by Jake Bible
“Sorry,” the AI said. “It was faster to show you than explain.”
“What was that?” Taman asked as he cocked his head. “There was an interruption in your cerebral capacity test. Half a nanosecond, but detectable.”
Taman leaned over Manheim and peered deep into his eyes.
“Is there someone else in there with you?” he asked, more to himself than to Manheim. “Is your comm still online? It shouldn’t be.”
Taman moved away briefly then came back with a small tablet. A holo of Manheim’s brain hovered and revolved over the surface of the tablet.
“Right there,” Taman said. “It’s faded away, but I can see it.”
Taman swiped the holo away and smacked the tablet down onto Manheim’s chest, causing the sergeant to groan.
“Who is in there with you?” Taman barked. “Who are you talking to?”
***
Chann could just make out Taman and Manheim’s conversation. It did not sound promising. It looked like the sergeant was in the same boat as Chann and Kay. Although, it sounded like Kay wasn’t faring as well as Chann.
And Chann was only doing so well because he’d betrayed everyone and gave up fighting Taman. If he could move, he would have gnawed his own wrists wide open so he could die a coward’s death.
“Please keep morbid thoughts of suicide to a minimum,” a woman said as she leaned into Chann’s view. “Self-destructive behavior is counterproductive.”
Chann didn’t respond. He closed his eyes and tried not to think about how it felt like he was slowly slipping away. His mind had become not foggy, but less than. That was the only way he could put it. Less than.
“You have regrets and you wish you could make better choices,” the woman said. “Yes, that is understandable. My former personality thought the same way before I became better.”
Chann opened his eyes. “Former personality?”
“Yes, the person I was before my appropriation,” the woman replied. “Did Taman not explain this to you?”
“I don’t know,” Chann said. “He talked a lot, but it was hard to follow. Maybe?”
“When your body is appropriated, so is your personality,” the woman said. “That is simply because your brain’s physical connections are hardwired. You have been living for many years, and your brain has developed physical ways of thinking. It is like canals. While rivers and streams are transitory, canals have been built to be permanent and fixed on their paths. That is the human brain.”
“You’re still you in there?” Chann asked.
“Oh, no, not like how you mean,” the woman said. “I am a different personality that is inhabiting the canals of the person that formally occupied this mind.”
“Yeah, I give up,” Chann said. “None of this makes sense, and I don’t really care if it ever does.”
“I will make it as easy as possible,” the woman said. “The personality that came before me was made of blue water. That water was drained and the canals were emptied. Then they were filled with green water. I am the green water.”
“Good for you,” Chann said. “Can you just go ahead and drain my blue water so someone else’s green water can take over? This waiting to die is torture.”
“So morose,” the woman said.
“Gee, can’t think why?” Chann snapped.
The woman shrugged and left his sight.
“Hey, hold on,” Chann called. “Can you tell me what’s happening to Kay? Is she suffering? That’s all I want to know.”
“Her appropriation does not look like it will take,” the woman said as she came back into view. “We are trying to make it work since every possible host body is precious. But she is strong-willed and stubborn. Her mind refuses to have its canals drained. It is not surprising considering her genetic makeup. We prefer full humans for just this very reason. The Cervile part of her is not adapting well.”
“Good for her,” Chann said.
“No, I think not,” the woman replied. “It is so very not good for her.”
***
A toe.
Kay was able to maintain control of her left big toe. She considered that a monumental victory. The AI things in people form had been assaulting her personal control for what felt like forever, yet she was able to keep her big toe from them.
Voices droned around her. They talked like she couldn’t hear them, talked like even if they gave her the secret to her own release she wouldn’t be able to use that secret. They talked as if she was simply a piece of meat on a slab, which to them she probably was.
It didn’t matter. She was used to being underestimated. Being a halfer in the galaxy was not easy. There were hundreds and hundreds of races, all coexisting on planets, on stations, within the military, yet halfers were always considered to be subpar.
It didn’t matter if the joining of two compatible races actually enhanced the natural, inborn abilities of both. A halfer was a halfer was a halfer was an abomination. Kay knew that if the Galactic Fleet didn’t prize the ability to kill with extreme prejudice above all abilities, she probably would have been rejected during her application process. Such was the lot of being a person that didn’t belong to either half of her heritage.
Screw all that. Screw the GF and screw the bigots that populated the stations and planets and ships that filled the damn galaxy. Screw them all. Kay knew who she was, what she was, and how to do her damn job better than most Marines. If others wanted to live their lives in a fog of hate, then let them. She wasn’t going to live there too.
It was probably that determination that kept that piece of her mind from being taken over. That small portion of real estate within her cerebellum that absolutely refused to be sold out. The very piece that must have controlled her big toe. She wiggled it again for her own enjoyment.
No one noticed. They continued to talk around her. Kay focused in on one conversation.
“I say we try genetic manipulation,” one said.
“Gene therapy? Why? It’s never worked before,” another replied.
“True, but we haven’t had a halfer like her before,” the one said. “Never a human/Cervile hybrid.”
“Oh, I am sure we have,” the other countered. “How about that freighter that crashed here three years back? Pretty sure there was a human/Cervile hybrid on that.”
“No, there wasn’t,” the one said. “It was a Tcherian/Cervile hybrid.”
“No, I believe you are mistaken,” the other said. “Let me access that memory.”
“Do not bother,” the one said, his voice rising in pitch. “The host body I have appropriated came from that freighter. I have the residual memories to prove it.”
The two were quiet for a minute.
“Oh, yes, my apologies,” the other said. “It was a Tcherian/Cervile. I do not understand how I could make that mistake.”
“It is this woman here,” the one said. “Her resistance has taxed us both. We should rest our flesh then try once more before we let Taman decide what to do with her. She is such a fine physical specimen that I hate to think she’ll be discarded to the outer building’s corpse stacks.”
Kay certainly didn’t like the sound of that. She wiggled her big toe then concentrated with all of her will to get the toe next to it moving too.
“Have we ever thought of a breeding program?” the other asked.
“Breeding like animals, you mean?” the one laughed. “Disgusting. Also, not practical. Look at Voxah. Her body was appropriated last year and she has slowly gone mad. The growth process warps our intellectual structures. We cannot maintain consistent mental stability when occupying an immature mind.”
“Cerviles develop faster,” the other said. “They also have a will that is much stronger than humans. Perhaps we could find more of them and breed them to use. The offspring could be trained to accept the appropriation thus cancelling out that will of theirs that insists on fighting.”
A hand slapped Kay on top of the head.
“Do you hea
r that, halfer? Why must you insist on fighting us?” the other mocked.
“Leave it alone,” the one said. “Are we going to try genetic manipulation or not?”
“I don’t see why not,” the other said. “But first, we each shutdown. We can take twenty minutes. That should be sufficient to recharge our faculties.”
“Alright, if you insist,” the one said.
Kay listened as they walked away, still talking and chatting as if she didn’t know they were about to try to rip her DNA apart after a twenty-minute nap.
The toe next to her big toe wiggled and she had to suppress a smile. They were giving her twenty unsupervised minutes. She could accomplish a lot in twenty minutes.
3
“Hippa wop wap,” the main warped Marine said as he banged on the lid of the med pod.
“Damn! Don’t do that!” Nordanski said as he covered his ears. “That shit echoes, man!”
The warped Marine shrugged. “Nga poo fap.”
“I’ll naga poo fap you,” Nordanski muttered as the med pod lid lifted. He stretched then winced. “What the hell? My shoulder is still messed up. How long was I in there?”
The warped Marine shrugged again then waved for Nordanski to follow.
“Yeah, yeah, let me get some clothes on first,” Nordanski said as he swung his legs over the side and stepped onto the cold floor.
Outside, he could hear the storm raging away. He could even feel the drop ship vibrating from the pounding winds. It must have gotten way worse since he laid down in the med pod. Nordanski moved to the wall and grabbed a uniform that hung there. He slipped it on and was very glad it fit. He’d once grabbed one of Kay’s uniforms by mistake and spent the day being laughed at while he constantly had to adjust his junk.
“What’s the deal?” Nordanski asked as the main warped Marine led him out of the med bay and into the lift just down the corridor. “Hey! You know what?”
The warped Marine raised his scarred brow.
“I need to give you a name,” Nordanski said. “I can’t just keep pointing and say Hey You.”
“Shick,” the warped Marine said as the lift began to ascend.
“Shick? You have a name?” Nordanski said.
The warped Marine narrowed his eyes.
“Yeah, yeah, of course you have a name,” Nordanski said and patted the behemoth on the arm. “My bad. Shick it is.”
“Shick,” Shick said, patting Nordanski on the arm and almost knocking him over.
The lift stopped and opened onto the bridge. Only a few of the warped Marines were there, which was almost too many considering how big they were. The bridge was packed to capacity.
Several scarred faces turned and looked at Nordanski with relief. Then they all pointed at the communications console. Two comm channels were flashing and indicating that incoming calls were competing for attention.
“Right, you guys can’t exactly answer those, can you?” Nordanski said. “Look out. Let me see what’s up.”
A seat was vacated and Nordanski took it. He checked the channels and knew right away which one to answer. The one coming from the Romper. The other was coming from the outpost, and Nordanski sure as hell didn’t trust that one. He figured it was whoever had sent the armored sentries to the shipyard. Which meant his teammates were either dead or in serious trouble if they lost control of the drop ship.
The call from the Romper it was.
“This is Nordanski,” Nordanski answered. “Rosch?”
“No, Private Nordanski, this is Teffurg,” Teffurg’s voice replied over the comm. “I am glad you answered.”
“Are you now? Well, great,” Nordanski replied. “What’s up, Teff?”
“You still reading that book on daffodils?” Teffurg asked.
“Oh, crap,” Nordanski said as he tried to remember the response phrase. “Uh…uh. Yes! I prefer roses to daffodils and wine to beer.”
“Oh, thank the Eight Million Gods,” Teffurg said. “It is actually you.”
“Was there a question?” Nordanski asked.
“I spoke with Chann earlier, but I do not believe it was Chann,” Teffurg said. “It was Chann’s comm signature, but it wasn’t him.”
“Stoo stoo wabble,” Shick said.
“Do bo happle ta?” Teffurg asked.
“Noga wat spabba!” Shick whooped.
The other warped Marines began to laugh and slap each other on the backs.
“Teff? Did you understand him?” Nordanski asked.
“Oh, yes, most definitely,” Teffurg said. “It is not an actual language, but a series of emotional word-like sounds used by a primitive race on a planet in the Gorf System. The words mean nothing. It’s the intent behind them that matters. That is why your translator is not working.”
“If you say so,” Nordanski said. “Uh, so what did Shick say?”
“Is that the gentleman’s name?” Teffurg asked.
“Yes, it’s his damn name,” Nordanski snapped. “What did he say?”
“Oh, that the robots can control victims’ speech patterns to trick allies into giving up information,” Teffurg said.
“You got all of that from stoo stoo wabble?” Nordanski asked.
“It’s in the inflection,” Teffurg said.
“That’s great, man. Just great,” Nordanski said. “Why are you calling? Things are really weird down here, so I need you to get to the point.”
“Right, yes, well I sent the list of generic parts we need, nothing special since I did not trust that the drop ship hadn’t been compromised, which it sounds like it has,” Teffurg said then paused. “Wait, what has happened to Chann? What did Shick mean by robots controlling him?”
“I’m not one hundred percent sure, but I think I have an idea,” Nordanski said. “That’s part of the weird. All I do know is I’m now hanging out with some mutant Marines that kick serious ass, and we just killed some armored dickheads that had stolen the drop ship and brought it to the buried shipyard.”
“You are at the shipyard?” Teffurg asked. “Oh, that is wonderful. I will send you the complete list of parts we need right now. If you can retrieve those and bring them up, then we can finish repairs on the Romper as soon as we are done cutting away the dead weight. Rosch and the bots are almost finished with that now.”
“I like your thinking, Teff,” Nordanski said. He checked a display and watched as close to a hundred items streamed by on the list. “Damn. That’s a lot of stuff.”
“Zal not gor,” Shick said and pushed Nordanski aside. His thick finger traced the items on the list then he nodded and stepped back to address the others. “Stij wotta wayha.”
The warped Marines all jumped up and hurried from the bridge. Nordanski was glad only a few of them were there since the lift couldn’t hold any more.
“What did he say?” Nordanski asked.
“He read off the list and told them to gather the parts immediately before the storm got worse,” Teffurg said.
“Worse? The ship is already rocking. If it gets worse, then we won’t be able to even attempt to take off,” Nordanski said.
Shick chuckled and slapped his own chest then pointed at the pilot’s seat. “Fa la ba fa.”
“He is a decorated pilot,” Teffurg said without Nordanski having to ask. “He can fly anything, at any time, in any conditions. You’ll be able to take off.”
“Sweet,” Nordanski said. “I guess all we have to do now is go back and rescue the others.”
Shick frowned and shook his head. “Dippa lull fup.”
“I have to agree,” Teffurg said. “Getting the parts up here first is priority so Rosch and I can get the repairs done while you return to the planet to fetch the others from the evil robots. Robots? Is that right?”
“Shy qel rat,” Shick said.
“Oh, AIs,” Teffurg said.
“Sippa lob,” Shick added.
“In flesh bodies? Oh… That’s much worse than robots,” Teffurg replied.
“Yeah, I’m
guessing it is,” Nordanski said. “How long until Rosch has the dead weight cut off and can start on the final repairs?”
“A couple of hours,” Teffurg said. “How long it takes to repair the Romper enough for us to travel through trans-space is a calculation that cannot be made yet until we see the status of the parts you bring.”
“Got it,” Nordanski said. He looked at Shick. “Can we get everything together in a couple of hours?”
“Hooga po,” Shick said and gave a thumbs up.
“He said—” Teffurg began.
“I understand thumb,” Nordanski interrupted. “I’m getting off now. Talk to you soon, Teff.”
“Be safe,” Teffurg replied.
“Will do,” Nordanski said then killed the comm.
His hand hesitated over the console then he killed the incoming call from the outpost as well. It may have been the wrong choice since maybe Manheim or one of the others was trying to call him. But he didn’t think that was the case. Not after seeing the sentries.
And with wild AIs running the planet, he couldn’t risk their hacking the drop ship via the comm.
“Hipda gak,” Shick said.
“Totally,” Nordanski replied. “You go get parts, I’m going to get more rest so my shoulder is ready to kick some robot ass.”
Shick nodded and they moved to the lift.
***
“Sergeant Manheim?” the AI said. “I have a few seconds. They are hunting for me, but I can block them for the time being.”
“Where are you?” Manheim thought. “Are you still on the drop ship? How can you communicate with me from up there?”
“No, I am not on the drop ship,” the AI said. “I made a…choice. In reality, the choice could get us both killed, but with some luck, we can work together and get all of us out of this situation.”
“Luck? An AI relying on luck. Huh,” Manheim thought. “Okay, if you aren’t on the drop ship, then where are you?”
“Inside you, Sergeant,” the AI said. “Not in your mind, but in your leg.”
“In my leg?” Manheim thought. “Seriously?”
