by M. D. Cooper
“I have a son as well,” Jirl said.
“Was your son in a coma because of what your company did?” Brit asked. “Because mine was. We don’t know that he’ll ever be the same.”
Jirl’s gaze dropped to the floor and she took a deep breath.
The woman was doing a better job of staying calm than Brit, which only frustrated Brit more. This meeting wasn’t going as she had planned. She wanted Yarnes to pull his pistol so she had a better excuse to shoot them both.
“I asked Ms. Gallagher to join me because we don’t have a lot of time,” Yarnes said. His voice had grown harder, taking on an edge of command. “The Resolute Charity is en route to Neptune, yes?”
Brit stared at him without answering.
“You can’t hide the ship,” Yarnes said. “We know its location based on registry returns from two deep space beacons—plus it’s burning hard enough to see halfway across Sol with optics alone. It’s headed into OuterSol, along with the Worries End, which we know was the Sunny Skies, your ship. That’s Andy, correct?”
Brit held her chin steady without answering.
Petral shifted on the couch, crossing her long legs. Yarnes watched her move.
“The Resolute Charity is traveling out of Jovian Space, yes,” Petral said.
“Toward Neptune,” Yarnes said.
“Away from Jupiter.” Petral refused to confirm specifics.
“Look. We know about Alexander’s Call. We’ve known for years. I know that Hari Jickson, a Heartbridge lead scientist, stole an advanced SAI and had it implanted in your husband, Andy Sykes.”
Brit returned his gaze when he looked at her but didn’t respond.
“Jickson was in contact with a woman named Fugia Wong, who has been assisting SAI that also answered the message. Strangely enough, one of the locations on Alexander’s path is Ceres, which is virulently anti-AI, or humanist, as they would like to say. I don’t know if that means the message predates the government on Ceres or if it’s some kind of test, but a trade in captured AIs rose up within the Anderson Collective. A local senator named May Walton was working to curb the trade in slave AIs until there was a threat on her life. I know she’s currently on the Resolute Charity with Wong. We also know you stole at least two hundred and fifty Weapon Born seed AIs from the Clinic 46. We don’t know how many AIs Wong may have been transporting.”
Yarnes took a deep breath. “What does all this mean? The Resolute Charity is transporting a significant number of very powerful weapons to an unknown entity in OuterSol, where there may already be large numbers of other weapons. We don’t know what that entity really is, or what it wants.”
“If Heartbridge created the Weapon Born, wouldn’t their scientists decide what their AI want?” Petral looked at Jirl.
“My understanding is that they don’t work like that,” Jirl said. “I’m not a neuroscientist but I’ve talked to them. As you know from witnessing the imaging process, the Weapon Born replicate a human neuro-net but the name seed actually does apply. The SAI still needs to be raised, trained, molded, given a moral framework. Jickson conducted research in that area as well, if I understand it.”
“So they need to be brainwashed to kill,” Brit said.
Petral stiffened in warning and Brit pressed her lips closed, stopping herself from saying more.
“They are a product,” Jirl agreed. “They are made to be shaped to the needs of the client. As seeds, they have the potential to grow into something completely different than they were at first. They have the base structures from the human framework—as I understand it—a way of seeing the world as we do, all of that can change when it meets the massive potential available to them. If anything, Weapon Born helps humans understand AIs, and the hope is that goes both ways.”
“What is it Andy Sykes likes to say?” Petral asked, offering a half-smile. “Hope is not a plan.”
Jirl shook her head. “No. It’s not.” She glanced at Yarnes, then continued, “Both Terra and Mars have purchased significant numbers of Weapon Born to be deployed in advanced combat units.”
“What’s special about a Weapon Born in that regard?” Petral asked. “Why not just use drones?”
“It’s all about the distance,” Yarnes offered. “An SAI can operate in conditions where humans can’t, with the same autonomous decision-making ability of a human. A drone can’t do that. There might be other SAI out there with nearly the same capability, but no other vendor has a method to produce them so quickly.”
“So that’s the Heartbridge innovation,” Petral asked. “You can make them faster than everyone else?”
Jirl shrugged. “There are other improvements, I’ve been told, but I haven’t seen comparisons. There are other groups out there developing SAI. Psion Research is prominent right now. Heartbridge got the contracts.”
“So all this leads us back to our first question, Ms. Gallagher,” Petral said. “Why are you here?”
Jirl looked at her hands. “I’m not comfortable with what Heartbridge has been doing.”
“Major Sykes is right to call me out. I have a child and I’ve worked for people who hurt children. I didn’t realize it at first. Then I tried to justify my part in this by thinking I could help somehow. Shouldn’t good people work from the inside to fix a broken system? But that was naive.” She looked at Yarnes and then at Brit and Petral, pain on her face. “I can’t stop this machine from the inside, but maybe I can help you.”
“That’s very noble,” Petral said, sounding sincere to Brit. “But Colonel Yarnes here is the person who’s been purchasing all your Weapon Born for the TSF. Isn’t that correct?”
Before Yarnes could answer, Jirl said, “That’s true. But I’ve been the go-between for both the Mars Protectorate and the TSF. Neither wants a war. I think that’s the end game here. That’s why Heartbridge had the fleet in the JC.”
Yarnes nodded. “Much of this is out of my control at this point but I don’t want a war any more than anyone else. What the Assembly will do, especially with an unknown AI threat, I don’t know.”
“Escalation in AI weapons is happening on both sides,” Jirl said. “And there are voices calling for initial strikes, so the other side won’t have the advantage.”
“Is it real war if it’s all fought by SAI?” Petral asked.
“Fake war still kills real people,” Jirl said. She looked at Brit with red eyes. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am about your son. I want to make this right. I’m afraid it’s too late.”
“Well,” Petral said. “You’re here. That’s a start. How do you propose we solve this problem?”
Yarnes sat up straighter. “We’re here without the knowledge o
f the TSF or Heartbridge. I have a small unit loyal to me. Kraft knows the location of at least four other Heartbridge dark sites where there are more Weapon Born seeds in storage. We believe there could be thousands. I want to use Kraft to seize those sites.”
“And what will become of the Weapon Born there?” Petral said. “This all sounds like an excellent gift for the TSF.”
Yarnes spread his hands. “All I can do is ask you to trust me. These are living things we’re talking about. I don’t know exactly what we can do with them, but we can keep them from being let loose on a battlefield somewhere.”
“I thought about that,” Jirl said.
Yarnes appeared surprised by the statement. He looked at her. “What do you mean?”
“You offered to keep Bry safe, and I appreciate that. But he’s not on High Terra anymore.”
“Who’s Bry?” Petral asked.
“He’s my son. I want to try and protect him from all this but I’m making things unsafe for us, on High Terra, with Heartbridge. The only good way to hedge my bets is to involve both players in this game.”
Yarnes moved away from her imperceptibly.
Petral didn’t answer as Jirl looked at Yarnes. “General Kade is aware of our plan. Once we’re finished with our meeting here, she’ll be sending a commensurate force to assist us. The attack on the Heartbridge sites will be a joint TSF-Protectorate operation.”
“Oh, will it?” Yarnes asked, spluttering a little. He didn’t appear to like being surprised. “I’m not authorized to carry out a multi-national operation.”
“I didn’t think this operation was authorized by anyone but you?” Jirl said.
“Yes, but this is different.”
Brit stared at Jirl Gallagher, watching her become more imposing while still sitting carefully composed. Jirl didn’t gloat but her trap was now plain to see. She didn’t trust Yarnes either. Despite herself, Brit started to like Jirl.
“Different how, Colonel?”
“I believe we have some resources as well, Ms. Gallagher,” Petral said. “I think it’s safer to make it a three-way split. Mars, Terra and the private sector. I think that sounds like a very stable agreement.”
“Maybe,” Yarnes grumbled.
Petral clapped her hands. “Well, this has been a very productive meeting. Brit? How about we go wake up Mr. Kraft?”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
STELLAR DATE: 11.02.2981 (Adjusted Years)
LOCATION: Sunny Skies
REGION: Approaching Uranus, OuterSol
“Trigger discipline,” Andy said. He held the pulse pistol across his open palms, grip toward Cara, and nodded for her to take the weapon. “I don’t want to see your finger anywhere near the trigger housing.”
Cara took the pistol and squeezed her fingers around the grip, keeping her index finger straight along the body of the handgun. She tested the balance of the weapon in zero-g.
“I thought trigger discipline didn’t matter anymore because if the gun doesn’t recognize you, it won’t fire,” Cara said.
Andy’s magboots clicked as he moved to her right side and motioned for her to keep the pistol pointed at the far side of the cargo bay.
“For fancy pistols, sure. This is not a fancy pistol. Anybody that picks this up can use it, granted only if they know how to turn it on and it’s got a charge. That’s the other thing to think about any weapon you might try to use against someone. You don’t want to let them take it away from you.”
He watched as she checked the battery charge on the pistol and its fire mode. She glanced at him before releasing the safety switch.
“A pulse weapon releases a concussive pressure wave that will incapacitate at twenty meters. At five meters the weapon can cause internal hemorrhaging and death.”
“Dad,” she complained. “I know what a pulse pistol does. I’ve fired it before.”
“Just because you think you know, it doesn’t hurt to train and practice. Now say it back to me.”
She gave him a sideways glance. “Say what back to you.”
“What I just said. It’s straight out of the TSF manual.”
“I’m not in the TSF.”
“Say it.”
Cara rolled her eyes. “Fine. A pulse weapon releases a—” She faltered.
“A pulse weapon releases a concussive pressure wave that will incapacitate at twenty meters,” Andy prompted.
In ten minutes, Cara could repeat the weapon’s general description, maximum effective range and perform a functions check.
“All right,” Andy said. “Let’s go set up some targets.”
Cara unlocked her magboots and kicked off toward the middle of the cargo bay. She was ten meters away when she looked back to discover that Andy hadn’t moved.
“Aren’t you coming, Dad?” she asked
He nodded at the pistol in her hand. “What are you doing with that?”
“It’s on safe.”
“Is it up and down range?”
“Yes.”
Andy shook his head. “But were you thinking about that before I asked you?”
“No.” Cara let her head hang. She checked the pistol again and slid it into the holster at her hip. “It’s just a pulse pistol, Dad.”
“Cara. What did we just spend fifteen minutes talking about? What can a pulse pistol do at five meters?”
“Internal hemorrhaging and death. Why are you being so mean to me?”
Andy freed his magboots and floated across the bay. Reaching Cara, he reset his boots and put his hand on the back of her neck. She looked up at him with wet eyes.
“Look, Cara,” he said. “If you’re going to carry a weapon, I expect you to demonstrate respect for what it can do. You hold someone’s life in your hand when you draw that pistol. Do I need to explain that again?”
“No, Dad.”
“Good. This is part of growing up. Some things are serious. You’ve seen how serious this can be. You remember Karcher back on Cruithne, don’t you?”
“He died helping us.”
“Don’t forget him.” He pulled her in for a hug. She hesitated, then wrapped her arms around his waist.
Together, they stacked several smaller cargo boxes on crates, then withdrew twenty meters so Cara could practice firing on the small targets. With Andy standing just behind her, Cara drew down on the boxes and squeezed her trigger. In the zero-g, the recoil from the pistol nearly knocked her off her feet. Her locked magboots kept her in place, but she shouted in surprise.
“Hold your arm steady,” Andy coached. “The pistol is designed to reduce recoil but you have to hold it steady. Zero-g makes it harder.”
“Yeah, it does.”
Cara fired again, steadier this time. She knocked down four of the small boxes before moving forward until she was five meters from a heavy crate with reinforced sides. The pulse pistol easily made a head-sized dent in the shipping container.
“Think about that hitting you in the chest,” Andy said.
Cara nodded with amazement, then checked her safety and slid the pistol back in her holster as Andy had taught her. She turned, smiling at him.
“What else can we use for target shooting?” she asked.
Andy put his hands on his hips and looked around. The bay was mostly empty without cargo. It went against his better judgment to bypass every outpost between Europa and Uranus without carrying something. It would have been easy money, but the potential trouble wasn’t worth the profit.
Ngoba Starl’s payment had made Andy’s former career as a freighter more like a hobby. The hydrogen scoops on the Resolute Charity would make it possible to execute the slingshot maneuver around Uranus without stopping for fuel, another change that made Andy anxious when he thought about it. While Fran told him to ‘trust in the tech’ he just couldn’t bring himself to do it. He cou
ld trust her ability to fix most anything, but he couldn’t shake the belief that something mechanical was going to fail eventually.
“Unfortunately, we don’t have a lot of stuff hanging around that we can just shoot up,” he said.
“We could ask Lyssa to fabricate us something like she’s doing with the mechs.”
“Lyssa is busy. We’re not going to bother her to make us something to shoot at. Here, I have an idea.”
In fifteen minutes, Andy had rearranged the crates and containers into a short cover-based range, where Cara could move between positions as she fired on the boxes. They spent an hour practicing several firing positions, until Andy’s knees were aching from holding himself in a crouch. Even with the magboots, maintaining a steady firing position behind the create required core muscles he’d forgotten he had.
Cara seemed tireless. She kept finding new ways to hide between the reinforced crates, shouting, “Again!” when she’d knocked all the boxes across the cargo bay. Later, Andy had the idea to deactivate the maglocks on the storage crates so she could practice ricocheting them into one another.
They took a break to drink juice packs from the machine in the galley, and Cara asked, “What do you think Mom is doing right now?”
Andy shook his head. “I hope she’s being safe.”
Cara furrowed her brow. “Has she always been like she is?”
“What do you mean?”
“She thinks something is wrong and she has to fix it.”
“Yeah, I think that’s a good description of her.”
“Then why did she ever want to live on Sunny Skies, or leave the space force? It seems like she would have been a lot happier if she’d just stayed in. Wouldn’t you be happier, too?”
Andy almost smiled, realizing how she’d sprung her question-trap. He wondered if she’d been waiting to ask him this for days. Hadn’t she just turned thirteen? This had to be a twenty-year-old question, at least for him at that age.
“Despite all our advances in technology, we still can’t see the future. That’s why.”
“What does that mean?”
Andy squeezed the last of his juice from the pack and crumpled the plas container in his hand, then shoved it in a pocket before it could float away. “People feel different at different times, Cara. You might think you want something now. You might believe in your deepest heart that it’s the right thing to do. And then things change.”
