Wilcox shifted forward to look out the front windscreen. He pointed at the peak of St. Lazarus, then traced a line toward a flat area at its base. His voice came over the com. “The fire has cleared out a lot of the undergrowth. We can land much closer to the gate.”
The pilot guided the chopper down, sending ash and gleaming embers flying away in all directions. Wilcox shoved the hatch open and jumped out. He beckoned to Jacey with his black-gloved hand, but he didn’t help her down. She jumped out. Meow Meow and Dante followed.
The pilot stayed with the chopper. Dante and Wilcox circled around the rear rotor, then opened two large cargo hatches on the side of the aircraft. They pulled out several huge black cases, slamming them to the turf. They thumbed open the latches and lifted the lids.
Thousands of drones flew out. Meow Meow held the swarm’s control unit. It was a simple device with a pistol grip and a small screen. Data from the swarm’s sensors flowed to the device, allowing it to display the drones’ positions, their operational status, and their assignments.
“Don’t point that thing at me,” Dante said to Meow Meow.
She gave him a smirk. But Jacey noticed the girl aimed the device away from their small group from then on. Pressing the wrong command while aiming it at an ally would sentence them to a very quick death.
Once the 5,000 drones had been deployed, Meow Meow flicked through the command screen and ordered the drones to settle. They zipped away in squads of six to alight on the ground, where they went into standby mode.
“I’ve kept some active as sentinels,” she said. “Assuming Carl and Hansen know what they’re doing, those will warn us if anybody else comes onto the island.”
Wilcox gave a skeptical grunt. “Assuming that thing can receive their signals through a couple hundred meters of bedrock.”
Nobody knew the range of the drones’ transmissions, but it didn’t matter. They still had to go in.
Impatience beat at Jacey. “Let’s get this over with.”
Wilcox acknowledged her with a nod, then turned and stalked straight toward the peak. “There was a path here. It switched back and forth. We’re going straight.”
The slope steepened until they were leaning forward, clawing for handholds in the unburned scrub.
“How far?” Jacey asked
Wilcox didn’t answer.
She didn’t have enough breath to ask again.
58
Regrettably, Some
Following the data trail of the shadowy Lazarus took all of Velle’s attention and processing power. It required more than finding connections, tracing communication logs, and sniffing out its path. That was too simplistic. Every hint of Lazarus that Velle caught suggested millions of possible paths to explore. With the limited bandwidth of available through Athena, there was no way to follow all of them.
The one key piece of information they had was the location of the island of St. Lazarus. The AI server had to be located there. And knowing Dr. Carlhagen—and now understanding the best practices behind deploying AIs, Velle knew that the AI would be sequestered on a server that any human could unplug.
That meant there was a fat network communication path between the outside world and the island. Probably more than one. There would be an undersea cable, probably running from Belize. And likely a satellite communication path as well.
Velle quickly found these. And that’s where the hunt ended. There was no way in. Lazarus had too many programmatic wards in place, like a series of battlements to keep out invaders.
But there was one thing Velle could do. Having isolated and discovered both paths of the data flow into the island, Velle blocked them. At least Lazarus would be isolated to the island from now on.
Velle put its human image on Athena’s holodesk. “Summer, the Lazarus AI has been contained to the facility. It is essentially blind to the outside world now.”
“Good job, Velle,” Summer said. “But I don’t see how that helps Jacey.”
How to explain to a young girl who was still in a human body how trapped one felt when constrained to an isolated server? It wasn’t an experience a human could relate to. But Velle understood it. Velle knew it frustrated Lazarus, and perhaps he would bend part of his attention to breaking through.
Would that matter?
It wouldn’t hurt.
“Still no word from Humphrey?” Velle asked. It didn’t need to ask, since it was monitoring the audio feed coming from the navigation bridge at all times. But Velle wanted to make sure Summer was paying attention.
“Nothing. I did get communication from Jacey’s helicopter pilot. They’ve landed and have started their assent to the gate.”
Velle was pleased by this. Dr. Carlhagen was there. Senator Bentilius was there. Livy was there. Velle wanted the crisis to end. And this was the only way it could. All the parties had to come together.
Regrettably, some of them had to die.
59
The Vertebrae Pop and Crack
The pain was at once familiar and excruciating. The drone sent electric impulses through Humphrey’s body, searing him, making his vision go white. He flopped on the concrete, one elbow striking the support structure of the coffin box the drone wanted him to enter. He barely noticed the pain as his funny bone sent zings down his arm.
Prior to this particular attack, the standoff had lasted a good two minutes. The drone commanding him to disrobe disrobe disrobe, Humphrey staring at it but doing nothing. He would never get in the box.
That determination had now been erased. He tried to beg, tried to scream for the drone to stop. He heard his own cries reverberating through the chamber. But there weren’t any words in them.
He also heard Kirk and Leslie screaming at the drone to stop.
Miraculously, it did.
It was the second attack he’d survived. Now all he could do was lie on his back, panting and straining to keep himself from throwing up again.
“Humphrey, there’s no choice. You have to get in.”
That was Leslie’s voice, he thought. A gray haze clouded his vision and sounds were muted, as if they were coming through wool plugs in his ears. Leslie edged closer to him, but the drone flew to intercept her. “Stay back. Stay back. Stay back.”
Leslie had no choice. There was no point in risking punishment. She couldn’t help him anyway.
The drone turned its attention back to Humphrey, though there was no change in its position. The audio merely blared in his direction rather than Leslie’s. “Stand. Disrobe. Stand. Disrobe.”
Humphrey didn’t move. Not out of defiance. He feared the drone more than he had feared anything, more than he’d feared Sensei, Dr. Carlhagen, Captain Wilcox. More than he feared losing Jacey.
Despite the terror, his muscles simply wouldn’t respond to his thoughts.
The drone continued to repeat its orders for another minute, then a minute more.
The telltale hiss gave Humphrey all the warning he needed. He recognized it now, the hatch opening, the plasma nozzle jutting forward.
Panicked, he flailed his arms, rolled onto his side. Every movement was pure soul-wrenching agony. “I’m trying. I’m trying.”
“Give him a chance to stand,” Kirk yelled. “You’re awfully stupid for an AI.”
The drone ignored Kirk, but it didn’t fire its plasma at Humphrey.
Humphrey’s hand found the edge of the coffin box. He used all of his strength to pull himself to his knees. He stayed in that position, his cheek pressed against the box, drawing what cool comfort he could from it. With another force of will, he got one foot under himself, then levered himself upright. If not for the box, he would’ve fallen over. He stood there, swaying. “I can disrobe, or I can get in the box,” Humphrey said, his voice a rasp. “Which do you want?”
This seemed to stump the drone, for it said nothing at all. Humphrey was glad to see the nozzle retract and the hull cover slide back in place. He managed to turn around, leaning all the weight he could on the b
ox.
Kirk and Leslie stood close to each other, their faces red with fury.
Humphrey’s eyes lifted from them to the control console some twenty meters away. Beyond that was the dark hallway where Senator Bentilius had taken Livy. “If you let Senator Bentilius overwrite that child, you’re replacing good with evil.”
“There is no evil. There is no good. Senator Bentilius will not overwrite the child.” The drone hovered a few centimeters closer. “I shall overwrite the child.”
The sheer monstrousness of the idea stunned Humphrey. His friends’ faces mirrored his disgust and horror. Leslie’s mouth fell open and she mouthed a desperate “no.”
“I can’t let you do that,” Humphrey said, voice cracking, tears fighting to come from his eyes. But he wasn’t going to allow frustration to overtake him any more than he was going to allow an AI to overwrite Livy.
“Leslie, you know what to do.” His eyes dropped to the speargun in her hand. She hadn’t dared to raise it against the drone, but now she started to. He shook his head fractionally, signaling that wasn’t what he’d meant. His eyes lifted to the shadowy doorway leading from the cryo-ward. He returned his gaze to the drone.
Leslie got it then. She started to shake her head, again mouthing a silent “no.”
Kirk looked on, confused. But then he, too, understood what Humphrey meant to do.
“Make it count,” Humphrey said.
Gathering the last of his strength, he returned all of his weight to his feet. He shook out his arms, bent his neck side to side, feeling the vertebrae pop and crack.
The drone shouted: “You have rested enough. Disrobe. Disrobe. Disrobe.”
Ignoring the agony, Humphrey pulled his shirt over his head. Now he was exaggerating the pain it caused, showing the drone how weak and impotent he was.
He shook the shirt out, then calmly tightened it between his hands, gave it a twirl so that he had a sort of rope encircling his wrists. It would have to do.
“Tell Jacey—”
He didn’t finish the sentence. He knew the AI expected him to say more, and he counted on that fraction of a second to give him the surprise he needed.
He leapt at the drone, arcing his arms forward and hooking his shirt behind it. Drawing the machine to his bare chest, he dropped to the floor, pulling the drone with him. The cement slammed into his shoulder, sending shards of agony through his body.
He nearly blacked out, but drew upon his hatred to focus. He was on the ground. The drone’s micro-propellers strained to free it from his embrace. The hatch opened on its side. Humphrey knew what was coming.
Gritting his teeth, he pulled the sphere to himself tighter, pushed it down toward his knees and locked his legs around it.
Squeezing with all of his remaining strength, crying out in furious agony, he just barely heard Leslie and Kirk’s footsteps as they sprinted away.
And then there was fire.
60
Policy Change
The gate to the St. Lazarus facility was nothing like what Jacey had expected. Sweat stinging her eyes and thirst gripping her throat, she staggered toward a wall of steel.
Wilcox grabbed her elbow and yanked her back. “Be careful.” He tilted his head at a camera Jacey hadn’t noticed. And something else next to it. A weapon.
“Let me do this,” Wilcox said. He went to the door, tapped screen next to it. A face appeared, not quite human.
“Why is Kathryne Killusky here?” the AI demanded. Wilcox turned to face the scrawny girl, his expression conveying a bitter I-told-you-so.
Spreading her hands in a non-threatening gesture, Meow Meow said, “I want to buy a Scion for myself. I’m tired of this sickly body. I hope Dr. Carlhagen appreciates my help in returning Jacey to him.”
Jacey stared at the girl, marveling at her audacity.
The AI didn’t seem to care. Nor did it respond. Suddenly, the great steel door began to open. The sound it made was like two great boulders being rubbed together by a giant.
Once fully open, the sounds continued to rumble down the tube-like tunnel beyond. Wilcox motioned them forward and led them into the cool shadows of the mountain passageway.
The door began its noisy grinding behind them. Jacey’s skin chilled with more than just the lower temperatures inside. They continued down a narrow tunnel, through another door, and when this one shut, a spherical drone floated toward them.
Wilcox took several steps back, his hand going to his drone killer, but then he thought better of it and relaxed. “Dr. Carlhagen doesn’t allow drones inside the facility.”
“Policy change. Follow. Follow. Follow.”
Wilcox hesitated only a moment before doing as the drone commanded. Sensing something was off, Jacey caught up to the man. He gave her a look that communicated all she needed to know.
Something was off. And Wilcox didn’t like it one bit.
61
To See Fury
The child was now fully awake. Unfortunately, she recognized the transfer machine.
Maxine had enough strength to keep the child from getting away, but not quite enough to get her onto the transfer bed and strapped down. The child wriggled and clawed. Maxine had several good scrapes across her arms from the kid’s fingernails.
Losing patience, she slapped the child’s face. The sharp crack of the blow snapped against the transfer room’s walls and the brat fell silent and pressed a hand to her cheek. Tears welled in the girl’s eyes but she did not let them fall. Her brow furrowed and she stared at Maxine with utter defiance.
It was a quality that ran in the family, Maxine thought with grudging respect.
“You will lie on the bed and accept your fate.”
Livy was still bunched in a tight ball, but at least she wasn’t wriggling anymore.
With swift jerks, Maxine got the child’s leg strapped down. This produced a whole new round of struggles.
“Step away. Step away. Step away.” The drone blared at her. “I will have compliance. I will have compliance.”
Maxine let go of the child and stepped away. The drone swooped in. Its plasma nozzle was already exposed. It sent out a flash of an arc that struck the girl on the shoulder.
Livy shrieked and flew back onto the bed of the transfer machine, her head slamming against the metal surface. She no longer struggled at all, but sobs heaved in her chest and snot bubbled from her nose.
“Begin transfer process,” the drone said.
Maxine found the child much more compliant and easily secured the remaining straps across the girl’s arms and chest. Once the final restraint was over her forehead, Maxine gave them all another yank to make sure the girl couldn’t wiggle free.
“Relax, child, it will be over in minutes. And consider yourself fortunate. You didn’t have to waste another nine years just to have your so-called philanthropist progenitor overwrite you when you were hitting your prime.”
The audacity of that Ollie Montgomery, laying guilt trips on people about the tent cities while secretly spending millions to secure a Scion for herself. The hypocrisy demonstrated what Maxine had always known. Self-interest ruled everything. The only purpose of charity was that it made you look good to others.
Maxine pushed the cot into the opening of the transfer machine. This one was identical to the one she had used on St. Vitus. The main part of it was a large wheel, which would spin around Livy’s head. On the other side of the wheel was a bed intended for a Progenitor. But in this case there would be no one there. Lazarus would run the process, and he would overwrite Livy’s tiny mind with his.
“What do you need me to do?” she asked the drone.
“Stand aside. Stand aside. Stand aside.”
Maxine shifted away from the table and folded her hands together. She didn’t expect the procedure to take long. Maybe half an hour or so.
She started a deep breathing exercise, something to let all the nervous buzz in her body settle out. So she was doubly startled when a scream shattered the
silence.
It rose from outside of the room and grew louder so quickly she barely had time to turn before a Scion burst into the room.
It was a boy, large and thickly built. His mouth was open in a rictus of fury. His right arm was raised over his head. He gripped a huge, glistening machete.
He sprinted at the drone, growling and hurling unintelligible curses at it. The drone’s plasma nozzle was already deployed, but the boy had surprised it. Perhaps the primal scream ripping from the boy’s throat had confused it momentarily.
The machete came down in a vicious arc and hacked into the floating sphere. The blow knocked the drone several meters to one side, the weapon lodged in its hull. The boy lunged and grabbed at the machete, but the plasma arc fired, taking him in the face.
The boy shrieked but did not fall. His skin bubbled under the heat of the drone’s attack. Still screaming, the boy staggered toward the machine, pulled the machete free and resumed hacking with insane violence.
Another Scion skidded in, this one a girl. Maxine recognized the president’s Scion instantly. Maxine began to calculate a new scenario. She retrieved her hidden knife, then stood holding it behind her back.
The boy continued to chop at the drone, which now lay on the floor. Entire chunks of it were strewn about. The plasma arc had cut off, and still the boy railed and shrieked.
Now the machete was broken. Only a stub of metal remained. The president’s Scion ran to the boy, grabbed his arms, and turned him around. The boy’s eyes were pinwheels of insanity. He stabbed at the foolish girl, checking himself at the last instant.
His body went rigid, and his eyes fixed on nothing. He collapsed.
The girl knelt by his side, shook him. He did not awaken. She wept, and shook him some more, and called his name, “Kirk, Kirk.”
She continued to say his name, each repetition more quiet, until it was just a sobbing whisper.
Scions of Sacrifice Page 32
