Tag dragged himself to the galley, where a large holoscreen displayed the current Earth time. He had been working for almost twenty hours straight. The digits glowing across that screen seemed to break the dam holding his exhaustion back, and he barely mustered the strength to down a quick meal before returning to his bunk.
But when his head hit the pillow, his mind went into full gear. He slept in bursts and spurts, waking frequently, unable to tame the excitement surging through him long enough to get a restful night’s sleep. After five hours of tossing and turning, he jolted from the bed and headed to the lab.
He rushed through the med bay and the decon chamber. His work lay sprawled over the exam bed like a half-finished surgery. He closed the droid’s torso and secured the head panel shut. The tether still traced from the torso port to the terminal he’d been working on, where the holoscreen glowed, beckoning to him. A single command now appeared before him: Initiate All Systems.
His finger hovered above the holoscreen, and his heart climbed into his throat. He tried to think of reasons not to power up the droid. Maybe he’d missed something during diagnostics. Maybe he hadn’t attached the sensor arrays properly. Maybe the synth-bio brain technology just wasn’t mature enough, and so much information overload would fry it.
He shook his head. “You trying to psych yourself out, Tag?” He closed his eyes, inhaled slowly, then stared at the Initiate All Systems command again. The screen felt almost warm to his touch when he pressed the button, and a second prompt asked him to confirm his choice. He selected Yes.
A humming sound echoed through the torso of the droid. The silver shell started to vibrate, softly at first, then increasing steadily. Tag prepared to perform an immediate shutdown via the terminal, but the vibrations stopped. A few graphs blinked on the holoscreen with reports on the droid’s version of vital signs. The life-support system had activated properly and was pumping the synth blood to the brain.
The droid’s mechanical fingers twitched. Tag cautiously approached the droid’s side, peering between it and the terminal readouts. Something flickered behind the droid’s eyes. The glowing black orbs swiveled, and for a moment, Tag could feel those eyes pierce his own.
It was alive.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
“Alpha One, you’re awake.” Tag placed a hand over his chest. “I’m Tag Brewer. Can you understand me?”
The droid jolted upright, causing Tag to jump back. He tried to maintain a stoic, calm expression, but he couldn’t stop the nervous perspiration or the excitement in his voice.
“Can you understand me?” he repeated.
The droid gawked. Its head tilted, and the black eyes dug into him. Alpha One’s mouth opened and closed as if it was trying to vocalize something. It raised a silver hand in front of its face and rotated it. All five fingers clenched and unclenched, and it studied the flexing digits.
Tag took a careful step forward. Alpha One’s gaze shot toward him. Its metallic lips straightened, and it stared silently, frozen.
Tag held out his hands in a welcoming gesture. “How are you, Alpha One?”
The droid gazed at him quizzically then resumed its emotionless expression. Tag almost laughed aloud. Of course it looked emotionless. Did he expect the thing to be happy? Or maybe grateful to be alive? It almost certainly didn’t even know what it was, much less how it should feel.
He didn’t want to take his gaze off the droid, but he looked away for a moment and glanced at the terminal’s holoscreen. All readouts appeared normal. The model of the synth-bio brain on the holoprojection lit up in waves of rolling colors throughout the artificial organ. Alpha One was full of neural activity, even if it was standing like a statue.
“Alpha One, do you know what you are?” Tag asked in a soothing voice. He took another step. It seemed as if the droid tensed. “I’m very happy to see you awake and alert.”
He cautiously took another step. The small whine of servos accompanied Alpha One cocking its head, and it studied Tag as he sidled up beside it.
“You may need to lie down and rest while your sensors adjust to all this new input,” Tag said, placing a hand on Alpha One’s cool alloy shoulder.
That was a mistake.
The droid grabbed his wrist, yanked it away, then threw itself at Tag in a fury, arms flailing clumsily. Tag dove out of the way, and it crashed to the deck, tripping over its own legs.
“Please, I’m not going to hurt you,” Tag said.
The droid teetered and tried to stand. Its eyes locked with Tag’s, and it rolled, arms stretched. An electronic clicking sounded from its open mouth as if it were letting out some kind of growl.
“Alpha!” Tag said, grabbing the droid’s wrists to help it up. The droid struggled in his grasp, twisting and bucking, its eyes remained locked on Tag’s, and the strange growling grew louder. With a yank, it freed itself from Tag’s grasp and stumbled backward, then thudded against the bulkhead. The impact resonated up through the shelves above it. Boxes of labware clanked together, and Alpha One spun. It shielded its face with its hands, though nothing fell.
“You’re all right,” Tag cooed. “You’re all right.”
The droid charged. Its weight slammed against him. The blow knocked the breath out of him, and pain ricocheted through his already-beaten body. He doubled over, gasping for air, and held out a hand weakly to ward off the raging droid. Alpha rammed him again. It grappled Tag, but it still hadn’t achieved full motor control, allowing Tag to escape its grip and leap to the terminal.
He scrolled through the commands to get to the emergency shutdown button. Another lurching force hit his side before he could press it, and he went down hard, his head cracking against the terminal. Cold metal fingers wrapped around his neck. He gulped but couldn’t breathe.
Beady black eyes stared into his. Alpha’s face no longer seemed so stolid and unreadable. Instead, Tag thought he saw a glimmer of fear in those eyes. He leveled a kick at the droid’s legs, and Alpha tumbled.
The half-living machine should be strong enough to parry his attacks and kill him with ease. Before the pirates’ assault on the Argo, the droid had lifted patients and been responsible for moving heavy equipment throughout the med bay. But it seemed unable to harness that strength now. The synth-bio brain was still getting used to its body. It was like a child, a baby, slowly learning what its fingers and toes were for.
That’s it! Tag thought.
But he didn’t have time to explore the idea further.
Alpha struggled to its feet. It launched another attack, and Tag ducked a swinging silver arm. The droid wobbled toward him, launching a salvo of clumsy punches and halfhearted slaps. It had no real concept of how to fight. Tag was thankful he hadn’t preloaded any such skills into the synth-bio brain.
That had also been part of Tag’s mistake, but he didn’t have time to dwell on it.
The droid pitched forward, and Tag dodged its assault. It clanged into the exam table and knocked the table over. Tumbling over its own legs again, Alpha One fell against the closed lab incubator. It shot a hand out to break its fall. Its metal fist plunged through the polyglass, and cracks spiderwebbed around the hole. The droid pulled its hand back, but it was stuck up to its wrist.
Now Tag could definitely see a panicked expression cross the droid’s face. It yanked and twisted. Metal groaned and popped. One of the safety bolts holding the incubator in place against the bulkhead broke loose, and the incubator slowly tilted then crashed over Alpha. The droid tried to roll away, and the tether connecting it with the terminal snapped free from the port on its torso.
Other plastic dishes and small cylindrical tubes full of synth-bio tissue samples spilled from the incubator. The dishes and tubes broke and rolled across the deck. Tag’s stomach dropped as he watched his experimental subjects burst and wither outside the safety of the incubator. Most were crushed under Alpha’s body as the droid writhed, trying to escape from the bulky incubator. It would take months of labor to replace the s
ynth-bio tissues Alpha One was wrecking now.
“No!” Tag yelled. “Stop!”
He watched in horror. His only viable experiment, Alpha One, was now on the loose. An immature synth-bio brain in a powerful body threatened to destroy everything he had left aboard the Argo.
The droid’s free arm pushed and shoved, still struggling to free itself from the fallen incubator. Its hand smacked against the bulky device over and over.
Tag’s mind sped back to his earlier thought. Anger started to give way to sympathy. This droid wasn’t trying to wreak havoc. It hadn’t really tried to kill him out of malice—it had growled first, given him an animalistic warning. The synth-bio being was frightened. It must feel alone, scared, desperate to survive. Like him.
And its mind was somewhere between the awareness of a newborn unaccustomed to its new world and an animal acting only on instinct. But regardless of the sympathy he felt, it needed to be stopped.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Tag rushed to Alpha’s side. He scooped up the tether but realized there was no way to reach the port in Alpha’s torso to plug it in. The port was hidden under the incubator, which meant he needed to free the droid in order to connect the tether and shut Alpha down.
Releasing the droid would be a gamble. Every second it spent growing accustomed to its body meant it would be stronger, faster, smarter. The varied emotions gracing its face now were enough to show Tag it was already learning how to sync the biological inputs and outputs of the synth-bio brain with its mechanical exterior.
The incubator shuddered. Alpha’s palm pressed flat against it, and the droid pushed upward. It no longer flailed in desperate, ineffective swipes at the machine—it was learning. The incubator rose a centimeter, and Alpha’s arm shook as it lifted the machine.
But its hand slipped, and the incubator crashed hard on its torso again. Tag was certain the droid didn’t have any type of pain response, but Alpha’s face contorted in a seemingly agonized expression. Frustration and fear seemed to be getting to it. The droid’s mouth opened and closed as more electric chirps and beeps emanated from it.
Tag wasn’t sure if it was crying out or asking for help. He approached the droid, and the chirping went wild. Maybe it was warning him off. He ignored it and curled his fingers around the edge of the incubator, then lifted, his muscles straining. Alpha began pushing with its free arm. The incubator slowly rose, and Alpha squirmed out from under the machine. Its other arm remained stuck in the polyglass. Tag gave the polyglass a solid kick then another and another until it broke around Alpha’s wrist. The droid pulled back its arm and scuttled away.
The incubator was too heavy for Tag to handle alone, and he dropped it. More polyglass shattered and clinked along the deck. Mental anguish rippled through him as he imagined the other experiments demolished by the crashed incubator, and he winced.
A slow whirring sound caught his attention. Alpha was lifting itself back to its feet. This time its legs didn’t wobble. They moved slowly, naturally. It looked at Tag and seemed to size him up.
Maybe this gesture of helping the droid had been enough. Maybe now it understood Tag wasn’t trying to hurt it.
“You’re okay now,” he said. “See? I helped you. I don’t want to see you hurt.”
He gathered up the loose tether from the terminal again and took another step. Alpha didn’t cower or click.
“I’m going to hook this back up. This is for your safety.”
Alpha’s head tilted to the side, but it didn’t give any sign it understood him. He reached out warily with the tether, and Alpha’s gaze dropped to Tag’s outstretched arm.
Tag glanced between the droid and the port on its torso. So far, so good. The plug clicked into place, and he breathed a sigh of relief.
But his relief was short lived. The small click ignited Alpha’s fury, and the droid leapt at him again like a falcon swooping down on a hapless rodent. This time its hands weren’t so shaky or unsure when it grappled him. The two struggled, crashing against the bulkhead and the toppled exam table as they wrestled in a tangle of mechanical and biological limbs. Pain rocketed through Tag’s preexisting injuries and the new welts and bruises as Alpha battered him. Something about the tether had unleashed the beast within.
He wasn’t sure what was going through the droid’s mind. But he didn’t give it too much thought as he held his arms up, trying to deflect the metal hands flying through the air aimed at his face. Alpha threw its weight at him, and he fell, trapped under the barrage of metal limbs. A left hook connected with his cheek, sending his jaw chattering. Clicking and chirping erupted from Alpha’s mouth. Tag rolled to his left and escaped a vicious knee aimed at his chest. The violent clang of metal against metal echoed as the droid slammed against the deck. It twisted and righted itself, aiming for Tag once again.
The terminal was behind Alpha. The tether had remained attached throughout the ferocious struggle. Tag knew he had no choice. It was either destroy Alpha or shut it off. He couldn’t bear to kill his creation, but if it wouldn’t let him near the terminal, his hand would be forced. Several strewn tools glinted around the deck. A soldering gun lay next to a tumbleweed of wires. Then he eyed a screwdriver. It might be the best option for a weapon he had.
Alpha barreled forward with its arms outstretched. Tag ducked to his right, dove, and rolled. He picked up the screwdriver and deflected another blow from Alpha with his free hand. His fingers wrapped around Alpha’s wrist, and he tried to hold the droid’s arm back. Fire burned through his muscles, his arm shaking with effort. In his other hand he held the screwdriver, ready to strike. A single blow straight through Alpha’s chin and into the synth-bio brain would end the droid’s attacks for good. The droid didn’t seem to know what was coming.
Tag swung the screwdriver up, and it connected with the screeching of rending metal.
But he hadn’t aimed for Alpha’s head.
The screwdriver stabbed through Alpha’s palm, and Tag drove the hand back. The end of the screwdriver jutted from the other side of Alpha’s hand. Tag took advantage of momentum and speared the screwdriver into the side of the incubator. Alpha stared at its hand, now secured against the incubator. The droid yanked on it.
It wouldn’t hold for long, but it might buy Tag some time. He rushed to the terminal. Alpha thrashed, and the screwdriver popped free. It clattered on the deck. Tag’s fingers danced on the terminal as he searched for the shutdown command. Heaving, clanking footsteps sounded as Alpha loped after him.
The red shutdown command glared on the holoscreen. Tag’s finger shot toward it right as two metal arms wrapped around his torso. He flew back, and his body slammed into the bulkhead.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Tag gasped, his head pounding from where his skull had cracked into the bulkhead. Each breath seemed to ignite the pain in his ribs. He stared at Alpha and waited for the droid to continue its assault.
But the droid remained motionless, lying across him. Its heavy weight crushed into his chest, making it harder to breathe and worsening the agony. Grunting, he shoved the droid off and took shallow, rapid breaths to avoid the intense fire raging in his ribs.
A low laugh escaped his lips. Then another. Another and another came out until he was laughing maniacally. Like a crazy hermit. Each guffaw was like kindling to the flames burning in his chest. But he didn’t care. He was alive enough to appreciate the irony of his exploits. He’d barely escaped the pirates by acting like a marine, pilot, and captain all at once. Roles he hadn’t been trained for. Yet the very thing he was supposed to be an expert in—science and medicine—had almost spelled his doom.
The laughter soon faded. He still had plenty of time to kill himself searching for Lieutenant Vasquez. No need to end himself here before Eta-Five had its chance.
With one hand grasping the terminal, he pulled himself upright and hunched over the display. A small status report stated that the synth-bio unit’s shutdown had been completed successfully. He thought about scra
pping his plan to bring Alpha to life, but he still needed an AI system alive on this ship to restore the repair bots and the T-drive.
This time, he’d try a different tack. He dragged Alpha’s unwieldy body across the deck. After setting the exam table upright, he pulled Alpha over it, one limb at a time. He secured Alpha’s hands and feet to the table with metal latches, all the while chiding himself for not trying this before.
Back at the terminal, he studied the holoscreen. He wouldn’t bring the whole unit to life again. Instead, he activated the data upload link to Alpha’s brain through the tether and initiated the upload of all the Argo’s intranet data. Everything from manuals and documentation regarding ship functions to research reports and literature and films began to transfer from the ship’s enormous database to the synth-bio brain.
It was a lifetime—multiple lifetimes—of knowledge being stuffed into Alpha’s mind.
A progress bar blinked across the holoscreen. The estimate indicated the upload would take almost three days. By that time, Tag hoped to be off the ship and headed to meet up with Vasquez. He was disappointed by the slow speed, but he had expected as much. From his preliminary tests, he knew the limitations of using biology-based computers prevented Alpha from downloading, uploading, and processing data as fast as standard hardware-based computers.
Still, he hoped his plan would work. The extra days connected to the tether would give Alpha’s brain time to mature and sort through the information. Maybe it would be able to gain enough self-awareness to understand what it was and to realize Tag truly didn’t mean it any harm. Maybe it would unravel the complexities of the T-drive and the Argo’s repair systems. That might be hoping for too much, but Tag had no idea what to realistically expect of Alpha’s capabilities.
In case Alpha’s brain was finally able to grasp English, Tag typed out a note on the terminal to the droid. He explained his actions in their first encounter and why he’d attempted to breathe life into the synth-bio droid. He wrote about the pirates’ attack and the world they’d found themselves on, along with his mission to find Lieutenant Vasquez and, hopefully, a way back to the SRES Montenegro. It felt strange. Writing this note was like penning a letter to a child he’d never had.
Eternal Frontier (The Eternal Frontier Book 1) Page 10
