by M. D. Cooper
Rika replied.
Niki nodded.
Rika considered that and reached down to touch her abdomen, where the AI socket lay behind a hidden panel. She would carry Niki within herself like a child in her womb.
The idea was surreal and a little disturbing.
Rika frowned at the sphinx and took a step closer to the brook.
Rika shook her head. Niki seems to know everything that’s at stake. Still, the AI is right; she will be putting her life in my hands as much as I am mine in hers.
She gazed at the implacable face of the sphinx.
I’ve gone through a lot worse to get a job done.
Rika admitted honestly.
Rika recoiled at the possibility of Niki being able to control her body. She had spent so much of her life as a slave to the whims of others that to have this foreign being living within her having the ability to control her body was abhorrent.
Niki promised.
Stars, this is the stupidest thing I’ve ever done…
Rika did trust Barne; had done so with her life on many occasions. But is he thinking clearly about this? I am going into hostile territory with a new team member. We have no rapport and no reason to believe that the other has our best interests at heart.
However, Barne believed that she would need the AI to succeed, and logistics were his forte. The more Rika thought about the mission, the more she suspected he was right.
If I can’t convince Silva to aid me, then a hit on Stavros will require a lot of dumb luck. An AI could improve my odds a lot.
Barne acknowledged this fact, nodding.
Rika smiled, hoping it appeared warm and not grim.
Outside the glade, Rika was dimly aware of Barne opening the access port on her abdomen and removing one of her SC batteries to reveal the small AI core socket behind it. Then she felt him grasp her arm as he carefully set something inside.
An instant later the glade was gone, replaced by darkness. She was alone in the empty space, feeling nothingness beneath her.
The words didn’t feel like they were passing over a distance, like they did when speaking over the Link or in a virtual space like Niki’s glade. These words felt like they were in her mind, like she had thought them—though she could tell she hadn’t. They were another’s thoughts, but had still originated from within her.
Rika blinked, and a moment later, the space was a vast plain of waist-high grass, green and vibrant, waving in a light breeze. Overhead, a yellow sun shone, and white clouds drifted in a deep blue sky.
“I like it here,” a voice opined, and Rika turned to see another mech—an SMI-2, just like her—standing in the grass. Her armor was an iridescent blue, and she wore no helmet. Her face was the same as the sphinx’s in Niki’s glade.
“It reminds me of home,” Rika shared. “Well, what was once home. The world I grew up on is not habitable anymore.”
Niki nodded slowly. “Your war did that to many worlds.”
“Why are you a mech now?” Rika asked. “Why not appear here as you did in your glade?”
“Well,” Niki reasoned with a wink, “you’re a mech here, and I’m in a mech. It seemed fitting.”
Rika looked down at herself and realized that she was fully armored—her right arm sported her GNR-41C, and a JE84 was on her back. Even in her mind, in this safe place, she was ready for battle.
It occurred to her that she should work on changing how she perceived herself. Then again, she was speed, power, and certain death to her foes. Would softening here weaken me in the real world? In combat, there was no room for anything but the strongest possible application of force.
“What are you thinking?” Niki interrupted her thoughts.
“You don’t know?” Rika asked, surprised. “I thought you’d be able to read my mind.”
Niki shook her head. “No, I cannot. I have access to your bio stats; I can tell you’re agitated and pensive, but I cannot read your thoughts. Direct access into another’s mind without buffers and filters leads to madness; both our makers knew that and would not spend our sanity so readily.”
Rika wanted to reply that she had no maker, that she had been born, but she knew that wasn’t true. She really had come into being the day her assembler had put her together; everything before that was a dream.
“That’s good,” Rika replied with a wan smile. She tapped her head. “It’s a mess up here.”
“You organics usually are a bit of a jumble,” Niki reconciled with a wink. “Not that you can help it; your neurons just connect haphazardly, all willy-nilly.” Niki wiggled her fingers and grinned, and Rika gave a soft laugh.
This is going to be quite the experience, Rika decided. She was a woman wrapped in a machine, with another machine now inside her.
As long as it gets the job done. As long as I can save Silva, it will be worth it. Nearly anything will be worth it.
STAVROS
STELLAR DATE: 04.01.8949 (Adjusted Years)
LOCATION: Docking Bay #420-23A The Isthmus, Sparta
/> REGION: Peloponnese System, Politica, Praesepe Cluster
Rika checked herself over one last time, wanting to make a good impression when she met Stavros again. She had considered changing her appearance in some drastic way—adding spikes, or painting her armor red. Chase had joked about maybe adding a tail.
In the end, all she did was have Barne remove the Basilisk he had painted on her armor only half a year ago, returning her chest plate to its stock appearance.
Somehow that felt wrong, like she was erasing all her time with Basilisk.
Now, standing on the ramp of the pinnace as The Isthmus’s docking systems lowered it onto a cradle, Rika felt very alone. More so than she’d expected.
To everyone around her, she was a murderer; a fugitive from the Marauders, and probably Thebes and Septhia, as well. Now she was entering into the lair of the dragon, intent on killing him.
That was the job, at least: kill Stavros.
Rika didn’t need reminding.
Given how they’d parted at their last meeting, she couldn’t come to Stavros first. Instead, she had traveled to meet with several other mercenary groups—all of which had turned her down.
Ayer and the Marauders had effectively spread the news about what Rika had done. She was unhireable.
Well, hopefully not completely unhireable.
Even after she killed Stavros, the Marauder fleet—hopefully bolstered by the Septhians—would have its work cut out for it. The Peloponnese System was The Politica’s stronghold. A vast fleet protected it, easily five thousand ships strong, and The Isthmus was a thousand-kilometer station, bristling with particle beams and rail guns. It was also protected by dozens of other emplacements throughout the Sparta System, all ready to bring destruction to anyone who would risk an invasion.
Rika let a smile grace her lips.
Rika laughed aloud at that. Over the weeks of travel, she and Niki had grown quite attached to one another. The fact that Niki had a good sense of humor certainly helped; Rika was grateful that the AI was not quite as reserved as she had come off as at first—a front Niki admitted that she had put up out of uncertainty.
An AI feeling nervous and uncertain… Rika’d had no idea such a thing was even possible.
The pinnace finally settled into the cradle, and the panel above the ramp indicated that docking was complete. Rika hit the control to lower the pinnace’s ramp and, when it finished descending, she strode down its length, ducking under the hull at the end to stand erect, confidently surveying the docking bay.
It was reminiscent of the one they had docked in back in the Oran System: clear of any other ships or crates, with no small number of soldiers arrayed before her ship.
Except this time, none of them were pointing guns at her.
At the base of the ramp stood Stavros, a broad smile stretched across his dark features.
“At last you come to me, Rika,” he purred with his arms spread wide. “I’ve received reports of what happened with the Marauders; a most unfortunate business, that.”
Rika nodded as she walked down the cradle’s ramp and stopped a meter from Stavros, who was very nearly as tall as she was.
“Betrayal makes for unfortunate business. I have to admit, though, I’m surprised that you are willing to take me on; we did not part on good terms last time we spoke,” she reminded him.
Stavros nodded. “Yes, our meeting was…terse. I’ll admit that my emotions were running high that day. I was glad to see my daughter returned to me, and my gratitude for you rescuing her made me want to keep you around to protect her. Amy has spoken very highly of you—which is why I’ve kept the deaths of your teammates from her. I don’t think she would be happy to learn that you killed her beloved Leslie.”
Rika let out a relieved breath. She had been worried about that. If Stavros told Amy the cover story—which he seemed to believe—the girl would most likely have hated Rika with every fiber of her being.
Granted, Stavros was probably holding it in reserve to use against her at a later date.
“I appreciate that,” Rika told him. “I trust Amy is well? Recovered from her ordeal?”
“She is,” Stavros replied. “She has been asking after you and your team since you returned her to me. When I told her you were coming to stay with us, she was overjoyed.”
“That’s music to my ears,” Rika replied.
Stavros nodded, still wearing his magnanimous smile. “Come, let us eat; we can discuss your terms and determine the best place for you within The Politica. I certainly have ideas, and I believe that once I’ve shared my vision with you, you’ll be very excited about what we’re doing in Praesepe.”
Stavros turned and walked through the corridor formed by his soldiers, gesturing for Rika to follow him.
“Sounds interesting,” Rika allowed as she fell in beside him. “I must admit that your approach to conquest is different. Many would say that you create the opportunity for rebellion when you leave core populations intact, as you did in Oran.”
“It’s an old strategy,” Stavros explained. “Often it’s referred to as ‘Vichy Conquest’, but it is far older than that. Ancient Rome on Earth was notorious for it. You defeat an enemy, but not completely; you let them form their own government and think that they are autonomous. All the while, their leaders know they are operating at your pleasure and keep the people in line—all for the crumbs you toss.” He paused, and then summated, “So long as I create the impression that The Politica is operating in their best interests—which it is, of course—then the conquered stay in line.”
Rika nodded as Stavros spoke, pretending she cared about how he operated. As far as she was concerned, everything about him was distasteful. That he based his method of conquest on some ancient fascist regime did not surprise her.
They reached the end of the rows of soldiers, and Rika noticed that four large men in heavy armor fell in behind them as they left the docking bay.
Stavros led her down a long corridor while talking about his various conquests and methods of keeping populations in line, providing asides about the art he had seized and the foods he had sampled in his many wars.
Rika listened well enough to make appropriate responses at the right times. She asked questions once or twice, but most of her attention was on the other people they passed in the corridors of The Isthmus. They all wore the white uniform of The Politica, and every one of them stopped to salute Stavros as he strode by.
Most of their expressions were filled with a mixture of fear and respect, but every now and then, Rika caught a glint of hate. Not that this surprised her; Stavros was not native to any of the systems he had conquered. In fact, no one knew where he was from.
Niki made a guess.
where Stavros came from? I thought you couldn’t read my mind.>
Niki confirmed.
Rika had never given much thought to the mechanics of her own thinking; it just happened. Pondering its nature wouldn’t change how…or maybe it would. Best not to examine the inner workings too much.
Rika realized that she hadn’t been paying any attention to Stavros’s never-ending banter. “Serves them right,” she parroted aloud.
Stavros turned his head and cocked an eyebrow before bursting out laughing and slapping her on the shoulder. “Oh, stars, Rika. You’re my kinda girl. You and I are going to get on famously.”
A minute later, Stavros stopped at a lift. They rode it up eighty-four decks before it finally let them out into a stark white corridor, where eight more of the heavily armed and armored soldiers waited in the passageway.
Stavros turned to Rika. “Now, I hope you can appreciate that one of the reasons I like you mechs so much is that you come with a very strong sense of loyalty, engineered right into you.”
“ ‘Loyalty’?” Rika repeated, uncomfortable under the gaze of the twelve soldiers. I can take out two, maybe three; but twelve? In these close quarters? I don’t stand a chance.
Stavros grinned; not a magnanimous, welcoming smile, but a possessive one, like he had just won a game. “Well, I suppose you call it ‘Discipline’. But I like to think of it as ‘enforced loyalty’. I never have to worry about you disobeying me, or operating in any way that’s not in my best interests.”
Rika swallowed. Just as Ayer warned me. She hadn’t harbored any illusions that she could avoid a compliance chip, but she had not expected to get it so soon. Even though she knew she could best Discipline, and was secure in the knowledge that Niki could nullify it, the mental reaction of fear and subservience was still there—a muscle memory that was burned into her, after so many encounters with its crippling pain.
