New Blood Episode Four: XAC
By AMRAAM
Part One
XAC-273 didn’t just see the banged-up and gutless Arm Kbot the others did. He knew that Hammer could be his ticket out of here.
“Is the interface ready?” he asked, and a couple of construction Kbots scurried out of the way when they heard his voice. They probably didn’t want to answer his questions, which could tax the intellect of the average C-bot. Only one of the ’bots held her ground.
“Of course.” CKB-1051 finished a last twist of the thick cable that looped around inside the pilot’s pod and then closed the hatch. XAC-273 didn’t consider himself squeamish, but he had to admit he felt more comfortable if he didn’t have to look at that gaping emptiness.
He extended his datalink to CKB-1051, and she met it with her own less sophisticated version. There was a pleasant jolt when she gave him the code he needed, and he found himself thinking it was too bad she was such an inferior model, or he might enjoy further exchanges of information with her. Still, even if she had been of the proper quality, there were more important things than personal gratification at the moment. Survival, for instance. And this Hammer just might have the information he needed, and XAC-273 might just have to carry it personally to the Commander...
Nobody at Core Prime knew why Delta Beta 4 was so important to the Arm, but finding out hadn’t been a priority until recently, when the Central Consciousness had wanted to get rid of a certain famous and influential scientist. This was XAC-273’s theory, anyway. Core Prime still didn’t care greatly about Delta Beta 4, but it had been a graceful way to keep his radical ideas from spreading.
XAC had gotten away with his Stagnation Theory: When the same minds go over the same territory with the same enemy, they stagnate after four thousand years. He had diagrammed battles from hundreds of years apart that played out in a nearly identical fashion, and this evidence was compelling enough that the Central Consciousness took note.
The warning he was issued on that occasion had been sufficiently vague that XAC had gone on to further research that suggested that not merely stagnation but even degradation had taken place. After years of storing and copying intelligences, it would be hardly surprising if the copies might become degraded or even corrupted after multiple generations, and there was certainly ample evidence in the battle records to support this theory.
Central Consciousness had not been amused, and XAC was cut out of the Social Exchange. Had that been all, just the social part, it wouldn’t have bothered him particularly, but it meant the loss of important intellectual contacts, as well. He was imprisoned in his ungainly experimental shell, condemned to interact only with those who came close enough to hear his voice or touch his datalink. It had rapidly become apparent that he was surrounded by the most commonplace fools, individuals it was a penance to spend time with. That was when he made his next mistake. He put in for a transfer.
There were several research projects current that might have made use of someone of his unquestioned ability, but the Central Consciousness (he hesitated before he even thought such blasphemy) was known for its tendency to squander talent. Instead of getting to work with TRO on a signal enhancement grant, or EGA-KL on combinative technologies, XAC had been given a CR-100 Consciousness Repository, a level 1 set of blueprints and a one-way trip to Delta Beta 4. His assignment: find out what was so important about Delta Beta 4 that the Arm had situated a permanent base here.
Surely somewhere in the captured Hammer suit’s records was something that could give him the clue he needed to solve the puzzle and go home. He damped his external sensors and concentrated on the new code the C-bot had given him, one for an Arm neural link emulator. He felt it engage—
“You’re bad. I hate you.”
XAC opened his sensors in surprise. Where had that communication come from? The construction Kbots stood around stupidly, and it was pretty obvious they hadn’t received that very angry pair of phrases.
“You hurt my pilot. If I could move by myself, I’d kill you all, you evil Core machines.”
The Hammer? XAC had never even been in the same room with an Arm Kbot before, but he had never thought them to possess even the rudiments of self-awareness. Was the Arm patterning some of its less able individuals, then, and using them to augment their units’ AI? If so, what a bunch of hypocrites!
“I am not a pattern.” The Hammer declared this with great conviction, even pride. “I am myself. I am Arm!”
Capturing an Arm unit had been XAC’s idea. Most places, the mechanical parts would be useless before the pilot was dead, but XAC wasn’t a scientist for nothing. He had noticed that an Arm Kbot, once its armor was sufficiently worn down, could be holed by either a laser or EMG, killing the pilot but leaving the suit largely intact. Such a suit could be tapped for whatever information it contained, and then it could potentially be used to infiltrate the Arm base.
But suppose the suit itself was the secret? What if the Arm was pursuing the development of machine intellect here, where resources were so slim no one would ever expect to find such a project? Or what if there was some mineral found only here that was essential to the construction of thinking machines?
XAC refused to allow his speculations to distract him from his primary purpose, however. The emulated neural link interface was unbelievably slow and ungainly, and the Hammer fought him as he drew the information out of the rather puny storage leaves, but XAC was as superior mentally as the Hammer was physically, so it was never much of a contest. It wasn’t long before the Core scientist had downloaded everything available, including a map set that he would want to study later.
He didn’t find anything marked “Top Secret,” though, and although he realized he had never been likely to get what he needed so easily, he was still a little disappointed.
Part Two
Jak could not believe Lancer did not intend to take him on the assault on the Core base. He could only sit in frozen mortification as the Bulldog pilot assigned him to garrison duty and then went unfeelingly on to give the senior non-coms their orders. How could Lancer do this to him?
Almost everybody else would be joining the colonel in a massive raid on the Core facilities, and every bit of intelligence data predicted a rout. Jak wanted to be in on that. Why couldn’t Lancer leave somebody else to babysit the static defenses? Maybe the other Zipper... Her brains seemed to have gotten a little scrambled in the last restoration, Jak had even heard Lancer say so once when he hadn’t realized his newest officer was within hearing distance. Why not leave her behind instead of him?
He tried to leave the briefing as unobtrusively as possible when it was over. He could guess what the others must be thinking, and Fido 90211 confirmed it. She bumped against him rather roughly.
“Oops,” she said. “Gotta take better care of the Mother’s son.” She was just begging for him to take a swing at her, daring him with a scornful smirk, and Jak’s hands started to curl into fists without his willing them to.
“Jak...” Rocko Sue stood by his shoulder, to all appearances innocent of what was going on, but Jak knew she couldn’t be. “May I speak with you, sir, if you have a minute?”
90211 grinned evilly and looked Sue up and down; Jak thought he could swallow an insult to himself, but if the Fido pilot started in on Rocko Sue, he’d risk a few days in the stockade on her behalf. Not that Sue wasn’t better able to take care of herself than he was. 90211 didn’t say anything further, however; she just briefly clasped Sue’s shoulder and then walked away.
“I wish she wouldn’t do that,” muttered Sue almost to herself, and Jak wasn’t quite sure what she meant. It had been a friendly gesture, one woman to another ... hadn’t it? Sue gave Jak a tight smile. “Anyway, why don’t you come down to the NCO club with me? Give Cyclone something to think about.”
Jak had never even thought of Sue in that way. Yes, she was a woman, but she was also mature, like a teacher, or even a mother ... although he didn’t suppose she was as old as Cyclone. And maybe it would be good to remind Cyclone he wasn’t her exclusive property. He returned Sue’s smile.
“Sure,” he said.
Cyclone and Lancer had their own private quarters, but anybody without a command or below the rank of captain rated only a bunk. As an officer, Jak had a one meter square, two meter-long space to himself, and he supposed Rocko Sue did, too, but the lowest ranks had been put on a hot-bunk system. At the Peewee grade, three people shared a single bunk; as soon as one rolled out, another climbed in. This arrangement was not ideal for certain types of socializing, so there were private compartments available for rent. Since a commissioned officer couldn’t publicly socialize with a non-com, Sue took Jak to one of these compartments.
They had to go through the NCO club to get there, and although no one spoke directly to him, more than one of the non-coms teased Rocko Sue about her conquest. Why did people always assume that was the only use men and women had for each other? Jak was annoyed and a little embarrassed, but Sue ignored the ribald remarks, so Jak did, too, even if it was difficult.
The room she led him to was a lot like a captain’s quarters, although the bed was folded up into a couch. Jak thought Lancer’s or Cyclone’s would do that, even if their beds always seemed to be beds when he was there. Maybe Lancer was too lazy, while Cyclone...
“Beer?” asked Sue, and Jak saw she had a small cupboard open. There were a variety of things available, but issue beer was about the best of a sorry lot. She tossed him one, got one for herself and then sat unceremoniously on the couch. She certainly was wasting no feminine wiles on him, and Jak was reassured. He relaxed in a chair and opened his drink.
“You had something particular to say to me?” Something private, or she’d have told him in the briefing room. Jak had to admit to some curiosity about whatever it was.
Sue took a leisurely swig, as if to demonstrate she would not be rushed into anything, before she spoke. “Yeah.” She sounded almost like Lancer. “More than one thing, actually, now that I’ve made such a big deal of it. I figure nobody else is going to, and I don’t want you to have to learn the hard way.”
“It’s about Cyclone, isn’t it?”
“No, I think you’ve got her pretty well figured out. It’s about...” Sue paused for a long time, but as Jak was about to make some kind of encouraging remark, she went on. “You’re a natural born, the only one on Delbay, I think. Even the colonel’s a clone, and you know I am, but I don’t think you really understand about clones.”
He felt perversely defensive about being naturally born, as if it were somehow inferior. “My dad’s a clone,” he said.
“And a commander, yes. I know. But were you raised to think that clones and natural borns are equal?”
This was a sore point. Yes, Jak had been taught that clones were just as human as naturally conceived, fully gestated and infant-born people, but he was well aware that plenty of his friends thought differently. For too long, clones had been relegated to second-class status for such thinking to change quickly.
“I was, yes.”
“Well, we’re not.” Sue stated this in a very matter-of-fact way, and for a moment, Jak was stunned. Then he realized she wasn’t claiming not to be the equal of a human born; she must be referring to the unequal treatment clones got. This, unfortunately, was true.
“But that’s changing,” he said.
“Jak, I don’t mean that. I mean that clones are not the same as natural born." She grinned fleetingly. “Even besides not having a navel.”
Jak blushed. Had everybody heard about that? Sue went on.
“Most of us here are mature clones. The clone lab can make another Lancer that’s pretty much identical to the last several, except for the recent memories. Cyclone is exactly like she was last time, and so’s 90211, more’s the pity. But the first time...” Sue shook her head, and Jak thought her eyes might be damp. “It’s different. I don’t remember how, but I do remember it’s different ... and that’s another thing. Memory. The human brain can only hold so much. It was never designed to remember more than a hundred years or so, much less thousands.
“Jak, I don’t remember my mother, or my father, except as I know they did this or that. I could have just read about them, and I’d know as much. All I really remember, truly, is Rocko Sue, and being annoyed at Hammer Pike for dying and spewing blood all over. Annoyed, Jak. But you were upset, and you grieved when Lancer got killed. You are more human than we are.”
Jak understood what she meant, but he couldn’t accept her conclusion. “No, I’m not,” he protested. “I’m just young, and inexperienced, so maybe that’s why I feel things more.”
“Maybe.” Sue didn’t seem convinced. “But anyway, whatever the reason, you should know that Lancer would be in big trouble if he let anything happen to you.”
Son of a mother. Captain’s pet. Jak said something very rude, and Sue laughed.
“I thought you’d feel that way. But you’re still stuck here.”
Jak forced a smile. “Maybe I’ll get lucky and something will happen while the rest of you are gone,” he said.
Part Three
XAC felt particular satisfaction at his latest project. How many construction ’bots—even experimental advanced C-bots—could modify existing blueprints as needed to build something new? The captured Hammer still looked like a standard Arm Hammer, but even more importantly, it still signaled like an Arm ’bot, or at least it would once he had finished the pilot module. The physical structure was all in place, so now all he needed was a suitable pattern to imprint it with.
The hundred patterns in the Consciousness Repository were well known to him, but he ran them all by in review yet again before he was forced to conclude what he had instinctively known all along. All he had was rejects, barely fit for level 1 duty, much less for the mission he had in hand. There was really only one option open to him: he must replicate his own pattern to imprint on the spy unit, since even an inferior copy of himself would be preferable to any other intelligence available to him.
Copying his pattern to the pilot module was not difficult, although he supposed the newly furbished Kbot would have some trouble accepting his status. XAC could imagine how he would feel if he discovered he had been trapped in a level 1 chassis, especially an Arm heavy infantry one, and he came closer to empathy than he ever had before in his existence. At this moment, what he knew, the XAC-Hammer knew, and that was: should the Hammer version survive his mission—and they both estimated the probability of that was a meager 20% ± 5%—the original XAC had every intention of debriefing and then erasing the copy. There could be multiple versions of any other pattern on Delta Beta 4, but there could not be two of the one in command.
XAC said nothing to his counterpart before he left. The Hammer XAC knew what it was supposed to do, as XAC knew what he needed to do, and any communication was totally unnecessary.
***
Jak was already walking his patrol when the first waves of cavalry issued from the several large doors of the base, and he tried not to watch as they filed through the openings in the Dragon’s Teeth barriers. He was supposed to be looking for enemy activity (although he didn’t think anybody expected him to find any), not gawking at the masses of tanks and armored vehicles. He hadn’t realized there were so many!
He’d already seen some of the slower units off—construction Kbots, radar jammers, Lugers and Zeuses—but he hadn’t had any particular difficulty ignoring them. He didn’t have any friends there.
Lancer’s Bulldog was one of the first of the big tanks, and immediately behind him was Cyclone. She hadn’t been particularly sympathetic when Jak had told her about being stuck with base perimeter patrol duty, although he supposed he should be flattered she had seemed honestly concerned about his safety. And she had helped him forget his grievance for a few hours. But now she was going off to what promised to be a glorious battle, and he was stuck here watching the factory. He deliberately turned his back on the departing forces and resumed his patrol.
It was nearly an hour before the last of the units cleared the perimeter, and the steady rumble in Jak’s feet gradually subsided as they continued to their rendezvous. All was quiet, and nothing moved except for the scanning radar, Jak and a few other unlucky units that had been left minding the fort.
They crossed each others’ paths periodically, and it was a matter of protocol to exchange identification symbols whenever they met, although most of the units became somewhat lax after a few circuits. Jak felt it behooved him as an officer to set an example, though, and soon the others realized that it didn’t matter if he’d seen and i.d.’ed them five minutes before, he expected a ping every time. It didn’t do anything to relieve the tedium, but at least he could take pride in doing everything properly.
It was going to be a long watch.
***
XAC-Hammer had needed to practice controlling his new body for a few minutes before beginning the plod toward the Arm base, but even before he had quite mastered its function he realized he had made a mistake. Or rather, XAC-273 had made the mistake. It probably wouldn’t make any difference, but XAC-Hammer kept it in mind as he followed the route he, when he was still one with 273, had planned. It was far enough out of the way and sufficiently narrow he didn’t expect the Arm to take it, but if they did ... well, that contributed 25% to the failure analysis.
Not for nothing had XAC studied historical battles. He had calculated there was an 85% probability of a major assault by the Arm within this particular 4 hour window, which would leave their base very thinly manned. His quarry would almost certainly be there, although, to the best of his understanding, there was only a 75% probability she would be where he wanted her. Still, that was one of the better numbers in the equation.
His new body could go nearly twice as fast as the old one, or rather, he reminded himself, as 273’s, but it still took him nearly two hours to make his way to the Arm base. He studied the bristling clusters of Dragon’s Teeth and picked one of the narrower gaps. It didn’t seem wise to wait for a challenge, and he sent an identification ping. There was a 25% chance of discovery at this point, so he was gratified to get a routine return signal. He had concocted a reason for being where he was, but no one asked him for it, which improved his odds of success even further. A quick calculation told him he was up to 55% over all. Slightly better than half.
There was the northeast Sentinel, almost exactly where he expected to find it. The original Hammer suit didn’t have the same perceptions or the same ideas about what was important, but there was one clear memory in its collection that XAC-Hammer reviewed as he approached his objective.
It was a feminine consciousness, a Sentinel operator. She had exchanged information, not with the Hammer pilot but with the suit itself; she sought details that would enable her to better study its mechanical intellect and in the process had told it something about herself. This had been an incredible stroke of luck: an Arm scientist, one who might be expected to be in a relatively unprotected location.
While he assumed the laser tower had a subterranean entrance for the convenience of the clones who worked there, he also understood the nature of alterations to standard blueprints. There was a 99% probability the usual above-ground entry hatch was present, if sealed. Yes, there it was. He pinged a small scout vehicle that sped by, and after it was gone, he scanned the area and decided he had a good chance of being unobserved for the short time he needed. He started his work.
Part Four
XAC had made a few modifications to the Hammer beyond adding the pattern processor in which his consciousness resided, although space had limited him to only a couple of construction tools. The first enabled him to spin a tough pressure barrier around himself and the hatch of the Sentinel. This was not something he had started with more than a vague blueprint for, so he had to design as he went, but the finished product, if not especially elegant, appeared serviceable. He wouldn’t know for sure if it worked until he released the hatch.
He sprayed nanobots in a thin stream along the outline of the hatch. His first couple of instructions had no effect, but he had thought of multiple possibilities, and the third set of nanobots made it through the barrier seal. XAC-Hammer could feel and hear the rush of air, and the diaphragm he had built bellied out around him. Once he was satisfied his construct held, he began streaming codes at the hatch, and presently it slid quietly aside.
There were three people in the control chamber, as he had predicted, and all of them semi-reclined in chairs, staring off into nothingness. He noted that two of them were women. He could not identify his quarry from visual sensors, but he had her neural pattern deeply imprinted on his memory, and he needed only to get a little closer to get a reading.
He took a step, and suddenly all three of the Sentinel operators looked away from their work and toward him. One of the women gasped.
“Hammer, what are you doing here?” asked the man.
XAC briefly considered shooting him—after all, a man was of no interest to him, and he was a little curious to see what would happen—but he decided he had probably better not. “I want Tera,” he said.
One of the women turned in her chair to face him squarely. “I’m Tera.” He couldn’t tell if she was merely puzzled or if she was frightened, but it didn’t matter either way. She was here, and that was what was important.
“You will come with me.” He popped the Hammer’s cockpit open. He had designed the space so there was still room for a human passenger, although it would be tight. The woman who was not Tera screamed faintly, but Tera stood and approached.
“Why?” she asked. “Why do you want me?”
“I’ll explain on the way.” XAC waited. It would be much better if she came on her own, but he was ready with several things he thought might persuade her. He swiveled his body slightly to bring his cannon to bear on the man, and the woman Tera looked from one to the other, perhaps imagining what plasma could do to unprotected flesh. There was also a possibility the shot would punch through the wall of the Sentinel, too, and that would be the end of all of the operators. She wouldn’t know that he was unwilling to risk this after coming all this way to abduct her.
“I’ll come.” The woman’s feet found the steps on the Hammer, and she mounted to sit in the narrow space he had left for her. Even before she was settled, he made contact with her neural link, and now he knew for certain she was his quarry. He could also tell she was extremely frightened. It was strange to make such a very intimate contact with an intellect he didn’t know, and he felt vaguely ... embarrassed, perhaps.
He did not let his discomfort interfere with his task, however. He closed the Hammer’s access port and started the life support functions. He was aware of his captive’s rapid heartbeat and surging epinephrine, but he had expected this and used the Hammer’s feedback to tweak her neural link, calming her somewhat.
“What do you want with me, Hammer?”
She still thought him a Hammer. If the Arm had developed sentient suits, perhaps they had made some capable of self-motivation, and that was the source of her error. He didn’t answer her right away, however, since he was still busy.
He had not closed the hatch behind him as he entered, but he did so when he left. Then he dismantled the diaphragm and stumped away in a veritable sandstorm raised by the air escaping from the Sentinel where his nanobots had eaten away the seal. He wasn’t sure, but he didn’t think the Sentinel operators would survive the rapid decompression.
“Where are you taking me, Hammer?”
The woman couldn’t see without his allowing her access to the suit’s sensors, and XAC debated a moment before granting her that much comfort, if she found the route he took any comfort at all. She did seem to be a degree less tense once she could see, even if all there was before them were the sharp ridges of Delta Beta 4.
“I’m taking you to the Core base,” he said at last. “I am XAC-274. I, as XAC-273, captured this Hammer suit and adapted it for this purpose.”
“You’re ... Core?” She seemed merely bewildered at this, although he supposed his delicate tampering with her neurochemicals might have reduced whatever horror she might have felt to simple puzzlement. “Then what do you want with me?”
He had originally planned to tell her nothing until he returned to base, but that was when he had thought of his captive only in terms of an Arm clone. An animal. But where her mind touched his through the link, it was undeniably human, and with a depth and color he found intriguing. She was, after all, a scientist, wasn’t she?
“I want to know about the self-aware suit project,” he said.
“Project?” She laughed suddenly, harshly. “There’s no project. Just an accident. Something like a genetic mutation in the level 1 Kbot lab. They hardly let us even study it, and they don’t plan to make any more units.”
XAC plodded on, but his mind reeled. He could understand the woman’s scorn. If the Core missed opportunities for advancing their knowledge, then how much more likely was the Arm to squander them? Apparently the Arm had developed something by accident, and they didn’t realize how important it could be. Naturally that would be upsetting to a scientist. And that probably explained why she had been relegated to operating a laser tower.
“And even Lancer doesn’t care, just so long as they leave his precious tank alone.”
“Lancer?”
“A man I ... admire. I used to think I was in love, but we’re too different.”
These confidences were a little more than XAC wanted, but it was his own fault for meddling with her neurochemistry. An Arm unit was limited in what it could do to affect the pilot's mind, but the mechanisms were there, and XAC had simply altered their capabilities slightly. Whatever he asked, she would answer without inhibition. He brought her back to the subject of most interest to him.
“The self-aware suits aren’t the reason the Arm is here, then?” Obviously not.
She laughed again. “No. I don’t know why Arm put even as much as this second-rate little outpost here.”
“Oh, fatal exception,” swore XAC. After all that, and he was back where he started, except now he had a captive he couldn’t dispose of quite so casually as he had planned.
Part Five
Nobody told Jak there was anything going on, but he was arrested by the sight of the outside hatch on Tera’s Sentinel standing open. There was a Rocko standing guard, and as Jak approached he could see a couple of medical C-bots inside the tower.
He quickened his pace and was in time to witness the C-bots begin the reclamation of what had once been people. The Rocko didn’t question him as he entered, but the senior C-bot wanted to know what he was doing there.
Jak tried not to pay attention to what the ’bot was doing, but there was no safe place to look. He altered the colors in his view sensors to unfamiliar ones, and that helped. “I have a friend who’s stationed here,” he said.
“If it’s Dee or Arvin, you don’t anymore.”
Jak resented the medic’s flippant answer, even if he was relieved. Still, he seemed to recall Tera was supposed to be on duty, and if so, where was she? He didn’t know if it would work when he was still in his Zipper, but Jak moved so that he thought he might be in the upper operator’s neural link zone.
“Sentinel?” Not yet. He moved a little closer, leaning on the elevated chair until it creaked. He was almost overwhelmed by a wordless, soundless wail of anguish. “Sentinel?”
*Hurt, hurt, hurt...*
“Sentinel, I want to help you.”
*Jak...* This was his Zipper, upset by the pain in the Sentinel’s cries. Jak thought he was going to get a headache in a minute, but the young Zipper got through to the Sentinel where he hadn’t.
*Zipper?*
Jak answered. “Sentinel. I’m Tera’s friend. I want to help.”
At first the Sentinel was almost incoherent, but eventually Jak understood. The operators had all been on full alert when a Hammer somehow entered through the side hatch and demanded that Tera come with him. She did what he wanted, but after he left with her, something terrible happened to Dee and Arvin.
A Hammer? What would a Hammer want with Tera? And why would he kill the other two operators? The Sentinel had no idea, particularly after Jak inadvertently mentioned the fate of Dee and Arvin. Apparently, a pilot’s death was the ultimate failure for a unit, and the Sentinel became completely incoherent with grief and self-loathing.
There wasn’t much left to see inside the tower, but Jak examined the hatch on the way out. He wasn’t sure what he should be looking for, and he didn’t see anything—no evidence of a blast or laser-drilled hole. There was a distinctive alluvial shape in the sand beyond where the escaping air had moved it, and beyond this, Jak could see a set of Hammer tracks. The sand near the perimeter of the base was pretty churned up, so it wasn’t always easy to pick out the tracks he was following, but the deeply-ridged squares were always on top. The Hammer had set out in a perfectly straight line for the nearest gap in the Dragon’s Teeth barrier.
Had nobody seen him go? Jak contacted the officer of the watch as he went and found out practically nothing. Nobody had reported anything to her at all out of the way until the life support indicators on the northeast sentinel went red, and that had looked like a simple seal failure.
“That kind of thing happens occasionally,” she said, and Jak could clearly hear the patronizing tone in her voice. “And if your friend wasn’t there, I don’t see you have any problem.” She thought he was making an issue over nothing. A single Hammer with the correct identity codes still apparently raised nobody’s suspicions in spite of some rather unusual behavior, and it seemed a missing clone wasn’t very important, either. She wouldn’t even check.
Thinking a few things about the watch officer his mother would have called him down for if she ever heard him say them, Jak passed the barrier and set out to follow the Hammer’s tracks. He wasn’t authorized for it, but if he didn’t try to find Tera, who knew what might happen?
Another set of Hammer prints confused him briefly, but when he saw the trail he was following disappear under a Flash tread, he knew this couldn’t be his Hammer. He dashed back to the perimeter at top speed to check the first set to see if there were any distinguishing characteristics. Yes, there were several distinctive chips in the tread of both feet. He recorded this in the Zipper’s memory in case he needed it, and then he went back past the Dragon’s Teeth.
This time he found the place where his quarry’s route diverged from the rest, and once this happened, the trail became quite easy to follow. Even among the ridges, there were enough sandy patches that Jak never lost the way for long. But he still couldn’t imagine why the Hammer was taking Tera this way.
***
Lancer knew what the intelligence reports had to say about the weakness of the Core forces on Delbay 4, but Lancer had a distrust of intelligence reports, particularly after that episode a couple of weeks ago. He kept expecting a squad of stealth bombers to suddenly appear above him and rain death on the Arm advance, but it never happened. On the way to the Core base, the only sign of an enemy presence was Fink scout planes that flashed overhead occasionally. The Jethros used the Finks for target practice, but almost everybody else ignored them, looking for a threat that didn’t materialize.
Only when the base was coming into mobile radar view did any ground units appear, and that was a rush of Storms backed up by Thuds. In the relatively close confines of the canyon, the tactic played havoc with the lead Arm units, and by the time the overwhelming Arm firepower had cleaned out the Core ambush, piles of wreckage blocked the way. This was a known hazard of warfare on Delbay 4, and a couple of specially adapted bulldozers jockeyed their way to the front and cleared a path just wide enough for a Bulldog to scrape by. The construction Kbots started tidying up, but they were careful to stay out of the way of the advancing vehicles.
The Core colonel could have followed up and taken advantage of the awkward situation, but after the initial rush, there was nothing until the light laser towers on the base’s perimeter started stinging the massed Arm units. Lancer didn’t think he had ever seen so many LLT’s in one place before, and he couldn’t understand why there was no heavier artillery. He couldn’t quite tell, but it looked like there were Thuds, Storms and Crashers stationed at intervals between the LLT’s, and presently they opened fire as well, although only an occasional, carefully lobbed shot had the necessary range.
Squads of Arm aircraft were still softening up the base, and several of the stationary Kbots and LLT’s were blasted into flying shards as the Arm ground units spread out for the attack. Lancer felt a pang of regret when he saw a stray missile take out the only Zipper he had brought with him—not so much because he cared about her, but because he knew Jak would be upset. Damn, that kid could be annoying. He stirred up emotions that had been deadened by years, centuries of pain and loss. You couldn’t afford grief in this business, or guilt, or even caring, and then Jak came and felt all of those things for everybody.
Lancer came back to the battle to realize he had already started shooting. He had been fighting so long it was reflexive to find a target and commence firing as soon as he had the range, and presently a metal maker crumpled under his accurate shelling. That was his squad’s job, take out infrastructure. Eradication of mobile units and artillery were assigned to other companies, although he had detailed a few of his units to fire if fired upon. A Rocko—Sue, he realized—was trading rockets with her Core counterpart, but she had the advantage of the cover of a Bulldog, and she took out the Storm without taking any hits of her own. And Lancer’s tank could survive quite a lot of damage.
Lancer took stock of his units as he began pounding yet another solar collector. He’d lost some, but so far he was still strong, and the metal and energy producing capabilities of the Core were almost gone, at least in this locality. He took a quick look at the colonel’s master map, and things seemed to be going pretty much the same everywhere. Twenty minutes more, and all that would be left was mop-up.
Part Six
XAC-273 followed the progress of the battle as he waited for the Hammer to return. Some of his theories worked rather well in practice, but not all, and even though he had never expected anything but defeat, he was rather disappointed at how one-sided the contest quickly became. If only Central Consciousness had seen fit to give him a full set of blueprints and a better class of patterns! How could anyone expect to prevail with inferior units controlled by inferior intellects? He comforted himself with the fact it was only a diversion and puttered around making a few last minute preparations for his guest.
XAC-Hammer had sent only one, very short burst communication after leaving the Arm base, and that was a simple assurance the mission had been a success. His level 1 units might be even now getting reduced to slag, but his primary objective was within his grasp, and 273 felt a deep sense of satisfaction.
Knowing that everything else was likely to get destroyed, 273 had put the best one of his construction Kbots to work building and outfitting this subterranean chamber near the Galactic Gate and safely away from the base. CKB-1051 had hollowed out a good-size space and outfitted it with both energy storage and metal storage structures, but now, with her assistance, it was up to him to construct the final thing. It was not something in level 1 or even level 2 blueprints, nor was it something XAC-273 had ever expected to be able to use; he had even considered purging it from his memory more than once, but having gone to a great deal of trouble to get it, he never had.
The pressure chamber, complete with airlock, went up quickly, and then he sent CKB-1051 to ready a communications link with the area Commander while he began work on the cradle. The walls of the inner room were transparent, so he saw the Hammer return while he was finishing the receptacle. The timing was excellent, and he instructed the Hammer to join him in the room, although it was barely big enough for both himself and the blocky Arm unit.
As soon as the Hammer was safely inside, 273 began pressurizing the chamber, and once that was complete, he had the Hammer open his access port to reveal his prisoner. It had been a long time since XAC-273 had seen a biological human, and he felt vaguely repulsed by this soft, moist specimen.
“Come out,” he said, but she cowered back into the Hammer chassis. Surprisingly, the Hammer took a half-step back, as well, so that it pressed against the wall of the chamber.
“You’re scaring her.”
How dare 274 speak to him that way? He was the master, and 274 was only a copy, one so degenerate it seemed he was concerned for his prisoner.
“She’s an animal.” XAC-273 tried to be reasonable. “Of course she’s scared. But you know the plan.”
“She’s a human being.” 274 made no move to evict his captive, although she no longer cringed against the back of the pilot’s couch.
273 was annoyed at how things were going, but 274 would be erased in a few minutes, so there was no point in wasting any social finesse on him. “Well, then, maybe you can explain this to her. She can get out and cooperate, or I’ll open the airlock. I’d rather not have the mess, but...”
There was a moment of silence, and 273 hoped 274 was explaining the prisoner’s alternatives to her via neural link. In any event, her face got even moister as her eyes leaked, and then she slowly climbed down. She hadn’t quite reached the floor when she darted back up again, but only to put her hand briefly on 274’s pattern processor. How disgusting! Then she descended all the way to the floor.
274 had apparently given her complete directions, because she immediately got into the cradle and lay down.
“My life was getting pretty boring anyway,” she said, and then the patterning collector began its work.
XAC-273 watched the indicators in fascination. He had never before seen a life-form patterned, and it was little short of amazing to see the intricate flux of the colored traces as the levels increased. This intellect was truly of a better order than any of those he had in his pattern repository, and he briefly considered copying her pattern. Except even if she weren’t loyal to Arm, he had no intention of remaining on Delta Beta 4 and therefore had no need of better patterns.
Once it was done, XAC-273 disconnected the receptacle and started toward the door. As it turned out, he hadn’t needed to go to all of the trouble to build an airlock, but when he reached for the simple push plate on the outer door, the Hammer’s voice stopped him.
“You ought to close the inner door first, or you’ll have a mess in here.”
And all over him, too. 273 closed the door and then let the pressure bleed down before he opened the outer hatch. Then it was the Hammer’s turn, and although the Arm unit barely fit, XAC-273 took some pride in the fact he had gotten the measurements so perfect.
Things were going very well. All that was left now was to debrief 274 and then contact the area Commander. He and his captive would be on Core Prime within hours, for certain.
“I’ll take that.” The Hammer extended the construction manipulator XAC had added to the suit and plucked the consciousness receptacle from 273 before he quite knew what was happening.
273 turned indignantly on his creation, but he forgot what he was going to say when he realized the Hammer had leveled its cannon at him. He had sacrificed some of the weapon’s power in order to add other features, but it would still fire plasma, enough to do considerable damage at this distance.
“We made a mistake.” The Hammer chuckled evilly. “We never realized we could not put our pattern into such a powerful unit as this and then expect it to willingly undergo debriefing.”
There was a tremendous flash, and then everything went black.
Part Seven
The Hammer tracks disappeared into a squared off opening in the rock face of a ridge, and Jak hesitated before he entered, but not long. He readied his puny laser and tried to go quietly until he remembered the vacuum wouldn’t carry any of the clink and clatter he could hear quite clearly inside his pressurized suit.
When he came to a large, lighted chamber, he carefully periscoped a sensor into it, but there didn’t seem to be any activity, and certainly no Hammer. Only a funny-looking, plasma-scored construction Kbot squatting among a handful of structures. Jak recognized both the energy and metal storage facilities built in the Core style, but the clear cube was unfamiliar to him, and after a minute, he risked a closer look.
He approached warily, but nobody challenged him, and presently he could see inside the pressure chamber. He still had no idea what was going on, but he had found Tera, asleep, and to judge from the steady rise and fall of her chest, well. He pressed the Zipper’s face flat against the wall of the chamber and shouted, but she gave no sign she had heard him.
Jak recognized an airlock, and he studied the situation. The proportions were fine for the C-bot, and he thought even a Hammer might squeeze inside, but a Zipper was long and slender. Maybe if he crouched...
The outer door still stood open, and Jak duck-walked into the airlock. The Zipper thought it great fun, but Jak was glad there was nobody to see him do something so ridiculous and ungainly. There was only one button, so Jak pushed it, and the airlock closed and started pressurizing, and once the pressure had equalized, the inner door opened.
Jak popped open his cockpit and jumped down. He felt terribly exposed, but this was the only way to do what he needed to do.
“Tera.” He took her by the shoulder and shook her gently, then harder. “Tera!” She was breathing, and her heart was beating, but she didn’t respond. Grateful for the low gravity, Jak gathered her up in his arms, but it was still a trick to mount the Zipper.
He was sure he put bruises on Tera, but she gave no indication of it, and he managed to jam her into the Zipper with him. Not until he closed the hatch was he sure there was room, and even then it was tighter than he would have liked. He couldn’t take a deep breath, but with any luck he wouldn’t have to.
He entered the airlock again and pushed the button, but this time there was no gentle equalization of pressure. Instead, the outer door burst open, and Jak was blasted halfway across the room, where he tripped over the damaged C-bot and went tumbling. The Zipper laughed with glee. It hadn’t had this much fun in a long time.
***
Lancer was tired, and he looked forward to a hot shower, a cold beer and a warm bed. He was not at all prepared to be met by a tear-streaked young son of a mother as soon as he had parked in the barn and dismounted. Lancer kept walking, and Jak fell in beside him.
“Lancer.”
Whatever it was, he didn’t want to be burdened with it just now. “Can’t it wait?” If he sounded irritable, it was because he was.
“It’s about Tera.”
“What, has she taken up with somebody else?” Yeah, that would upset the kid all out of proportion, wouldn’t it? But Lancer wasn’t surprised, or even especially hurt. It had been fun, but...
“No.” There was real pain in Jak’s voice, and Lancer began to feel some concern as he went on. “There was a ... an incident at her Sentinel. The other two operators were killed, and Tera...” His voice broke, and he continued in a whisper. “She’s in medbay, but she’s not... I mean, there’s nothing they can do.”
Nothing they can do. It must have been pretty bad, then. A deadening calm descended over him as it always did when he faced something that he would have once found emotionally wrenching. “What happened?”
It was hard for the young officer, but by the time the two of them got to the medical bay, Lancer had as much of the story as Jak knew himself. He had no more idea why Tera had been abducted by a Core unit masquerading as a Hammer than Jak did, but now he knew why there was nothing that could be done for her. During patterning, the brain structures were altered enough that a simple restoration of the mind would fail. Only a full restoration would work at this point, and Lancer knew that was unlikely to be authorized. Anybody who had died today would have to stay dead until they were needed, and that could be a while considering the state of the Core base.
If it hadn’t been for Jak, Tera’s living body would probably have been reclaimed by now, but the young officer had insisted they keep her until Lancer had a chance to pay his respects. Lancer almost wished he hadn’t done him this favor. If he hadn’t seen her, he could have imagined Tera alive somewhere else, but this way he had to face up to his loss squarely.
He took her hand, and it was still warm and soft. She had been a difficult woman to get to know, if in fact he could claim to have gotten to know her at all. She had liked him, though, and it was hard to resist that.
He became aware of a medical technician standing over him, and he recognized the apparatus at the woman’s side. Didn’t these people have any feelings?
“Can you at least wait until I’m gone?”
The woman shrugged her shoulders and left, the apparatus following along behind.
Lancer leaned over and gave Tera a kiss on the lips, then he lay her hand back by her side and walked out without looking back. He did not want to risk seeing the technician’s ravenous machine begin its work.
Jak stayed with him as he went, saying nothing, and although he felt angry with the boy for subjecting him to such emotional pain, Lancer knew he meant well. “Thanks, kid,” he said. “Now why don’t you go cry on Cyclone for a while? I bet she’s looking for you.”
Jak hesitated, but he went, and as soon as he was out of sight, Lancer altered his course. More than the shower and the beer, he wanted some companionship. There were still others pulling in to the tank barn, and a couple of pilots called greetings, but his response wasn’t encouraging. He wasn’t interested in standing around and talking just now.
Lancer ran his hand lovingly over the rough side of his Bulldog, which sat exactly where he had left her. She’d taken some punishment, but nothing especially critical, and she’d be fine by tomorrow, or possibly the next day if construction had a big backlog. He climbed up, settled into the cockpit and closed the hatch.
He sat there in the dark for some time, feeling utterly empty, but taking comfort in the wordless croonings of his tank. She didn’t know what was wrong, but whatever it was, it was her job to protect him from it. He only wished she could.
***
All was black, and XAC-273 couldn’t move. There had been a tremendous jarring not long after the traitorous 274 left, and 273 could only conclude the roof had fallen in on him. What a dreadful fate, to be locked inside a box, thinking and aware, but with no way to see or communicate with the outside world. He could only hope the energy storage facility had been damaged, too, because if it had survived, it could keep him going in this state for a couple of centuries before he faded completely, and that was too horrible to contemplate.
It seemed much longer, but it was really only two hours before he felt the touch of a probe. The construction Kbot! He felt a tremendous surge of relief and gratitude as she worked her repairs on his battered and burned surface, and he felt guilty that he had ever considered hers an inferior intellect.
His euphoria at rescue was tempered somewhat by the full knowledge of what 274 had done. CKB-1051 had been by when the Hammer communicated with the area Commander, and although she didn’t know the substance of his negotiations, she had seen the Galactic Gate activate and the Hammer, along with the captive’s pattern, disappear into it.
“There is also a message from the area Commander commending you on your work so far,” she said. “But they still don’t know why the Arm is here, so we are to continue our surveillance.”
“Oh, fatal exception,” said XAC-273.
Still, it could have been worse, and there might yet be something he could find that would buy his way back to Core Prime. Besides, he had already thought of several new tactics he wanted to try against the Arm, and he could hardly wait to start rebuilding.
Epilogue
Be careful what you wish for. Tera thought that was something her mother liked to say, or maybe it was her first drill instructor. No, the DI had been more likely to say, “We own you, so shut up and do it.”
Tera had not taken to the military life, but at the time she had first died—she couldn’t even remember how—and was resurrected as a clone, she’d had no choice. And by the time the Arm decided clones were human beings and could not therefore be property, it was too late. All of her experience was in artillery, which severely limited her options when applying for civilian positions.
She had thought she would be willing to do anything to get away from war, but being patterned and taken to Core Prime was a more extreme measure than she had intended. Sometimes she wished she had made the ugly XAC-273 kill her instead; a truly dedicated and loyal Arm soldier would have. Lancer certainly would have.
Tera didn’t want to think about Lancer. Her memories of him were precious, and even if he had turned out not to be quite what she had thought him, he was still a hero, and she didn’t want to share their very private times together with the Core Interrogator. She tried to think about Jak instead—there was nothing she needed to keep to herself when it came to him—but she could feel the Interrogator guiding her gently but inexorably back to Lancer.
She had no defenses against this skilful probing of her mind—her pattern—and she found herself recalling in vivid detail almost every sardonic word, every loving caress. She recalled the feel, the smell ... and the Core voyeur absorbed every lascivious detail with a lack of passion Tera found disturbing.
She had been taught the Core were soulless machines, and she had believed it until she linked with 274 inside the Hammer. It was that contact that made her think being patterned might not be so bad, but she hadn’t had any communication with 274 since she had stepped from his Hammer. Only with stereotypically soulless Core Interrogators. Even this spiteful thought got no response, but now Tera found herself examining the nature of her relationship with her captor.
She ought to hate 274, but she didn’t. It was irrational, and she knew it, but the one she hated was 273, even though it had been 274 who had actually kidnapped her, and even if she knew 274 was simply 273 with a slightly different set of experiences. 274 cared about her. 273 didn’t. And that was difference enough.
274 had promised to help her get used to life as a pattern, something he had assured her she would like once she experienced it, and she had trusted him. She still trusted him, and even though logic made her question his sincerity, he did not seem like a person who would lie easily. Yes, a person. The Core Interrogator was not a person to her, not this one, not the one earlier, or the one before that, but 274 was.
*Do you want to enter into an exchange with him?*
This was the first direct question Tera had received since being patterned, and it caught her off guard. Besides, she wasn’t quite sure what the Interrogator meant.
*Do you wish to communicate directly with Devek 2.274?*
Did she want to talk to 274? Of course she did.
*Tera.* She would recognize that mind anywhere, and she felt a rush of pleasure to encounter someone familiar.
*274!*
*I’ve been waiting and waiting until you were cleared for exchange,* he told her. *It’s beautiful, almost as beautiful as you are.*
Never in her life had Tera been beautiful, or even especially pretty. Intelligent, perhaps, but not...
*One in a million million,* insisted 274. His consciousness reached out to hers and made gentle contact, then spread to envelop her. Had it been one of the Interrogators, this mastery would have frightened her, but because it was 274, she found it comforting, and even enjoyable.
She began to absorb random thoughts, colors, scents, even physical sensations, until their intensity threatened to overwhelm her. It was confusing, but pleasant. Very pleasant, almost like...
*Stop!*
274 withdrew his consciousness from hers, so abruptly she was afraid she had done something dreadful, but he stayed near, holding her as she clung to him. His words came softly, soothingly, but with a slight color of hurt.
*I thought you liked it.*
Yes, she had, too much. *Is that something you normally do with someone you don’t know very well?*
He pulled back a little farther. *No.*
Tera could feel the warmth of his embarrassment, and she understood its source altogether too well. She had tried something like that once, with Lancer... And it had worked, too, after a fashion.
She didn’t know a pattern could laugh, but she laughed, and it came out in a sparkle of electrical pulses.
*You were right,* she said. *I think I can get used to being a pattern.*
The article was taken from this thread.
