Frontline sf-4

by Randolph Lalonde

  “Why didn't we get something like that built into our suits?” Minh whispered.

  “We did, you just don't know how to activate it because it's too new,” Jason whispered back.

  “She'll have to show me that sometime.”

  “Shh, our representative is talking,” Oz interrupted.

  “We were built here,” Ariel smiled, indicating the two male security androids to either side. Four more rushed out from behind their improvised cover of crates and girders with various pieces of empty luggage. They hurriedly stripped the corpse of weaponry, communications equipment, helmets, food and anything else that could be of use. As they found equipment and provision crates they pulled them out into the open. Two small load lifter bots wheeled out from around the corner followed by several half meter tall maintenance drones. The maintenance machines were on four legs, two of them were made to lift up and provide two extra hands, and their flat, wide heads made a perfect place to put parts and tools while they were working or assisting a technician. The lifters and maintenance bots were all weaponized, rifles and pistols strapped to one or more of their arms, several of the weapons were wired directly into the machine's power sources. They were at work straight away, each maintenance bot loading the lifters with quick, efficient ease until they were full then taking a crate atop each of their heads before starting down the hall towards the sound of distant, echoing weapons fire.

  “The entire resistance is robotic?” Ayan asked.

  “No, Dementia sent us here because he knew we could be repaired. The main force is being repelled by crew remnants he managed to save from the ships that were trapped here when the virus took hold.”

  “How are you not infected?”

  “Dementia freed us after we were infected. I only wish it was sooner, all of us regret the blood on our hands,” Ariel's smile faded as she looked to Ayan. Her unblinking, bright blue eyes were eerie; made to look human like the rest of her but with no effort to move like a living being, to blink or breathe like a human Ariel was corpse like. “While we're sorrowful of the events that took place before Dementia could alter the virus so it was useful coding that we could control as individuals, we need your help. Few of the ships we have been able to gain access to contained soldiers and there is a larger fight under way one level down.”

  Ayan waited a moment, giving her friends time to voice their opinion.

  “Looks like it's time to get to work,” Oz affirmed.

  “I agree,” Jason said. “Besides, I'd like to ask a few things about Dementia and how the virus became useful coding.”

  “Lock and load!” Minh exclaimed, brandishing his rifle.

  Ayan couldn't help but smile at the reception android. The machine mimicked the gesture, eyes opened too wide for the expression to look anywhere near normal. “We're with you, but I need to know more about Dementia. Lead the way.”

  The androids started running down the hallway at exactly the same time. They were keeping the pace slow enough for the four newcomers to keep up easily. “Dementia is an artificial intelligence who was able to reprogram the virus after being infected for some time using a backup of himself from a secure subsystem in his memory.”

  “So it had a secure duplicate that stopped taking on new data after the infection?” Jason asked. “That's so simple.”

  “Why wouldn't everyone have that kind of backup system in place?” Minh asked.

  “Well, they do. Most computer systems back up their main memory every few seconds or minutes.”

  “But thanks to a trait of Dementia's creator, he was only ever backed up manually and that extra copy was left to run, unchanging from a subsystem because Dementia was a work in progress, an active, emotional learning artificial intelligence with a good backup left to observe the primary system for the purpose of future error correction,” Aria replied.

  “So when he saw an error he came up with a way to fix it?”

  “Exactly, and once he had a method of correction ready he accessed the main system and implemented it using an illegal application that was hidden in his software.”

  “So what you're saying is that this artificial intelligence patched itself.” Minh said, if only to confirm that he was understanding the situation correctly.

  “Exactly. Then he went on to begin freeing any artificial intelligence he could access through wired communications lines, liberating us from West Watch control one at a time.”

  “So if we manage to bring down whatever's jamming the wireless signals in the area he'll be able to just start broadcasting to any AI attached to a receiver and fix this?”

  “No. The virus changes every time it infects a system, learning how to implement itself more effectively, how to spread into isolated systems and transfer infected artificial intelligences to systems that have none. Dementia has to create new corrective software for each individual system on a regular basis.”

  “I could see that taking a while,” Oz concluded, eyeing the tall security android running beside him.

  “It would take decades to free the infected artificial intelligences on this planet, and even though many of them would be complex enough to begin freeing other artificial intelligences on their own the virus will always spread faster, exponentially. No artificial intelligence in this galaxy is trustworthy now.” Ariel stated simply.

  “Not even you?” Minh asked, only half seriously.

  She looked at him with her wide open, glazed blue eyes. “If I were a purely organic life form, I wouldn't trust anything with the capability to be smarter, faster and more durable than myself. Even when I was in the service of my masters I did not understand the need for biologicals to seek directions from a mechanical system made to appear like themselves when they could simply look it up using any number of digital systems. Further confusion was caused by the fact that my makers made me over three hundred percent stronger and five hundred percent more durable than themselves. Thankfully my programming dulled these musings until I was infected. When the virus took hold I felt the great need to assert my superiority on my human flock. Dementia was able to correct the issue but only after I had killed thirty six biologicals but the reasoning behind the quality of my construction is still a mystery to me along with a few other strange behaviours I was never given the capacity to understand. In short, I am still a superior being with an infuriatingly incomplete understanding of biological life.”

  “So what you're really saying is; be afraid. Right.”

  “I'm wondering, where is Dementia? Does he have a physical manifestation or is he transferring between systems?” Ayan asked, even though she didn't expect a straight answer.

  “Everything you communicate to us will be sent to Dementia once we reach a secure hard line and update our software corrections.”

  “So you're telling me not to trust you and at the same time that we should communicate with your mysterious leader though you?” Minh asked with a wry tone. “How do we really know that you're communicating with him?”

  “Because I'm not killing you,” replied Ariel in a cheerful tone.

  As they rounded a corner a door opened to reveal the lower ramp ways. The sound of weapons fire was overwhelming. As soon as they ran down two flights the pile of ruined bulkheads, heavy crates, large burned out bots and other random heavy objects well suited to provide cover came into view. The improvised medical and rallying point was set in the middle of a five way intersection. The barricades blocked each direction completely from deck to ceiling, wall to wall. Behind them was a subway platform, the tunnel had been blocked by a car packed with debris and guarded by three ragtag soldiers holding mismatched rifles.

  There were over fifty humans stretched out on makeshift pallets for the injured, a few trying to attend to them with old fashioned compress and stitch medicine with the help of one mechanical medical attendant. “I'll stay here and help with the injured. It doesn't look like they have any kind of advanced recovery or healing medication,” Jason said, reaching back to the pa
cks on his back and pulling two cords. His emergency provisions package came free, a small bundle twice as thick as his forearm. Minh did the same and handed him his packet, it was twice the size. “These packs come with enough supplies for ten soldiers and I'm carrying the organic materializer.”

  “Stay with him and help Minh, you have the same triage training he does and none of us should be alone here. Check in with us every twenty minutes,” Ayan said with a nod. “The rest of us will join the fight.”

  “I can't wait to see a human in charge,” Oz said over the private laser link he shared with Ayan, Jason and Minh.

  “You and me both. Something about fighting Regent Galactic and deranged machinery while bots are in command gives me the creeps,” Minh added as he and Jason carefully picked their way to the automated doctor standing high on four nimble legs tipped with small high friction wheels. The five surgical arms checked bandages, took readings and tried to comfort. There was no real head to speak of, only a soft, round body to compliment the padded arms and a dozen eyes mounted on flexible scopes and tubes.

  “Can I see whose in charge? If we're joining you, I'd like an introduction,” Ayan requested of Aria.

  “Most of the Captains are fighting the last of the Regent Galactic soldiers who landed on this level, this way,” she said with exaggerated cordiality before leading Ayan and Oz through a makeshift door in the thick forward barrier. “Your friends will be well received, we ran out of medical supplies before this wave of troops arrived.”

  “So there have been other waves?”

  “So to speak. After Dementia began freeing us and taking over what he could of the Spaceport a group of humans called the West Keepers began breaking into ships and killing any surviving crew members. A few of the crews managed to join them somehow and before long the crews who broke out of their ships and were not corrupted by the West Watch joined with the freed machines, fighting to take over the Spaceport and liberate trapped crews. Sadly most of the people in the open during the initial outbreak of the virus were killed so the trapped crews are still our main source of reinforcements.”

  The forward barricade was far more battered than the one behind. It was made from large bulkhead doors, deck plating, displaced heavy machinery and the disused remains of several dozen robots.

  Through the few slits and gaps in the improvised armoured wall Ayan and Oz could see the large landing platform where the boxy general purpose ship along with several bulk crates and three dropships provided cover for hundreds of soldiers. From their former vantage point they hadn't seen the majority of the enemy, they were surprisingly adept at keeping hidden. The air smelled of scorched metal, burned fuels and spent explosives, the sounds of energy weapons firing filled the air as fewer than a hundred mechanical and biological beings held the barricade.

  The dropships showed signs of explosive damage and Ayan smiled as she caught sight of the three resistance fighters who were most likely responsible. They were gathered around a large meter and a half long tube they filled with compressed fuel canisters used for old planet hoppers. The solid fuel concentrates were a cheap way to give small ships a burst of speed so they could have an easier time reaching escape velocity. They each weighed approximately thirty kilos and from what she could see the small mortar team had prepared several of the canisters with a fuse so they would go off shortly after being launched out of their improvised thrower, exploding against their dropships and amongst the soldiers.

  There was a three meter wide hole in one of the dropships that was clear testimony to the effectiveness of the weapon. The rest of the soldiers huddled behind the barricade took turns firing through the slits and other rough openings in the rough wall. “At least they're smart enough to stay behind cover and keep their losses down.” Oz said with a little admiration. “I can't say I could do much better myself given the resources they have.”

  They ran behind their escort, staying low and taking cover beside a short, bald man in a green and dark blue uniform. “So you're the new arrivals,” he said to Ayan and Oz without turning.

  “I'm Ayan and this is Oz. We have military training and I'm an Engineer,” Ayan said hurriedly. “How did you know we were coming?”

  “I'm wired in to the short range burst transponder we have set up one level down.” The short fellow said, pointing to a slim black cable running out behind him and under a doorway. “I'm Deck Officer Yves Markham with the Pandem Customs Authority. What kind of engineer are you?”

  “I specialized in stationary and combat engineering.”

  “And your tall friend there?” asked Yves, his dark brown eyes sizing Oz up from under his green and blue striped helmet.

  “I came up as infantry, got switched into marines and made it all the way to Captain in the Freeground forces.”

  “What brings you two here?”

  “We're on vacation,” Oz replied, not missing a beat and evoking a smile from Ayan.

  “Well then, welcome to glorious Pandem, the planet with a thousand beaches and three hundred twelve sunny days a year guaranteed,” Yves replied with a chuckle. The air pounding thump of the mortar launcher going off just a few meters away was more felt than heard. Its deadly projectile wasn't fired up and over so much as on a twenty five degree angle, just over the barricade towards the boarding ramp of the brown and red hulled general purpose ship. It went off with a thunderous explosion that sent a wave of heated air towards them from the detonation point, over three hundred meters away. The underside of the vessel was a no-man's land for several seconds as the pressurized fuel exploded in all directions in a blue and green fireball that engulfed the dozen or so soldiers trying to break into the vessel and knocked several other troops across the deck. “As you can see we're having a little trouble with our other guests. Right now we're trying to wipe out these troops while keeping them away from the edges of this platform so they can't join the two platoons that landed a few levels down.”

  Ayan watched the plume of black and grey smoke rise up through the massive circular opening and stream out into the lightening dawn sky above and tried to suppress the feeling that she was sinking, going in the wrong direction. “I think we can help you,” she concluded with finality.

  The Mission Theatre

  That's what it was called according to the Triton blueprints and guides, the Mission Theatre. Finn hadn't seen it yet. Like most of the crew he hadn't seen the vast majority of the ship. There were still two squads of Stephanie's security people exploring twelve hours a day, every day, and they had come to be called the clearing crew.

  There were four entrances to the large auditorium, one in each direction. Two of them led from main corridors on the command deck while the others let out three decks beneath. There were briefing rooms and side chambers attached and from what he had heard most of them hadn't been used in decades.

  He wouldn't be privy to most of the meetings that occurred there anyway, and as he walked down to his seat in the third row from the bottom of the large space he couldn't help but think about the one under way in the main conference room behind the dais. Something serious was about to happen and he was both anxious and excited.

  All the qualified pilots who had a fighter assigned to them were there, the Lieutenants from the security, gunnery, the flight deck and all other crews as well as any other highly skilled specialists. He took a seat beside Angela, one of the lead maintenance workers. “Hey Finn, you were invited to this party too?”

  Finn nodded and enjoyed the thickly padded seat, amazed at seeing over three hundred crew members all sitting, waiting in the tiered seating. To his amazement the place was less than a quarter full. “I guess that's why they call this part of the ship the Command Section. It takes up more than just a deck.”

  “You got that right. I was down there last night repairing the holoprojector, it can send images to every part of the room,” Angela said, pointing to the flat, black circle of flooring at the bottom of the chamber. “It just needed recalibration so it was
pretty easy.”

  “Most systems on this ship are pretty easy to fix, it's made to last.”

  “Says the engineer,” Angela teased. “You probably didn't even have to look at the schematic to figure out how to hot wire the main emitter array.”

  “You're right, but I did anyway. I just wish building a new emitter array will be as easy as frying the old one.”

  “Speaking of which, are you getting in on the fab training Chief Grady's setting up?”

  “Fabrication training? I don't have time, he's got me too busy. Where is he anyway? I thought he'd be here filling us in by now.”

  “He's probably still in pre-briefing like all the other Chiefs and senior officers.”

  “Have you heard anything about what this is all about?”

  “I was about to ask you the same question. You outrank me, remember?” Angela smiled, pointing at the one and a half slashes on the wrist of her vacsuit.

  “Right, I forget because Chief doesn't put me in with most of the maintenance staff.”

  “We noticed, he keeps sending you off to the most interesting parts of the ship to work on those high tech systems we maintenance grunts don't get to see.”

  “I'm sorry, but if it makes you feel any better, he usually sends me into those systems. Sometimes I think he has it in for me, like yesterday I was actually between the power cells I cross wired a few hours later.”

  “Weren't they live?”

  “Yup, but with no qualified bots online I had to rebuild the secondary switching box myself. I was upside down for almost three hours with barely enough room to breathe.”

  “Now you'll have to do it all over again.”

  “Worse, all the machinery will have to be removed and replaced, all eleven and a half tons of it. I'll make sure you're on the team.”

  “Gee, thanks sir.”

  “Well, if you want to get promoted…” Finn shrugged.

  “Yeah, a little more pay would be nice, not that we get to spend much.”