The Machine Awakes

by Adam Christopher

  “Please wait here,” said the servitor. Then it holstered its gun and walked briskly through the arch. The man carrying Cait swung her off his shoulder and leaned her against one wall, while the other kept Kodiak covered with his weapon.

  Kodiak moved toward Cait. The armed man flicked his weapon at him, but Kodiak turned to him, his hands spread wide. Kodiak stared at the man’s goggled eyes, not willing to back down. After a few moments, the man seemed to get the message and he motioned with his gun. Kodiak nodded and went to Cait’s side.

  He rolled her head and checked her pulse. It was good and strong, and at his touch Cait exhaled deeply and opened her eyes.

  Kodiak smiled. “Hey, welcome back.”

  Cait shifted against the wall, then hissed in pain. “What hit me?”

  Kodiak glanced over his shoulder at the men watching them. “We met some friends of yours, I think.”

  Cait screwed her face up in confusion. “I … what?”

  Kodiak frowned. “Just get your strength back.” He stood and glanced at their guards, then nodded at the machines in the middle of the room. “So what’s this place?” he asked. The guards didn’t answer, so Kodiak, hands on his hips, took a step toward the nearest machine.

  “Don’t move,” said one of the guards, his voice muffled from behind his mask. Kodiak glanced down at Cait, who was watching the exchange. Then he craned his neck to look at the ceiling. It was a very long way up.

  He turned to their guards and nodded at the one nearest. “So how long has the Morning Star been working with the JMC? Must admit, that’s probably not the spirit of free enterprise that the Fleet had in mind when it let the company buy the Jovian system.”

  The guards turned their masked faces toward each other, but didn’t answer.

  From her position leaning against the wall, Cait spoke. “Of course. Advanced technology. Everything from servitors like Glass to removing my tag, to broadcasting the signal. All tech the Fleet itself doesn’t have.”

  Kodiak turned to face her. “And certainly not tech the Morning Star has.”

  “We do now.”

  Cait looked up at the new voice. Kodiak turned.

  From the opposite archway a woman walked toward them, flanked by two more armed, masked men, the JMC servitor following behind. She was wearing the same combat gear as her men, but her mask was hanging loosely around her neck and her gun was slung over her back. She walked toward them slowly, then stopped in front of the two agents, hands on her hips. She nodded at Kodiak, her lips twisted into a cruel smile.

  “You must be Special Agent Von Kodiak,” she said. “I’ve heard so much about you. Thank you for bringing our acolyte back to the fold. The plan was to bring her back here with us until your little investigation put our operation back a little. But now you’ve saved us a lot of trouble. For that, you have our thanks.” She gave a little bow. “We can now proceed on schedule.”

  Kodiak glanced at Cait. Cait had fixed the woman with a death stare, but the woman just laughed. She stepped closer and took Cait’s face in her hand, squeezing it as she pulled the young woman’s face up to her own.

  “Don’t be afraid, my child. Yours is a glorious task. I would gladly place myself in your position, but it cannot be.”

  “I’m sorry, I don’t think we’ve been introduced,” said Kodiak. He held out his hand, like he wanted to shake. The woman turned around and looked down at it, her smile gone. She looked at Kodiak, meeting his eyes, and Kodiak felt a coldness creeping up in his chest. This woman was dangerous. She was a believer.

  “I am Samantha Flood,” she said. “High Priestess of the Morning Light and servant of the Fallen One.”

  She stepped closer. Kodiak kept his hand out.

  Flood cocked her head and smiled. “Thank you for bringing the Pilot to us,” she said. “The Fallen One will reward you well.”

  Kodiak frowned. He looked at Cait and saw the hatred there melt into something else, equally primal. Fear.

  Flood began to laugh. “But not in this life. Maybe the next.”

  The servitor behind her raised its staser and fired, and Kodiak fell to the hard refinery floor.

  31

  Cait watched as Kodiak hit the deck, then quickly looked up and to her left as she caught another movement in the corner of her eye. In the dull reflection of the deactivated computer terminal displays that stood against the wall was the fragile image of Glass. It looked like he was standing right by her.

  Okay. Okay, okay, okay.

  Don’t worry, Ms. Smith. I’ll look after Mr. Kodiak. He’s alive. Stunned. I made sure of that.

  Cait took a breath, held it, then let it out. She felt like shit after the stun bolt and wasn’t even sure she could stand without help. She felt helpless. Alone. Alone with the ghost of a man she wasn’t sure she could really trust, not after what he’d done to her.

  But what choice did she really have? If she couldn’t even stand, she could hardly fight. And what did he mean, I made sure of that? Glass made sure Kodiak was stunned, instead of killed?

  Perhaps Cait wasn’t so alone after all. She tried moving—just a little, seeing what worked and what hurt. The answer to both questions was: a lot. But that was something.

  Cait glanced over at the others. Flood stepped over Kodiak’s body and huddled together with her acolytes in some kind of discussion.

  We need to get out of here, she thought. We need to get back to the shuttle, get the servitors into action. They’d brought them for back-up, after all. Except Cait didn’t have a comm on her borrowed uniform. Only Kodiak could call them, and he was out for the count.

  The servitors won’t be any use here, said the image of Glass. They’re JMC tech and are no longer under your control.

  Oh, shit. Cait shuffled on the floor, willing the strength to return to her body, willing the electric power that lived within her to come back. Even as she thought that, her body ached. Damn, a staser stun bolt was nasty.

  We can get out of this, Ms. Smith. I’m helping you as best I can, but very soon I’m going to need your help.

  What? My help? As Cait watched Flood and the others have their conference, she frowned, confusion clouding her mind. What on Earth could she do to help Glass, a man—a servitor—who now just seemed to exist in her own imagination?

  And what about her brother? What about Tyler? Cait felt a heat build behind her eyes, and when she blinked, she felt the streaks of tears run down her cheeks. She was here for him, wasn’t she? The assassinations, the mystery coordinates, it all came back to him. Wherever he was, he was at the heart of it all. He had to be.

  He had to be.

  Cait felt the fear well inside her. Tyler was all she had left. He was all she wanted.

  She was doing this all for him.

  Glass held up a hand, and he nodded. Yes. I know. He’s near. I’m working on it. If everything goes according to plan, you’ll see him soon. But I need you to keep calm and keep focused. You can do it, Ms. Smith, I know you can. You’re a warrior, top of the class, Alpha One. And you’re more than that, too. Your abilities and powers are unique. It is those abilities that I need to use, very soon.

  Cait blinked and managed to wipe her face, rub her eyes with shaky hands. When they fell away, she saw Flood standing right in front of her, her eyes narrow as she studied Cait’s face.

  “Talking to someone, are we?” asked Flood. “Is there someone else in there with you?”

  Cait felt her face grow hot, felt the fear inside turn to anger, to hatred. She gritted her teeth and stared at Flood. Not backing down. Never giving up. She was a warrior on a mission. And no one was going to stop her.

  At this, Flood just smiled, tilting her head. “Don’t worry, my golden child, we’ll burn them out of you. Soon there will only be one mind for you to join with. The glorious fate I bestow upon the golden child. You are truly blessed.”

  As Cait watched, a tear sprang from the corner of Flood’s eye and trailed down her cheek. Cait leaned forward as
best she could.

  “Go to hell.”

  Flood struck her across the face. Cait tasted the pepper tang of blood and spat a slimy gob onto the floor. When she rolled her head back around to Flood, she saw the High Priestess wipe her own tears away, nodding.

  “I understand, golden child,” she said, the smile on her lips. “I understand.”

  Then she stood abruptly, checked something on her wrist computer, and indicated to her acolytes. “Time to move,” she said. Then she pointed at Kodiak’s body and jutted her chin at the JMC servitor. “Dump this in the waste disposal, then return to the control room. We’ll meet you there.”

  The servitor nodded in acknowledgment, its expression eerily blank. With the staser still in its hand, it knelt and lifted Kodiak’s body onto its shoulder. Then it walked out, carrying the load like it was nothing.

  “Let’s go,” said Flood. The two men guarding Cait reached down to grab her arms. Cait tried to pull against them, but she was still weak from the stun blast. Flood, on her way to the exit, noticed and walked back over to her. Cait flinched involuntarily, wary of being struck again by the zealot.

  “You’re not going to give me any trouble now, are you?” Flood asked. “You feel fear and hate. I understand, golden child, I truly do. And the Fallen One will love you all the more for it. You and He will become one, the Master and his Pilot.”

  At this, Flood’s eyes seemed to glaze over—she was still looking at Cait, but her gaze was unfocused.

  “You’ve sure been drinking the Kool-Aid, haven’t you?” asked Cait. Flood’s focus seemed to snap back at this comment, her expression faltering for a moment.

  Cait yelled and with almighty effort pulled one arm free of her guard. Her body lit up in pain, every muscle fiber screaming, but jaw clenched she pushed through it as she lunged for Flood. But she was too slow, too weak. Flood took a quick step backwards, out of range, as Cait’s movement was quickly arrested by one of the guards, who caught her by one arm and gave her a quick jab to the stomach for her trouble. Cait wheezed as the air was pushed out of her lungs, and she hung limply from her captors. She spit bile on the floor. Then her head was yanked up by Flood, the terrorist’s fingers digging hard into her face.

  “The more you hate, the more love He will give you,” she said. Then she smiled. Cait recoiled, unable to control the panic that threatened to take over. Flood was a maniac, dangerous and unpredictable. “Oh, how I envy you,” said Flood. “You will form a bond with the Fallen One that we can only dream of. You and He will be locked forever in a glorious embrace.”

  Cait coughed, her voice a throaty wheeze. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

  Flood released her hold on Cait’s face. “We are going to the control room. The Fallen One is about to rise, and we need to install the Pilot.”

  Cait pulled against her captor, but her strength had evaporated and her guard merely tightened his grip.

  Flood stepped closer, until her nose was nearly touching Cait’s. “You can struggle all you like, if that helps build your hate and fear. You are perfectly safe. We can’t kill you, but you don’t necessarily need to be in one piece to be the Pilot.”

  She nodded to the guards, who pulled Cait upright. Flood pulled her gun from over her shoulder and pointed it at the spot between Cait’s eyes.

  Cait’s forehead creased in confusion. Pilot? What the hell did that mean? The Fallen One was their god, a mythical nothing that Flood was apparently convinced was about to make a personal appearance.

  Cait glanced around, trying to catch a reflection on the control panels around her, but there was no sign of Glass’s image. She remembered what he had said, that her power was unique, and that he needed to use it for something. Flood needed her too—and it was obvious now that it was for the same reason. Cait was unique, possessed of a gift that even her brother didn’t have.

  She focused on the barrel pointing between her eyes.

  Come on. Come on! If she was so unique then how about that uniqueness came back, right about now, and took out Flood and her cronies. There were just four of them. Four. Easy.

  Right?

  Cait felt the sweat trickle down her face. She gasped, not realizing how hard she had been straining. And all for nothing.

  Flood tilted her head again, then, still smiling, moved the barrel from Cait’s forehead and jabbed it sharply into her shoulder. Cait got the message, relaxing her muscles, letting herself be held up by Flood’s soldier-like acolyte.

  She didn’t need to be in one piece.

  Flood raised an eyebrow, then pulled the gun away, pointing the barrel toward the ceiling.

  “Better,” she said. “Now, let’s move.”

  32

  Kodiak opened his eyes and found himself somewhere dimly lit and poorly ventilated. His head felt like a lump of herculanium alloy, his mouth was dry, and when he tried to move, tried to push himself up off the floor to at least a sitting position, he was wracked by a coughing fit that nearly choked him.

  The coughs subsided after a moment. Rubbing the tears from his eyes, he focused for a few seconds on taking long, clean breaths of the hot air. Then he looked up.

  The JMC servitor was standing right in front of him, the staser still in its hand, although it was pointed at the floor, not at him.

  Kodiak frowned and coughed again as he looked around. The room was small and dimly lit and filled with junk—bits of metal framework, discarded wall panels that looked less than new, boxes and crates of who knew what. It took a moment more for Kodiak to realize the loud hum wasn’t just in his head. The hot, stuffy room was loud.

  Kodiak eyed the staser in the servitor’s hand and decided against moving for now. “Where the hell am I?”

  The servitor said, “We are in the sorting room of a waste disposal facility. Domestic and office waste, not industrial. Don’t worry, Mr. Kodiak. You’re safe here for the moment.”

  Kodiak rubbed his stomach. It was sore from where—

  “I thought your boss ordered you to kill me?” he asked.

  The servitor smiled—simulated a smile. Kodiak had seen that kind of look on the faces of real people, and it was usually a bad sign.

  “I don’t work for those people, Mr. Kodiak.”

  “I didn’t know robots had a choice.”

  “On the contrary, they are working for me. Well, so to speak, anyway.”

  Kodiak shook his head. Maybe it was just too hot in the room—and he had just been stunned, after all—for any part of this conversation to make any kind of sense.

  “And what the hell are you, exactly?”

  “You can call me Glass, if that helps.”

  Kodiak froze. Then he pulled himself to his feet. He was unsteady and leaned against the warm, smooth wall behind him. He kicked at some detritus at his feet, winced at the noise it made, but then realized it didn’t seem to matter. The hum of machinery in the sorting room was loud enough that Kodiak had to raise his voice to be heard.

  But … Glass? Kodiak looked at the servitor standing in front of him. The machine looked like a young man with reddish hair, quite different from the android currently lying in pieces in a Bureau laboratory.

  Kodiak rubbed the back of his neck as he thought it over. “The only Glass I know was shot in a warehouse on Earth,” he said.

  “A servitor, yes,” said Glass. “This JMC facility is entirely automated, the servitors all controlled by the central computer, but each with a unique identity based on the personality and memories of a real person, a template taken from the original facility staff.”

  “Original staff?”

  Glass nodded. “The staff who set up this operation. Rather than lose their experience and expertise when they retired it was more efficient to simply copy their minds into servitors.”

  Kodiak frowned. “That’s further than the Fleet ever got with servitor tech.”

  Glass gave a small bow. “Despite the company name, automation, not mining, is the JMC’s primary business,
Mr. Kodiak. The gas mines were the seed—self-aware AIs with the ability to reconfigure their own superstructures for optimal storm extraction.” He spread his hands. “From them to me, you could say.”

  “Right,” said Kodiak. “Which explains your change of face. Take one servitor out, another takes its place, right?”

  The small smile returned to Glass’s face. “Something like that.”

  Kodiak frowned and turned to scan the room, looking for the exit. His first job was to get Cait out of the hands of Samantha Flood. There only seemed to be four of her group in the refinery. Not overwhelming odds, if he was careful. He had surprise on his side too—they thought he was dead, after all.

  “Okay, thanks for the rescue,” he said, “but I need to move. I’ve brought firepower. There are a dozen servitors in the shuttle.” Kodiak’s hand reached for his comm almost automatically.

  “I wouldn’t do that, Agent,” said Glass. “They’re JMC servitors too. All linked to the company’s central AI.”

  Kodiak sighed and let his hand drop. He nodded at his rescuer. “What about you? Aren’t you linked to the AI as well?”

  Glass bowed again. “I have certain … operational privileges.”

  “Right,” said Kodiak, nodding as he put the pieces together. “You’re an independent unit, aren’t you? You had to be, right? In order to cooperate with the Morning Star.” He took a step forward. “The Morning Star killed two Fleet Admirals and you killed one of my agents, so thanks again for the rescue but you’ll forgive me if I can’t quite bring myself to trust you.”

  Glass cocked his head. Kodiak wondered who the real Glass was, the original refinery staffer used as the template for the servitor’s personality. Was he even still alive? For all he knew, Kodiak was talking to a copy of someone long, long dead. It was morbid, unsettling.