Universe of the Soul

by Jennifer Mandelas

  The War Room erupted into a cacophony of outbursts, but Gray ignored them.

  “What is your suggestion, sir?” Jericho asked quietly from beside him.

  “Where are the security teams posted?” Gray asked.

  Jericho removed a cord from the well-concealed port behind his right ear and inserted it into the outlet in the conference table. For less that one second, his eyes went blank and vacant as his processor searched through his database before red lights appeared in the hologram and he spoke. “Every light is a squad, sir.”

  “Quit calling me sir,” Gray muttered absently, staring at the configuration of dots. He scowled. “Commander Vortail, didn't you study the report that was made after the attack on the Oreallus?”

  “Of course I did.” Vortail made the coughing sound again. “What do you take me for?”

  “Then why isn't there anyone stationed in the munitions stores, or the tertiary vehicle warehouse? You've left two very vulnerable positions open for them to just waltz in and glue a bomb over major energy lines. If either of those go, there won't be enough of the Damacene for the Oreallus to rescue.”

  “What makes you think they will follow the same course of action as last time?” Vortail demanded.

  Gray raised an eyebrow. “Because it worked. We didn't have enough time to locate and disarm all the bombs before they went off.”

  “So what do you suggest?” the vice captain asked.

  “Split the squads in half. Leave one half where they are, then send the others to the vulnerable spots where the Belligerents went last time. I would also send one squad to the bridge.”

  “The bridge?” Yates inquired, speaking for the first time.

  “Yes, sir. Other than the positions already outlined, it's the most likely place they would wish to appear.”

  Yates muttered something unintelligible.

  Commander Vortail scoffed. “The bridge is the most highly defensive position on the entire ship, save the Engine Room. Why would they try there?”

  Gray sighed inwardly. “Because they have the ability to appear wherever the hell they want. With all due respect sir, that's got to give them the incentive and the ego to hit the ship's commanding heart.”

  There is nothing quite so aggravating as an ignored prophecy. Gray came to this philosophical conclusion forty minutes later as he knelt in a service hallway between the Orellium lab and the Astronomy complex, firing at a squad of Belligerents who were trying to get past him. He ducked automatically when his enemy fired, close enough for him to feel the heat of the blast whizzing by. The air was filling rapidly with smoke, and over the sounds of the blaster and ATF fire, the shouts and screams and other noises of combat, he could hear his communicator crackling frantically as the security team tried to contain the situation.

  “Tell me something, Jericho,” Gray said conversationally to his companion who stood above him, firing at the darting shadows at the end of the hall. “Have you ever walked into a situation where pride and incompetence was so saturated around you that you felt like saying, ‘I'll just do it myself.’ But then you wonder if that's your own pride talking, until said situation blows up in your face and you realize that you were right the whole time?”

  Jericho pressed his back into the wall as the enemy blasted a corner off less than a foot away. “I can't say that I have, sir,” he replied. “Given that I have not been programmed to express such an illogical emotion as pride, I doubt I ever will.”

  Gray snorted, leaning out into the hallway to assess the Belligerent position better before pulling back again. “You haven't ever felt pride, huh? Then what was that little speech you gave me when I arrived yesterday?”

  “The truth, sir.”

  Gray had to grin. “Come on, haven't you ever gotten the urge to say I told you so?”

  “Retorting back to superiors is considered a breach in protocol, sir. What are you doing?” Jericho watched as Gray leaned back out into the hall.

  “Trying to see how many there are. I think there's three but I can't tell.” He fired randomly at the dodging specters.

  Jericho frowned as Gray tensed to spring out. “I do not think that is a good idea, sir.”

  Gray rolled out into the hall, firing. Almost immediately he rolled back. “I didn't see the fourth man around the corner.”

  The humacom imitated Gray's raised eyebrow and stated dryly, “I told you so.”

  “Very funny. Do you have any other weapons besides your ATF?”

  “No, sir, apart from my low frequency stunner.”

  Gray pondered a moment. “We need to get out of this hallway. If things are this hot here, then I know it's got to be hotter elsewhere. Hand me your stunner,”

  Without comment, Jericho handed Gray his small stunner, which was generally used to incapacitate rowdy or violent crewmen. It would serve no purpose in the battle that he could assess. He watched as Gray handled the small cylindrical weapon critically before nodding to himself. “I don't understand,” he said at last, seconds before Gray leapt to his feet and flung the stunner down the hall towards their foes.

  “Now!” Gray shouted, dashing around the corner and down the hallway after the stunner. The action had the effect Gray was hoping for. Upon seeing a small cylinder fly through the air towards them, the Belligerents had automatically assumed a grenade and had bolted for cover, leaving an opening for Gray to rush in and secure the area. He took out one, and was pleased to see Jericho's fire take out another before the rest managed to escape down another hall.

  “A well-thought deception, sir.” Jericho said.

  “Well thought? It was a spur of the moment inspiration. I'm surprised it worked.” He began to move back down the hall. “Reinforcements are on their way for this area. Let's go.”

  “Go where?”

  Gray's brow furrowed. “To the bridge. If I'm right, that's where the main stage of the operation was heading.”

  “But Commander Vortail said he was covering that area,”

  “Yeah, and a great job he's done down here, hasn't he?”

  Fate was on Gray's side when the lift opened on the bridge level. He had just enough time to see the grenade – a real one – sail through the air and into the carriage before launching himself out, yanking Jericho with him. The projectile exploded, pushing them forward. He hit the floor and continued with the roll, coming to a stop behind a wall in a crouch, weapon aimed in the direction the grenade had come from.

  “I simply cannot believe your reflexes,” said a familiar voice across from him. Gray searched his brain for a face before realizing that it was his enemy's.

  “Thanks, they come in handy,” he replied. He glanced around for a way to reach his opponent, but the path had been blocked for both of them.

  “My sister will be vexed with me for getting caught in another standoff,” the female voice said. “But then, last time ended so well, she might forgive me.”

  “Kobane?” Gray guessed. Then her words sank in, and he felt a kind of freezing rage.

  “That's right,” the voice acknowledged. “Sergeant Giselle Kobane.”

  Little Kobane, Adri had called her. And if Little Kobane was here, that meant… “Where's your sister?”

  “Around,” Giselle replied lightly, firing a warning shot at Jericho when the humacom tried to ease around the corner. “She'll be pleased that we've met once again. We didn't really have a chance to…converse much the last time.”

  “Not this time, either, I'm afraid,” In a surprising feat of strength and flexibility, Gray shot around the corner, using Jericho's sturdy shoulder as a launch pad, clearing the floor for several feet without touching and landing kitty corner to his opponent.

  Giselle turned to face him, realizing at the same time that her cover was now compromised and that she would have to defend herself on two fronts. A trained soldier, she followed the only route opened to her and retreated back down the corridor.

  Dashing down the corridor after her, Gray was suddenly punched
with amazing force and flung sideways into the wall. He turned, lifting his weapon at the small figure across from him, who also had her blaster trained on him. Behind Giselle, another figure appeared, and Gray recognized Hildana Kobane. “I've got to admit that I admire you,” Giselle said, keeping her weapon pointed at Gray's forehead as the sisters began to back away.

  Hildana smiled and gave him a mock salute. “I'm surprised to see you here. I'd think you wouldn't leave Rael's side. I guess it's you we have to thank for the flaw in our plans.”

  Gray snarled at the mention of Adri.

  Hildana sighed, a sound Gray barely caught over his own wheezing breath as the two Belligerent soldiers continued to back away from him down the corridor and into the blaster haze. “It's a pity about her. Rael was someone I looked forward to killing in person. She was a worthy opponent. Just think of how many times I was thwarted from killing her! Yet, I succeeded in the end.”

  Giselle fired. The blast caught Gray in the shoulder as he dodged. He dropped his ATF. Before either sister could try again, Jericho opened fire, catching the younger Kobane's shield and forcing them to retreated out of sight.

  Gray raced after them in blind pursuit, rounding the corner to find it empty. He frowned, perplexed, as his communicator blipped, [All enemy troops have withdrawn. I repeat, all hostile targets have disappeared!]

  “It looks like they teleported back to their ship,” Jericho commented from behind him. Gray turned, wondering when the humacom had arrived.

  “So it seems.” Gray continued to stare at the empty hallway, thinking of Adri.

  ***

  “That went well, considering,” The shuttle rumbled around them as they retreated.

  Hildana brooded into her cup of organic milk that she treated herself to once a day. “That it was. The security man, what's his name? Could have spoiled it all, and he did make us miss our objective. They'll find the surprises before they go off. It was probably the reason he was there.”

  Giselle sat down beside her and touched her shoulder in a gesture of comfort. “But you got to shoot things and cause pandemonium.”

  Hildana laughed. “That cheers me up.” Then she frowned again. “So, Rael is dead.”

  “You guessed it was so. And everything Riordan's managed to intercept stated that she was one of the casualties. Why does it get you down big sister?”

  The elder Kobane shook her head. “I'm not sure. Looking at that soldier, he was pretty furious when I mentioned her. It just reminds me sometimes. They are people too; he grieves for her. And then there's…”

  “What?”

  “There was something about Rael. Something…different. I just wish I knew what it was.”

  Username: Cassie

  File://GC:#000118ugd//confidential//uri

  Password: ******

  Access Granted

  Command: open file to last saved date

  The position we are in is going to explode at any time. The creepy techs and their creepy superior have been hanging around daily for the past week. They say they have authorization from General Porett to access Zultan, but they haven't run that authorization through me, so it is still suspect. Who knows what insidious viruses or debilitating hacker programs they could be wittingly or unwittingly downloading into Zultan's system? Morons.

  I haven't been able to access much when they are downloading. The access password supercedes even ada's clearance. Because of that, I can't ask Zultan for hints. He does not approve of them, that much I can assess. In fact, he hates them, if humacoms actually felt hate. I get twitchy around them; my firewall system boots up automatically and my threat assessment program shifts instantly to high alert.

  There isn't much I can do in this situation. My research keeps coming up against walls, although the statistics are high that everything connects. Dr. Harriman Tarkubunji's death is the trigger for whatever is threatening ada. It also connects to whatever information they are downloading directly into my Zultan that they don't want anyone to access.

  Something will happen soon. Zultan's variable theory is correct; they have just now realized that they have lost their precarious control. We must now wait for the fallout.

  Save all new data

  Close file

  Encode

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  The arrival of Colonel Stroff broke the routine of the lab the way the presence of a creditor disrupts the sorrow of a funeral. Floyd stared at the approaching entourage blearily; they seemed to be swimming through a haze towards him, menacing. For one grim moment he thought he saw Stroff's securicoms draw their weapons, but then he blinked and they were empty-handed again. He heard the distinctive beep of the lock engaging from the outside of the lab door, trapping them in together. Floyd's heart skipped, and beat faster. His headache increased to near-blinding proportions. He rose unsteadily to his feet to face the colonel as the guards fanned out across the room.

  Zultan and Cassie stood together in front of one of Floyd's humacom examination tables. Cassie nudged her way to the front with an aggressive stance, her hand resting lightly on the grip of her ATF pistol. Behind her, Zultan glanced around the room at the humacoms surrounding them, and placed his hand on Cassie's shoulder.

  “What can I do for you, Colonel?” Floyd asked after several seconds of tense silence.

  “Some very important decisions were made at the WCRTL board meeting this morning that concern you, Dr. Tarkubunji,” Stroff said, in a tone that suggested he was giving a trial verdict.

  Something cold skittered down Floyd's spine on spidery legs. “And what are they?”

  “At this meeting,” Stroff began, “the future of this facility's humacom development plan went under revision. I'm sure you are aware of the present public outcry about the deficiencies in the Humacom Personality Programs and the independent thinking programs that are affecting the AI units in the current models?”

  “Er, yes. I have heard.” Floyd rubbed his temples as the pain in his head throbbed.

  “And I am sure you are aware of the stance your father, Dr. Harriman Tarkubunji, had on this subject?”

  “Yes. Of course. He believed that we had gone beyond the point of recall.” What was this leading to? Danwe, why couldn't he think? “My father believed that once a humacom was activated, any non-consensual tampering was morally wrong.”

  Stroff smiled tightly. “And what of your own opinion, doctor?”

  Anger rose, despite the agony that was clamped around his head like a vice. “I believe the same. The idea of going into to a living entity and taking out the things that make them unique is barbaric!”

  “I'm disappointed, doctor. You've digressed into philosophy.”

  “It's beyond philosophy!” Floyd shouted. “Look at them!” He waved his arm at Cassie and Zultan, still standing silently and watching the conversation with wary eyes. “I see two people who work day and night every day with no praise and whose right to be you are calling into question. I created them; I work with them every day. I know exactly what they're made of, what programs initiate what response or facial expression. But I don't see a machine. I see people.” He shook his head with bewildered frustration. “How can you not see that?”

  Colonel Stroff clapped his hands. “Bravo, Dr. Tarkubunji. Very well said. And precisely what the board thought you would say, which is why I am here. As chief humacom designer and technician for the West Cellutary Research and Technical Laboratories, your passion for your work is commendable. However, the board is concerned that your sentiments will hinder the new changes going into effect as of today.”

  “What changes?” Floyd demanded, the cold feeling returning and settling in his stomach.

  “It has come to the attention of the board that you have been working diligently for several months now without a break and with…fragile health. I am therefore happy to inform you that you have been given a leave of absence for the foreseeable future. Your superiors hope that you will enjoy your leisure time at once. T
oday, actually.”

  “What changes?” Floyd repeated.

  “This way, everyone benefits,” Stroff continued without acknowledging Floyd's words. “You will receive a very nice paid vacation to return to your family estate, which you haven't been to since your father's death. There you can rest, and restore your ill health. Your absence will allow the changes the board decided on to take place without any disturbances, and when you return to take over your work, all the transitions will be complete.”

  “WHAT CHANGES?”

  Stroff sneered. “Can't you guess? You're supposed to be some sort of technological prodigy, and yet I have to spell it out for you?”

  The cold turned to searing ice, shredding through his stomach and shooting through his veins. “You're going to do it. You're going to have a recall.”

  “Of course,” Stroff waved his hand. “There really is no question on that. The government can't have its machines suddenly turning on them without warning. The process has already begun; haven't you noticed?”

  Floyd had. Over the past few weeks, he had become increasingly aware of humacoms around the facility suddenly losing the human spark that had always fascinated him. They had turned from lively and interesting to simple, mindless drones.

  “I can't say it's been easy,” Stroff said, strolling around the lab, glancing idly at the viewscreens along the wall. “Most of them were quite adamant about retaining all their programming. We discovered that the only way to control them was by force.” He smiled and shook his head. “My goodness. It's a shame really, the way it goes down. The machines resist, but they can't win. Why? Because they are, in the end, only machines. Their thinking is finite; once you know their thought process, it really is too easy to subdue them.”

  The anger returned, warring with the ice in Floyd's system as his hands fisted at his sides. “You've enjoyed this.”

  Stroff turned to him and smiled. The light in his eyes was coldly amused. “A great deal. It's a bit like hunting reldings in the desert. They fight and fight, but once you know their patterns, you can outthink them every time. Quite invigorating, really, it gives the hunter a great rush of superiority.” His smile faded. “With the exception of yours, however. Did you know that the programming you and your traitor father installed in your humacoms is different from every other humacom designers’?”