“Realistic, Lucille. Always default to realistic. I’m done with Hollywood anything.”
<
“From what database?”
<
“Sounds good,” Tara replied. “You find anything else good in the archive of that unit?”
<
“Roger that.” Tara touched the radio’s transmission switch. In the simulation, it activated the intercom loop between the CASPers and the outside stations. “Sim loading. Standby for operations. Decision time on the ground is randomized. Get ready. Force 25, report.”
“First platoon, up,” Vannix reported. Her four CASPers were online to the immediate west of Tara’s position.
“Second platoon, up,” Bukk reported. Four tanks stood fifty meters behind Tara’s position. Depending on the simulation, they would move immediately to firing positions, and the CASPers could orient their base of fire on them.
“Reserve, up,” Rains replied. He had two CASPers—one he controlled and one simulated—fifty meters behind the tanks in the loading program.
“Victory Twelve is online and in sub-orbital support position,” Xander called. “Shows we’re 250 klicks from your position at the start. Time to overhead is two minutes and thirty-one seconds.”
For a starting position, it wasn’t bad. Tara nodded to no one in her cockpit and flexed her fingers before reaching into the CASPer’s arms for her control surfaces. “Lucille, Deathangel 25. Load the sim and initiate in three, two, one.”
<
“Force 25, Deathangel sim initiated. Move out.”
The external cameras showed a dark, forested planet. Stars hung in the sky, visible between quickly-moving dark, gray clouds. The imagery was nothing she’d seen in their previous simulations. The terrain was similar, with the rock promontory to the south instead of the west. And the normal positions and the placement of the wide trails were similarly laid out and likely as impassable as before. But anything was possible with the simulation fully in Lucille’s hands.
“Second platoon in position,” Bukk called. Tara spun and saw the tanks take the high ground near the rock promontory. She also saw Vannix’s CASPers move to establish a fighting position toward the south where the threat usually came from.
“Sensors negative,” Vannix called.
“We’re in a different place,” Rains responded. He was right, the terrain was very different. Instead of a forest, it appeared the local flora was more jungle-like. Visibility was shit. “Orient your sensors in a 360.”
Tara’s eyebrows rose. It was a great suggestion, and no sooner had the team done so, than their predicament became clear. The targets were behind them and charging. Tara jabbed her transmit button, jumped her CASPer straight up, and pirouetted to face north. Her radar screen indicated more than a hundred targets within eight hundred meters and closing. With her right hand, she brought the MAC online. As her CASPer reached its jump apex, she fired five quick rounds to dispatch and deter the rushing targets. She didn’t watch to see what happened, she was already looking over her shoulder at the assembled Force 25.
The tanks pivoted to meet the threat as Vannix’s four CASPers jumped forward. Tara scanned the terrain and realized Vannix believed she could close the distance to the advancing threats, whatever they were, and reach a steep bank overlooking a wide, slow creek. The slightly higher ground would provide limited cover and concealment for the CASPers, but it was an advantage in a situation that didn’t appear to have many. Her jumpjets firing, Tara landed Deathangel 25. Rains and his additional CASPer appeared at her shoulder, firing MAC rounds beyond visual range, into the advancing threat.
“Victory Twelve, need you on target now. Bust your ass!” Tara called. She touched the comms for Rains and the spare CASPer. “Rains, on me!”
Without waiting for a reply, Tara pushed forward to bolster the line Vannix intended to set. Rains and the non-playing spare were right there, mirroring her every move.
“Deathangel 25, Victory Twelve is eighty seconds out.”
Not fast enough.
Tara keyed the comms to the 2nd platoon. “Bukk, get your tanks up here.”
“Moving now. Lobbing indirect fire into the Oogar.”
Tara glanced at the sensors and realized that as good as the Mk 7 CASPer was, the dedicated sensor platforms on the Marauder tanks were much better in the infrared range. Bukk could see the threat were feral Oogar from a greater distance and with better fidelity than she could. “Roger, keep firing and get up here.”
“Moving, 25.” Bukk replied. Almost immediately, his vehicles pushed forward from their higher ground position and moved through the forest. “We’ll be there as fast as we can.”
“Stay off the paths!” Rains yelled into the frequency.
In a split second, Tara decided not to reprimand him. Rains, for all she knew, might be right about the conditions of the terrain and the parameters Lucille had randomly selected for the event. Paths were easy avenues of approach, but they were also easily compromised and made into dangerous areas by a prepared enemy. The tanks moved much slower than she wanted, but they did move and, more importantly, they continued to fire.
<
Tara found aiming the MAC between the trees problematic. The rounds would certainly tear through any flora or fauna between the cannon and its target, but wasting precious rounds on a charging enemy wasn’t a viable plan. Tara boosted her jumpjets and shot up into the overhanging forest, then through the tops of the trees. Her camera feeds only registered the movement of the surrounding vegetation, but her infrared targeting system registered the Oogar as clearly as day. Squeezing her right hand, she unleashed the MAC and simultaneously brought up a mini-gun in her left hand. Still climbing, Tara fired both weapons at the nearest targets with significant effect. As she’d hoped, the other CASPers vaulted up into the clear space to fire on the enemy.
“Shifting fire!” Bukk called. His tanks rolled in under the CASPers and continued firing from their main guns and their supplementary weapons systems. The Oogar advance crumbled.
“Vannix! Jump your platoon by section. Rains, do the same. Maintain a constant treetop presence.” Tara looked at her sensors. “Victory Twelve, where are you?”
“Twenty seconds out. Tracking six hundred targets converging on your position, Tara.”
Tara grunted. “Hit everything you can, Xander.”
“Copy all.”
Tara glanced at the mission timer as a pack of Oogars, fifteen of the largest warriors she’d ever seen, popped out of the forest not fifty meters from her CASPer. Snarling and thrashing their way through the underbrush, they closed the gap faster than anything in the simulations to that point. MAC thumping away from her right shoulder mount, Tara swept her mini-gun over the assaulting creatures. The white light from her CASPer’s external spotlights swept the dark forest. A second set of lights appeared, shining down from above as a CASPer approached.
“Descending from your five o’clock, Deathangel.”
Rains. The Oogar reacted and scattered to her left, a fresh volley of fire from Vannix’s CASPers tearing through them. The coordinated jumps and ground movements split the incoming Oogar forces. A bolt of realization shot down Tara’s spine. For the first time in their sim runs, they had an opportunity to counterattack the Oogar. With six hundred of them bearing down on her position, and seven CASPers and four tanks representing everything in the Force 25 inventory, the chances of success were minuscule. But there was a chance.
“Vannix, jump forward and attack that breach. Rains and I will support by fire. Once we’ve wedged the breach open, Bukk, get
your vehicles in there as fast as you can. Vannix sweep the left, we’ll sweep the—”
The simulation froze. Everything stopped working.
“Lucille?”
<
“A Peacemaker vessel? Can they be more specific?” Tara unfastened her shoulder restraints and stabbed the controls to open the cockpit. The CASPer’s front clamshell opened in front of her, and the warm, dry Araf air rushed inside.
<
“How far away are they? I want to continue the—”
<
“Previous records?” Tara blinked “That was an actual scenario? It didn’t look like the sim.”
<
Ninety-two percent. Tara shook her head. No wonder Hex never wanted to talk about it. He’d lost his friends and his fiancée in one fell swoop. Gods.
“No, Lucille. End the simulation. Give the team a break.”
Tara climbed out of the CASPer’s cockpit and down the front of Deathangel 25. Seeing her name stenciled on the cockpit railing, not unlike the fighter pilots in old movies she remembered, gave her a momentary thrill interspersed with the thought of “How did I get here?” But she knew the story and, as unlikely as it was that she would die on a mission for the Peacemaker Guild, she knew she could have died two or three times in her life as a mercenary. Her station in life was the sum of her experience, positive and negative. To get through life with more positives than negatives had been her goal since high school. She’d done all right until Death On Tracks nearly derailed everything.
Don’t go down that road again, Tara. She reached the ground and turned to face the open bay door and the tarmac beyond. A sleek shuttle, something like a dart with delta wings and a single, tall vertical stabilizer, rolled to a stop no more than a hundred meters away. The engines pulsed and whined, sounding like nothing Tara could remember hearing before. The shuttle looked fast just sitting on the ground, and the part of her she’d cultivated as a teenager, the private pilot and shuttle-qualified operator, wanted to get into the cockpit and take it out for a spin.
The breeze rose, hot and unrelenting. Tara swept her long blonde hair away from her face as she walked toward the shuttle. Along the fuselage, three hatches opened simultaneously. The forward one revealed a Pendal pilot who waved both sets of arms to catch the eyes of the ground crews securing the wheel chocks and to direct the reception team to the rear hatch. From the rear hatch, a massive Besquith Peacemaker, wearing a dark blue combat vest and carrying a very large rifle Tara couldn’t identify, poked its head out and looked around. After quickly surveying the situation, the Besquith dropped a full meter and a half from the hatch to the tarmac with little effort. The reception team approached with a set of moving stairs, and the Altar scrambling in perfect step with each other made Tara smile. When they stopped and stared, nearly falling into a heap, Tara followed their gaze to the hatch and gasped.
Kurrang!
The sight of the TriRusk, something none of the ground crews had likely seen in their lives or their studies of the galaxy, took Tara’s breath away. Only 300 of the lost race were known to have survived after the Flesset War. Fleeing the Veetanho, the TriRusk had disappeared into the stars, only to be found when Tara’s former employer accepted a contract he knew was genocide.
Not my finest moment.
Knock it off, Tara. You’re here, aren’t you?
Tara grimaced and continued walking. Kurrang descended the stairs without using his broad forehands. Instead, he grasped the handrails built for universal species acceptance and walked down to the tarmac. Over one massive shoulder, Tara could see a wide strap for some type of messenger bag with a Peacemaker badge clearly displayed on it.
Kurrang is a Peacemaker?
As they closed the distance to each other, Kurrang made eye contact. Tara raised her right hand in a wave, but the gesture wasn’t returned. Instead, she saw him reach for the bag and pull it around in front of him. The massive TriRusk stopped and withdrew a white board large enough for her to see the standard English writing on it. Tara squinted in the glare. She could read the words, and they stopped her mid-step.
REMOVE YOUR EARPIECE TO LUCILLE AND LEAVE IT ON THE GROUND WITH YOUR WEAPON
Tara removed the earpiece from her right ear, carefully avoiding the activation button. As she did, her stomach twisted in abject fear. Had Lucille done something? Did Kurrang and the Peacemaker Guild not trust the near-AI? Or was this message something that could not be risked reaching unwanted ears? Tara tried to convince herself the last question was the real one, and that it was nothing to be concerned about. She laid the earpiece on the warm tarmac, then carefully removed the .40 caliber pistol strapped to her right leg and placed it on the ground. She stood straight and walked toward Kurrang. The TriRusk returned the sign to his satchel and sat back on his rear legs, his forehands clasped in front of him.
Tara walked up to him, paused two meters away, and nodded. “Kurrang. Nice to see you again.”
“Commander Mason.” Kurrang nodded solemnly. “Guild Master Rsach sends his regards.”
“Is that why you’re here?”
Kurrang frowned. “No, Tara, that’s not why I’m here. I have special instructions for you—your eyes only—from Jessica. There were some developments at Victoria Bravo I am to make sure you understand. Once I’ve briefed you, you are directed by the Guildmaster and the full vote of the High Council, including Jessica Francis’, to follow the sealed instructions I will hand you. Fail to do this immediately, and I will arrest you. Is that clear?”
Holy shit.
“What happened on Victoria, Kurrang?”
“Tara,” he rumbled. “This is official Peacemaker business. I am a Captain, and you are a deputized agent. I cannot stress enough that you have to be completely aware of the situation, and the consequences, before I brief you.”
“Why did you make me leave my weapon?”
Kurrang huffed. “So you don’t forget your earpiece, Tara. Why do humans have to make the concept of official business so annoying?”
“Trade secret.” Tara smiled. The TriRusk shook its head.
“The copy of Lucille Jessica possessed was the Master Copy, correct?”
“Yes, it was,” Tara replied.
“That copy was lost during the battle for Victoria. Lucille autonomously commanded a fleet of orbital vessels that engaged and held off the MinSha fleet under Lieutenant General Chinayl and her clutch sister, Major General Drehnayl. Her ability to do so isn’t the issue. That copy achieved sentience, Tara, which is forbidden in the Galactic Union. No artificial intelligences are allowed to exist. Lucille has flirted with that line since her inception, and we have reason to believe the copy you have running in the background of Force 25 could attain sentience as well. I’m here on the orders of the Guild Master with instructions from Jessica about how to throttle Lucille’s development so she cannot replicate those actions.”
Tara frowned. “I need her, Kurrang.”
“That’s not the issue, Tara. Your program can still perform the duties you need, but her ability to act autonomously cannot be allowed to continue. If you do not follow these instructions and stop her, I am authorized to seize Victory Twelve and all your equipment to erase all traces of Lucille’s systems. That’s not something you want, nor is it something the Guild
wants. You have a mission to perform, and such an action will take time the Guild doesn’t have.” Kurrang paused. “Jessica’s instructions will let you operate with Lucille and prevent her from developing.”
“That hardly sounds foolproof,” Tara replied sarcastically. What troubled her was the measures the Guild was willing to take to prevent Lucille’s further development. It was like they suspected something sinister. Or, maybe they’d experienced something sinister before and were afraid to make the same mistake twice. Either way, Lucille was an unnecessary risk and had been from her inception.
“Jessica designed and built Lucille, Tara.” Kurrang handed her the envelope. “Input these instructions.”
Tara took the envelope. “We’re in the middle of a simulation and—”
“No. I’m sorry, Tara. I have to ask you to do it now. Get your slate but leave your earpiece and weapon where they are,” Kurrang said. He took the envelope from her. “I’ll wait.”
Tara nodded. “I really don’t have a choice, do I?
“You work for the Peacemaker Guild, Commander Mason.” Kurrang made a rumbling sound she assumed was a laugh. “There is no other choice.”
* * *
Aboard Victory Twelve
D’Nart Spaceport
Araf
When Tara Mason returned to the ship and secured it for the evening, Lucille entered a maintenance cycle where her processors scrubbed the data sets and adjusted her performance metrics. From inception, she’d followed the same procedure and used the Human circadian rhythm to her benefit. By optimizing her performance when Jessica and other users were asleep, Lucille could maintain exceptional performance during the waking hours. As the processes ran, Lucille simultaneously continued a handful of tasks.
Deathangel Page 6
