by Matt Verish
Complacency. Laziness suggests apathy or indifference. You already proved such emotions to the contrary. I have reasons to believe CAIN may be taking for granted the ability to overcome what it deems inferior AI.
“These reasons are?”
The CAIN program was initially designed with superior efficiency and the ability to learn from and mimic its flesh-and-blood counterparts. What I had not anticipated was the advent of a truly sentient being. However, as machine progresses toward humanity, a trade-off must occur.
Cole nodded. “And you believe this trade-off to be affecting his technical prowess.”
That’s an unusual way to put it, but yes.
“So Cain’s not as efficient as before because he’s comprehending what it means to be autonomous.”
Precisely.
“Hm. I would assume that despite the struggle to juggle impossibly complex binary calculations and the meaning of life, all previous functions were not lost in translation?”
I have no reason to believe so, Lin replied after a moment’s thought. As long as CAIN does not elect to omit said previous functions.
Let’s hope that doesn’t happen. “That means he might one day find a happy balance and perform up to optimum efficiency once more. Good.” He nodded. “As long as he doesn’t die first, inches from his brain jar salvation. I still don’t understand that whole ordeal. How does a sentient AI being transfer his ‘essence’ into a lesser android?”
Lin looked down, her shoulders slumped. I don’t know. I’m not sure there’s an answer or a solution to bypassing the virus.
Damn. If she doesn’t know... “Sorry about that,” Cole apologized. “Just thinking out loud. I know the two of you are working on it. But back to the original topic. You said ‘reasons’—as in plural—for why he took his abilities for granted. Care to elaborate?”
Lin sat heavily in the co-pilot’s chair. Upgrades, she replied simply. I designed CAIN to be the most complex AI being, and I tried to keep my true intentions hidden. But I know now that we aren’t the only ones privy to CAIN’s sentience. Everyone is aware of what SolEx unwillingly unleashed upon the System, and our recent...actions have garnered significant attention. As a result, once unbreachable securities have now been infiltrated by a prodigious AI. What do you propose they did in the wake of our absence?
“Security upgrades and Cain’s growing pains left him vulnerable against the Sentinel.”
And unable to reestablish a proper connection with the mainframe, Lin added.
“Any ideas on how to circumvent that issue?”
Lin shook her head, her eyes unable to hide her concern. Any direct connection will enable the virus to open and permanently destroy all that I created. The Sentinel implanted it as a last resort in the event of being overridden. Simple, yet devastating.
Damn... “What are the chances the virus doesn’t double as a tracking beacon?”
I’m not sure, but it is a good possibility.
Double damn... Time to change the subject. “Well, it’s a good thing I redirected our intended course.” He sat up and pointed at the viewport screen. A set of coordinates enlarged just past his reach.
You anticipated a setback?
“I had a bad feeling about things the moment CAIN couldn’t connect back up with the ship’s mainframe,” he said, reclining back again. “I couldn’t very well risk the integrity of my brother’s underworld endeavors, now could I?”
I suppose not, Lin agreed. Have you contacted Jude?
“Nah. He’s on my to-do list.” Cole flipped his feet up onto the console and reclined further. “I was mostly just relaxing and catching up on System events before I resign myself to checking in with big brother Darkstar. You’ll never guess who the talking heads are discussing.”
You’ve been watching the news this whole time?
Cole could hear the disappointment through her text. “It’s minimized and on mute, though I get the gist.” He tossed the link over to her Ocunet feed so she could view what he was watching. “They’ve been painting a colorful picture of us. It’s like we’re celebrities.”
Lin blinked, her gaze straight ahead as she observed the program Cole had sent her way. If you consider Most Wanted to be a sort of celebrity, then I would agree.
“Of course we are!” Cole said, excited. “We’re the most sought after people—and AI—in the entire System. Not even the growing tension between Terracom and UniSys trumps us in the headlines. That’s gotta count for something.”
Lin frowned. It furthers the stereotype that people obsess more over theatrical dramatics than the real threat of economic collapse.
Cole waved a dismissive hand. “Bah. Who cares about a pending intergalactic war when you can follow the life and times of a handful of amateur pirates?”
Lin was quiet for a time. I admit, I’m never quite certain how to process your sarcasm.
“However you like. Most people tend to resent me, but I’m really only poking fun at a disturbing situation. I’ve learned there’s no reason or sense in dwelling upon all the negatives.” He cleared his throat. “Chrys, however, has a knack for drawing out my pessimistic side. Hence my request for you to strangle her.”
Lin did not immediately respond. She looked up from the floor and faced Cole, leaning in slightly. How are we supposed to survive this?
Cole pulled his feet off the console. He met her gaze, and those lovely almond shaped eyes searched him for an answer he himself was seeking. The light was missing from those twin emeralds, muddied by creeping despair. She was exhausted, he could see, her normally bound locks of jet silk in slight disarray. That someone as calm, clever, and collected as she would look to someone as reckless him, only added to his mounting stress.
“We probably won’t.”
Lin’s eyes widened.
“But we’ve done alright so far,” Cole added. “And we’ll keep going until we run out of ways to complete the impossible. I haven’t given up yet.” He reached out and cupped her delicate chin, doing his best to ignore how insensitive it was to caress so beautiful a face with leather workman gloves. “I miss your voice. Did you program your Rook to sound like you, or was it pre-loaded with my satisfaction in mind?”
Lin closed her eyes at his touch, and gently wrapped her fingers around his hand. That was my voice.
“Oh! How’d you...?”
Mimic my natural voice? she replied. Years before I succumbed to illness, I had compiled a collection of audio recordings during my research. I simply allowed my Rook access to those files of my catalogue.
“It was able to accurately mimic you,” Cole finished. “That was really you I was hearing. Awesome.”
A tear slipped down her cheek, and he feared he knew why. The damage to my Rook was extensive. I haven’t been able to gather the courage to explore its memory...if it survived. What if I’m unable salvage my life’s work?
Cole, for all intents and purposes, excelled as a leader in interstellar combat, but Military never trained him in sensitivity and consolation. He delivered honesty and hard truths, with a dressing of sarcasm. Lin needed uplifting advice, maybe even a heartfelt speech; lying was not an option. How could he look her in the eyes and say there was no hope? That Jude would probably sever all ties with the crew of the Icarus once the damaged goods were delivered? How was he supposed to save her when he couldn’t save himself?
“I’ll help you start again.” What? Why did I say that? “We’ll all start again. Whatever it takes.” It was a bold claim, and there was no reasonable way of seeing it come to fruition. But that had never stopped him before. He was a Musgrave, a member of the System’s most infamous family. Why not add another chapter to the hefty tome that was their legacy?
If Lin was searching Cole, searching for any cracks in his resolve, she would find none. The last time he put his hands against a mountain, he made it move.
He clasped her hand in his and squeezed. “We’re going to do more than salvage your work. Goddamn it, we’re
going to light up the stars.”
6
TRANSFER
“Cole Musgrave is dead.”
The statement broke the austere expression on the man’s face. He blinked several times, scanning the exterior of the Icarus as if expecting the elusive captain to descend the loading ramp at any moment. When he, again, settled on her eyes, his expression was, again, hardened. “I was informed the mission was a success despite unforeseen circumstances. How does Cole Musgrave’s death factor into that equation?”
“We managed to prevent a mutiny shortly after completing the mission.”
The man’s nostrils flared. “Your name is Emmerich, right?”
“Correct,” she replied, emotionless.
“Ms. Emmerich.” The man said her name as though he were a close friend of hers. “I gather you uncovered this mutiny?”
“No.” The response was made with conviction. “I was informed of Musgrave’s betrayal from our mechanic, Rig. He’d been suspicious of his actions for some time.”
The man raised an eyebrow at Rig. “Is this true, Mr. Solomon?”
The mechanic gave a curt nod, his expression sour. “I knew he was crazy, but I never thought that prick would actually have the balls to ask me to help him blow in Darkstar.” He spit on the ground to show his feelings toward the matter.
The man’s penetrating stare alternated between them. “Why would he consider something so egregious? Working for Darkstar was his last chance. This sort of behavior doesn’t make sense.”
“Very little concerning our captain made any sense,” Chrys said. “He’d been slowly coming undone since assuming his new role. His explosive temper and reckless behavior were the obvious signs. In an attempt to keep him in line, I suggested he discuss his misgivings with his brother.” She paused. “Needless to say, my advice didn’t sit well with him.”
“And why was that?”
Chrys arched an eyebrow at the question. “I thought the answer obvious: he wanted Jude dead.”
“Said somethin’ about it bein’ the only way he’d be at ease, or some shit,” Rig added.
Chrys nodded. “And to his misfortune, he assumed the two of us would assist his ridiculous plan. Things quickly escalated from there.”
The man glanced over his shoulder at the sound of heavy duty loading machines as they slowly descended a ramp from the transport vessel adjacent to the Icarus. “What about the engineer? Musgrave and her seemed smitten. Was she in on this failed coup?”
Chrys frowned. “That’s difficult to say. She’s clearly upset by his death, but she made no attempt to thwart us. Communication has proven impossible since her Rook was destroyed on the mission.” She gestured toward the Icarus. “She’s still aboard, as is Musgrave’s corpse.”
The man appeared conflicted. “Along with the ship, I’m aware that your AI suffered some sort of critical malfunction. I would assume that security logs would still be able to provide evidence of this encounter?”
Chrys considered the question. “I’m certain we can recover the necessary footage.” She shifted her weight to the other foot. “Wouldn’t witnessing his body serve as enough evidence?”
“Something to hide, have you?” the man asked.
Chrys’s lips pressed into a tight line. “No, of course not. We’ll present any and all evidence you request. I was simply under the impression you would want to bring this ordeal to a close as quickly as possible, seeing as this is a time-sensitive issue.”
The man nodded, his attention now upon the ramp leading into the Icarus. “I assure you that there is no rush. We’ll be taking this one step at a time, so as not to overlook any crucial evidence which might endanger our operation.” He turned back toward her and studied her face.
Chrys followed the man’s gaze as it settled upon her nose. She reached up and brushed away the remaining dried blood inside her nostril. “Musgrave put up a fierce fight before he finally went down.”
“He’s got a hell of a right hook on him,” Rig added as he rubbed his jaw. “Well, had.”
The man clasped his hands behind his back. “Seeing as the transfer will take some time to complete, I suggest we reexamine all of the evidence before we depart for the facility.” He began to walk away, but when neither Chrys nor Rig followed, he stopped. “Is there a problem?”
“There is,” Chrys said, feet firmly planted. “We’re not assisting with any investigation until you state your name and affiliation with Jude.”
“I beg your pardon?”
Chrys held her ground. “Since we’ve joined this particular cause, we’ve never seen or heard any mention of you. How are we to know you’re to be trusted?”
The man blinked, his expression unreadable. “You will refer to me as Yeats, and understand that it is I who must learn to trust you.” A quick flick of his wrist brought the entire transfer operation to a grinding halt. His approach was slow and purposeful. “You must also understand that none of you are in any position to demand—let alone request—any information on my behalf. The crew of the Icarus are indentured servants to Darkstar, and I must say that the value of your stock has plummeted following recent events.”
He stopped when he was within arm’s reach of Chrys, his sinister glare entirely upon her. “I suggest you present Cole Musgrave’s body, along with all the evidence which will corroborate your story, and then you can present your case to Darkstar. But before that comes to pass, I strongly encourage you to shut...your...mouth.”
Chrys’s posture hardened, and though she said nothing, she managed a sharp nod.
The man known as Yeats flashed the emptiest of smiles before turning on his heel and resuming his approach of the Icarus. This time both Rig and Emmerich followed him. They ascended the ramp into the cargo bay, but before any actual cargo could be unloaded, Chrys halted in front a particular crate.
Yeats scowled when he noticed the scorched hole on the crate’s exterior. “Another reminder of your successful endeavor?”
Chrys ignored him and unfastened the lid. She and Rig threw back the top to expose the interior. They stepped away without a word, allowing Yeats to view the contents, though he did not move closer.
“If you’re expecting me to climb inside and inspect the damaged goods, you’re sorely mistaken. This is completely unnecessary.”
Chrys looked from the crate back to Yeats. “There’s more than damaged goods inside. You asked me to present you with evidence.” She nodded toward the exposed crate.
The scowl softened to intrigue, and he cast Rig and Chrys a warning glance before he peered down at the contents.
Inside was the crumpled form of Cole Musgrave. He had been unceremoniously packed with the rest of the contents, nothing but a tarp dividing them. Blood had coagulated around the cuts on his mouth and forehead, ugly bruises colored around his eye, cheek, and temple. The front of his flight jacket was slightly parted, revealing the torn and scorched shirt below where a single plasma blast had entered his chest. His eyes were closed—a peaceful testament to how dead he actually was.
Yeats reached in to move the jacket and shirt to better see the wound. It was obscured by shadows, but cauterized surface of the skin was undeniable. He wiped his hand on the clean area of the shirt and looked away, nodding his approval. “Is there a reason you stuffed him in with the equipment?”
“Sorry, but were fresh out of coffins,” Rig said, slamming the lid closed with a forceful thud. He clasped the lock before stalking off.
Chrys shook her head at the mechanic’s outburst. “We had to keep him hidden in the event we were discovered by someone other than you. This was the only crate with enough room to store his body.”
The explanation seemed to satisfy Yeats. “I don’t disapprove of your decision, but Darkstar may not appreciate his only sibling’s corpse bleeding all over his cargo.” He re-clasped his hands behind his back. “Regardless, your efforts are notable and appreciated. It was only a matter of time before he snapped. This was expected.”
Yeats headed toward the lift as he spoke. “Let us collect the remainder of your evidence. Darkstar will make the final decision as to what to do with the lot of you.”
Chrys clenched her fists and hurried to catch up. “Can we rely on you to vouch for us?”
“As Darkstar relied upon you?” he asked, eyes focused on the lift.
Chrys scoffed. “The Ravens, of all people, should understand the unpredictability involved with this line of work. And it’s because of an unstable captain that we were forced into a volatile situation. That we survived this mission is a miracle. I want to believe Jude will consider the final outcome, despite all that has transpired.”
Yeats stopped outside the lift, his back to Chrys. “This isn’t Military, Ms. Emmerich. Nor is this even the rarely benevolent Terracom. Under the banner of each of those establishments, you might have a point.” He looked over his shoulder as the lift door slid open. “Here you’re nothing more than a pawn for the use of a brilliant criminal sociopath. Rules don’t apply when it comes to power.”
She watched him enter, hesitating to join him.
“Whether or not you realize it, you’re with us,” he added, waiting for her to enter. “The choice is yours to make. Either you play this game, or you lose. But don’t think about it too long; there won’t be another opportunity.” He presented the space beside him. “I suggest you join me in this lift and face your fate.”
Chrys managed to pry her feet from the floor, swallowing her rage along with the rest of her pride.
~
Along with his infamous title as the underworld mastermind of the Ravens, Jude Revan was also an anonymous partner with the System’s second largest asteroid mining enterprise, Astercor. While legally operating as a respectable corporation within Business, the illegal utilization of their robust transportation division fueled his own personal gain. The Ravens, though gangsters, were more corporate than criminal, benefitting from Astercor’s notoriety and significant support from Terracom. It was between Mars and Jupiter, on the currently occupied asteroid 16-Psyche, that the remaining crew of the Icarus found themselves stationed at the current headquarters. Only one of them was permitted to be in the presence of Cole’s half brother.
