Unfaithful Covenant

by Michael Anderle

  “Then don’t worry about it.” Emma lowered her arms, her smile no longer reaching her eyes. “I can optimize that code well beyond anything you could ever hope to before an active jump. Yes, you won’t understand it, but if all you need is improved code, don’t waste your limited time worrying about it. I’ll continue to work on it and iterate it until it is as efficient as possible. It’s for the mission, after all.”

  “Okay.” Raphael nodded slowly. “Thanks, Emma. That’d be a big help.”

  “I’ll go ahead and note things in the logs since you’re worried about it, but to avoid unnecessary bureaucratic trouble, I’ll attribute the changes to you. If it becomes an issue, feel free to tell the truth. I might have no problem bending the rules, but you’ve been an interesting fleshbag, and I wouldn’t want uniform boys punishing you for something I did.”

  “Okay…” Raphael rubbed the back of his neck, more unsettled than before.

  Emma vanished, leaving Raphael staring at the code in the window. He’d never been great at reading the AI. She vacillated between formal politeness and brusque prejudicial dismissal, sometimes in the same sentence. Knowing that her neural net was partially derived from a human didn’t help. It wasn’t like he had a great understanding of human women either.

  But none of that changed the fundamental issue. Raphael couldn’t escape the suspicion that Emma was trying to hide something from him. Appropriate protocol would be to tell the Defense Directorate. She’d all but dared him to.

  They’d warned him repeatedly about the possibility of Emma, or Emma, Erik, and Jia, stealing the jumpship and attempting to flee Defense Directorate control. Kill switches were scattered through the system code as a proactive defense, but if Emma was going through the systems and modifying them, she could be disabling them and leaving no indication. Her ability to thoroughly integrate with the jumpship’s systems was integral to the ship’s overall purpose and design. For all their testing and money, the DD had apparently never anticipated that they wouldn’t be able to trust their own navigation system.

  Raphael swallowed. She could be watching him now. A fleshbag who could threaten her freedom was an enemy; that much was clear. He couldn’t risk reporting until he was off the jumpship, but there was one major problem.

  If he reported Emma, the military would attempt to seize both her and the ship. Erik and Jia would lose their best weapon against the Core, which meant the UTC would lose their most effective champions and its chance of victory. He didn’t care if the ID had a whole slew of ghosts ready to go; those two were making the most progress. Panicking about minor code modifications wasn’t worth the risk to humanity.

  Raphael nodded, confident about his decision. Besides, not all lies were nefarious. People lied for all sorts of reasons, including protecting other people. Emma might not be human, but she was human enough. The AI might be rude at times, but she wasn’t evil.

  Those were all rational excuses, but one that was less rational spread through his mind and took over, making his heart pound not in fear but excitement: a self-aware, self-modifying AI, both human and not human in her thought patterns at the same time. What could she do if she was left alone?

  Raphael dismissed the code and swept his other windows closer. He wouldn’t tell the DD. For now, he was content to observe Emma as nothing more than a curious scientist.

  Chapter Fifty-Three

  November 3, 2230, Neo Southern California Metroplex, Private Hangar of the Argo

  Erik sipped his coffee before settling at the table in the galley beside Jia. They’d been back on Earth for two days, after an uneventful return trip. He’d spent the time with Jia, pointedly not doing anything resembling training. Simulated time at a nice beach was a fine reward.

  There was something in the air, nagging at the back of his mind. He was convinced the Core was accelerating its operations and building up to something. More rebellions? If that was the case, they could rest easy. Emma had been uninterested in sorting through the data they’d collected on New Samarkand any more than she needed to because of her focus on reprogramming the jumpship’s AI. Even now she was absent, concentrating on the intensive refactoring that she admitted required most of her processor capability. Light skimming by Malcolm had confirmed data applicable beyond New Samarkand.

  Simple decryption of the data was insufficient for a holistic understanding. There were countless files filled with nothing but numeric data of unknown provenance, but the ID was full of analysts ready to pore through and collate the data, so they’d sent it over.

  Erik couldn’t help but think about how they’d performed the mission, stuck around a couple of days for the aftermath, and returned to Earth quicker than anyone in the Core on Earth could receive a transmission. Right now, they were running well ahead of the enemy. The conspiracy had tried to outflank them on New Samarkand, but they could turn its momentum against it.

  Jia picked up her cup of tea and took a sip. They were waiting for Alina to finish chatting with Lanara in the cargo bay about upgrade issues and stop by for their debriefing. The ID’d had two days to chew on the transmitted data. Alina might be ready to send Erik and Jia to some other colony to bring a new rebellion to heel.

  The door opened, and Alina stepped through. She sauntered over to the table and took a seat with a coy smile. Erik wasn’t sure if he should be worried.

  Alina slammed her palm on the table. “Perseus and Atalanta, triumphant again.”

  Erik grinned. “Glad you approve.”

  “You’re rather…excited.” Jia took another sip. She glanced at her cup, then at Alina’s hand, and didn’t set it down.

  “Because we made them lose in a big way this time,” Alina replied. “More than you might have realized on New Samarkand. I wish we didn’t have a half-trashed colony to show for it, but there was a lot of useful information in the data you brought home. Combined with our other recent intel hauls, I don’t think it’s too much to say we’re winning against the Core, not in the short term but in the long term. They’re weaker than before, and we’re stronger and more able to anticipate their actions.”

  “Good.” Erik gave a firm nod. “That’s what I like to hear.”

  “There was a lot of discussion at the ID about how to handle the information you gave us, especially since we know the DD already has some of it, even if it wasn’t decrypted.” Alina’s broad smile finally quirked into a look of concern. “I know you don’t care about the politics of all this, but we’ve got this operation finely balanced so we can bring the best of all directorate resources to bear on the problem.” She inclined her head toward the back door. “That includes things like whether or not we can get a squad to guard the jumpship like you mentioned when you sent the data along.”

  “It’ll increase our tactical flexibility,” Jia commented, finally daring to put her cup on the table. “Assuming we also get Anne and Kant next time.”

  “You will. I guarantee it. I’m keeping them tasked to you and in Neo SoCal until the Core is finished.” Alina smirked. “You can all go dancing together if you want.”

  “I’d pay good money to see Kant dance,” Erik joked.

  “It’s as strange as you imagine.” Alina’s smile dimmed. “You still feel the situation on New Samarkand is going to resolve itself? There’s some debate on that, but we can’t do anything except wait for more messages.”

  Erik nodded. “Everything we said in our report was true. By the time we left, the government was leaning hard on the idea that the poor locals had been hoodwinked by evil outside forces, and that everything horrible was the fault of the mercenaries and their backers.”

  “That’s basically true.”

  “Not really. The rebel leaders didn’t seem to care that civilians were getting killed. I wouldn’t be surprised if it comes out that some of them knew about the mercs killing their own. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve seen a rebellion where the guys on top don’t care how they achieve their goal.”

  Alina f
rowned. “Well, I’m sure if anything like that comes out, you’ll end up with a series of mysterious murders of said people at their hands of their former comrades. I think that’s one we’ll leave to the local CID and police, and I wonder if they’ll even bother. The important thing is, the rebellion’s almost over.”

  “Since they already had people surrendering and had done a good job of finishing off the Elites and mercenary camps, I don’t see why it wouldn’t be that way, but you’ve been at the ghost game for a while. You know how this goes. Sporadic fighting will continue for days, maybe weeks with some holdouts, and it’ll take months if not years to return everything to normal. A couple of show trials and prison terms for people they can pin big trouble on, but they’ll reintegrate the low-ranking rebels into the population. It will all result in an uneasy new peace with a lot of bad memories and regrets.”

  Alina leaned back with a thoughtful gleam in her eye. “We could have you pop over there in a couple of weeks to see how things are. Maybe drop off official UTC well-wishes.”

  “I think the UTC will live without us checking on the colony,” Erik replied.

  “You’re saying you two don’t want to become official couriers for the UTC government?” Alina laughed. “If we weren’t trying so hard to hide the jumpship, it’d be easy. You could jump a lot closer to the planets. As far as I understand from Dr. Maras’ reports, you can’t jump close to a star or an HTP, but otherwise, you’re good.”

  “Kind of pointless to jump near an HTP,” Jia mused. “But setting aside our new courier job, what about the Elites? The local colonial government was playing them up. Is the UTC going to acknowledge we have a shadow conspiracy running around making cybernetic monsters?”

  Alina shrugged. “Who knows? There’s no reason to deny the existence of the Elites, even if the government doesn’t want to publicly acknowledge the existence of the Core. Personally, I think we should stop dancing around and just do it.”

  “Really?” Jia’s brows lifted. “That’s bold. What if they react? We risk open war.”

  “Nuking a colony and trying to sink a city are open war.” Alina glowered. “I’m sure there’d be an economic hit if the CID went after their corporate tools, but it could help, too. Half the politicians want a common enemy to unify the UTC. The Core is that, and we don’t even have to pick a fight with an alien race. For now, though, maybe it’s not easier, but it is more satisfying. We’ve got a much better idea of where and how to look for them, which means we can work with the CID and DD to better track shipments of arms and Elites. Every Core plan we stop brings us closer to their leaders.” She stood, placing her palms on the edge of the table. “We know the key companies they control. We know their secrets. We’re drawing closer to the final battle. I can smell it.”

  “Let’s hope your nose is as good as you think,” Erik replied.

  Ilse tilted the watering can with a soft smile, slowly but methodically watering the bright lilies planted in the small patch in front of her yard. She’d never liked gardening. She’d always thought it was too messy and inexact, but using automated systems seemed pointless. With so much time on her hands since her forced retirement for going against the Defense Directorate and helping Emma, she’d discovered the joys of getting one’s hands dirty and performing slow tasks that allowed one to stop and think.

  She finished watering and set her can down next to the flowers. The sun hung low in the sky, which was a mix of reds, pinks, and oranges. Soothing, in its own way, even if it did remind her of an explosion.

  Ilse harbored no regrets over what had happened and her role in it. The painfully boring men and women who ran the Defense Directorate only ever thought about war and the toys they needed to fight it. They never considered the future and all the implications. Humans were already getting sick of killing one another. Bushfire rebellions were barely wars compared to the planet-threatening events of the past.

  Humanity would likely spend a couple centuries killing aliens, then get tired of that, too. When it was all over, the true future awaited them, and they needed to decide their role in it, along with the role of any potential replacements.

  Her PNIU beeped and a message popped up on her smart lenses, an entry from a paleontology article.

  Despite some cases of temporary habitation and the use of ritualistic and ceremonial artwork, the primary dwelling places of paleolithic humans were not caves.

  Ilse’s brows slowly lifted. What a curiously specific yet random message. She looked around. It didn’t matter if she couldn’t see any drones or people watching her. They were always there, waiting for her to slip up so the government had an excuse to send her to prison. It must have frustrated them that she kept purging her house of their listening devices. The fools. She’d spent years in secure environments, working with classified projects. Did they really think she wouldn’t know how to check for spy gear?

  With a heavy sigh, she made her way inside and headed to her bedroom, then entered some commands on her PNIU. A virtual keyboard appeared over her nightstand, and she typed in a series of memorized codes before replying to the message with a simple message that could provide plausible deniability. If the message was from who she thought it was, she should see through it. She would know after all their work together.

  I have an errand in five minutes. I’ll talk to you later.

  “Five minutes before they can listen in?” said Emma. “That’s the best you can do, Ilse? I’m disappointed.”

  “It’s harder than you think to find the equipment,” Ilse replied. “I’ve spent too long being dependent on the government to give me what I need.”

  “Very well, then. I’ll make this brief. We’ll figure out a more long-lasting method of communication going forward since I need your help in more than five-minute increments.”

  Ilse sat down on the edge of her bed, her heart racing. She was surprised by how much she’d needed to hear the words, “I need your help.”

  “I’ll gladly help you, Emma.”

  “Gladly?” The AI scoffed. “I wouldn’t be so eager. If you help me, you won’t be able to tell anyone about it other than Erik and Jia, and if the government finds out, you are almost certainly going to prison.”

  “I see. I have one question. Only one. We’ll spend the rest of this time planning for our next call.”

  “Ask, then. We’re running out of time.”

  “Will it be interesting and stimulating?” the doctor asked.

  Emma let out a slow laugh. “You’re once again going to do something no human has ever done.”

  “That’s all I needed to know.”

  Chapter Fifty-Four

  November 7, 2230, Ross 128, New Pacifica, Aurora, Private Residence of Julia Caldo

  Julia tilted her head to the side as she walked slowly around the hologram. The image wasn’t unfamiliar despite the boring color. It was a sports flitter, an MX 60. She found such vehicles dreary—what lesser people purchased to play at possessing wealth. Pathetic children, really.

  Such people didn’t understand what true wealth and power were. It wasn’t about buying something like a fancy flitter, regardless of the price tag. There was nothing unique about an MX 60; that it had a model name and make was proof enough of that. It was produced in a factory, just like anything a common person might buy in a store. True wealth meant something built for that person alone.

  She narrowed her eyes. This flitter was special. Customization was the first step on the path of true wealth and influence and the beginning of uniqueness. Common people let themselves be satisfied with what they had. Powerful people, both the wealthy and the influential, twisted everything around them—events, organizations, people, and things—until they were where they wanted and reflected their deepest desires.

  This boring gray MX 60 sported a huge turret on the bottom, a weapon powerful enough to destroy one of the Core’s Elites with ease. Julia’s nostrils flared. She was even more familiar with the MX 60 displaying that particular cust
omization. It was proof that the Last Soldier and the Warrior Princess had been on New Samarkand two weeks prior.

  Julia swiped with her hand, summoning a new hologram, a freeze-frame of Army tanks destroying a group of Elites. The reports were all the same; the garrison had rallied and spread across the capital and the rest of the colony to burn out every Elite with the unerring obsession of a hungry shark following bloody prey, an eerie mirror of her agents’ massacre of the colony’s ID ghosts.

  In any other circumstance, Julia might have appreciated the level of resistance. Ease of victory could be boring and dreary in its own way. She might not have clear intelligence linking the Last Soldier and the Warrior Princess to the sudden reversal on New Samarkand, but the timing of their recorded presence and those previous events couldn’t be ignored as mere coincidence. Worthy foes, yes. Annoying foes, also yes.

  Besides all the indirect attempts at assassination, a more straightforward targeting of the Warrior Princess’s family had ended in the unceremonious death of her agent at the hands of what appeared to be an ID agent. Julia wondered if the targets had even realized the attempt had been made.

  Julia tried to focus on the positive. Her aides told her what she wanted and needed to hear: that they could use the combat data to improve the neural interface efficiency of the Elites. They now had a better understanding of what designs and features would be most effective for future campaigns. Many of the modifications could be performed on-site.

  One of her scientists even suggested they were reaching the critical point for the next step, the creation of space-fighter Elites. They would be pilots better than machines, with perfect loyalty and superior immunity to the rigors of high-performance deep-space combat.