by M. D. Cooper
Gone was the cheerful, carefree person who had once pranked her by rearranging the external sensors of their headquarters back in El Dorado, so that when she projected herself into the meeting room, a short, pink, fuzzy poodle—complete with sparkly ribbons—appeared instead of her usual avatar. When she’d tried to protest the indignity, her words had come out in dainty little yips. This had been payback for the time she’d once had him deployed on an op in a teensy little bot frame that Calista had jokingly called ‘cute as a puppy’.
That prankster, she feared, had been another one of Prime’s victims, and she felt a shaft of anger coursing through her core that was completely at odds with her personality.
Her concern had caused her to reach out to the ship’s doctor a few weeks earlier, when she’d first noticed the twin’s compulsive behavior. Marta had eased her mind back then, and had introduced Shannon to one of her medics, Justin. Shannon had met Justin before, but hadn’t realized that the AI had served a stint in the AI Wing of El Dorado Memorial Hospital. The two medical professionals had reassured Shannon, advising her to let Landon work it out of his system. Healing took many forms, they had informed her, and often manifested itself differently in each individual.
Still. After a moment’s hesitation, she reached out to the doctor once more.
* * * * *
Landon knew Shannon was monitoring him; he knew it because he’d set up his own systems all over the ship to monitor the entire team. No one moved, breathed or sent a packet of data without his knowledge. Eric had called him on it the first week he’d been back, and he’d come clean to the commodore, admitting that he understood it was compulsive-like behavior—but having lost Judith to a predator they’d all been aware of, one they’d actively been shielding her from, only to have Prime ambush her, practically in front of him and without his awareness of it….
It was more than he could take. His brain shied away from the inevitable end to that mental path: his own death by the very trickster who had plucked Judith out from under his protection.
The commodore had confided in Landon that he’d seen what humans referred to as ‘AI PTSD’ before. It was a form of post traumatic synaptic misfiring that could occur after an AI endured an exceptionally harrowing event. He’d agreed to allow Landon to continue making his rounds, provided the twin gave his commanding officer full transparency to his every move.
Landon tested the connection now, saw the feed in place that said he was being monitored as he moved through the ship.
Although he’d never before heard the description ‘AI PTSD’, it certainly fit. The urgency, this commitment to vigilance, was an internal demand he could not ignore—a need to ensure he was not caught off guard ever again.
Shannon didn’t think he knew she was observing him as well, but the little engineer, while a brilliant designer and a systems genius, was no warrior. She was no match for him. It warmed him, though, that she was worried for him. So he pretended to be unaware of her watchfulness.
He completed his third circuit of the day and was about to begin his fourth when Shannon pinged him.
Landon sent his acquiescence and released the maglev car he’d called. Turning, he made his way aft, to the deck that held the Avon Vale’s command offices.
* * * * *
Logan swiveled his frame to face the door as Landon entered. Every time he saw his twin, he felt an ache deep within. It wasn’t that Landon hadn’t forgiven him; they’d both moved past that weeks ago. He just wanted his formerly cheerful brother back.
He’d had a few interesting conversations with Calista—the retired ESF pilot had turned into a remarkably easy sounding board, and he’d come to view her as a close friend. Some of the euphemisms she’d used to describe Landon’s behavior had a curiously lilting quality to them, almost poignantly beautiful analogies describing the impact of the past year upon his twin.
‘The light was gone from his eyes,’ was one he found particularly descriptive. ‘The past weighs heavily on his heart’ was another. Though technically, an AI had neither eyes nor a heart, those phrases somehow captured the damage Prime had done to Landon’s spirit. Logan hoped Marta was correct when she told him that ‘time healed all wounds’.
So many human phrases….
Landon approached him now, his humanoid frame identical to Logan’s own, and sat next to him as Tobias entered in the new frame he’d begun to use after Tobi, the Proxima cat, was uplifted. Shannon, embedded in the ship as she was, joined them as a projection. As she coalesced, Tobias initiated the connection to the Council without comment.
Suddenly, they were no longer in the Avon Vale’s ready room. Instead, they stood on the shores of Lake Chinquapin, surrounded by the leaders of the Proxima habitat’s AI community. That this expanse had been created by Proxima’s AI Council was obvious by its exquisite detail; personal expanses were often much simpler.
Unless one happened to be Weapon Born.
He recalled the expanse that Lysander, El Dorado’s prime minister, had created at the inception of the team now known as Phantom Blade. It had been every bit as detailed—although much smaller in scope. He was certain this one included the deft touch of at least one or two Weapon Born, maybe more, but knew it was more a matter of scale.
He glanced up at the opposite side of the cylinder stretching above him, the kilometers of atmosphere between where he stood and the cylinder’s far side limiting his visibility. Behind him, down the long axis, light streamed in from Proxima’s red dwarf, where an array of mirrors focused its light, illuminating the C-47’s inhabitants. The redirected light bathed the cliffs on the other side of the lake in a golden hue, dappled by the shadows of clouds skittering along the surface of the terrain. The other end, he knew, terminated in the habitat’s dock-and-spindle that was the cylinder’s egress point.
Tobias was standing in front and to his right. He turned as he heard footfalls behind him to see Shannon approaching. She came to a stop between him and his twin. Landon met his gaze with a brief nod, eyes shadowed.
A statuesque woman stepped forward and addressed Tobias. “We wished to convene one last time prior to your departure. As a former resident of the C-47, you know us, Tobias. But for the benefit of the rest of your team,” she turned toward Logan, glancing from him to Shannon and then to his twin, “we are the Council here in Proxima. We have been monitoring your progress, Landon, and although we deeply regret the circumstances that necessitated your Restoration, we are gratified you were not lost to us.”
Logan chanced a glance at Landon and saw his brother’s lips press together in a grim expression, but he tilted his head in a simple nod of thanks.
“With a journey of this length, we want to ensure that you have an expanse of your own within the Avon Vale, to nurture you along the way during the times you choose to remain out of stasis. We have uploaded a knowledge base onto the ship for you and have provided a foundation so that the Expanse will operate independent of you. You are aware of what you face in Tau Ceti?”
If Tobias was surprised at the abrupt topic change, he didn’t show it.
“We know our two shackled AIs have been sent there, and we plan to get them back.” The Weapon Born gave a slight shrug. “I’ve seen the reports that El Dorado forwarded from Sol. Looks like they experienced a nano event almost two decades ago, but so far, all the follow-up reports say the release was contained.”
The statuesque AI raised a hand, and another councilmember stepped forward. With a wave of his hand, statistics projected, hovering between the two groups like liquid silver.
“The population in Tau Ceti
is ninety-five percent human, five percent AI, with standard distribution among AI ethnicities and disciplines,” the male AI informed them. “As of our last report, most of them are first-generation settlers, with very few AIs being second-generation natives to the system. Of the human ethnicities, they are fairly evenly divided between Japanese, Russian, and Hispanic old-Earth descent.”
Landon shifted, and the movement caught the attention of the AI speaking. He turned politely, and Logan saw the barely contained impatience in his twin as Landon spoke.
“What difference does it matter what the ethnic mix of the humans in the system is? We’re not there to socialize; we’re there to retrieve two of our own who were shackled and then sold.”
Logan saw Shannon frown at his brother, just as the Council leader responded.
“It matters because we have recently learned that the ones who purchased our brethren are members of the Matsu-kai—a criminal organization of Japanese origin. They have a branch in El Dorado with a Family connection on Ring Galene. It matters because this will provide you with a place to begin your search.”
Landon hesitated, and then ducked his head, his expression subdued. Logan saw Tobias clasp his brother on the shoulder as the Weapon Born turned toward their team.
“There’s a wee bit of good news, though, thanks to our friends back home. The Matsu-kai deployed our two friends on a fast drone to Tau Ceti,” Logan saw the Weapon Born glance over at the AI Council before returning his gaze to the team, his eyes glinting in satisfaction. “But Lysander managed to ferret out its ident codes and has forwarded them to us. If we’re lucky, when we get closer to the system, we’ll be able to take control of it and stop their delivery. At that point, we can set up a rendezvous with the drone and retrieve our people.”
Shannon blew out a relieved breath—something uniquely human, a habit of Calista’s that the engineer had picked up.
“It’s about time we caught a break,” she muttered under her breath.
Although his expression revealed nothing, Logan agreed heartily with her sentiment.
The AI leader inclined her head. “Be that as it may, in the event you find yourselves unable to intercept our people prior to their being taken captive within the system, you will want the name of the so-honbucho, the regional chief for the Matsu-kai organization on Ring Galene. His name is Hiro Takumi.”
VOXBOXES AND BONITO FLAKES
STELLAR DATE: 05.21.3192 (Adjusted Gregorian)
LOCATION: Andrews residence, Lake Chinquapin Estates
REGION: C-47 Habitat, Proxima Centauri
The past six weeks had been filled with supply runs, simulator time on the new ship’s systems, and a seemingly unending list of other tasks required for a vessel heading on a decades-long journey. Now that they were just a day or two out from their departure, Jason had begged off a proficiency refresher sim on the Enfield shuttles in order to fly out and pay a final visit to his family.
Sims like that can be done once we’re underway, at any rate, he thought to himself as he nosed the aircar down from one of the habitat’s main airways to one of the small feeder routes.
“Huh.”
Jason glanced over at Terrance’s grunt to see the man’s gaze fixed outside the windscreen.
When Terrance had asked to come along, Jason realized he felt a bit of resentment. It was the very reason the exec was sitting beside him now. Jason had never been one to hold grudges, so he’d given himself a mental shake when he’d recognized his own lingering antipathy, and had determined to push past it.
Besides, it’s always more fun when I can share the thrill of the flight, he thought.
Behind the two men sat the Tobys, the big cat sprawled across the length of the back seating area, and the Weapon Born’s frame wedged uncomfortably into a corner.
Well, uncomfortable for a human, Jason amended, and he smirked at the image of the large cat taking up more than her share of the back seat, front paws dangling over the legs of Tobias’s frame.
“Huh,” Terrance said again, pulling Jason’s attention back to the passenger seat.
Jason grinned as the large, sandy-haired man craned his neck to seek a better view of the habitat’s lone lake.
They could just make out the tiny specks of pleasure craft floating along its surface, before the image was obscured by a small cloud that Jason had opted to fly through, rather than around. He smirked a bit at the irritated glance Terrance shot him as they were enveloped by the soft whiteness.
“Take it easy,” he grinned over at the exec. “This’ll just last another few seconds, and then you'll get your view back.”
“Most people use the holoscreen when they fly an aircar, like civilized people,” the exec grumbled. “Come to think of it, most people also don’t override the controls and fly an aircar manually.” The man shot Jason a scowl, which surprised a laugh out of him.
He just wiggled his fingers at Terrance and winked. “Yeah, but most aren’t natural L2s with kickass reflexes.”
Terrance snorted, but Jason saw an expression that might be relief cross the other man’s face. He realized it had been awhile since the two of them had joked around like this; what was more, he realized he’d missed it.
“Mutated’s more like it, ya freak,” Terrance said after a beat, but the half-smile Jason saw on the man’s face softened the harsh words.
Jason replied with a jaunty, “Yep, that’s me; freakishly fast. And you should thank me for it, by the way. That means you get an unimpeded, authentic view. You’re one with the craft—and your environment.”
Just then, they popped out of the cloud cover and were rewarded with a clear view of Lake Chinquapin below. Terrance snorted again, and then lapsed into silence after another brief, “huh,” as he peered out at the view.
The Andrewses lived in a quiet suburb opposite the dock-and-spindle side of the great lake they were currently overflying, a lake that bisected the long axis of the C-47 Habitat. It was the only strip along the four-thousand-kilometer habitat cylinder where the ‘ground’ fully encased its circumference. Lake Chinquapin, named after the planet the habitat orbited, was rimmed by cliffs along its two long edges to prevent flooding, in case a sudden shift along the habitat’s long axis caused the water to overflow its boundaries. In the long history of the C-47, that had never happened.
The lake itself provided stabilization to the cylinder, dampening the slight rotational instability that occurred along its secondary rotational axis. It also provided a scenic landmark, which drew residents of the habitat to its shores for various forms of water recreation.
“Huh,” Terrance repeated again, and Jason could no longer ignore it.
“What’s with all the ’huh’-ing, anyway?” he asked as he maneuvered the aircar out of the common airspace lanes and onto a vector that would take them to his parents’ house.
Terrance gestured vaguely to the view outside the windscreen, a verdant green landscape under blue skies, studded with puffy white clouds drifting lazily in the afternoon sun. “I don’t know, I always imagined that, living around a red dwarf, the light would be a lot…redder.”
Jason snorted. “ ‘Red dwarf’ is a bit of a misnomer. Proxima’s an M five-point-five, and its effective temperature’s around twenty-seven-fifty Kelvin.” He glanced over at Terrance. “You know Rigel K’s a main sequence yellow dwarf, right around fifty-six K, right?” He raised a brow at Terrance, who nodded, so he continued.
“Well, El Dorado sees Proxima color temperatures at sunrise and sunset. Photographers love that shit. They call it ‘the golden hour’, and they actually wait for it in order to get the best images.” Jason waved a hand at the golden hue of the light surrounding them. “Here, we get it all the time, no extra charge.” Terrance nodded, then fell silent as Jason busied himself with his final descent.
The burst of nostalgia that hit him as he approached his parents’ house caught Jason by surprise. His eyes devoured the quiet, tree-lined street, the house nested among trees
, the park expanse that it backed up to.
I suppose it’s because I’ll be a lot farther than two-tenths of a light-year away this time….
* * * * *
Terrance admired the view, while Jason, with the efficiency borne from many years of practice, cycled the ‘car off and triggered the doors to slide open.
Gorgeous bit of land, the executive thought, as Jason stepped out and made room for Tobi to exit the rear compartment. Tobias waited patiently just behind Terrance, not saying a word as he lingered in the passenger seat.
Jason must have sensed his hesitation—or maybe the Proxa native just noticed that the passenger-side door had yet to open. Placing one hand on the aircar’s roof, he leant down and stuck his head back inside.
“Nuh-uh,” he said, smirking at Terrance. “You’re not sitting this visit out. Dude, you were the one who wanted to tag along.” He paused a beat, and Terrance caught the glint in Jason’s eye. He cringed, knowing what was coming.
“Don’t say it,” he warned Jason, rushing out of the aircar in his haste to prevent the pilot from blurting out the words. “Stars, not here, of all places!” he hissed, looking around furtively.
“Seriously, we all know why you’re stalling.” Jason’s eyes were lit with an unholy mischief as he added, “Dude. You shot my sister.”
Terrance groaned, palming his face, as he heard Tobias emit an audible snicker from inside the aircar as the AI released his harness and began to climb out.
“You know, boyo,” the AI said, addressing Jason, “you’ve got a mean streak a kilometer wide.”
Jason snorted, glancing over at the AI. “And I wonder where I got that from, Tobe.” He cocked his head and shot him a pointed look. “You were a ‘terrible influence on an impressionable youth’.”
