guess that means our units are safe, too?”
“Probably.” For now. “Why don’t you go give your Zipper the good news, kid?”
Jak blinked a couple of times at this very obvious ploy to get rid of him, and Lancer was a little concerned he might ask why, but suddenly the young man grinned and got up from his chair.
“Or maybe I’ll see what Cyclone is doing,” he said.
Lancer stared at the closed door for a few seconds after Jak had gone. He had thought she was kidding, but maybe she hadn’t been...
“Lancer?” Tera’s voice was breathless with nerves. “Should I go, too?”
“No.” He reached out and pulled her up to sit on the bed next to him. “And my name is Ben.”
The article was taken from this thread.
