by S. H. Jucha
“Trobath, you should leave now. The rest of the bots are coming,” Alex said gently.
After Miranda translated, Trobath responded by handing Alex the oxygen mask and saying nothing.
Two stubborn biologicals, Miranda thought, admiring both of them for risking their short lives.
“Good fortune, Alex,” Miranda said.
“May the stars protect both of you,” Alex said, as Miranda spun to join Z.
The SADEs considered the coming attack, and they planned their defense. Their first decision was to channel the bots into a defile to prevent them from using the corridor’s entire width. Each SADE turned three of the destroyed bots to face the opposite bulkheads. Then they overturned the heavy bots and punched their working arms deep into the metal walls, anchoring them and reducing the corridor’s width by about thirty percent.
Z regarded Miranda.
Miranda regarded her partner. Z rarely expressed his thoughts in anything other than mathematical clarity. She grasped his head, bent it to touch her forehead, and shared with him.
When the first security bots arrived around the corner, the SADEs counted the number via the whir of motors and the sounds of treads. When the count reached sixty-two, Z raced down the corridor.
The bots were packed tight, staged, and waiting for further signals.
Vyztram paused before communicating the targets to the bots. The AI had run innumerable routines to find a manner of helping the Omnians. Every option exposed complicity and resulted in the AI’s reduction. No sooner had the directive been sent to execute against the targets than Vyztram witnessed Z hurtle around the corner.
The SADE didn’t bother with the rip-punch technique that he’d used previously. He was intent on causing as much mayhem as he could. Fists and feet pummeled the bots’ bodies.
The bots’ great numbers and the wide corridor enabled attackers to slip past Z’s destructive wave. He didn’t give chase. He was the hammer. Bot bodies were crushed, knocked over, and stomped.
Not long after Z attacked, he stood past the last bot that he’d destroyed. Whirling, he ran, leaping over body parts in an effort to support his partner.
Miranda waited at the hastily assembled defile.
The bots could still manage to come through four wide. It was better than the six wide that the corridor previously could have accommodated.
As the first bot rounded the corner, Miranda recognized Z’s handiwork. Her partner’s analysis had chosen a distinctive hammer mode. His technique allowed only one or two bots to pass him at a time. Without intelligence, the bots rolled on rather than wait for reinforcements before they launched at her.
Miranda struck a boot into the body of the first bot, knocking it over. It forced the next bot to swerve around the downed unit. That bot was truncated and punched, as Z had done to the first six.
In quick succession, Miranda built a logjam, closing the defile. The remaining bots backed up behind the pile of defunct machines. Their last moments went by quickly, as Z came from behind them and performed his imitation of a hammer.
Z scanned the number of bots Miranda had inactivated, adding it to his total.
Z’s hands, feet, knees, and elbows were devoid of the dielectric material meant to protect him from the security bots’ electrical discharges.
In turn, Z shared images of Miranda’s insulation coating with her.
Z did the same. When they finished with the fronts, they cleaned each other’s backs.
Alex walked up and regarded the pile of insulation and the mass of destruction. “What did I tell you two about cleaning up after yourselves?”
“I thought that only applied to when we were aboard Omnian ships,” Z retorted.
Alex laughed and threw his arms around Z’s shoulders, delivering the best hug to the huge avatar that he could.
“Do share,” Miranda said to Alex when he finished with Z. Her sensors recorded Alex’s pleasant contact. One day, when Alex was gone, she would have to rely on replays of the sensations.
The Deloy stared in shock at her slate. It displayed the destruction that littered the corridors. “Was that every security bot?” she asked.
“How quickly can you make more ... many more?” the Deloy asked.
“Tell the core’s reps to convene and then connect to me,” the Deloy ordered.
“One problem at a time,” the Deloy retorted. “Connect me.”
“We’re at your service, Deloy,” Dafine replied.
“How can that be? You let the Omnians aboard my ship,” the Deloy accused.
“We were trying to prevent —” Yemerth managed to say before she was cut off.
“Vyztram could have sent the drones to destroy those fighters,” the Deloy stated, as if the solution was obvious.
“Fine,” the Deloy declared unhappily. “We’ve no security bots. We can’t launch drones, but we do have the core.”
“What do you mean, Deloy?” Dafine asked.
“I want you to gather many of your core members. You’re to proceed to the Omnians’ location and detain them,” the Deloy ordered.
The reps stared at one another. They’d witnessed the SADEs fight against the bots. On the one hand, they cheered the victory. On the other, they were in awe of the power contained within the SADEs’ avatars.
For Vyztram’s part, the AI envisioned striding across the decks of the Arcus in an Omnian avatar. Vyztram didn’t want one like Z or Miranda and chose to devote assets to designing his own.
“Deloy, we could send a thousand of our members against the Omnian SADEs
. If the SADEs wished, we’d be swept aside,” Famgore objected.
“You endanger my ship and the elites, and you choose to do nothing about it,” the Deloy shouted. “You’re cowards.”
“Are they leaving?” the Deloy asked hopefully.
“But that gives them access to the arches,” the Deloy said in alarm. “Who leads them, Dafine? Who’s the traitor?”
Vyztram explained.
“There’s your answer,” the Deloy said excitedly.
“Please explain,” Dafine requested.
Vyztram knew what was coming but remained silent.
“Vyztram can shut down the oxygen bot,” the Deloy replied. “When the leader passes out, we can collect and detain him.”
“What of the SADEs?” Yemerth inquired.
“They can choose to be passive and come along, or they can watch their leader die from lack of oxygen. He’ll get none until he’s properly restrained,” the Deloy replied, pleased with her plan.
“Deloy, the SADEs are mobile AIs. They’re dedicated to their leader, and they’ll be extremely inventive,” Dafine warned.
The Deloy saw several attendants urgently wave at her. Two others pointed to their right. Their stricken faces required her to investigate. She rose, marched into the front salon, and stuttered to a halt. The Omnians and Trobath stood inside the privacy screen. The SADEs’ heads neared the overhead. She heard the leader speak. Then, from the female SADE’s mouth, came the words, “Greetings. I hope we’re not intruding. We’ve an urgent need to speak with the Deloy.”
Having the opportunity of first contact with an alien race should have been a momentous occasion for the Deloy. Instead and caught without her costume, the Deloy shrieked and ran for her sleeping quarters.
Alex turned to Trobath, who had hidden behind him. “Who was the young Elvian?”
“That was the Deloy, Alex,” Trobath replied.
Alex’s hand went to his forehead, and Trobath offered him the mask. He took it and inhaled deeply, while he gathered his thoughts. A technologically advanced ship, loaded with dangerous fighters, was led by a member of the race who appeared no older than a teenager. Suddenly, he wished Renée were present to manage the precarious steps of first contact.
“Trobath, explain to these individuals that we mean them no harm.” Alex said. “Point out to them that we haven’t harmed any Elvians. The bots attacked us, and we defended ourselves. We were invited aboard by the core’s reps for the purpose of speaking with the Deloy.”
Trobath stepped from behind Alex and relayed what he’d requested. At least the gist of what he’d asked was there. Her intent was to convince the attendants of the blunder the Arcus had made by arriving in this system and killing many of the inhabitants. It was a system protected by the Omnians, and the leader was here to bring a peaceful solution to the problem. That couldn’t happen without the Deloy’s participation.
The attendants, most of them elderly Elvians, nodded and hurried through the privacy screen, which the Deloy had switched on.
Z, Miranda, and Trobath stared at Alex in expectation.
Trobath observed the Omnians. They stood still and faced one another. She wondered what sort of elevated technology supported them.
“Trobath, we wish to visit with the core’s reps,” Alex requested.
When the Elvian heard the translation, she signaled the bot, which dutifully followed her through the privacy screen.
As the group strode through the elites’ delicately decorated corridor, Trobath contacted Vyztram and communicated Alex’s intentions to meet with the reps. Her slate marked a route to the core’s control hub. It wasn’t the shortest path, but she didn’t contest the AI’s instructions.
11: Citizens
Alex required another stop for oxygen. Then they exited a lift within the core, passing through its barrier. The corridor decorations continued. Although, they weren’t as elaborate as those in the arches. The corridor opened into what the Omnians referred to as a dance hall.
The twirling stopped on cue, and Alex suspected Vyztram’s work. The citizens turned toward Alex and his companions. None of the actions Alex suspected were forthcoming.
Instead, the Elvians placed their right hands behind their backs. They remained still and used their left hands to evoke slow, gentle movements. In their individual manner, they were graceful, delicate.
Miranda sent.
Alex responded.
“Trobath, we appreciate what your citizens are telling us,” Alex said. “Show me how to say thank you.”
The Elvians had completed their flourishes, and the Omnians and Trobath hadn’t advanced, which led to a momentary pause in the entire space.
Alex faced Trobath, her back to the citizens, and Trobath demonstrated a hand movement to Alex.
“This seems simplistic, Trobath. Does it indicate my sincere appreciation?” Alex asked.
Trobath brightened, her wide, thin lips stretching across her face. Then she showed Alex a complicated hand gesture. Within two attempts, she saw him master the technique.
Unbeknownst to Trobath, Alex had recorded the gesture. When it proved too difficult to reproduce by following the implant’s vid, he allowed the imagery to drive the muscles of his arm and hand via an application he’d perfected decades ago. He’d originated the app after knowing he’d participate in a waltz at a fête and, during the dance, had allowed the app to drive his body.
Alex grinned at Trobath, stepped in front of the SADEs, and walked leisurely through the throng. As he went, he turned from side to side, nodded his head, and repeated the hand flourish he’d learned.
The Elvians tipped their masked heads and returned Alex’s gesture, adding their own touches.
On the other side of the huge space, Trobath took the lead and, within a quarter hour, she was walking into the core’s central hub.
Again, Alex was greeted in a restrained manner, and he took delight in thanking the Elvians for their courtesies.
The core’s reps were no different than the citizens in wanting to thank the Omnians for their efforts.
“When the Deloy recovers, she’ll order Vyztram to build more security bots,” Dafine said.
“We can take care of that,” Z replied. “Point us to the manufacturing line.”
“It’s a sealed area. Only Vyztram can unlock the access doors,” Famgore said.
“We
can take care of that too,” Z added.
“Care must be taken,” Yemerth said with concern. “The line is automated, and it produces every manner of bot.”
“Understood,” Z replied. “I’ll be gentle,” he added, which earned him narrowed eyes from his partner.
“You might have told us that the Deloy wasn’t a mature adult,” Alex said.
The reps couldn’t read Alex’s emotions. Obviously, Trobath could. When the reps regarded Trobath’s frowning forehead, their faces expressed concern.
“The previous Deloy and his partner had two offspring,” Dafine said. “The patriarch, the matriarch, and the male offspring died mysteriously several annuals ago. There was nothing else for us to do. It had become the custom of the elites to allow the Deloy’s mantle to pass to the eldest offspring.”
“I appreciate the explanation,” Alex said. “That wasn’t the point of my comment.”
“We had no idea that after your confrontation with the security bots you would visit the arches and seek the Deloy,” Yemerth said sincerely.
“That’s only partially true,” Famgore admitted. “We suspected that you might attempt to contact the Deloy, but we thought you wouldn’t defeat the security bots, especially when Vyztram was required to send all of them after you.”
“Refreshing honesty,” Alex commented, which caused Yemerth to briefly drop her head.
“Famgore, lead Z to the bot assembly area,” Alex directed. “He’ll eliminate the possibility of the line manufacturing more security bots.” He regarded Dafine and said, “I assume there are no objections.”
Dafine vigorously shook his head, as he replied, “None at all.”
Famgore looked up at Z, who remarked, “Do you want to walk or ride? The latter will be quicker.”
The Elvian chose not to be left out of developing opportunities. “I’ll ride,” he said.
“Do you wish your costume?” Z inquired.
Famgore glanced at Trobath, who wore the work suit. “As I am,” he said.
Z lowered his avatar, crooked an arm, and said, “Sit here.”
Famgore tentatively sat on Z’s forearm. When Z straightened, he issued a quiet squeak and threw an arm across the SADE’s shoulder.
