He put his gloves back on, resealing his helmet. Kohl continued to the back of Engineering, where he found the Queen. She was attached to the feeding tubes, hissing at him as he approached. A bunch of Ezeroc eggs were near her feet. The Queens were maybe even uglier than the rest, big bulbous bodies, lots of hissing and snapping. This one was trying to tear itself away from its feeding tubes, either to get at Kohl, or get away. His bracelet was warm against his wrist, which suggested it was trying mind control on him. Kohl was about to do something heroic like shoot it with beams of plasma fire when a massive clank sounded against his helmet. He turned, taking in Ebony, eyes glassy, a big multitool in her hands. She swung at him again. Kohl batted the swing aside, took the multitool from her, then punched her in the head. Ebony went down like a bad joke, kind of flailing and pathetic. Kohl turned back to the Queen. “Seriously?” he said. “I’m wearing armor. You can mind control all the sock puppets you want, but unless you’ve got yourself a blaster, you’re pretty much fucked. Like this, see?” Kohl unlimbered his cannon and blew the Queen into tiny pieces.
After the rain of burning meat finished, Kohl had a moment to wonder if he should have mentioned the blaster thing to a creature mind-linked to a bunch of its kind across the vast expanse of space, then put it out of his head. What were the odds?
In among the burning meat of the Queen’s abdomen was a section of conduit that looked like the piece he needed. Kohl crunched and squelched through Ezeroc eggs, then found the conduit’s socket. He scooped goop out of the housing, then put the conduit’s plug in the hole. It went in after the second try, something a lot like green snot squelching out the side.
There were another three like it, and he seated them in their sockets too. Ebony was still down. He might have hit her too hard, but again, not a thing worth worrying about right now. He trudged back to the Engineering console, found the error display now showing green across the Endless Drives.
Or, Endless Drive. Those four couplings were for one of ‘em. Which meant, a bunch more to go. Kohl could put good Empire coins down on them being in the submerged Engineering section.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
GRACE PACED ALONG the corridor, one foot in front of the other. Aside from Nate, there were no other humans around. Not the blips of their minds, nor their emotions. No love, or desire. Grace would settle for jealousy or hate over the incessant susurration of the Ezeroc against her thoughts. The corridor was darker than the depths of hell, the lights shutting off not long back.
“They are huge assholes,” said Nate.
Grace laughed. “They are.”
“Do you ever wonder if we shouldn’t have challenged ‘em?” he said. He was keeping pace with her, looking back while she looked ahead. While Grace had her blade, ship forged metal glinting in the gloom, he held his black blade in one hand, blaster in the other. “You know, Human Protectorate, and all that.”
She shook her head, then brushed a strand of black hair out of her eyes. “No. No regrets. For the longest time I hid from everything, Nate. Everyone, everywhere. It’s what I’d been trained to do. The quiet killer. The unseen blade. When it was just me, that … worked. But it’s not just me.”
“Nope,” he agreed. “Besides, with Kohl being Kohl, there’s a certain amount of casual noise on a regular basis. No hiding that. I figured we best work with it.”
Grace nodded, unsure if he could see the movement in the gloom. The temperature was dropping, sweat cooling against her face as they walked. This deck held the command center, a bright epicenter of Ezeroc activity. She could hear them in her mind, a kind of hissing and roiling in the dark ahead. There was a clank of an auto door to Grace’s left, and she spun, blade lashing out. Her sword cut through the door like it was shoji, and she held the blade high, ready for another strike. But behind the door was just an empty room, auto sensors having detected her, welcoming her in. This place is a graveyard, but the bodies aren’t dead yet. She shivered again. “You know what’s going on here, right?”
“You’re cutting up doors,” said Nate. “Sure, I get it. I mean, they’re not great doors. Old tech.”
Grace smiled. Always at your side. Always the brightest light. “No. I meant the Ezeroc and the machines.”
“What do you mean?” he asked, looking ahead, then back. “I wish they’d just attack. This whole thing is creeping me out.”
“What thing?”
“The part where they’re not swarming. It’s what they used to do. Like a wave, crashing over the top of anything they found.” Nate hefted his blade. She noted he held it in his right hand, flesh against the hilt, better to protect his mind with the sword’s esper blocking abilities. He’d become fair at using it in either hand with their drills, but she knew the benefits of protection against the Ezeroc were the most important thing. “At the moment, they’re hiding, Grace. This is a race that’s genocided everything they’ve met. They’re not a species that crawls in the dark. Leastways, not all the time.”
“Right, that thing. Well, I think it’s connected to the thing with the machines,” said Grace. “They’re working together.”
“AI and Ezeroc?”
“AI and Ezeroc,” she agreed. “The two foes who most hate humanity. And I get it. I do. I don’t know how the AI wars started, but we did a number on ‘em. And the Ezeroc are just … hungry, I guess.”
“They don’t have a common language,” said Nate. “Hell, the AI don’t have minds you can read in the traditional sense. Right?”
“Right,” she said. “They’re just toasters.”
“Sentient toasters,” said Nate.
“A toaster’s a toaster,” said Grace.
“Hmm,” said Nate. “I’m not sure about that.”
“If they stop trying to mulch us, we can ask ‘em,” said Grace. They walked further for a few moments, then she said, “It doesn’t matter. What matters is the power combo they’ve got.”
“How you figure?”
“Well, the Ezeroc have come up against us. The Empire’s Bulwark. Espers. Might be the first time in their history they’ve come up—” Grace cut off as Nate crouched, unleashing plasma into the corridor ahead. The bright blue-white flashes left blooms against her night vision, but a screeeeeee came from the dark ahead.
“Got one,” said Nate. “I knew they were out there.” He stood upright. “Not a bad shot from this distance.”
“You’re shooting down a corridor,” said Grace. “Be hard not to hit something. Where was I?”
“Seriously? That was an amazing shot.” Nate looked at his blaster, frowning. “Let’s see. AI. Roaches. Working together. Ah, that was it. First time in history, something like that?”
“Right,” said Grace. “First time in history they’ve been up against a species with their powers. Not as good. Not as strong. But until us, they were gods, and we taught the gods fear, Nate.”
“Sure, right, fear, gods, got it,” he said. “Machines?”
“They don’t have minds,” said Grace. “Empire’s Bulwark is useless.”
“I’d hardly call you ‘useless,’” said Nate.
“Less effective, then,” said Grace. She froze, feeling the crawling sensation of Ezeroc against her thoughts. She spun, driving her sword into the wall on her right. The blade pierced the metal skin of the corridor with no obvious resistance, slicing into the Ezeroc behind it. Grace pivoted, bringing the sword out via an arc that came up and over.
Nate watched as slime leaked through the rent in the metal wall. “Less effective. Sure.”
“You know what I mean,” she said. “It feels like the Bulwark’s destiny wasn’t to rule mankind, but to stand against the Ezeroc. Best way to combat us? Line us up against machines.”
“A galactic version of paper-rock-scissors?”
Grace laughed. God, this man made her laugh. Emperor or pirate, it didn’t matter. “If you like. Use the Ezeroc against normals. Or supernormals like the Black. Use AI against the Bulwark. You’ve got us on both fr
onts.”
Nate nodded. “I see your working.”
“But you don’t agree.”
“No,” he said, shaking his head. “That’s not what’s going on at all.” He sighed, resting the tip of his sword against the metal floor. “It’s your father, Grace. He’s come back. All the rest is just an excuse. I mean, it’s a good excuse. Getting us jumping at new shadows. Scaring us. Torching our planet is a pretty big excuse. But it’s all a means to an end. He wants his daughter back.” Grace watched Nate tighten his hand around his sword hilt. “And he can’t have her.”
“Kazuo Gushiken isn’t to be trifled with,” said Grace. “I … ran away.”
“Kazuo Gushiken will kill a planet to get you back,” said Nate. “I’m not fixing to trifle with him. Just good luck we got away.” He looked at his feet. “Or good thinking from our Helm.”
“What’s different now?” said Grace. She paced, turned, paced back. Restless, the tiger in her wanting freedom. “I couldn’t beat him before.”
“You were young,” said Nate. “Now you’re an empress.”
“He’s still my father,” she said, looking away. “He’s still a monster.”
“Also, don’t forget your charming husband, who’s mean with a blaster.” Nate paused, then pointed at himself. “That’s me.”
“I know,” she said, leaning close to him for a moment. Gods above, do not let Kazuo touch this man. I must do everything to keep them apart. “That was still an easy shot. Before, I mean.”
“Eh,” said Nate. “Anyway. He can’t have you back. So, you know. We’ll fix these problems. And whatever other problems come. Keep fixing ‘em, until we arrive at his doorstep. Then Kazuo and I will have a conversation.” The way Nate said conversation made it sound like he meant something different.
“Maybe you should leave dear ol’ Dad to me,” said Grace.
“Maybe,” said Nate, in a way that suggested fuck no. He sighed, then pointed his blaster into the dark again. A fzzzt-crack and a blue-white flash, and another screeee as one more Ezeroc died. Nate looked at his blaster. “It bothers me, you know.”
“Killing Ezeroc?”
“Yeah,” said Nate. “They used to be people. Kinda.”
“They used to be people in the same way steak used to be grass,” said Grace. “That’s it.”
“I know. But still.” Nate hefted his sword. “Best get on, hey?”
“Best,” she said.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
HOPE DIDN’T HAVE a problem with waiting. She had a problem with waiting after she’d taken about a hundred different stimulants. Her palms itched. Hope’s feet jittered against the Tyche’s deck, scuffing boots back and forth. She kept looking at Reiko 2.0, and then looking at Saveria.
One of them was a robot.
One of them was an esper.
Both were here.
Did that mean something? Hope wasn’t a hundred percent sure. She knew as an absolute certainty that Reiko would never have set foot inside Engineering. Not her kind of place. Wrong music, wrong company, just wrong. Saveria seemed happy enough, but Hope wondered if that was just because everyone else had run off.
“So,” said Hope. “Are you here because you haven’t been kicked out yet?”
“What?” said Saveria. She’d been looking at Hope’s Shingle, tracing the letters with a careful finger.
“I understand,” said Hope. “I get it too.”
“Get what?”
“Everyone runs off, doing very important things. Saving the universe. Shooting bad people. Running away from other people. All of that.” Hope waved her hand in a circle meaning all of this. She noted that the circle was lopsided on account of the stims. Hope wasn’t sure if she’d ever mixed stims with coffee before. Was it okay to do that? She wasn’t dead, so maybe? “Anyway. They always leave me here too.”
“You’re really wired, aren’t you?” said Saveria. “I think I can see your eyes spinning in their sockets.”
Hope leaned towards her station’s cam, pulling up an image of her face on the holo. “My eyes look fine.”
“I didn’t … sure, okay, whatever,” said Saveria, turning back to the Shingle. “This is amazing.”
“El got it for me,” said Hope. “It’s beautiful.”
“No, not that. I mean, yes, it’s beautiful. It’s gold, right?” Saveria didn’t wait for an answer. “I mean, it’s amazing you’ve got one. Engineers study for years and years.”
“Do they?” said Hope. “I guess they do. Most of them.”
“How long did you take?” said Saveria. “How many years?”
“Just one,” said Hope. “I’m not sure about how to count the time, because they wanted me to apprentice. I passed all the exams too fast.”
“You got your Shingle after just one year?”
“Yes,” said Hope, moving from side to side on her acceleration couch. “I’m really wired.”
“I said that,” said Saveria. “You need something to relax you.”
“Kohl keeps some whiskey,” said Hope.
“You think we should get drunk while everyone’s fighting Ezeroc?” said Saveria.
“Why not?” said Hope.
“Because it’s a bad idea,” said Saveria.
“I guess,” said Hope, looking back at Reiko 2.0. She was sure Reiko would have said it was a great idea. They’d have got drunk together, and fallen asleep underneath the Tyche’s reactor. “My wife. She would have got drunk.” Hope frowned at her boots. “She also hit El over the head with a bottle. I don’t know if she made a lot of good choices.”
“But you made a robot to look like her,” said Saveria.
“I did more than that,” said Hope. “I made a robot from her memories. I can’t get Reiko two-point-oh to turn on.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. I load in all the memories and nothing happens.” Hope shrugged. “The AI crystal tech is lost. I’ve pieced some of it together from fragments the Guild kept. But, you know. Can’t get it to work. The AI crystal won’t take it.”
“You load it in, like uploading it?” said Saveria. “All at once?”
“Mostly,” said Hope.
“What would happen if you did that to a human?” said Saveria.
“I don’t think it works that way,” said Hope. “Our brains are a lot slower than AI crystal. But we’re massively parallel. So many things going on at the same time, but mired in the treacle of being organic. Memories come in one at a time, and form connections. Synapses. Stuff.”
Saveria looked back at the Shingle. “Maybe AI are the same. Maybe they need memories one at a time.”
Something inside Hope CLICKED, a big wheel turning into the right place. “Say that again,” said Hope.
“Maybe AI are the same.”
“The other thing.”
Saveria frowned. “They need memories one at a time?”
“Yes,” said Hope. “The crystal also forms connections. Bonds. Maybe I loaded Reiko in there too fast. But … AI crystal is fast. How fast is too fast?” She screwed her eyes shut, lips moving. Math. Math. Human brains weren’t like computers. Raw gigaflops weren’t meaningful. But if you made assumptions… Hope opened her eyes, firing up her console. Her fingers flew over the keyboard. She pulled up the memory model for Reiko, squinting. Call it thirty years of memory, compressed down to a feed the AI could process. She typed faster, working through the body of all Reiko’s knowledge and experiences. Some of it could be parallelized, no problem, but how much? Type, type, type. Hope’s console chimed, the Tyche spitting a figure out.
“What’s that number mean?” said Saveria, at Hope’s elbow.
Hope jumped, startled. She looked from Saveria to where her Shingle hung on the wall. “How did you get from there to here so fast?”
“I walked,” said Saveria. “You stopped talking for a while there.”
“I did? Okay.” Hope pointed, her finger tracing lines through the holo. They found the number 53,113. “That
’s seconds.”
“It seems like a lot of them.”
“About eight hours,” said Hope. “I can overlay thirty years of Reiko’s memories for an AI crystal in about eight hours.”
“Is that a good idea?” said Saveria.
“I’m not sure,” said Hope. “I’m not good at stuff like that.”
“Did you love her?” said Saveria.
“I did,” said Hope. “I still do. Every part of her. Even the bad parts. I kept those. Everything’s there. How she smiled. What she sounded like when she yelled. Other things I don’t want to talk about.” She looked at her hands, restless on her lap. Her palms still itched. “I loved her more than anything else.”
“Okay,” said Saveria.
“That’s it?” said Hope.
“You’re the Engineer,” said Saveria. “I’m the esper, remember? But I think you already know what you’ll do.”
“Is it the right thing?” said Hope. Her voice felt strained, like she should whisper, when she also wanted to scream.
“You’re the Engineer,” repeated Saveria.
“Okay,” said Hope. She rose to her feet, swaying a little as blood equalized in her body. She felt light-headed, then giddy, then anxious, then too slow as she rushed to Reiko 2.0’s side. Hope unspooled cable from the Tyche’s Engineering console to the robot body. She snapped it into place in the port at the base of the robot’s skull. Hope felt breathless. For just a moment, she paused, then leaned forward to lay her lips on Reiko’s forehead. The polyimide skin felt soft, just like real skin, but didn’t smell right. It didn’t smell of anything at all. “It’ll be over soon,” she said. “This will be okay.”
Standing, she walked back to her console, cast a glance at Saveria, then initiated the upload. Now staged to trickle into the AI’s crystal at the glacial pace of not quite four years of life per hour, all she had left to do was wait.
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