by David Adams
“What about the sovereignty of life? We’re able to have this conversation—I’m not a fucking squirrel.”
[“I’m sure. Whatever a squirrel was, I’m sure it was fierce and mighty. Alas, the squirrel had a voidwarp device, and it was warned, at the barrel of a gun, to turn it over. But the little squirrel, in its hubris, decided that it knew better. That its boon was worth endangering all life in the universe. We respect the sanctity of life more than you could possibly know. Enough to kill for it. Enough to die for it.”]
Liao handed back the device. “Killing for peace. That’s noble.”
[“Well, what do you kill for?”]
She thought about it for a moment. “To survive.”
[“Always?”] Kest eyed her with a sceptical, curious look on his face. [“You’ve never fought a battle you don’t believe in?”]
“Heh, I… once.” Liao didn’t know how to say it nicely, so she just said it. Thinking about her darkest moments made the side of her head itch. “I once tried to kill myself. You know, a lot of things were going through my head at the time, but since that moment, the only thing I’ve thought about is how I was so distraught that I signed the year wrong. I think by that point, I was just mashing keys. Trying to get it done as soon as possible. My… finger slipped off the key, pressed it twice, and 2039 became 2044. That letter was going to be my legacy, all I left to humanity, and it had a typographical error on the cover. So yes. Once. I don’t think even I can spin killing myself as a battle for survival.”
Kest digested that for a moment. [“That mustn’t have made you popular with your crew.”]
“I barely mentioned it. No point. And you’re right: the military dislikes suicide. Treats it as destruction of government property.”
The joke seemed to pass over him, unnoticed. [“Suicide is a fairly bad mistake. I am glad you’re still here.”]
“I’m well acquainted with mistakes. I’m sure you’ve made plenty.”
[“Me? No, I am perfect.”] He smiled good-naturedly. [“What, do you think I’m stupid?”]
“Very,” she said, her expression as stoic as she could make it. “Your stupidity goes beyond the simple and into the fantastical. You are more stupid than anyone I’ve ever even considered talking to.”
Kest stared at her. [“You… pardon? You genuinely believe this?”]
Liao smiled slightly. “No. It’s something Yarri said to me. Torture is only useful when confirming information you already know. So far, nothing I’ve said has surprised you, except for that. You weren’t surprised I tried to kill myself?”
[“I do not know.”] Some of Kest’s confusion drained away. [“I do not think so.”] He clicked his tongue, ears flicking forward. [“To be honest with you, I feel it is… almost relieving. Not because you might have died, but far more troubling—given the power and influence you hold over the military forces of your people—would be living your life sure of all things. A wise leader has doubts; only a tyrant is certain.”]
She snorted. “You overestimate my importance. We have a chain of command; Commander Iraj will be in command of the Beijing now. The ship endures.”
[“Actually, I think you underestimate your potential. There is greatness in you, Liao.”]
“I’m not interested in greatness. Only goodness.”
[“Are they not the same?”]
She looked out the window again, at the sprawling Toralii city beyond, teeming with people and abuzz with aircraft, ground vehicles, towering spires that were too thin to support their own weight, and a blue sun that painted the world azure as it set. “Not in my experience.”
Kest was quiet for a moment. [“Captain Liao, how can I make your stay more comfortable?”]
“How about a walk?” she asked, knowing the answer. “You know, a nice, long, stroll out in the open. Promise I won’t steal a ship and escape.”
[“You don’t want to go outside this building.”]
“Pretty sure I do.”
[“You don’t. This is a prison. If you knew what was out there, you wouldn’t. Toralii burrowing explosives—you refer to them as ‘land mines’—are much more sophisticated than your designs, primarily because, for us, there is no standard design. Ours are built by our constructs, procedurally generated and built to be different, unique, and to resist tampering. The materials used, depths, explosive composition, detonation mechanism, even casings are different and randomly generated. One cannot learn to defuse a model because no two are the same.”]
That caught her attention. “You put land mines in your cities?”
[“They do not attack Toralii biosigns or hardware. I’m afraid it will have to be something else.”]
The ache in her stomach gave her a hint. “I’d like to see the rest of the Human personnel… and have dinner.”
CHAPTER VII
A Free Lunch
*****
Mullaŋan
Jungle inside terraformed zone
21 kilometres from Zar’krun
BEN PREFERRED THE JUNGLE TO the desert. Technically, though, he was in more of a swamp. The distant swamp was filled crying birds. Clouds of them flitted from treetop to treetop, occasionally ducking beneath to the watery bog below. How they managed to fly in such close quarters was something of an impressive feat. Fortunately, his optical implants allowed him to see in the dark.
He followed a clear path through the tanglebriar. He had hundreds of paths to choose from: straight lines through the mire, artificially constructed. Of course they were artificial. The whole surface on the planetoid was constructed. Gravity, atmosphere… everything. The plants were native to various worlds, bought to the planetoid for reasons he didn’t quite understand but suspected were aesthetic.
Biological creatures appreciated a view. Too bad the dead star of Zar’krun produced no light. What mechanism the plants used to gather energy, he didn’t know. The might absorb chemicals from the planetoid’s surface. Perhaps they photosynthesised the light Zar’krun emitted. Maybe. He had no data on the subject.
The crack of a sonic boom reached his ears. A craft, black and thin, streaked through the atmosphere. Low. They were looking for him. Ben slipped off the road like a ghost, sinking into the mud up to his head. The mud would stymie the thermal tracking. It wouldn’t take long for them to get out of range. Toralii thermal imaging equipment wasn’t nearly that advanced.
The craft turned, heading towards s him. Directly towards s him. It began slowing down, arching backwards like a panicked horse.
Well, that was a theory disproven. Pity. The gunfire would attract attention. Ben aimed the plasma rifle from below the mud, calculating the trajectory of the blast. He knew where to shoot. Almost everywhere on the craft was armoured, but there were vulnerabilities—places where the hard, unyielding shell was thinner. A normal Human could never have done it. But Ben was better. Barely even Human by this point.
Two bright lights burned their way through the muck and leapt skyward, meeting the underside of the Toralii gunship. They seared twin round holes in the underside—right where the oxygen storage was, where the pipes and conduits that carried it were built into the hull. The area was less than an inch wide. One shot; one pipe.
Fire leapt from the holes, fuelled by the pure air. Secondary explosions flared within the vehicle as the flames travelled along the conduits to the crew compartment. It glowed from within as it spun twice, then pitched forward and plunged into the muck. It exploded into a raging inferno that lit up the sky.
Beautiful, but such a bright light would be visible from all over the tiny dot of the planetoid’s darkened surface. He had to move away from the light of the prison. Always. Ben drew more power into his implants, pulled himself out of the mud, and began slinking through the overgrowth once more. Fire from the burning craft behind him cast strange shadows through the trees.
Such a waste. A crew of five, seventy-five tonnes, and a civilisation’s worth of research and development, taken down by a handheld weapon and a mind
that could accurately draw up the blueprints and pinpoint its weaknesses. Maybe, he mused, they shouldn’t have put in weaknesses.
Dripping mud, Ben crested a small hill. A clump of trees thicker than the surrounding foliage lay nestled in the trough between hills; it was secluded and secretive. Best of all, no paths led there. Sometimes that happened with terraforming; the Toralii called them “live-spots,” places where the technology overcompensated. Terraforming was an imperfect technology, as was all biotech.
But it would serve his needs. He had an imperfection of his own that required treatment. His biological body needed to sleep. Maybe he shouldn’t have chosen a body that had weaknesses, either.
He pushed through the tangled mass of vines and plantlife. The canopy of trees covered the false sky entirely. Ben made his way to the rough centre of the biomass. It was dry—dry enough to sleep in—and he lay down on his back, rifle by his side.
It had been three days. He needed to sleep. An implant put the chemicals into his body. Although he kept the cybernetics active and his eyes open. He switched everything else off.
He was able to see when a creature, as tall as a Human and made almost entirely of mud, rose out of the slop almost next to him. Gaps in the mud showed… things. The glint of metal. Cloth clothing. A weapon.
Time to wake up.
His implants jumped in to help him, highlighting and identifying parts of her uniform. The camouflage pattern was Bundeswehr Flecktarn, 5-Farb-Tarndruck. The weapon was a Dragon’s Breath rifle, slightly modified to include a zero-light scope. The thing was equipped to fire Hellfire rounds. The metal beneath the mud was tactical armour and a prosthetic hand.
And a brief analysis of the face provided a name. Oberleutnant zur See Hanna Keller, a German soldier from Marinestützpunktkommando Kiel.
“Goodentarg,” Keller said, casually chambering a round on her weapon. “What’s a pretty little clone of Captain Liao doing in a place like this?”
Another form rose out of the swamp, similarly recognised. Bundeswehr marines. Then another. And another. He was surrounded.
“Oh,” Ben said, tone blithe. “A little of this, a little of that. Hey, let’s talk. How’s everyone doing?”
Keller leaned over, a creature of mud like the Human legends of the golems of old. “You’re funny, aren’t you?”
“I know lots of jokes. Bully for me.” There were only a few things his implants wouldn’t tell him. For that, he would have to ask questions, assuming the Humans didn’t just shoot him. “How did you find me?”
“It was actually surprisingly easy. We noticed that the birds didn’t sing where we were, so we figured they wouldn’t sing where the Toralii were, either. When we heard them all quieten down around this large, thick section of overgrowth, we decided to check it out. Thought it might be search parties looking for that downed Toralii ship, but hey, this is better.” She bent down and picked up Ben’s rifle, inspecting it with a curious air. “Guess this is what did the job, huh? Neat. Those things are heavily protected.”
“Not,” Ben said, “if you know where to shoot.” Slowly, he sat up. The Bundeswehr around him didn’t react. They either were confident they could shoot him before he could shoot them, or they didn’t understand that Ben did not require a weapon to defeat them.
“Seems like a neat trick,” said Keller. “You could have told us that one.”
“I could have told you a lot of things. When I was a construct, I had full access to the Beijing’s databanks; it contained records of everything your species had accomplished, essentially. Encyclopedia Britannica. Wikipedia and approximately ten thousand other wikis, all nicely backed up and sorted. I read them all. I know more about Pokémon than any other Human alive… save, perhaps, Summer Rowe.” He chuckled grimly. “I am the foremost specialist on Human society, culture, and history, and the Toralii Alliance didn’t think to even ask me a single question. Instead of hold Liao over a fire for months, I would have been more than happy to provide them with a copy of everything I knew. But, you know, they had to get it from her.”
“You sound jealous,” Keller said. “And like you have no love for the Toralii Alliance. You know what they say: the enemy of my enemy…”
“Is my enemy’s enemy,” Ben said. “Nothing more, nothing less. Platitudes and metaphors are crap. This is war. War is cruelty. There is no use in reforming it. The crueler it is, the sooner it will be over.”
Keller smiled a little at that, although it was difficult to tell underneath her mud-smeared helmet. “General William Tecumseh Sherman. You aren’t the only one to read book every now and then. Even marines occasionally do that, you know.”
“I’m sure,” Ben said, keeping as much of his scepticism out of his voice as he could muster. “You’re avid consumers of knowledge. I can tell by how muddy you are.” His biological components ached. Insufficient sleep. How long had it been?
No matter. It was time to focus on the future. “What now? You’re going to pump me for trivia, try and prove you’re smarter than a robot, and when you fail, shoot me?”
“Yes.” Her answer was blunt. “We have no means to keep you restrained. Evac isn’t for another two weeks. We have our orders: retrieve Captain Liao. Not her Wikipedia-quoting copy.”
Ben scrutinised her. Dying in a swamp was not how he anticipated going out, nor did he imagine it would come to that. “You must have seen the rescue attempt already. If you were expecting some kind of quiet extraction, it’s not coming. This place is on lockdown.” He narrowed his eyes. “You didn’t know, did you?”
Keller’s face betrayed little, but Ben was better at reading microexpressions than a normal Human. “Know what?”
“Your people already tried to break out Liao. I saw the Broadswords landing with my own, pathetic little biological eyes. Didn’t even need my fancy optics—I heard the defencive fire from the surface. Judging by the fact that this place wasn’t destroyed from space—either by the Toralii or by your side—means whatever the Humans tried was unsuccessful. But you didn’t join in the rescue attempt, and you’re a long way away from the structure, far enough to avoid detection and casual patrols, but close enough to keep an eye on the place with advanced optics…” The pieces fell into place. “You’re assigned to the Rubens, which typically operates away from the rest of the fleet, with no contact… no reports. But Captain Williams is resourceful. He found out where Liao was and went to spring her. Too bad the rest of the fleet tried first and screwed it up. So now you’re stuck here. With me.”
Keller said nothing, which told him everything.
Ben actually smiled, despite it all. “How about this. I know this place, and I have resources of my own. Besides, if the Humans tried to snatch her, then she’ll be moved as soon as possible. Probably already has been. And I, being the super genius robot that I am, know where she is.”
“How about sharing that little fact?” Keller asked.
“You must be joking.” Ben clapped his hands against his thighs and, with a soft groan, stood up. The implants made his body heavy. Without power, he was… weak. “You said it yourself. You should put a bullet in me and save yourselves a whole world of trouble. The moment I tell you where she is, I die.”
“Okay,” Keller said. “What do you propose?”
He turned over the unformed idea in his head. “Seems pretty simple. You get me off this rock with you, and I’ll tell you where Captain Liao has almost certainly been moved to.”
“How do I know you’re not lying? Desperate people say desperate things. You’d say anything to survive.”
“You forget,” Ben said, his smile growing. “I know everything.”
Keller’s face scrunched up as though she’d sucked on a lemon. “You don’t.”
“Actually,” Ben said, the conversation with Jul’aran jumping back into his mind like a thunderbolt. The Toralii Alliance agents on Velsharn… “There is one other thing I know that you don’t.”
Engineering Bay Four
Meanwhile
Summer Rowe didn’t know what to expect when Saeed finally got around to jabbing the needle into her neck to suck out her brain, but she knew it was going to feel fucking weird.
She stretched out on a hastily constructed metal bench which was cold, shitty, and uncomfortable. There were nurses; all of them could see her bare arse shown to the world. Apparently, she couldn’t be dressed during the transfer, for reasons that totally escaped her.
Ahh, well. If she was going to die like this, at least she would be remembered that way: mooning the entire galaxy.
“Are you sure?” Dr. Saeed asked for, like, the ten millionth time. “You know this procedure is not reversible. We can’t put you back in. If something goes wrong…”
“I know.” She could feel the metal of the needle against the back of her head. “Just do it.”
“It’s going to hurt.”
What did he expect? It was going to tickle? “I know.”
“It might not work.”
He’d said that already. Why was Saeed just repeating the same thing over and over again? Rowe tapped her fingers on the bench. “Yup, and if I get struck down, I’ll come back more powerful than you can possibly imagine.”
Saeed lifted the needle away. There was more than reluctance there—something else. Something was keeping him back…
Rowe twisted around, looking at him. “Hey, c’mon. We agreed. You said you’d let me suck out my brain so I’d get to be a robot forever.”
“I’m… just not sure this is a good idea. You live in space, Summer. That’s a huge thing for you. Huge. Your dream.”
“I can still be in space if I’m a robot. Being an astronaut is so easy, a monkey could do it.” Urgh. Rowe propped herself up on her elbows. “Look. I get it. I do. People make dumb decisions all the time. This is by far not the stupidest thing I’ve done…” She considered, a thousand possible answers flying through her head, none of them exciting enough for her. “For a while.”
