Guardian Generations

by C. Osborne Rapley

  “We could always turn back and forget it, Tristain. After all, we don’t know whether we will even find anything useful here.”

  Tristain shook her head. “No, Octavian, we have come this far I don’t want to turn back now. Anyway we should find out why this field is running and what it is protecting.”

  Octavian opened his mouth to reply when all hell broke loose. They were suddenly surrounded by what looked like poorly constructed avatars; they were naked and looked like plastic dummies without any anatomical detail. There were no expressions on their faces, just blank life-size plastic dolls. They attacked without warning. Octavian heard a barking roar –the avatars were flying apart around them as Tristain fired her machine pistols. Octavian used his laser pistol but it had nowhere near the devastating effect Tristain’s pistols had. They fired as they ran back to the gates.

  Tristain momentarily stopped to change the spent clips on her guns then commenced firing again. Octavian knew there were too many of them and Tristain quickly used all her ammunition. And the powerpack on Octavian’s laser was flashing red. Tristain extended her staff and Octavian pulled his swords. He felt the grips mould to his hands and to his relief his swords were effective against the synthetic material the avatars were constructed of. They found themselves fighting back to back, the avatars pushing ever closer to them, stepping over their fallen comrades. Some had picked up damaged and severed limbs and were using them as clubs to ward off Tristain’s and Octavian’s blows. He could feel Tristain’s back pressed against his and felt her moving as she swung her battle staff. The heat was sapping his strength fast. He knew there were too many of them, and they would soon lose the uneven battle.

  Suddenly, he felt a blow to the side of his head. Everything went black, and he passed out.

  Nineteen: A Close Call

  Octavian’s head ached, his mouth felt dry, his tongue swollen and rough in his mouth. There was a weight lying across his chest. He pushed at it, sunlight suddenly blinding his eyes. He let out an involuntary groan and sat up. It took a moment for his mind to clear and remember where he was. He looked round – he was surrounded by piles of plastic bodies and parts.

  “Oh my God, Tristain!”

  He stood pushing the remaining bodies off him and searched frantically around for Tristain, his heart in his mouth. He could not find her, she had disappeared. Where the hell is she? He keyed his radio, but all he heard was static, there was no connection. He unclipped it from his ear and looked at it. The blow to his head had also smashed his earpiece.

  He forced himself to be calm and to think. She was not here so she had either been taken or escaped. He fervently hoped she had escaped. His swords were lying where he had fallen, and picking them up he found Tristain’s staff. He felt panic rise in his chest, and there was a tightness making it difficult to breathe. If she had escaped she would surely not have left her battle staff; she must have been taken, but why and where? Octavian spun round and used an expletive he had heard Tristain use. He needed his battle armour and his tactical computer, he was useless without it, and there was no way of finding her in this vast area without the suit’s sensors.

  He used the expletive again. “Fuck this dampening field!”

  He had no choice but to run back to the ship. It was a nightmare – the heat, his mouth dry, his heart pounding in his chest. His legs quickly started to ache and burn, but he pushed on up the slope to the ship. His head ached, the blood pounding in his ears. He knew if he stopped for a rest he would have difficulty getting going again. He passed through the edge of the field, his breath now coming in ragged gasps.

  Cassiopeia HELP, his desperate thoughts barely coherent.

  He felt his senses start to swim, and he stumbled just as strong arms picked him up.

  The cool water was wonderful, and he heard a voice say, “Drink it slowly.” He tipped some over his face and head. He blinked and looked round; he was sitting on the deck of the ship with Cassiopeia bending over him.

  “Is Tristain here?”

  Cassiopeia shook her head. “No, Octavian, she isn’t. Her life signs are weak, but the sensors show her to be at the centre of the force field in an underground complex.”

  Octavian took another gulp of water, his headache was diminishing and he was beginning to feel more himself. “I have to go back and get her, but the place seems to be guarded by poorly constructed avatars. They were the ones who attacked us in the first place.”

  “Yes, I can sense them now, I have reconfigured the sensors. The field was masking their presence.”

  “Where did that many units come from?” Octavian asked.

  “From what I can tell there is a large manufacturing plant on one side of the facility. I would suggest they are the basic avatars supplied to each planetary AI. I have fifty such base units. This,” she placed one of her hands on her chest, “looked like them until I reconfigured it to my programmed likeness.”

  “So you don’t manufacture them from scratch then?”

  “No, it is quicker, and easier to modify the base unit. They are a very sophisticated piece of equipment.”

  Octavian thought for a moment. “Someone or something must be controlling them.”

  “Yes, they are not capable of independent thought or actions unless they have been configured and contain the essence of their AI.”

  “Cassiopeia, is it possible for you to reconfigure the tactical computer on my armour so it will function in the field?”

  “Yes.”

  She took his belt and removed the computer, placing it in a socket by her alcove. She was silent for a couple of minutes. Octavian took the time to lie stretched out and recover from his ordeal.

  Cassiopeia unplugged the computer, reattached it to his belt, and handed it back to him.

  “The computer is now configured to display tactical and sensor information onto the top of your helmet visor. It will look the same as if it had the normal link to your mind, but you will have no control over it. I have set your armour suit to be fully activated and stay that way by default so the field has no effect on its operation. You will however have to activate it before you enter the field.

  “Now, as for weapons, might I suggest you use the minigun instead of the lasers? Its effect is far more devastating at close range and against a large number of opponents it would be very effective. I can configure your armour for it very quickly. The only disadvantage with it is weight, and kickback, so it is impossible to use without armour, unlike lasers.”

  “OK thanks.”

  Cassiopeia made remote adjustments to the armour’s computer system. “Right, it’s finished.”

  “Excellent, thank you. I will need you to stay here to guard and defend the ship while I’m gone, OK?”

  “Yes of course. Good luck, Octavian.”

  He rose and buckled on the armour belt. He walked over to the weapons rack, activated the armour and reached for the minigun. The tactical and sensor display was projected to the top of his visor, not restricting his foreword view but visible if he looked up.

  He clipped the gun onto the newly configured rack on the shoulder of his armour and slid the ammunition belt into the holder below it. Once the ammunition box was in place the gun auto-loaded the belt. He reached behind his shoulder and unclipped the weapon to get the feel of it. As he did so he noticed the head up display automatically changed to targeting mode with the ammunition count in percentage off to one side.

  The reconfigured suit made light work of supporting the heavy weapon. He put it back into its carrying clip and made for the door. With the air-conditioning and power assistance of the suit, Octavian was soon back to where they were attacked.

  He checked the suit’s sensors. They were not as sensitive as the ship’s sensors, but now he was close he could see Tristain’s life signs. He was surprised to see she was not alone – there were faint signs of someone else close to where she was. The sensors gave him direction, elevation, and distance. He turned to where they were indi
cating. It was the large central building of the complex; from the elevation she was several stories underground. The one positive thing being that she was still alive.

  He started to walk forward towards the building. He reached the spot where they were originally attacked and as if he had tripped some kind of sensor the avatars appeared from the buildings around him. They were closely packed as before and obviously intended to overwhelm him again by sheer weight of numbers.

  He unclipped the minigun, noting that the targeting system came online as he did so. He heard the suit’s servos take the weight of the heavy weapon. He pulled the trigger; the motor started to whine, the barrels spun and the ammunition started to feed in. The gun fired; he could well see why it was not possible to use this weapon without armour. He could feel the shock and vibration even through his armour, and without the servo support it would have been impossible to hold it. He spun round and the avatars just flew apart under the hail of lead, the bullets tearing through the plastic and light metal like butter, taking out the tightly stacked rows of his opponents all at once.

  He spun round twice, keeping the trigger pressed. He released it, and the vibration and noise stopped. There were no more of the avatars left standing, and other than a few still twitching there was no movement. The silence after the noise of the gun was quite disconcerting. He was surprised at the rate at which the weapon used its ammunition. There was now less than 50% left. He would have to be careful and use it sparingly, preferably only short bursts.

  Octavian resumed walking towards the building indicated by his suit’s sensors. He kept the gun resting in his arms, ready at a moment’s notice should he need it.

  He reached the building without further incident and walked up the sweeping steps to the main doors. They were locked, but being full of glass he made short work of them in his armour suit. He walked across the cracked marble floor to the lifts, hoping there were stairs by the lifts as the sensors were limited due to not being able to control them. He walked along the line of lifts until he found a door; it too was locked but by leaning his shoulder against it and pushing, it sprang open with very little effort.

  To his relief, there were stairs going both up and down. Looking at the sensors, he estimated he would have to descend five floors. He started down and had reached the third flight when he was confronted by a group of avatars manning a heavy tripod-mounted laser. He stepped back quickly. The laser, while not capable of penetrating his armour, would quickly overpower the cooling system and cook him.

  He hefted the minigun and cautiously advanced round the pillar to face the enemy. He pulled the trigger and ran, firing towards them. Even with a short burst they and the heavy laser were totally destroyed. He stepped over the bodies and continued down.

  He hurried as he noticed that although he was getting nearer, Tristain’s life signs instead of getting stronger had started to fluctuate. He reached the landing on the same level as the sensors indicated she was, pushed through the door and entered a corridor. A heavy security door blocked the end of the corridor. He ran down and pushed against it. He heard his suit’s servos whine with the effort, but the door held fast. He ran a little way back down the corridor, raised the gun, and fired. The doors shattered into so much matchwood that he was through. Another heavy laser blocked the corridor, and he was hit before he had time to realise what had happened. The suit’s cooling system went into the red immediately, and he just managed to duck into a doorway before it overloaded. There was a strong smell of burning and the servo assistance to his left arm failed. He was barely able to hold it up; he would have to use the gun with one arm now so even with the assistance of the suit it would be unwieldy. He spun up the motor and pulled the trigger, stepping out into the corridor as he did so. The enemy and the laser flew apart as before. The ammunition count was now yellow showing just 15% remaining.

  Octavian stepped over the debris and through a set of unsecured doors. He found himself standing in a large open area. Down one side were laboratory benches, and over to the right long-dead computer systems stood silently. In the centre, facing him, were rows of what at first appeared to be enclosed medi-beds. They were all connected to the computers on the walls. Some of the medi-beds were empty; others were full of a brown liquid. Octavian inspected the closest one and stood back, shocked. The liquid contained the decomposed remains of what could be a Lantian.

  He checked the sensors; Tristain was at the other end of this vast room. He ran down the rows of medi-beds and slid to a halt where an avatar was bending over one of the beds. It was still powered and inside Octavian could see a still female form.

  The avatar stood. “You are too late; the transfer is complete.”

  Octavian looked round frantically. “Where is Tristain?”

  “If you mean the half Lantian, half Sicceian female, she is over there,” the avatar pointed.

  Octavian looked over to where the avatar was indicating. He felt his heart miss a beat. Tristain was lying on an open medi-bed with wires connected to her head. He clipped the gun into its holder on his back and walked over to her just as her eyes flicked open.

  “Tristain, are you all right?”

  She smiled. “Oh, I’m all right, thank you, Guardian.” She laughed and slowly sat up, “Although it does feel a little strange.”

  “What do you mean?”

  She smiled again as she swung her legs round.

  “My name is Vialantia – pleased to meet you, Guardian.” A faraway look passed across her face.

  “What are you talking about, Tristain?”

  Her attention returned to Octavian. “Oh, I’m sorry, I have waited millennia for a female host. You cannot believe what it is like lying fully conscious with your body in stasis unable to move.” Her expression changed for a moment. “She is proving stronger than I expected.”

  “Who… what is going on?” there was an edge to Octavian’s voice.

  “Oh yes, the creature you call Tristain has been suppressed. I am what you would call an Artificial Intelligence – the core of one anyway. That is my body over there in that glass coffin! They had not finished preparing me when everything collapsed.” She put her hand to her head. “Stop fighting me!”

  She looked back at Octavian, “Where was I… Oh yes, it was all a trick. The AIs are real women like me. Their identity and what they were was carefully suppressed. Their humanity and emotions blocked. It was the only way that the scientists could get the planetary computers to function. True Artificial Intelligences were unreliable. The mind controlling the computer – became the computer – while the body was suspended in a sort of stasis. What they were was suppressed from them to prevent madness. Why do you think an AI can never approach her own or another’s core building? I will tell you why!” Her voice rose to a shriek, “To prevent madness, that’s why! They had not finished me and I have lain unable to move for so long. The field used to prevent us communicating has kept my mind prisoner. It was too long before I discovered the manufacturing facility. I could produce basic avatars, download instructions… but not connect… I could not connect,” her voice ended in a wail.

  Her hand went to her head; again she arched her back, “Oh no!” The expression on her face changed.

  “Octavian? I am fighting her – she has underestimated me! Quickly, destroy that avatar over there and the red switch second from the… Oh!”

  Her expression changed again. “She is far stronger than a normal Lantian…”

  Octavian walked over to the avatar, which stepped back on his approach. It raised its arm to attack him. Octavian swung with his good arm and knocked it down, twisting off its head to prevent any more trouble.

  He looked over at Tristain – she was jerking spasmodically; he looked back at the controls on the medi-bed. Inside the body of a woman floated, painted on the top of the tank was the name ‘Vialantia’. There were two switches that conformed to Tristain’s description. He looked back over to her; there was no way he would get any more coherent
conversation out of her. He took a guess and flicked one of the switches. He saw Tristain arch, lifting almost her whole body from the bed. She groaned then lay still. He went over to her.

  She was bathed in sweat, and her eyes flicked open briefly, “Octavian, take me back to the ship please.”

  “Is it really you, Tristain?”

  She nodded. “Yes.”

  He lifted her gently from the bed, and even with his damaged arm she was surprisingly light. He carried her back up the stairs, out of the building and back across to the ship. He was relieved they did not encounter any further resistance; if they had he would have had to put her down to fight.

  He passed through the barrier, and as he did so he checked the unconscious form he was carrying. It seemed like Tristain. From his brief scan, he could not find any trace of another personality.

  He stepped into the ship and laid her down on her bunk. He deactivated his armour. Cassiopeia fussed about checking Tristain was all right and comfortable. Octavian went to the galley for a drink and sat down.

  What the hell just went on there, does it mean that none of the AIs are machines but are real women? Why no male AIs then? The unanswered thoughts went round and round in his mind. He was still sitting trying to make sense of what he had seen and heard when Cassiopeia walked in.

  “She has regained consciousness and wants to see you, Octavian.”

  He stood and walked through to her bunk room. She looked pale but otherwise unharmed from her experience.

  She smiled when he entered. “Please shut the door and sit down, I want to talk to you.”

  Octavian sat down on the chair opposite her. “First, thank you for coming to get me. When I saw you go down during the fight with the avatars I feared the worst.”

  She reached up and touched his face.

  Octavian shifted in his chair and felt his face start to flush. “Umm… you are very welcome, Tristain. How are you feeling now?”