“Gee thanks.”
They both went back to studying the data. “There's no indication that the beam hit your suit,” Gray said at last. “Not so much as a fluctuation in the exterior heat sensors to show that a blaster was even fired close to you,”
Adri made no reply.
Suddenly she shot forward. “What…”
“What, what?” Gray looked over to where Adri was staring at screen two. The scene started over, and he watched the beam shoot, and disappear as usual. “What've I missed?”
“All this time we've been looking at the beam,” Adri murmured. “Look at me.”
Gray watched Adri on screen as the scene played out once again. She was running, the beam was shot, and disappeared, without Adri so much as breaking stride. “Wait, you were blurry for a second there.”
“Yeah. Computer, replay last two seconds, then freeze screen.”
[Affirmative.]
The scene played again, and then froze in the millisecond before the beam disappeared. The figure of Adri was slightly out of focus. “Is there something wrong with the visual on my suit?” Gray queried.
“Let's find out. Computer, switch screen two's display with file four.”
[Acknowledged. Switching display two to file four.]
The screen popped up again with the schematics of Gray's combat suit. “Looks like you thought of everything,” Gray said.
“As an L.C., I do try.”
“Then, as your field lieutenant, let me anticipate your order. Computer, check the diagnostics on the suit's visual recorder.”
[Affirmative. Diagnostics reports no errors in visual recorder scan.]
“No error?” Gray turned back to the frozen image. “Then why are you blurry?”
Adri was silent for a long moment. “I really don't understand any of this,” she sighed and leaned back. “I'm going to run some probability simulations. You don't have to stay, Gray. It's late.”
Gray gave her a long, thoughtful look before rising. “I'll get us some coffee.”
Five hours later, after three cups of coffee and a light meal, with nearly forty probability simulations down, he was still there.
Sometimes life spins in a way you don't expect, spitting you out in a place where all you ever counted on is taken away, leaving you floating around in a world with nothing but yourself.
After my parents died, I had no one. The government came and took my house and toys away. They even took Mandy. I still wonder what happened to her. Well-programmed domesticoms with learned experience were rare at the time. They debated what to do with me for a long while, and I remember sitting outside the courtrooms, watching as a bunch of other children like me sat and waited for these strangers to decide what to do with us.
I remember thinking once, why did they get to decide how I would live my life? They aren't me, are they? After all, it was their fault my mommy and daddy were dead and never coming home again. They're the ones that took my home away and told me I couldn't live there anymore. They were the ones who took away Mandy, saying that they had to check her memory files to make sure my parents really hadn't been involved in the violent anti-war riots.
Court houses all seem to smell the same: dusty and neglected, with an aura of doom and despair that never seems to go away. It's stifling, especially for a child. I sat there for hours one day, waiting for the tired looking lady who handled “my affairs” to come out of the courtroom again. I just sat there, swinging my legs, waiting for something to happen that would make everything right again.
I guess, in a way, I'm still waiting.
I sat there, twirling mother's pendant that I somehow had managed to keep a hold of during the chaos of being evicted and stuck in a children's home. It made me feel safe, and when I held it, the hole in my heart where my parents should have been didn't hurt quite so much.
While I waited, another child came in to sit. He was a boy, blond hair, and big green eyes. He had to have been a few years younger than I. It's funny how vividly I can still remember him. We sat together in that big, empty hall, waiting. We didn't speak, even though hours went by and no one came out to check on us.
At last, my lady re emerged from the courtroom, looking just as tired and beaten down as she always did. “Well, Adrienne,” she said, “We've got you all squared away. You'll stay in the children's home until you're old enough to make a living on your own.”
Just like that, my fate was sealed.
We walked out of the courtroom. I glanced back and watched the boy, still sitting, and waiting.
And waiting.
Chapter Eleven
Too much coffee and not enough sleep made Adri less than pleasant, especially with the prospect of a double shift ahead of her. Three hours of restless sleep was never enough. She stood in the shower for several minutes, allowing the steaming water to massage her cramped shoulders and neck.
Hours of analysis hadn't revealed the mystery behind the disappearing blaster shot. All it had managed to do was make Adri more frustrated, more tired, and (perhaps the most frightening) more attracted to her field lieutenant than she had been the day before. The man could certainly stay committed, she thought as she reluctantly stepped out of the shower and began to dry off. He'd been a perfect partner for the analysis: never too loud, or too opinionated, and yet always had an intelligent remark to make. He fetched her coffee and even food. He'd stuck around even when Adri felt like giving up. The only time he'd been a bit chauvinistic was when she fell asleep at the display station. He'd woken her up and ordered her to go to bed, going so far as to physically pick her up and drag her out of the complex. But then, would she want a spineless man?
Adri had overheard some of the women in her platoon talking one day about their list for an ideal man. At first she had scoffed at the idea that there was such a thing, and that one should have an agenda on what he should be like. But now it didn't seem quite so ridiculous. Apparently Adrienne Rael, devout relationship avoider, had an ideal man agenda after all. She just didn't know what to do with him when he materialized in all his perfection in front of her. How pathetic was that?
Since she had some time, Adri walked down to the mess hall and grabbed some breakfast. She nodded to those who saluted her as she passed, but chose to sit by herself in a corner. Thinking about Gray was getting her nowhere, she decided, eating quickly. The long day ahead of her had better offer her something different to think about.
Otherwise she just might be tempted to give kissing a try.
***
“Ha! Knight takes your pawn. Sucker!”
Floyd glanced over from his workstation to where Zultan and Cassie were playing chess on one of the spare consoles. He was supposed to be updating an information download for Zultan, but instead he was staring listlessly as the computer did the bulk of the work. The sound of the two humacoms was breaking his concentration from writing his overdue diagnostics report as well, or so he told himself.
Floyd rubbed his head absently. Since his jaunt to the lab infirmary, his constant headache had faded somewhat, but he still ached. It was strange to hear voices in his lab. Other than his father, no one had really talked just to talk in here before. Zultan never used to speak unless he had something particular to say.
“I'm no sucker,” Zultan countered, drawing Floyd's attention back to the humacoms. “Bishop takes your knight.”
“What?” Cassie scowled and studied the screen. “Hmm, I calculated that move in, but I thought that you would protect your queen…”
“Then I suppose you thought wrong,” Zultan replied.
Cassie scooted her seat closer to the console, where both she and Zultan were connected in order to play the game. “I can still win this,”
“Correct. But will you?”
Curious, Floyd leaned back in his seat and watched the two humacoms together. Only a few days into activation, and Cassie had already picked up a great deal of non-programmed vernacular. Her human mimicry programs were also functioning well,
he thought as Cassie adjusted for her lack of height by sitting on her legs in the chair. But Zultan's actions were even more telling. The taller, male humacom scooted his chair so that the two were elbow to elbow. He was also talking to her, the same way a human would chat with a friend. That thought led to another, idler, one.
Had Zultan been lonely? Did humacoms experience such things as loneliness? Floyd knew that there were a lot of strange, unexpected developments in the psyche of humacoms within the past few years. His father had often spoken about the evolution of the AI units installed within humacoms. Even the media was beginning to pick up the debates that humacom developers were raging. Were humacoms becoming too humanlike? Floyd's father had thought so. Perhaps he'd been right.
“Check, Cassie,” Zultan said suddenly.
“No way!” Floyd smiled at Cassie's exclamation. He watched as the smaller humacom practically put her nose on the screen, resting her hand on Zultan's shoulder for balance. “You cheated.”
“Highly improbable,” Zultan replied. From the tone of his voice, Floyd wouldn't have believed him, and apparently neither did Cassie.
Floyd continued to watch them as they argued. Perhaps they were becoming more humanlike than their functions necessitated. But would he really want them to be any different?
Suddenly Zultan stopped speaking and doubled over, wrapping his arms around his stomach in a human gesture of pain.
“Hacker!” Cassie hissed, and with a smooth gesture disconnected her cord from the console and reconnected into one of Zultan's ports at the nape of his neck. Almost immediately her eyes went blank as her system switched to firewall mode.
Floyd watched the action with surprise and a little apprehension. Cassie had been designed with the primary function of being Zultan's exterior firewall system. As the main storage unit for the Commonwealth's governmental and military information, Zultan was invaluable, and vulnerable. Anyone trying to hack into his system for information could easily damage said information, any connecting information, and with enough expertise, damage Zultan himself. A loss of massive amounts of information was not acceptable to the Commonwealth leaders, and thus an external firewall system had been conceived. Cassie's entire powerbase could be utilized if necessary to back up her firewall system, making her a daunting force to be reckoned with.
“Huh, pathetic,” Cassie said at last, blinking as her system switched back to normal. She retracted her cord with the same smooth gesture.
“You feeling all right, Zultan?”
“I feel just fine.” Zultan disconnected his own cord from the console. Floyd finally made himself rise and stride over. “You two okay?”
“Yes,” they both replied.
“Let me run a diagnostic on you, Cassie,” Floyd said, pulling out his hand-held scanner. “This is the first time you've used your firewall system.”
“Oh, fine,” Cassie turned around to face him, but Zultan picked her up and sat her down on his lap. “What are you doing?”
“You deserve a rest, don't you?” Zultan replied mildly.
Cassie gave no reply. Floyd removed one of her cords and plugged it into his scanner. “Any abnormalities?” he asked, glancing through the readouts.
“Other than sitting on the Harddrive's lap, no,” Cassie replied.
“Harddrive?” Floyd asked.
“Cassie, that's cruel,” Zultan said at the same time.
The doors to the lab slid open and Colonel Stroff's bodyguards rushed in before him. “By Danwe, Tarkubunji, you raise more alarms than any other worker in this whole facility!” He started in surprise to find Cassie sitting on Zultan's lap. “What have you got going here?” he demanded.
“Nothing unusual sir,” Floyd replied. “I was running a diagnostic test on Cassie, following her first usage of her firewall system.”
“I see. And what were the results?” Stroff narrowed his eyes.
Floyd removed Cassie's cord and allowed her to retract it. “Everything is as it should be.”
“Hmph.” The colonel continued to glare at the two humacoms, who stared blankly back, for several long seconds before turning to Floyd. “I must speak with you.” He nodded to the far end of the lab, away from Zultan, Cassie, and Stroff's securicoms. When Floyd had followed him over, he said, “The board wishes to know why you built 00297 as a little female,”
“Is there something wrong with the female chassis, Colonel?” Floyd inquired. “My father and I agreed that using a female would add to her military effectiveness in the event of open conflict.”
“Why is that?”
“Surprise. Most female models are not built for military combat purposes. Cassie's gender can be used as a means for creating the initiative in a battle. Don't you agree, sir?”
Stroff looked a little confused. “Well, I suppose so.”
“As for her size,” Floyd went on, “Cassie gains exceptionable maneuverability, retains the same amount of hardware and memory space as a regular sized humacom, and again attains the element of surprise.”
“I suppose you're right, doctor.” Stroff said.
Floyd wondered why he was being questioned on issues that had been discussed and cleared by him and his father months ago before the board. He suddenly straightened. “Is this about my father's death?”
Stroff's face immediately fell behind an imposing mask. “The matter concerning the death of Dr. Harriman Tarkubunji is ongoing. I came here to inform you that all his personal databases and humacoms have been confiscated and analyzed.”
Floyd's headache was returning again. He rubbed it absently. “Has anything been found?”
“That's privileged information. A few of the humacoms he kept at home have been retained for further testing. Some are being kept as a collateral deposit for the damages made to his lab at the time of his death.”
“Collateral deposit?” Floyd asked.
“Of course,” Stroff huffed a breath. “You don't expect us to overlook the cost of the repairs to the lab, do you? The rest of the deposit will come from the renting of your father's estate, which the government has repossessed.”
Floyd's eyes widened behind his glasses. “You're repossessing my house?”
“Your father had little in the way of fluid credit. This is a typical way of repaying the state for a loss. Until further notice, you will be paying rent for the time you spend at the Tarkubunji estate. Naturally, with your promotion to Chief, you will be spending the bulk of your time here. Is that understood?”
Nothing was making much sense anymore. “I understand.”
“Very well then.” Stroff turned and began to walk towards the door. His securicoms raced ahead of him, tapping out the sequence so the guards on the other side would unlock the door.
“Wait, Colonel,” Floyd called out suddenly.
Stroff paused and turned his head.
“What of the humacoms that check out and are not being kept as collateral? What of them?”
“Those will be shut down and transferred to the Tarkubunji estate. You may do what you like with them after that, doctor.”
Floyd stared after him as he walked through the door, closing and locking it behind him. “The noose keeps getting tighter.” He turned to see the two humacoms standing beside the console, Zultan's hand on Cassie's shoulder.
“Is anything wrong, sir?” Zultan asked.
Floyd rubbed his face with his hands, skewing his glasses. “I'm just not sure anymore.”
Cassie and Zultan looked at each other. Floyd wondered what sort of messages they were passing silently.
Despite the formal letter from the board of directors he had received that morning, he still felt as though he was being watched. Added to the still not fully explained death of his father (by Danwe, his father!) and his own near brush with poisoning, this added grief from the government sat uncomfortably on him. Perhaps it was just paranoia. He had a nagging fear that he was either in the middle of a large conspiracy, or that he was slowly going insane.
&nbs
p; Floyd wasn't sure which possibility was worse.
***
Listening to a technical analysis of the tertiary artillery: done. Reviewing a report from Warehousing on the current munitions count: complete. Judging the ridiculous behavior of a couple of ensigns caught making out in a corner of the Archives: finished. Receiving the complaint/ rant/report from Duane on the state of the tertiary shielding systems: tolerated. Looking attentive during captain's lengthy lecture on the prices of military equipment: endured. Coffee count: four cups. Times caught thinking about kissing Lieutenant Grayson: she did it again!
Adri huffed out a small breath. So much for her efforts on keeping her mind off of wondering about the security officer. She consoled herself by thinking that taking on a double shift was bad enough. If wondering about Grayson helped pass the time, why should she complain? She was only thinking. Adrienne Rael had not yet progressed to the lowly status of sneaking off and cuddling with her romantic interest in the Archives. The idiots. If they had thought to go to some dark corner of the Warehouse, or the analysis labs, no one would have found them. What was it with the Archives anyway? The place was a big white box with a set of computer consoles that someone or other always seemed to need. Talk about zero ambiance. Not that she would know.
For the millionth time in the past hour, Adri glanced from her seat in the captain's chair to the security station. Gray's shift had ended several hours ago. In his place was Sergeant Craven, an up and coming officer who worked full time aboard the ship. She wondered idly if Gray ever wondered about kissing her, since she spent so much time, at least in the past sixteen hours, thinking about kissing him.
“Lieutenant Commander Rael,” one of the ensigns at the analysis station said, breaking Adri out of her daydream, “We are receiving a transmission from an unknown source.”
Adri frowned, sitting back up in the chair. “It's not from the Damacene?”
“No ma'am.”
“Put it on screen.”
There was a brief pause before the large viewscreen lit up. Another ship's bridge came into view, but the style was not that of the Commonwealth. Standing in front of the captain's seat in the center was a woman with a copper toned complexion, long black hair, and the uniform of the Belligerent Coalition. “Well, Rael, that captain's chair look's mighty nice on you.” she said.
Universe of the Soul Page 10
