by Ann Aguirre
LOVE CODE
ANN AGUIRRE
CONTENTS
Title Page
About the Book
Dedication
Copyright Page
Acknowledgments
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Author’s Note
He’s cute. He’s cranky. His code is sleek as hell.
What’s an amnesiac AI doing in a place like this? Helix has no idea. He knows he planned to build a life for himself on Gravas Station, but he has no clue what he’s been doing for the last half cycle. Nor does he understand why his ship crashed. A genius Tiralan scientist saved him by copying his code into an organic host, and after meeting her meddling mothers, it seems like his problems have only just begun…
She’s clever. She’s creative. She claims that he’s her mate.
Qalu has no interest in relationships. She’d much rather be working in her lab, innovating instead of socializing. Problem is, the Tiralan believe that one cannot be happy alone. When a solution literally falls from the sky, she leaps at the opportunity to advance her research and teach Helix how to be Tiralan while calming her mothers’ fears. It might be unconventional, but she’s ready to break all the rules for a little peace.
They agree to pose as each other’s mates for the most logical reasons, but love always finds a way.
All books, now and forever, are for Rachel Caine
And for those who love and miss her
Copyright Information
LOVE CODE
Copyright © 2021 by Ann Aguirre
Kindle Edition
Edited by Christa Soulé Désir and Jon Reyes
Cover art by Kanaxa
Formatting by BB eBooks
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any form whatsoever, without written permission from the author except for brief quotations embodied in critical reviews or articles.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Wow, readers. Strange Love turned out to be way more popular than I expected! I’m so delighted right now; you have no idea. Like me, y’all are really into odd love (yes, I romanced Garrus Vakarian). I appreciate you so much. Since you went for it once, I upped the ante, turned it to eleven, and made it weirder. Two aliens this time! One of them used to be an AI. I don’t know if anyone else is writing about amnesiac AIs in fake relationships, but here we go.
Thanks to the readers who stayed eager for this story over the course of the year as I wrote it serial-style. I mean, 2020 was like a decade long.
Thanks to Christa Desir and Jon Reyes for taking LOVE CODE to the next level. Next, I thank the Tessera Editorial team. From A to Z, they are amazing.
As ever, thanks to my friends, the usual suspects. You know who you are and how well you keep me moving forward. Thanks to my family and the readers who enjoy living in my bizarre brain worlds and somehow keep coming back to see what the heck I do next. This job is the best!
Without further ado, go get some AI loving. Helix awaits!
[ 1 ]
Helix startled into consciousness with a jolt.
Which was a shock, because he had never lost awareness before. As an AI, he didn’t sleep, and his mechanical avatar didn’t tire. He stirred, and a flash of something for which he had no analogue screamed through him in a debilitating wave. The aftermath left him panting, and—
Panting?
Panting required respiration. As an inorganic being, he did not breathe.
Yet he had no visual input, so he began to test his systems—no, no, he did not. Nothing responded to that attempted internal reset. He couldn’t get diagnostics online; there was only darkness and that awful, howling sensation.
Query: What is happening? No data emerged, and an unfamiliar sensation swept over him, one that he could not name either.
“Calm down. I can tell you’re conscious by the spike in your vitals.”
That was Tiralan, a language included in the Coalition database. Helix had no recollection of how he’d ended up in his current situation, and some might argue that by duping Zylar and Beryl—the beings he’d previously assisted as an AI and friend—and pretending his memory had been compromised, he merited this unprecedented data loss. It wasn’t that he couldn’t retrieve the information, but he couldn’t even perceive the data clusters. No nodes, no orderly cerebral matrix–unnerving to have no sense of the contents of his own mind.
The quiet voice went on, “You must be quite confused. Open your eyes if you can.”
Eyes? Visual perception organs? That couldn’t be right, but when he focused, he managed to obey the instruction through some process previously unknown. Helix took in his surroundings first, a spacious room with scientific implements and a Tiralan attendant. This one was bronze with small scales covering the upper body. Now that he had encountered a human in the form of Beryl Bowman, he acknowledged the Tiralan were somewhat similar in physiology, though the Tiralan lacked fur and had head tendrils instead. Both species were bipedal and warm-blooded, breathing a similar oxygen-rich cocktail.
Belatedly, he realized he had no means by which to collect data about this unknown Tiralan who had apparently taken him hostage. He should be able to scan this being and know almost everything. He couldn’t. In fact, just looking around seemed to be the peak of his current abilities.
“Try speaking. Your current form creates sound differently than your prior incarnation. Initiate the words here.”
A touch, one he felt, not with sensors, but through…skin? “I… demand…an explanation.” Once he got the first syllable out, communication became easier, but it carried with it an unusual resonance, vibrations he could feel.
In fact, he became aware of other sensory input–subtleties he had never been able to detect before. The room swelled with a chemical tang. His mechanical avatar could have analyzed the precise ratio of the compounds, but he would not have been able to experience them. Not like this. Helix had no parameters to measure the input he was receiving, and instead of letting the rush overload his inexplicable senses, he closed his eyes, waiting for a response.
“I’m Qalu. And you are?”
“Helix.”
She went on, “This is my home and my workplace. Your ship crashed near here and your mech self was destroyed beyond repair. Fortunately, I noticed the uplink to your ship, and I saved you by copying your neural network to a new host.”
Silently, Helix considered the information imparted. There was a crash. I nearly perished. This Tiralan saved me.
“You…have my gratitude,” he managed to say.
“I’m pleased I could assist. Unlike many worlds, Tiralan has no proscriptions against artificial intelligence. In fact, that’s the crux of my work, and why I had a biosynthetic form awa
iting imprint when your vessel plummeted.”
He listened to this explanation with partial attention while frantically searching his unresponsive neural network. Helix could not recall anything after his departure from Barath. He had intended to build a new existence, starting on Gravas Station, but he had no idea whether he’d ever gotten there. In fact, he could not be certain how much time had passed since he parted from Zylar and Beryl.
“What is the date?” he asked.
Qalu supplied the answer.
Six spans had passed, not a full cycle at least, and he had no idea what he had been doing for that time. Suddenly, her words registered fully. Biosynthetic?
“Does that mean I am made of meat?”
“Organic material is much cheaper than high quality inorganic,” Qalu said cheerfully. “I can grow bodies in a vat from a few cells, no need for expensive mining or refining techniques. Otherwise, I’d never be able to afford to continue my research.”
“Meat?” Helix repeated.
This was surely a curse, one he had called down with his subterfuge involving Beryl Bowman. Was there a human deity devoted solely to vengeance? He did not have access to that information, but it seemed probable, considering his current predicament.
“Not entirely. Your brain requires some augmentation via specialized hardware, as I haven’t reached the level at which I could download your neural network into a strictly organic host. Perhaps one day!” By the lilt in her tone, she seemed to think that was a desirable breakthrough.
“Deactivate me. You should have let me perish.”
Qalu paused. The Tiralan had been moving about the space, checking implements Helix could not see. “Are you in that much pain?”
Pain. That must be the word for the sensation shrieking along his…nerve endings? How did organic beings tolerate this feeling? He’d known of it in the abstract, but could not have imagined the intensity, prior to this bizarre rebirth.
“Yes.”
“Let me help.” Qalu tapped something, and then something else.
Miraculously, that awful burn receded, until he could think properly again. He didn’t entirely wish for deletion any longer, but he didn’t know if he could adapt to this new situation either. Currently, he seemed to be good for nothing.
“Better,” Helix said.
“I apologize. My first thought was to save you, and I had no way to communicate to obtain your permission, and your data was in danger. Your ship suffered a catastrophic detonation, shortly after I retrieved your code. I’m sorry if your current host is insufficient for your needs.”
Helix decided he was being cruel to one who had pure intentions. “Disregard my prior statement. You acted selflessly. There was no potential gain in saving me, yet you did so with no expectation of repayment.”
“That’s not necessarily true,” Qalu said.
“Is it not?” On a sliding scale, how concerned should I be? Helix did not know much about individual Tiralan mores, despite having researched the culture to pretend to be Asvi on the matching service. He had calculated that deceiving Zylar in such a manner was for the greater good, and the Barathi had seemed happy when Helix departed to find his own path.
“Perhaps I intend to make you work for me until you’ve paid off the cost of your new biosynthetic host.”
“You said organic materials are not expensive, so once I recover, logically speaking, it should not take long to perform enough labor as compensation.”
“Your mind is working well,” Qalu said in a satisfied tone.
“Was that a test?”
“Of sorts. I was curious how well you process conversational input.”
That was the least shocking event since his unprecedented awakening. “Is it possible for me to inspect my new form?”
“Certainly.” Qalu hurried away and returned with an implement that reflected a strange countenance.
He had wide eyes, a dark, flat olfactory detector, head tendrils, and a bipedal form. Unlike Qalu, his skin was blue and the delicate scales on his upper body shimmered with a touch of aquatic iridescence.
“I look Tiralan,” he said, somewhat startled by the realization.
But on consideration, it made sense that Qalu would model her work after her own people. Am I attractive for a Tiralan? He had no way of calculating that.
“Are you pleased?” Qalu asked.
“I am… informed,” he replied.
“Do you truly feel well now? I can safely increase the dosage once more, if you don’t.”
“I am not hurting.” It was such a novelty to say that, and this new body must certainly have all sorts of requirements that he’d never experienced. The fascinating possibilities were almost enough to divert him from his missing memories. Almost. “I have some lost time and cannot recall how I came to crash on Tiralan.”
“I’m sorry. I feared there might be some corruption in the transition. I’m glad you didn’t lose all your memories, at least.”
Regret offered no solutions, but it seemed querulous to persist. Perhaps he could retrieve the memories on his own, somehow. “Indeed. Pardon the query, but in my current state, I cannot scan for information. As I recall, the Tiralan choose their gender on attaining maturity. May I ask your choice?” In fact, there were multiple options.
“I am femme,” Qalu said. “Though I’ll note there are those who opt to remain in their neutral state.”
“Understood. Will I be able to choose?” That was an intriguing prospect.
“Of course. Your body is fully Tiralan in every respect.”
Qalu thought, perhaps, she could have been more forthcoming, but Helix had more than enough information to process. The fact was, she hadn’t precisely applied for permission to save Helix’s life. Her work was experimental, even on Tiralan, and the scientific coalition didn’t even know that she’d perfected a prototype. The organization thought she was still at the theoretical stage with her work. Her research qualified for an annual stipend, but she had to tolerate significant oversight. This was an unprecedented opportunity for advancement that had literally fallen from the sky. While it would be safer and more prudent to advise the coalition now, she didn’t know how they’d react to learning she’d found an AI in a failing ship, and that she had made an executive decision to transfer the intelligence. The coalition might deem Helix dangerous and order termination.
I cannot permit that to occur.
Aloud, she added, “Had you selected pronouns before?”
“It was an arbitrary choice, as my prior existence was esoteric. Feel free to use ‘he’ for now. I will inform you if my status changes.”
Qalu nodded, trying to determine how she would explain his arrival to her clan; fortunately, they didn’t share this residence, but they lived nearby and multiple kinfolks would visit before long, and all of them would have questions. Prevarication wasn’t her strong suit either, so if they pressed forcefully, she might reveal the truth.
“Pressing forcefully” encapsulated most interactions with her mothers, as they reminded her often that they worried about her solitary tendencies. The Tiralan cannot live alone, her foremother had said, at least a hundred times.
It wasn’t as if she was completely by herself either; she lived with Aevi, but her foremother, Inatol, claimed that Aevi didn’t count, and this essential disagreement offered another source of contention.
Qalu wished she could earn a respite from the constant meddling. She eyed Helix’s Tiralan form. A ridiculous yet convenient solution glimmered to life, carrying with it all the excitement of a new experiment. It would solve her problem and protect Helix from discovery. But she shouldn’t mention it yet. They probably had time before the interruptions began, and there were more critical issues to assess.
“Can you move?” she asked.
“Move what?”
“Your body. The process will likely be different than the way you interacted with your mechanical format.”
After what looked like a struggle, H
elix raised his left lower limb, and then he snapped, “This meat vessel is broken! It does nothing that I request or require.”
“You were trying to lift something else? I wonder if the interface is interpreting your neural signals correctly. There may be…challenges.” She fetched the scanner and ran diagnostics, but all the readings fell within expected parameters. “Or it could be that you must adapt to this new style of communication and there may be a learning curve.”
“What does that mean?” He was cross, which she’d theorized was possible, but it was exciting to have the hypothesis proven.
The ones she had developed were all calm and somewhat remote, and none of them had reached the level of self-sufficiency that made her feel comfortable putting them in the prototype. But the code she’d glimpsed in the ship database—gorgeous, pure, a complete cascade with complex connections and—
Don’t forget your primary purpose. Qalu often got distracted, and sometimes she forgot to consume nutrition when she fixated on a problem.
“That there will probably be a period of adjustment, and I will assist you in any manner you require as you learn what it’s like to be Tiralan.”
“I am not—” Helix started, but then he appeared to recollect his new situation. “Yes. There is a great deal of new knowledge I must acquire. And if it is possible, I would like to uncover how precisely I arrived in this predicament.”
“Though I can’t guarantee efficacy, I’ll work with you to try to recover those lost memories,” Qalu promised.
She hoped the AI could read her sincerity, but he might not have progressed that much in utilizing organic visual receptors. It was a bit disconcerting to communicate with him, however, because she had indulged herself and created a prototype who matched her tastes to the most infinitesimal degree. Now she was speaking with an animated version of her ideal mate, and she hadn’t foreseen how complicated that could become.
“I appreciate your kindness,” Helix said stiffly.
