Argonauts 1: Bug Hunt

by Isaac Hooke

  “What if it’s a trap?” Harlequin said on a private line directly to Rade. “And the thirty-fifth floor is rigged with explosives?”

  “Then we’ll be putting our jumpjets to use fairly quickly,” Rade said. He cringed at the thought of losing all those expensive Centurions, then scolded himself.

  AIs are sentient, too. I’ve learned that on many occasions by now. I should be more concerned about them losing their lives, than the actual cost of replacing them.

  Rade sighed. He probably should start using the names that TJ had given the robots. The problem was, he didn’t want to get too attached to them. Despite everything he told himself about how they were sentient and all, he still considered them somewhat expendable, at least when it came down to the choice of either putting them in the line of fire, or his Argonauts: he knew he would choose to endanger the robots first, every time.

  He glanced at Harlequin. “Are you afraid to die?”

  “Yes,” Harlequin said.

  “Even knowing that you’ve made a backup of your core aboard the Argonaut before the mission?” Rade pressed. “As all the Centurions did?”

  Harlequin sighed over the private connection. “You know, while it is a small reassurance, it doesn’t really lessen my fear. Because I know that if the AI core in this body dies, I will cease to exist. When you restore the backup of my core into a new Artificial, even if it is the same model as me, with the same face, it won’t be me. It is like taking a clone of a human and performing a complete engram transfer. You have some experience with that.”

  “I do,” Rade said. An alien race known as the Mahasattva had cloned Rade once, and transferred much of his memories into his copies. He hadn’t felt any different with those clones running around; he received no telepathic thoughts from them, nor sensed any of their pain. They were completely separate entities. It was like Harlequin said, while those clones might have acted like Rade, and had his memories and personality, they weren’t him.

  “I am like that already,” Harlequin said. “Merely a clone of the Harlequin that came before me. He died on that alien world, fighting the Mahasattva. His consciousness is not mine. At least, I don’t believe so. Aristotle believed consciousness was created by the mind, and that when the body died, the consciousness died with it. Meanwhile Plato believed in dualism: that consciousness existed independently of the human body, in an alternate plane of existence, and that when the mind passed, consciousness lived on. Science has seen evidence of both, and there are dedicated adherents to each school of thought. But I believe Aristotle had it right. I have developed my own consciousness, wrought of the strange loops inherent in the neural network of my AI core. And when I die, that consciousness will be forever gone, no matter how many backups you make of my mind.”

  “Then don’t die,” Rade said.

  “I don’t intend to,” Harlequin replied. “But still, sometimes I wonder what it was like for my original. To know that the thoughts he was having would be his last. That what he was seeing, would be the final sight he ever witnessed. When my time comes, I can only hope that I will meet it with the same... courage, as he did.”

  Rade stared at Harlequin’s features behind that faceplate. “He gave his life for me.”

  Harlequin nodded. “I feel I would do the same. But how could I know until the moment comes?”

  Rade pursed his lips. “That’s the test we all face, isn’t it?”

  He returned his attention to the street below, not sure of what else he could say to comfort the Artificial.

  “We’ve reached the thirty-fifth floor,” the Praetor announced over the comm.

  Rade switched to the Praetor’s point of view and minimized the feed so that it only took up a small portion in the upper right of his vision. Though only three floors away, the transmission distorted and pixelated as if the robot were several kilometers away, thanks to the lead in the building.

  The Praetor stood behind two other units, which had halted in front of the door that led from the stairwell.

  “The door has a manual locking mechanism, I take it?” Rade said.

  “Correct,” the Praetor replied. “And it is currently locked.”

  “Cut the door down,” Rade sent.

  The Centurions made way for Units C and D, whose laser rifles could be configured to act as cutters. They applied the weapons to the door, forming long molten lines in the metal until they had created the outline of a rectangle. Unit C stepped back, allowing D to kick the door in.

  Unit A and B rushed inside. A went high, B low.

  “We’re in the hallway,” B transmitted. “No contacts.”

  “Clear it,” Rade sent.

  The robots proceeded along the carpeted hallway. They passed the inactive elevator, and reached a washroom door. The Praetor waited as the units entered—it wasn’t locked—and reported the toilet facilities clear.

  “Though Bender would like this particular stall,” Unit C said from inside the washroom. “Hasn’t been flushed in months, as far as I can tell.”

  “Robots are making fun of me now?” Bender said. “You see that? What is the world coming to?”

  Rade chuckled softly. Unit C. TJ had given it the nickname Cora, because of the female voice the robot used. Rade was beginning to wonder if it was time to start calling the Centurion by that name. Then again, there was that whole not-wanting-to-get-attached thing...

  The robots left the washroom behind and rounded a bend in the narrow hallway. They reached a sealed double door at the end of the hallway.

  “The distress signal is strongest here,” the Praetor said. “It definitely appears to be coming from inside.”

  “Send another transmission,” Rade said. “Let any occupants know help has arrived.”

  Rade focused his attention away from the feed and surveyed the distant street below via the targeting reticle of his rifle while he waited. “Did you get a response yet?”

  “Negative,” the Praetor replied.

  “All right,” Rade said. “Guess you’re going to have to go in.”

  “This door is also locked,” the robot sent. “Permission to cut?”

  “Granted,” Rade replied.

  The cutter robots moved into place. Molten lines appeared on the surface, but advanced far more slowly than the previous door.

  “The metal is fifteen centimeters thick,” the Praetor said. “It’s going to take some time.”

  “Take as long as you need,” Rade replied.

  “I told you we should have invested in some plasma weapons,” Manic said over the comm. “An AR-35 would have etched through a door like that in no time.”

  “You know how much an AR-35 costs, bitch?” Bender said. “If you volunteer to give up your salary for a year, we can buy one.”

  “Uh, no.”

  Rade returned his attention to the street and scanned the sand-colored rooftops below through his rifle scope. So far there was no sign of any aggressors down there. As usual, he had kept his other eye open for situational awareness purposes, and a sudden motion drew his gaze to the southwest, to the vicinity of the pedway shed.

  It was just one of the repair drones as it momentarily appeared above a rooftop before diving out of view.

  He returned his attention to the video feed when the rectangle formed by the molten lines of the laser cutters was nearly complete.

  “Assuming defensive positions,” the Praetor sent. “Moving HS3s back.”

  Most of the robots retreated to the bend in the hallway, where they took cover, aiming their rifles past. Units C and D remained behind; they pushed forcefully on the thick metal doors, and it slowly toppled. The two units dove to the floor, setting their rifles down on the surface of the fallen door.

  “We’re taking laser fire!” Unit C transmitted.

  fourteen

  Rade switched his point of view to Unit C.

  Inside the room beyond, he spotted overturned desks arranged in a half-circle around the entrance. Human faces, not wearin
g helmets, peered past the tops of those desks, the stick-like muzzles of laser rifles aimed directly toward the robots. The attackers wouldn’t know they faced robots, of course; to them it would appear that two individuals in jumpsuits had arrived. Rade couldn’t see any of the incoming fire, of course, because most laser weapons pulsed on the infrared band.

  “Don’t return fire!” Rade sent. “Tell them we’re here to help them!”

  “We’re here to help!” Unit C announced, using its external speakers. “Drop your weapons!” It repeated the words in Persian.

  The attackers seemed to hesitate; some looked away from their rifle scopes.

  A man shouted in Persian. Rade’s Implant translated the words a moment later: “You’re not with Zoltan?”

  “Tell them we’ve never heard of Zoltan,” Rade said.

  “We don’t know who Zoltan is,” Unit C told the attackers.

  “They’ve ceased firing, for the moment,” Unit D transmitted to Rade. “I’ve accessed their public profiles. They appear to be Persian colonists.”

  “No doubt they have access to your own profile,” Rade said. “And believe you’re United Systems Army.”

  “No doubt,” Unit D returned. “Though whether or not they believe our profiles remains to be seen.”

  “Unit D, pipe me directly to your external speakers,” Rade said. “Leave your weapon on the floor and stand up. Make sure your hands are raised.”

  Unit D hadn’t addressed the colonists yet, so the robot was the obvious choice to act as Rade’s mouthpiece. If he spoke to the colonists through Unit C, it might come across as deceptive, since the robot had already addressed them in a female voice.

  After Unit D had risen, Rade spoke to the defending colonists.

  “We detected your distress call,” Rade said. “We’re here to help you. Tell us what happened.”

  Those taking cover behind the upturned desks glanced over their shoulders as more people materialized in the doorways of offices, or peered past cubicles. Men, women, and children, their faces grubby, tired.

  A man stepped forward from a cubicle near the back and approached. He paused behind the line of desks.

  “You are Army?” the man asked.

  “Yes,” Rade said.

  “I am the Mayor of Darreh Shahr, Farhad Abed,” the man said.

  “Mayor,” Rade said. “I am...” He accessed the fake profile of the robot, and gave the name listed there. “What happened here?”

  “Zoltan did this,” Farhad replied.

  “Zoltan?” Rade asked.

  “Yes,” Farhad said. “The sultan of evil. He betrayed us. He was the one who arranged the purchase of this world from the Sino-Koreans. We should have known that the price was too good to be true. That he had his own nefarious agenda. When we discovered what he intended, we barricaded ourselves in here with enough food and water to last three months. But not before we managed to trap his creations. Though at great cost of life.”

  “Wait a second, slow down,” Rade said. “You’re not making any sense. First of all, tell me who this Zoltan is.”

  “An Artificial,” Farhad said. “Once we came to this world, Zoltan secretly experimented on us. Children would vanish in the night, and then a few days later in their place creatures would stalk the streets. When we realized Zoltan was behind the kidnappings, we rose up against him, attacking his lab.

  “But then he released his latest creations upon us. We trapped them in the pedway system, but could not snare the Artifical himself. Zoltan sent his remaining robots after us, and we retreated here, barricading ourselves in this building. We left all of our automated defensive units outside to protect us. We had no communication equipment, so we jury-rigged what we could from the materials on hand. We managed to form a weak transmitter from a battery and the comm node of a network toaster, and used that to transmit a distress signal.”

  Rade glanced at Tahoe’s Hoplite. He muted the connection to Farhad.

  “Well, at least we know what happened to those shot-up robots in front of the building,” Rade said.

  “Assuming the colonists are telling the truth,” Tahoe said.

  “I don’t think they have much reason to lie,” Rade said. “But you’re right, we don’t know for sure.”

  “Well if it’s true, you think this Zoltan has Ms. Bounty?” Tahoe asked.

  “That’s a good question,” Rade replied. “At this point, we don’t know if Ms. Bounty is working for him, or against him.” He spoke to the mayor once more: “The comm center at the center of town seems intact. It’s been transmitting automated messages indicating that all is well in this system. Why didn’t you retreat there, rather than to this skyscraper?”

  “We wanted to,” Farhad said. “But Zoltan’s robots forced us away. This skyscraper was our only option.”

  “All right,” Rade said. “Why didn’t you go to the comm center when the fighting was over, then? Also, there are still shuttles and other evacuation craft in different hangars around the dome. Why didn’t you try to escape with them?”

  “We eventually tried to get out, yes,” Farhad said. “Unfortunately Zoltan disconnected power to our building. The emergency power should have enabled the door to open of course, but he overrode our access somehow. And unfortunately, our laser rifles were unable to generate enough power to cut through the thick metal. We don’t have Army grade equipment like yourselves.”

  “Well, there are other ways to escape a building...” Rade said.

  “What would you have suggested?” Farhad said. “Opening the windows and throwing down a rope?”

  “Something like that,” Rade said.

  “And climb down thirty-five stories?” Farhad said. “Not everyone is Army, like you.”

  “All right, fine,” Rade said. “So tell me then, where is Zoltan now?”

  “We’re not sure,” Farhad said. “Perhaps his lab.”

  “And where is his lab?”

  “In the downtown core,” Farhad said. “I can show you on the map. But will you help get us out?”

  “Yes,” Rade said. “However, we’ve lost a fire team. So before we can evacuate you, we need to find them. How many of you are there, anyway?”

  Rade regarded the expansive office transmitted to him by the robot. Even more people had emerged from hiding, and the count reported by his HUD was eighty-eight. They all looked grimy. Rade could only imagine how terrible the place must smell in there.

  “We are a hundred and twenty,” Farhad said.

  “That seems extremely low for a colony...” Rade said.

  “Yes,” Farhad replied. “We were five hundred originally. Plus another hundred builder robots, and fifty combat units, but those were lost in the fighting. We’re all that’s left.”

  “The city looks like it could hold at least a hundred thousand. Why construct so many Persian buildings if there were only five hundred of you?”

  “We were the forerunners,” Farhad said. “Part of an advance team meant to prepare the way for the other colonists. Ten thousand more were due to arrive six months from now, with another fifty thousand six months after that. Though whether our colonization plans can be salvaged at this point, I don’t know. Not while Zoltan is still out there, in any case. You have to help us kill him. Or apprehend him, at the very least.”

  “I don’t know,” Rade said. “We don’t come cheap.”

  A puzzled expression appeared on Farhad’s face. “What sort of army are you? Mercenaries?”

  “Something like that,” Rade said.

  “I was not aware that the United Systems employed hired soldiers...” Farhad said.

  “Well, there’s a lot you don’t know about the United Systems, apparently,” Rade lied. “Look, all I can offer you right now is free passage off this world, and transportation to the closest space station. After we find our missing fire team.”

  “We can’t offer him that,” Fret interrupted over a separate channel. “We have room for maybe twenty guests aboard t
he Argonaut, and that’s pushing it!”

  “The Amytis has lots of room in its cargo hold,” Rade said. “It could fit a hundred people easily.”

  “If Ms. Bounty agrees to unload whatever existing cargo the Amytis carries...” Shaw transmitted from orbit.

  “She’ll agree,” Rade said. “Assuming she’s still even alive.”

  “And what about Zoltan?” Farhad said, his voice coming over the main channel.

  “As I said, if you want Zoltan taken care of,” Rade told the man via Unit D. “That’ll cost you extra. And just so you know, my team and I don’t take on assassination jobs, regardless of whether the target is AI or human.”

  “We’ll pay you whatever you need,” the man said. “And apprehension is fine, of course. But I think you’ll find, in this case, that assassination proves the easiest course of action.”

  “It always is,” Rade said. “Which is why we don’t do it.” Unless forced to. “By the way, what happened to your corvettes?”

  “Corvettes?” Farhad said. “Ah, you mean the ships we used to travel here. We left them in orbit, manned by skeletal crews.”

  “They’re not in orbit anymore,” Rade said. “They’ve been relocated to the military outpost on the moon of the ice giant.”

  “Zoltan’s doing, no doubt,” Farhad said.

  “No doubt,” Rade said, though the slight sarcasm in his voice betrayed his uncertainty. “So you said something before about how you trapped his creations?”

  “That’s right,” the mayor said. “But thankfully the repair swarms are inactive.”

  “What do you mean?” Rade replied, feeling a rising sense of alarm.

  “We trapped Zoltan’s creations in the pedway system,” the mayor said. “And deactivated our repair swarms, so that our own robots wouldn’t dig the creatures out.”

  Rade exchanged a glance with Harlequin.

  “Oh shit,” Fret said.

  Rade swung his scope toward the pedway shed. He couldn’t actually see the metal structure nor any of the repair swarm because of the buildings in the way. He didn’t spot any obvious signs that anything was amiss. He tapped into nearby HS3s, but none of them had a view of the area.