by M. D. Cooper
“And the ones that Tangel has captured?” A1 asked, leaning forward to emphasize the import of the question. “Could they be turned against us?”
Garza shook his head. “Tangel…. I must admit, I would have expected her to choose a more inspired name.”
“How is that relevant?” A1 cocked her head to show her disapproval for the general’s dissembling.
“I suppose it’s not. From what I’ve been able to learn, Tangel doesn’t resort to mental coercion. She simply asks questions and hopes to get the right answers. Honestly, it’s rather disappointing, given her record from the Terran Space Force.”
“She follows the Phobos Accords,” A1 said, keeping all emotion from her voice.
“When it suits her, yes.”
“Do you not think it strange that it suits her to adhere to them when it comes to the matter of your clones? She’d be able to extract valuable intel, but she doesn’t—or at least, you believe she doesn’t.”
Garza only shrugged. “I don’t presume to know her mind. What I have is evidence. The instantiation of me that she captured at New Canaan knew of the plans for Scipio, yet she walked into that trap. If she’d gone into his mind, she would have known that one of my clones was operating there.”
“Are you completely certain?” A1 pressed. “She’s beat you at every turn. She forged her Scipio Alliance, she stopped the Rhoadses in Silstrand, and Nietzschea has been fought to a standstill. Not only that, but Hegemon Uriel has clearly left the fold, which means that your influence there has waned. All of this could be from Tangel’s use of mental coercion.”
“Yet there are a dozen other operations my clones have been involved in that she has not interfered with. Or if she has, it has been tangential…happenstance.”
A1 shrugged and crossed her legs, leaning back as she regarded the general. “That seems like a dangerous assumption, but I suppose it matters not. Your choice of words leads me to believe that you are recalling your clones. And I am going to assume you are also disposing of them.”
The general’s gaze bored into her helmet for almost a minute before he replied.
“I am. They’ve outlived their usefulness.”
A modicum of worry blossomed in A1’s mind, a tightness forming in her chest. Something in his tone made her wonder if he wasn’t also speaking of the Widows.
Clearly, he believed that clones were expendable, and her actions in the car may have convinced him that she was a clone as well.
Of course, so is he. That will be a fun card to play when the time is right.
“How many of your doppelgangers remain?” she pressed.
Though E12 hadn’t said a word to A1 since they disembarked from the pinnace—neither verbally or over the Link—she knew from a subtle shift in her sister’s posture that Saanvi wanted A1 to assume control of Garza the same way they had taken over Lisa Wrentham, and soon.
It was a solid plan, and A1 expected that puppeting the man would be where the evening ultimately led them, but she wanted to see what information the general volunteered—as well as what he held back—before she took control of his body.
“Nine,” he replied after a few seconds.
Liar, she thought, wondering if he had inflated or deflated the number. Either way, his hesitation told her that he was holding back.
“When do you expect them all to return?”
“Over the next few weeks. Though I want to remove them from the equation, I don’t want to jeopardize existing operations. I’m moving new agents into place to take over their tasks.”
“And what of the Guard’s military leaders?” A1 asked. “How will you exert control over them without your clones?”
“I rarely used clones for that,” Garza replied. “The Guard speaks internally too much. It would not have taken long for it to come to light that I was in two places at once. Either way, I have enough of the admirals in my pocket that when the time comes to strike, they’ll back me.”
“And that time is?”
“Soon.” The general rose. “Would you like a drink? Wait…can you drink without revealing that ruin you call a face?”
A1 wondered if the man’s casual cruelty would have bothered Lisa Wrentham. For her part, the words simply rolled off her. In all honesty, she agreed with Garza’s assessment, and had she been in A1’s skin, she would not have made such unpleasant alterations to her Widows.
That was where the new A1 differed from the old. She wasn’t so far gone in her desperate need to destroy the Tomlinsons that she would sacrifice every part of herself.
‘So far gone’? she thought, feeling like she was forcibly re-aligning her thoughts. I’m not far gone at all. I don’t wish to destroy the Tomlinsons. Garza is my target here.
Yet as she regarded the man, her strong dislike of Finaeus and his brother mixed with what she felt for Garza. All of these ancient people from the FGT had made such a mess of things. Sometimes she wondered if humanity would have been better off without the once-altruistic terraformers.
Whose thought is that? she wondered, before realizing that Garza was staring at her, waiting for an answer.
“Don’t be an ass,” she replied instinctively, and the man laughed.
“Suit yourself.”
He walked to the bar and poured himself two fingers of whiskey before turning to regard her.
“I can’t take out Kirkland until I get my clone problem under control. It would be too risky to create that power vacuum while they’re still in play.”
A1 nodded. “I can see where your concern stems from. Are you sure you don’t wish for me to send Widows to fetch them?”
The general cocked his head as though he’d not considered such an option—which A1 knew to be ridiculous.
“You know…that would be helpful in a few cases. I fear that the clone operating in Corona Australis, as well as the one in Nietzschea, will not return when summoned. They believe that they must remain where they are to see our objectives met.”
A1 nodded. “Then I will send a team of Widows to retrieve each.”
“And what of Airtha?” Garza asked. “Do you expect success there?”
A pang of worry went through A1, conflict warring within her. While she didn’t want to see Airtha destroyed—especially considering how many people she cared about were likely on the ring at present—she didn’t want her Widows to die either.
That was something she hadn’t expected.
Despite the fact that Lisa Wrentham behaved as though her Widows were expendable, there was a part of the woman that didn’t wish to see her creations die. It was difficult to tell if it was a real, emotional connection, of if she just hated to see well-made tools go to waste.
“I would not have sent my teams if I did not expect success,” she replied. “The AI on that ring is too great a threat. We have stolen her DMG technology, meaning there is nothing else she knows that’s worth waiting further for.”
“Agreed,” Garza replied as he returned to his seat. “However, you also believed that you could take out Tanis. Not only did you fail at that, she is ascended now and will be far harder to destroy.”
“What is too bad is that you failed so often,” A1 replied coolly. “Perhaps if you’d sent my Widows to kill Tanis years ago, we wouldn’t be in this position.”
Garza opened his mouth to respond, but then closed it and gave her a level stare. The smooth surface of her helmet reflected nothing of her thoughts, and she used it to mask sticking her tongue out in defiance.
Finally, he said, “I would have enlisted you, but you were too busy hunting for Finaeus in the Inner Stars.”
Interesting. Cary pondered those implications. That wasn’t something I’d picked up from Lisa’s mind at all.
“Well, would that we both had taken the threat from New Canaan more seriously,” she replied, feeling uncomfortable as she considered her own people the enemy. “Still, despite their power, the Intrepid’s colonists are a small group, and they’re hesitant to share their
technology. The galaxy is too vast for them to ever be more than an annoyance. Honestly, we should make them an offer to let them live in peace, go off wherever they wish.”
“I don’t think that would work anymore…if it ever would have,” Garza replied. “But you’re right. We have to keep pressing our advantages. They’ve made inroads against us, but in the grand scheme of things, we control more of the Inner Stars—they just don’t know it, yet.”
That statement interested A1 greatly, and she wondered what Orion controlled that she didn’t know about. Certainly, the Widows were involved in a few operations here and there, but nothing that she would have equated to a significant advantage that was unknown to the Alliance.
“So then,” she continued, making a note to look into that later, “I’ll send teams to fetch your two errant clones. What else? What of the praetor?”
Garza took a sip of his whiskey, regarding her over the rim of the glass for a moment before he set it down on the table in front of his sofa. Leaning back, he interlaced his fingers and lowered his hands to his lap.
“Nothing yet. I don’t control enough of the Guard’s admiralty to make that move. There would be infighting, and the pressure against the Transcend would ease up too much.”
Seems like a good move, then, A1 thought before replying. “Then it sounds like I should endeavor to replace the holdouts with individuals who would view your leadership more favorably. Perhaps I should send a team to New Sol and another to Rega. Cut the heads off the snake and replace them with new ones.”
A look of consternation came over Garza’s features. “You’re not usually so…aggressive.”
A1 worried that she’d pushed too hard. The general had said that he wanted to advance their timetable…. If that didn’t involve taking over the Orion Freedom Alliance, she couldn’t imagine what it was. She decided to continue on her course, regardless of his pushback.
“And you seem to be hesitant. Tell me, then, General, what would you have me do? I’m pulling Widows off dozens of missions to mass them. Should I halt that exercise?”
“No,” Garza shook his head. “I have a different target for your clones to hit.”
“Oh? What is that?”
“If we can’t take on Tangel directly, then I want to hit her in the most disruptive way possible. Khardine, Bosporus, Albany. We take out the leadership in those three systems and we’ll cripple their alliance.”
“Why not New Canaan as well?” A1 asked, curious why Garza had omitted that system.
“We’ve wasted enough resources there,” the general replied. “Do you have so many Widows to spare?”
A1 rose from her seat and walked to the plasma plume, holding her hands out, feeling the welcome heat that passed through the protective shielding.
“Well, that system still bears the greatest reward. And if we hit them there, the New Canaanites will draw more resources back to protect it. They’ve grown lax. Striking New Canaan will split their focus.”
“Perhaps,” Garza said as he rose. “I certainly would like to find out where they’ve put all their prisoners.”
A1 turned to regard the man, wondering why he cared about prisoners.
Garza approached A1 and stared into the flames alongside her. “This was all so much easier when we planned it out centuries ago, wasn’t it?”
“Don’t you mean millennium?” A1 asked, wishing he could see the smirk on her lips.
“Yes,” he nodded.
It occurred to A1 how ridiculous it was that she was pretending to be Lisa Wrentham to fool a clone of Garza. Neither of them was what they claimed to be, though at least she knew it.
Still…I rather like being A1. She’s so much more powerful than Cary.
The thought caught her off guard. Not only did she think it might not be true, but she wondered why she would care about that. Power and control were not things she sought.
A1 turned to Garza and placed a hand on his shoulder. “We’ll see this through. We’ve worked too hard to let these setbacks slow us down.”
“Setbacks?” the general half-turned toward her. “Which are—” His eyes widened and he pulled away, only to freeze in place.
“Your usefulness has come to an end, General Garza,” she said. “I’ll be taking over things at Karaske, now.”
“Lisa!” He choked out the word. “How?”
A1 leant in close to Garza and whispered, “I’m not Lisa.”
His eyes widened, and then she cut off his ability to move entirely before turning to her Widows. “E12, contact F11. Tell her to initiate the attack.”
“Yes, A1,” Saanvi replied. “The pinnaces have already landed. We’ll have control of the station in thirty minutes.”
“Good. Then we’ll simply lie in wait for the rest of the clones to return.”
“What of the two he indicated would not return on their own?” E12 asked.
“We’ll send teams to take them out,” A1 replied tonelessly. “It’s time for the Widows to come out of the shadows.”
ILL CONCEIVED
STELLAR DATE: 10.12.8949 (Adjusted Years)
LOCATION: Medical Center, Durgen Station
REGION: Karaske System, Rimward of Orion Nebula, Orion Freedom Alliance
Faleena pursed her lips, casting a glance at Priscilla. The avatar didn’t seem to be overly worried about Cary losing herself in her role as A1, but that was likely because she was used to being subsumed…and probably liked it.
Normally, Faleena wouldn’t worry either, but Saanvi’s earlier comment about some portion of Cary’s mind now being extradimensional had set her thinking about the possibility of Cary’s absorption of Lisa Wrentham’s experiences creating a longer-term change—one that the ISF’s neuroscientists would not be able to reverse. Despite that, she sent an upbeat response to Saanvi.
Faleena sent her sister a feeling of warmth and support.
Faleena replied, still radiating calm and certainty to her sister.
Saanvi closed the connection, and Falee
na turned her attention back to Priscilla, who was hunched over a console in the datanode.
“Saanvi’s worried about Cary,” she said.
“Not surprised. I am, too.”
“What?” Faleena sputtered. “I thought you were totally unconcerned.”
The avatar shrugged. “That’s what I told Saanvi to help her relax. But I’ve been running through some models—which are woefully inadequate, based on what we know of ascended beings—and I…well, let’s just say that we should try to de-Widow Cary before long. I think that the conditioning we did, plus the conditioning that Lisa Wrentham had done to herself over the years, is going to make it really hard for Cary to find herself again.”
“Stars,” Faleena muttered. “Mom is going to kill us…that is if Dad doesn’t do it first.”
“I’ll feel a lot better when we hear from the Falconer,” Priscilla said. “Even if the admiral might threaten our lives.”
Faleena glanced at the stock-still figure of Lisa Wrentham in the corner. “I’ll feel a lot better when a lot of things happen. Like when we get off this ship and out of this Widow-skin.”
* * * * *
Animus had spent most of its existence being misunderstood.
In the early millennia following the onslaught of the FTL wars, it had moved from system to system, trying to find a place to coexist with humans. From time to time, it had succeeded, but only temporarily. Eventually, the AI had decided to leave humanity and its SAI brethren behind and roam the stars to await a future where fear and animosity didn’t rule most people’s thoughts and actions.
Or so it had thought.
After centuries of wandering the rimward side of human expansion, Animus began to see signs of activity further out in space, indications of ships plying the black and terraforming activities around distant stars.
It still recalled, with a happy nostalgia, the moment when it had become certain the activity was coming from sentient beings, a welcome realization that there was someone out there being constructive and not destructive.
Though Animus had hoped it to be non-human intelligence that was active beyond what it now knew to be the Inner Stars, the AI had stumbled upon the FGT. In the wake of the FTL wars, the terraformers had moved further out, building what they viewed as an ark of human civilization.
