by Jake Bible
The space was a bubbling, whirring, clicking, clacking cacophony of industry and movement.
“But those experiments you spoke of, those were real,” Kay said. “You’re still working on them, aren’t you?”
“I should mock you for the obviousness of your statement, but I know this can be a lot to take in at once when you were expecting to see something vastly different,” Taman said. “So, to answer your question: yes, I most certainly am working on them.”
“I don’t know,” Chann said.
“You don’t know what?” Taman asked. “You’ll need to be more specific, Private Chann.”
“I don’t know that I was expecting something different,” Chann said. “I wasn’t exactly expecting all of this, but I have to admit my gut was telling me that you were never quite right to begin with.”
“Ah, the human gut,” Taman said. “That is something we have not been able to replicate. Unfortunately, even with quantum computing, the artificial mind is still just that—artificial. Instinct remains out of our grasp.”
“Artificial?” Kay asked.
“Yes, Private Kay,” Taman said. “Artificial.”
He tapped his head.
“The body is flesh, but the mind is only software,” he sighed. “Elaborate, exquisite, far beyond your comprehension, but software, nonetheless.”
“Great. Just great. Rogue AIs playing Frankenstein,” Chann said. “Yeah, Kay, we’re totally fucked.”
“Oh, don’t say that,” Taman said. “There is still hope for you.”
He smiled and clapped Chann on the shoulder.
“You can always become one of us. We could use some new Marines.”
6
Ma’ha sensed the change in the people around him before he saw it.
There was a sudden vibrancy, an uptick in energy that always came right before a fight. Ma’ha was Gwreq. He was born and raised in a warrior culture that stressed the need to know when violence was coming.
Setting the bowl of gump-flavored protein paste down, Ma’ha smiled at the woman that sat across from him at the table. The woman smiled back. It was not a friendly smile, but one that showed too many teeth and spoke of evil intent.
The spoon he’d been using still gripped in his hand, Ma’ha thrust his arm forward and jabbed the utensil through the woman’s left eye. She shrieked then fell forward, her forehead thunking loudly against the plastic surface of the cafeteria table as the spoon was forced all the way up into her skull.
Ma’ha was up and swinging before the others in the room had even comprehended what had happened. They may have been preparing to attack him, but they were not prepared for the preemptive attack he let loose.
Stone fists balled, Ma’ha crushed three faces before he took the first hit to his body. A man behind him had picked up a chair and broken it over his shoulders. It did nothing more than piss Ma’ha off. He kicked backwards, snapping the man’s left leg at the knee, sending the attacker toppling into a woman that was rushing Ma’ha with a meat cleaver. The woman stumbled, fell, and cleaved her own neck, sending arterial blood spraying high into the air.
A plasma bolt clipped Ma’ha’s shoulder, spinning him around and sending him falling back against the table where a woman with the spoon in her head lay unmoving. Ma’ha used the dead woman’s body to his advantage. He reached back, grabbed her by the back of the neck, and swung the corpse out at the crowd of people that were coming at him fast.
A second plasma bolt scorched the plastic table, missing Ma’ha by only centimeters. The Gwreq growled and shoved away from the table, fists back up and ready to get to work.
Three men came at him, one with a heavy pipe in his hands, the other two with short blades. Ma’ha focused on the man with the pipe since the two with blades weren’t going to do jack crap against his stone skin. The pipe whooshed through the air and Ma’ha blocked the blow with his right forearm, grunting as sharp pain radiated up his arm.
Ma’ha sent a left swing at the man’s head, but the guy was able to duck under it and bring his pipe down at Ma’ha’s leg. The jarring blow sent Ma’ha stumbling and he barely got his balance back before the pipe man was on him again. Ma’ha sacrificed his midsection, taking a shot to the gut, so he could double over and wrap one hand around the pipe while the other shot out for the man’s throat. Grab, grip, squeeze, snap. The man fell to the floor, his throat crushed and neck broken.
Another plasma bolt caught Ma’ha right between the shoulder blades. That one sent him to his knees. He snarled as he tried to get up, but two men and two women dove onto him, weighing him down enough that he couldn’t get his feet under him. He fell forward, his arms pinned under his chest. Fists and feet began to rain down hit after hit to his body. He took it all in stride, knowing he’d have his stone skin to protect him.
A motor whirred to life and Ma’ha’s Gwreq blood ran cold in his veins.
“Hold him still!” a woman shouted. “I don’t want this damn thing to slip!”
Ma’ha turned his head and saw a large woman walking towards him, a diamond cutter in her hands. The small saw blade was a blur of sharp motion, moving so fast it looked like it was still. He began to struggle with all his strength, desperate to get the pile of people off of him.
One of the women was bucked off, but she was quickly replaced by another. Then more people jumped onto his back, pressing him harder into the cafeteria floor. In seconds, he was pinned down so tight that he could barely breathe.
“I’ll kill every one of you sons of bitches!” Ma’ha snarled. “You think you won? You haven’t won shit! I’m a damn GF Marine! I’ll tear your arms off and shove them up your asses when I get loose!”
“You aren’t getting loose,” the woman with the diamond blade said as she knelt down next to Ma’ha’s head, making sure he could see what was coming at him. “You’re done, stone boy. Done forever. No use for a thing like you. Not for us. Gwreqs aren’t compatible for our needs.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Ma’ha shouted.
“Doesn’t matter,” the woman said. “A tradition amongst you flesh born is to say some last words before dying, yes? Would you like to say those now?”
“Flesh born?” Ma’ha asked. “You people are mad. Just damn fucking mad!”
“Interesting choice of last words,” the woman said right as she pressed the blade to the side of Ma’ha’s neck.
The Gwreq screamed once the cutter made it through the outer layer of his stone skin. He screamed and screamed until his head was severed from his body. The woman powered down the cutter and stepped away from Ma’ha’s headless corpse.
“Take him out to the piles,” she ordered. “One more corpse for the scavengers to pick through.”
“We’re going to finally kill those damn Marines, right?” a man asked as several people struggled to lift Ma’ha’s dead weight. “Wipe those abominations off the planet, yeah?”
“That’s up to Taman,” the woman said. “They may not be worth the effort. Right now, we focus on getting the parts we need and converting the male and female Taman took below. We’ll need them for access to their ship in orbit.”
The man looked disappointed and the woman laughed.
“Relax,” she said. “If the ship up there is outfitted properly, then we can nuke this planet when we leave. That’ll take care of the Marines once and for all.”
That made the man, and others, smile. The same toothy, evil smile of the woman that Ma’ha had killed. That corpse was picked up also and taken along with Ma’ha’s body, out of the cafeteria and towards the last building in the outpost. The one without walls. The one with the stacks of corpses left to slowly decay in the planet’s open atmosphere.
***
Manheim’s eyes fluttered.
“Shhh,” a quiet voice whispered over the comm. “Do not indicate you are awake.”
Manheim was not exactly sure he was awake. His head felt like he’d been pounding pints of wubloov for a week straight a
nd his body felt even worse. There was a sharp pain that emanated from his ears and shot directly into his brain. It intensified instantly when the voice spoke again.
“I know you are in discomfort and I am sorry,” the voice whispered. “There is nothing I can do for that. I am barely able to maintain this communication. Right now, I am at what you Marines call a bare-bones capacity. The intruders on the drop ship have taken over all systems and the beings carrying you are emitting a frequency that is designed to jam all signals around them. But I have figured out a way around that.”
Manheim couldn’t have responded if he’d wanted to. It took all his strength not to slip back into unconsciousness.
“I need you to listen to me, Sergeant Manheim,” the voice said, just loud enough that he realized it was the AI from the drop ship.
He should have figured that out by what it was saying, but his mind was not working at even close to ten percent efficiency.
“His breathing has changed,” someone said from close by.
Manheim figured it was one of the armored attackers that had come for him while he inspected the corpse piles. His slow mind caught up, filling in the blanks enough so he knew he was being carried somewhere and he was inside the outpost. Or he assumed he was inside the outpost. It was the only set of buildings on the planet that he knew of, so it was a good assumption.
“We have very little time,” the AI said. “I have to focus on maintaining my structure, and I need you to focus on what is happening to you and the other Marines inside that outpost. Whatever they did to you, it has left your mind wide open, so I’ll be able to scan your memories when I am able to get back in touch. I am unsure how they have accomplished this; it is rather ingenious from a technical standpoint, so perhaps they are utilizing the many cybernetic implants that you Marines possess, but however they are doing what they are doing to you, it gives me a slight edge.”
“Do you detect that?” a voice asked.
All motion stopped, and Manheim was dropped to the floor. He hit hard and grunted.
“Time for me to go dark, Sergeant,” the AI said. “I am sorry to abandon you. Remember, gather as much information as you can. It could be the only way I am able to save your lives once I awaken. Good luck.”
The whisper died away as Manheim was flipped onto his back and his eyes were forced open by rough fingers. A blinding light is shown into his pupils and he whimpered at the excruciating pain it caused.
“This one is a fighter,” the voice said, the source a hidden shadow behind the light. “That’s good. Taman will want him. We may have a viable candidate for appropriation.”
“Been a while since we’ve had one of those,” a second voice said. “The queue is several hundred personality protocols deep by now.”
“Taman insists that the software replicate itself,” the first voice said. “Seems pointless. We’ll never acquire that many bodies to inhabit.”
“Unless we get off this rock and hit a station,” the second voice said. “Then it’ll be as many bodies as we want.”
“Maybe,” the first voice said. “First, we have to get to the shipyard and find the right parts.”
“How do we get the right parts if we don’t know what parts that ship up there needs?” the second voice asked.
“That’s Taman’s job,” the first voice said. The light clicked off. “Pick him back up. We’re on a schedule and you know Taman insists on punctuality.”
A rough hand patted Manheim on the cheek.
“You just keep on pretending to be asleep,” the first voice said. “Your body needs the rest. Things are about to get very stressful for you.”
Manheim didn’t doubt that statement one bit.
***
“This is nuts,” Chann said as he was strapped naked onto a gurney, his suit and clothes having been stripped from him. “You people are insane.”
“If we were truly people, then I’d agree with you,” Taman said. The man was standing to Chann’s left, his eyes flitting back and forth, back and forth, completely unfocused. “But we are more than people. We are a new race. Evolved from flesh, but powered by technology.”
Kay screamed from somewhere in the room.
“Kay!” Chann shouted. “I’m here!”
“Such a strange thing to say,” Taman responded. “What does telling her your location do to appease her discomfort? She will still feel the same amount of pain whether she knows you are present or not.”
“She at least knows I’m alive and I’ll be coming to help her,” Chann hissed. “She can count on that.”
“You really are not comprehending the severity of your situation, are you?” Taman asked. “That is unfortunate. I had hoped your mind would be a candidate for appropriation, but if you are too dense to realize that you are never getting free from your situation, then I have to wonder if that brain inside your skull would simply turn to jelly if one of us was to try to occupy it.”
“Kiss my ass,” Chann snarled.
“No,” Taman said.
Chann would have replied, but searing pain in both temples absorbed his full attention. He gritted his teeth and tried not to cry out, but once the pain had been driven a full three centimeters into his head, he couldn’t hold back and let loose with a wail of agony.
Taman laughed.
“We have all been there, Private Chann,” Taman said. “The probes must be inserted directly into the brain at junctions between the frontal and temporal lobes. This allows for a complete connection to the brain centers that need to be accessed for our purposes.”
Chann should have wanted to ask what those purposes were, but the pain literally drove any thoughts of curiosity out of his mind.
“Taman?” a man asked outside Chann’s field of vision. “The Gwreq has been killed.”
“Killed? I didn’t ask for him to be killed,” Taman said. “Simply subdued. He could have been coerced into cooperating with us. Having a mobile Gwreq would have been a valuable asset.”
“He went on the attack before we could move on him,” the man replied. “He killed three of us before Bilsa severed his head with a diamond cutter.”
“Three of us? That is unfortunate,” Taman said. “Had they been recently backed up?”
“Yes,” the man said. “Perhaps, due to their sacrifice, they could be put towards the head of the transfer queue? It would be useful to have experienced consciousnesses at our disposal for the coming war.”
“I agree, but for now, keep their backups in stasis,” Taman said. “I would hate for those already waiting to be transferred to become angry when they are passed by.”
“They should understand it is for the greater good,” the man said.
“They should, but our evolution as sentient intelligences means we are subject to the weakness of self-interest,” Taman said and sighed. “It boggles the mind how these flesh-born creatures ever pulled themselves up out of the mud or swamp or rocks or wherever their came from to one day conquer the galaxy.”
“That bodes well for us, Taman,” the man said. “If they could conquer anything at all, think of what we will accomplish.”
“Oh, I think of it every second of every day,” Taman said and laughed.
He leaned over so Chann could see his face clearly.
“I am going to explain what I need for you to do, Private Chann,” Taman said. “If you comply, then I promise you will experience a minimum of discomfort. The pain you feel now will be the worst of it. Do you understand?”
Chann could only manage whimpering acknowledgement.
“Good,” Taman said. “The first step is to stop fighting what is happening. I know you want to keep your individuality, but those days are over for you. Things will never go back to the way they were. You have two choices: fight and face oblivion or cooperate and have your mind reprogrammed into our likeness so you can join us in our destiny of complete galactic domination. Do you understand?”
Another whimpering acknowledgement.
“I thought you would,” Taman said. “Now, which will it be? Oblivion?”
Taman waited, but Chann did not respond.
“Or will it be cooperation?”
“Yes,” Chann hissed.
“Good choice,” Taman said. “Now, let’s see if we can’t make this experience slightly more comfortable.”
The pain in his temples began to subside, and he was suddenly filled with a feeling of warmth. The warmth did not supplant the pain, but it made it bearable enough that Chann found himself drifting off.
Just before his mind went blank, he heard Taman say, “I want the drop ship in position. We will not have much time to gather the parts and get them to the orbiting ship before we are discovered. We could be lucky and the pilot has the transport ship’s AI offline, but I am not betting on that. As soon as we set foot on that ship, we will be discovered. I want everything in place before that.”
Chann wanted to learn more, but an inky blackness enveloped his mind and all was gone before he could gather another thought.
***
Nordanski stared at the crude drawings the warped Marines had made in the dirt. Crouched by the campfire, he wrinkled his brow as he tried to make sense of what was being communicated to him. He looked up at the expectant faces of the creatures that surrounded him. Creatures that, if the drawings were right and he wasn’t completely off in his interpretations, used to be GF Marines. Former individuals, but now turned into homogenized beings made of scarred flesh and bulging muscle.
“Okay, let me see if I can catch what you’re throwing,” Nordanski said. He picked up a stick, which he suspected was actually a bone splinter, but he pushed that from his mind, and pointed at the first drawing. “You were stationed here a long time ago, yeah?”
The warped Marine he’d been dealing with from the start nodded its messed up head.
“Okay, cool,” Nordanski continued. “You were assigned to protect the outpost which actually has a bunch of levels below it. Something went wrong with the computers and you were turned into what you are now, is that it?”
