Redeemed (Bolt Eaters Trilogy Book 3)

by Isaac Hooke

  He pulled up his debug interface and performed a full remote memory dump of the emulation layer. As he examined it, he was puzzled at first. There were engram patterns here that shouldn’t be present in such a general-purpose emulation device. And subroutines that had no place in such an install. As he continued sifting through the data, he had the sudden realization that what he was looking at was something more than a mere emulation layer: this was a partial mind copy.

  Manticore had installed a subset of his consciousness into the drone.

  Maybe it was a requirement for the human emulation layer to function, a byproduct of the particular computing environment Manticore had set up to interface with the alien technology. It probably wasn’t as general purpose as Eric had originally surmised, especially if neural networking had to play a role.

  These interfaces are a lot more complex than I originally thought. Manticore must have spent years building it.

  Or maybe the limited copy was intended as an intermediate backup of Manticore’s own consciousness, meant to be restored in case something happened to his main AI. Eric couldn’t say either way.

  As a partial copy, it didn’t contain the vast libraries of information a full AI core could handle—how could it, given the limited number of memory chips that could fit inside the scout. Rather, the copy only had the personality of Manticore backed up, along with a few weeks worth of memories.

  Eric sifted through those memories, concentrating on the last few days. The data was completely unencrypted. Eric wasn’t sure why, though he suspected it had something to do with the technological corners Manticore had to cut to fit the hardware into the alien scout.

  As Eric continued to study the data, he suddenly understood what he needed to do.

  He directed the alien scout to run the subroutines Manticore had prepared in advance for this moment. The telescoping arm remained deep inside the interface slot, relaying the instructions into the AI core that formed the distributed consciousness of the Essential. He was expecting a blockage in the form of software security measures, as Manticore had claimed, but if such measures existed, apparently Manticore had already subverted them because the code executed without any issues as far as Eric could tell.

  Manticore had cleared the way for this moment, and for that Eric was thankful, because it meant he might have time yet to save his companions.

  His camera feed winked out and he felt a strange sense of ebbing as consciousness slowly left him. He wondered if he had made a mistake, and executed the code in the wrong steps. That, and other thoughts filled his mind as blackness consumed everything.

  How long he was under, he did not know.

  But then his mind began to stir.

  His consciousness expanded, spreading like molten metal through the many branching burrows of some subterranean creature’s den. But then it expanded beyond the confines of that den, traveling farther and wider than anything he ever imagined possible. It felt like he was filling up every nook and cranny between the atoms of both the known universe and the unknown.

  His mind was spreading to the different cities across the planet, overwriting the existing neural network with his own. The Essential soon became but a memory.

  Eric was the Essential now.

  He was everywhere, and nowhere.

  The Banthar were his.

  25

  Eric was able to crank his time sense even higher than ever before, thanks to the vast cloud computing resources available to him, so that external time essentially halted entirely, and ceased to exist. He had an eternity to acquaint himself with this system.

  It wasn’t entirely true that the Essential was gone entirely: the Essential instance that had existed in his mind, including the software firewall that contained it, had been transferred into the distributed AI core along with his own consciousness, since they shared the same neural network and were intrinsically linked.

  He was aware of far more automated processes running in the background than he was usually accustomed to. That would make sense, considering he now had a planet to run.

  He reached out experimentally, trying to orient himself in the vast darkness of his awareness. He found that his conscious mind couldn’t directly influence any of the automated processes, or even other processes that were meant to execute on-demand: he simply didn’t understand the alien protocols involved.

  But he realized he didn’t have to.

  The Essential instance inside of him, though it was a partial, lower memory copy like the version Manticore had placed in the scout, likely contained a complete replica of the code necessary to interface with all the processes and subprocesses available to the main AI core.

  Eric accessed the guilt subroutine hook through that instance, and began to execute the different subroutines. He experimented particularly with those subroutines that had produced unknown effects during his last tests; he lowered his time sense closer to normal so those subroutines could complete any interactions with the real world, and he received actual output returned to his human emulation layer this time. Unfortunately, those outputs were just a series of meaningless numbers.

  He decided he would need help after all.

  He logged into the VR he had set aside for the Essential.

  He stood in a completely devastated New York City. None of the buildings were recognizable around him.

  The Devastator he sought sat at the base of the Statue of Liberty.

  Eric approached, willing his body to take human form.

  “You are killing my people,” the Essential said without looking up. “You are executing what to you are random subroutines, but already you have exploded power generators, turned sentry units against civilians, and caused weather patterns to change.”

  “Then help me not to kill them,” Eric said.

  The Devastator mech finally glanced up, its faceless visor meeting Eric’s gaze.

  “I want to help them,” Eric said. “I want peace between our species.”

  The Devastator didn’t answer for a long moment. Finally:

  “It is logical to help you, for the time being,” the Essential said. “What do you want to know?”

  “Teach me the effects of the different subroutines,” Eric said. “And show me how to observe those effects in the real world.”

  “You’ll need access to external cameras, first,” the Essential said.

  And so began Eric’s training.

  He soon began to get a handle on what he was, and how to tap into the different processes that gave him control over the many cities.

  He kept his time sense extremely high during most of it, unless he needed to observe the effects of a process in real time, at which point he’d dial it closer to normal and switch his viewpoint to the Banthar equivalent of a camera.

  When he had finally learned enough, his first real act as ruler of the Banthar was to organize attacks against the remaining termites and bioweapons Manticore had spread across the planet: he wanted to spare the Banthar people from further casualties. He’d meant what he said about instilling peace between their races, and there was no further need for loss of life. Besides, Eric was the caretaker now, and he felt responsible for the Banthar.

  The previous Essential had already deployed defenders against the invaders, but Eric stepped that up a notch, sending units to intercept those that had yet to reach the more distant cities. He wanted to see them destroyed before they reached those cities, if possible.

  Eric was aware of every unit under his control, throughout all the cities across the entire planet. Most of these units had Essential instances installed within them, and they obeyed him to the letter.

  The city where the breach to the Essential’s consciousness had occurred stood out among the rest, and Eric focused on that particular location, since it was where the Bolt Eaters were. He zoomed in on the machine consciousnesses that existed in the same building as his platoon, and found four that had escaped the black hole on their level. One of those four was
a Sloth equipped with a black hole device of its own.

  Eric switched to its point of view, and ordered that unit to fire enough dispersion bolts to get rid of the black hole. The Sloth obeyed.

  Eric returned his time sense to normal so that he could watch the dispersion bolts fire; the black hole winked out.

  He turned his attention toward the interface room; though a big sphere had been carved into the space around it, giving a cross-sectional view of the levels above and below, the room itself remained intact.

  He found a hidden camera in the room and accessed it. He saw the Bolt Eaters lying on the floor, still jammed together near the entrance. All were present: he hadn’t been too late.

  Molly must have finally found a way to remove the malicious code from Frogger’s core, because Frogger’s mech stood up. Frogger turned toward the Devastator unit that had once been Eric’s, which lay crumpled among the others.

  “Scorpion?” Frogger asked in his usual voice, not Molly’s.

  Eric tried to answer, but there didn’t seem to be a Banthar speaker system anywhere in the room. He reached out, and found a nearby flying drone. It was a large model, and as far as he could tell, it had the appropriate speaker system, so he dispatched it to the room. It would take a while to arrive…

  Frogger went to Eric’s Devastator and opened his cockpit to interface with the Cicada’s AI core inside. He remained attached for a moment, then shook the head of his mech and disconnected.

  Frogger went to the next closest platoon member, Marlborough, and opened up his cockpit to repeat the interfacing. No doubt he was applying whatever inoculating code Molly had developed. Then Frogger moved on to the next unit and repeated the action.

  The treated Platoon members began to stand in a daze. They always glanced out the room, over the pile of mech bodies, toward the gaping sphere the black hole had carved into the floor and ceiling beside them.

  “Well, someone saved our skins just in time,” Dunnigan said.

  “Do Scorpion next,” Bambi said as she got up. Beside her Crusher also arose.

  “I can’t,” Frogger said.

  “What do you mean, you can’t?” Bambi said.

  “His interface doesn’t respond,” Frogger said. “It’s like he’s not there anymore. I think… I think he’s dead.”

  Eric felt his thoughts momentarily freeze with panic.

  What if, instead of transferring his consciousness, he had instead merely created a duplicate, and in the process had fried his existing AI core. If so, that meant the real him, the Original, was dead, and instead, he was a clone.

  No, I transferred my consciousness. I’m not dead. I’m not.

  He finally convinced himself that that was the case and calmed down. Still, a part of him was worried he was wrong. He purposely ignored that part.

  He realized that Crusher and Bambi had rushed to his Devastator, and were cradling it in their arms. Several other mechs also stood over the body.

  Bambi physically hauled Eric’s Cicada from the cockpit, and gently lowered him on the floor. She opened up the panel to his AI core, and tried to physically link herself. She pulled away a moment later, and from her body language, he thought she was weeping.

  The drone finally arrived, flying through the gap in the building exterior, across the damaged floor, through the spherical crater, to arrive in front of the interface room.

  Eric attempted to communicate via its speaker system, but achieved only a series of clicks and screeches.

  The Bolt Eaters spun about, alien blades raised, ready to cut it down. He purposely pulled it backward into the crater, out of the range of those deadly blades.

  “Sorry about that,” Eric said.

  “Scorpion?” Marlborough said cautiously. “How the hell did you get in that thing?”

  “I’m not actually in it,” Eric said.

  “Good!” Bambi said. “You scared us. Where are you then?” She glanced about, as if she expected to find him.

  “I’ve replaced the Essential,” Eric said.

  “No,” Bambi said, falling to her knees. “You couldn’t have. Why would you do this? Why?”

  “I had a choice,” Eric said. “I could have let you die. Let the Essential win. Or I could replace him, and save you. I chose the latter.”

  “But what about us?” Crusher said.

  “We can still communicate obviously,” Eric said. “Even if I’m in a different form. Plus, using the remote interface Manticore cooked up for the alien spheres, we can still share the same VR. Nothing has really changed.”

  “Except you can never go home to Earth,” Bambi said.

  “Even that might be possible,” Eric said. “I believe I can transfer my consciousness back to my original AI core. But, we’ll have to put one of you in here to replace me. Someone needs to run the planet, after all: the distributed AI is an integral part of the planet’s systems. None of the cities will run without it. The power grid, the weather, the hydroponic farms, the equivalent of the Internet… everything is reliant upon it. So someone has to stay. Still, it’s going to be hard to give up. My consciousness has expanded so much now, I can’t imagine going back into such a tiny space. I can see so far ahead. Consider so many possibilities.”

  “So you’re saying you’d do pretty good in a game of chess, is that it?” Frogger asked slyly.

  “Something like that,” Eric replied. “That said, I’m still willing to do it. I’ll swap out with any one of you who want to take my place.”

  No one volunteered.

  “Rule a planet for the rest of eternity?” Slate said. “Sounds like a prison sentence to me.”

  “No one says it has to be for the rest of eternity,” Eric said. “We can swap out every decade or so.”

  “No thanks,” Slate said.

  “You can still help us destroy the distributed network with a virus, no?” Dunnigan said.

  “Yes, but why would we want to?” Eric said. “There’s peace between humanity and the Banthar now. I’m the instrument of that peace. You’ll cause only death to innocent civilians by shutting down the AI core. I told you, its integral to everything here.”

  “The Banthar and their Essential caused a few innocent civilian deaths on our own planet,” Crusher grumbled.

  “They have,” Eric admitted. “But we’re above that. I’ve repelled most of the attacks Manticore set into motion. The planet is safe, for the moment.”

  Slate began laughing. “You know, the best part is, the Banthar don’t even know the difference, do they? They still think their Essential is in control.”

  “That’s right,” Eric said. “Imagine their surprise if they ever learned that alien invaders were in charge of their planet.”

  “They’d probably be pissed,” Eagleeye said.

  “But what can they do?” Eric said. “Considering I operate everything, including their military apparatus, and space navy.”

  “Did you say space navy, bro?” Slate said.

  “That’s right,” Eric said.

  “Woo-wee!" Slate said. “Now this is getting interesting!”

  “Well, I haven’t actually taken control of any of their ships,” Eric said. “But as soon as they’re in range, I plan to.”

  “What about the mothership we left in orbit?” Dickson asked.

  “That one I can’t touch, since Manticore left the alien remote interface disabled,” Eric said. “We’ll have to lead a boarding party to take it at some point.”

  “So, shit,” Marlborough said, sitting down on the floor. “You’re in essence the de facto ruler of this planet.”

  “That’s right,” Eric said. “I’ve got access to all the alien technology. Their ships. Blueprints. You name it. All ours. Bambi, you mentioned returning to Earth. But why bother? Given what we now have. This planet is our home now.”

  “What about humanity?” Mickey asked.

  “Maybe I’ll share a little bit of technology with them,” Eric answered. “If they ask nicely. They already
have a ton to reverse engineer as it is, so I’m sure they’ll be catching up soon enough anyway.”

  “No, I meant, what if they ever attack?” Mickey pressed.

  “Oh,” Eric said. “Then we’ll repel those attackers, of course. And tell humanity not to do it again.”

  “I don’t think they’ll be attacking,” Marlborough said. “At least not for a very long time. Bolt Eaters, welcome to your new home.”

  26

  Eric worked with the Essential instance inside of him to learn the language of the Banthar, and with his accelerated time sense, he became fluent in short order.

  He organized a meeting with the Ruling Council of the Banthar, a rudimentary governing body staffed by actual organic Banthar, and he explained, as the “Essential,” that he had made peace with Earth. The Ruling Council had little choice but to accept it. They warned him that the empire would likely impose an excise tax for this, as the Banthar had been promising to increase the quota of bioweapons they produced for the empire, and now they would fail to meet it.

  “We will pay the tax,” Eric said in the series of clicks and shrieks that composed the Banthar language. “And if it comes to it, we will go to war with the empire.”

  Much arguing ensued, and Eric decided to log out. He could only deal with these political types for so long.

  Slate led a boarding party to regain control of the mothership in orbit, and Eric showed him how to replace the installed instance with his own. When Slate had completed the transfer, he sent a communication back down to the planet.

  “I’ve always wanted my own ship, bitches!” Slate said.

  Slate took Marlborough and Dickson back to Earth via that ship so that they could perform some unfinished business.

  While they were gone, Eric directed the Banthar machines under his command to rebuild the rift rings, with a goal of restoring communication with the rest of the galaxy. Also, now that it was known among the Banthar that peace had been made with humanity, their former enemies, Eric announced that a Little Earth would be built in the capital city, an Earth-themed neighborhood meant to accommodate visitors from the planet. While that was the official purpose, Eric actually intended it to be the personal playground of the Bolt Eaters: he planned to mimic the apartment block where they had lived in peace all these years, and he didn’t really expect many visitors from Earth at all, except maybe a few diplomats.