ARTIS PRIME

by Tobias Roote

  Who had warned her and reactivated the lasers.

  RIGA walked from behind the desk, reaching the first attacker, as a robot clean-up crew arrived to remove them, the rolling treads squeaking on the smooth floor of the reception area.

  She held back the robot, making it wait while she examined the remains. The robot responded by frantically trying to carry out its orders; the maintenance AI would be wondering what was happening. It was highly unusual for a robot to be interfered with, so RIGA could expect another RORI to appear shortly to investigate. No matter, she needed information.

  These were evidently not bounty hunters, nor were they AI citizens of the Empirum, she was certain of that. The look of them was foreign, not a design she was familiar with. A large chunk of head was still smoking by her feet. She picked it up, her optical scanners rendered a 3D image for later investigation. The sensors in her fingers relayed the composition of metals. She selected another piece that might contain more information, and prised it away from the head. Using sleight of hand, she popped it in her mouth and swallowed it whole, safely storing it for later analysis by ESSG.

  The weapons they carried were unusual, in that they were non-terran designed, short-range snub-nosed flechette guns, designed to kill and maim humans. They obviously did not know she was an AI; therefore, they could not be bounty hunters, as this limited amount of information would have been relayed to them by LEXON.

  Assassins then, she thought, as she surveyed the clean up operation being carried out in front of her, but sent by whom? Who is this new player? First the Mirage, and now these amateurs. Things were not adding up. Somehow, a piece of the puzzle was still missing. Did her anonymous benefactor know more?

  She released the agitated robot allowing it to finally clear the android carcase away.

  A polite cough reminded RIGA that she should be somewhere else. She turned to find not only the RORI behind her, but also a typically calm Alder, dressed in the rich dark toga of the Artis elite. Such clothing was unnecessary for AI's, but made the humans feel more comfortable around them. Most humans still didn't relate to AI's as people if they appeared as tin cans. So the Alders of Artis Prime, like others, attempted to affect their appearance by looking more human. This was often garish and overdone, but the humans still appeared to prefer it.

  She recognised him as Tempus, a moderate in the council and an AI that had taken on the visage of a middle-aged professor, in an attempt to make himself more approachable to humans. She mentally checked her records. He employed a full quarter of the breathing population, and was until recently, the fastest growing tech sector on Artis Prime. It was rumoured he had fallen into difficulties with existing contracts of supply. RIGA knew this to be true, although nobody knew the reason why.

  “Ambassador Rigel, I am Councillor Tempus. I was asked to check on your good health and escort you to the meeting. Would you join us, please?” He turned and placed one hand behind her back to propel her away from the scene, the other indicated the direction they should go. RIGA decided to leave him with his arm intact, and instead moved to the right to remove herself from physical contact.

  He smiled at her manoeuvre as his hand dropped to his side. The AI would not know that RIGA wasn’t human and had sought to dominate her in a subtle way. Realising that it hadn’t worked there would be no embarrassment; AI’s were not in a hurry to adopt negative emotions as part of their human type make-up.

  “Please, Councillor Tempus, allow me to follow you, as I am unfamiliar with where your chambers are situated,” RIGA said politely, indicating for him to proceed. He took the lead, evidently content with her explanation. Of course, she knew exactly where the chambers were. She knew every inch of the place, but she had no intentions of having him behind her, as she walked into the council chamber.

  They reached the room with no mention of the attack, as if it was a non-event, or something that frequently occurred. Certainly, the attendant at reception seemed to manage the event well, and judging by the defences they were well prepared. The delay in the gun response was strange though, as if it was undecided whether to shoot her, or the assassins.

  As they entered, with RIGA a little behind the Councillor, she immediately registered the faces of everyone present as they came into view. She was looking for unexpected reactions. They were the only ones aware of her expected presence here, at this time. Either someone in the room was party to the activity by the elevators, or they had informed a third party. Since they were all AI’s, she didn’t expect any facial or body responses, but nonetheless, she monitored carefully, so as not to expose her own abilities.

  Taking in the eleven seated AI’s, all different with particular idiosyncratic modifications which admittedly did help her identify them, RIGA noted they were all communicating heavily between themselves on a private level. While she couldn’t monitor the actual conversations because they were encrypted, she did record them for later study. For now, she waited for their attention to switch to her.

  A minute went past and she was still waiting.

  RIGA decided enough was enough. The evident arrogance of these AI’s towards a human person was unacceptable. Especially to her, as a high ranking diplomat; it was inexcusable.

  “Honoured Councillors – “

  “Ambassador, please don’t rush proceedings,” the Chair, an AI named Fregal interrupted her, then resumed private communication with the AI next to him.

  RIGA would have none of it.

  “Honoured Councillors, I believe I am warranted an explanation for the attack in your foyer immediately on my arrival. What do you have to say?” RIGA demanded, deciding to attack them to see how they would respond.

  The private buzz of communication stopped, and they all looked directly at her.

  Fregal looked around at the others for no reason that RIGA could discern, not one of them so much as twitched. He then looked at RIGA and responded. His deep bassoon voice perfectly set to sound authoritative and final.

  “It would seem, Ambassador Rigel, that this attack was directed at you specifically, therefore, it has nothing whatsoever to do with this Council.”

  “Excuse me, Councillor Fregal, but you have no evidence that the attack was made against me. However, I could easily have been injured, or worse killed, had your defences not been up to the task.” Which they almost weren’t, she muttered internally.

  “Those defences being there and responding in such a manner implies this to be very much to do with the Council.” RIGA's response was aimed to push the Council back on the defensive. She continued to monitor any reaction to the conversation by the others.

  Fregal sighed. “I accept your argument. It does have merit. We do have enemies who seek to hinder the work we achieve here. However, our own intelligence suggests that this particular attack was directed at you specifically. Although amateurish, their attempt to intercept your arrival indicates this is directed towards yourself, Ambassador Rigel.” Fregal nodded dismissively.

  So, they knew she was being intercepted before she arrived. Interesting. What else did they know?

  “That being so, Councillor Fregal, I wonder how these attackers knew of not only the place, but the time of our meeting. I have spoken to none, but yourselves,” RIGA responded, knowing full well they would disagree as to probable cause, but it was important to act in character. She had immunity while here, but only if she succeeded in convincing them of her diplomatic status. If they knew who she really was, they would have her ‘sliced and diced’ with their defence weapons.

  “Your implication is duly noted, Ambassador. However, you or your diplomatic mission, if that’s what it is, has so far provided little interest to us and is, therefore, unlikely to be a matter of discussion outside of this room. Shall we move on?” Councillor Tempus interjected in an effort to divert the growing storm. He sent a tight burst encrypted beam to RIGA. Her comms node correctly read the decryption sequence and opened the message.

  ‘Ambassador, You are correct. Your
arrival here was anticipated to cause problems, but this is neither the time or place to discuss the issues. Please understand that this council is constrained by matters beyond your involvement, and no answers will be forthcoming today. The attached code is my personal comms address, please get in touch before you leave Artis Prime. It could be to your advantage.’ The message signed off giving RIGA no opportunity for a reply.

  RIGA was reassured. Her secondary objective of today’s meeting had already been achieved. An inside contact with the Council meant she could move forward on her secret mission, which was to uncover the smuggling ring that was growing across Empirum space. The ESSG had evidence that it was being orchestrated from Artis Prime as well as Zeta Nine. Bollida suspected a high-ranking official, such as one of these arrogant Alders in front of her.

  “Councillor Tempus, I accept your invitation to move on. I would like to offer the Council a unique opportunity to assist a new planet into the Empirum. The planet in question consists of largely human sentients who have the benefit of not only excellent dexterity, but keen scientific minds. They will greatly enhance the technological mix of the Empirum and are seeking full membership from the outset.”

  “What evidence do you have besides the report you sent initially, that these beings, this planet, have the skills to warrant us being involved, let alone the preposterous idea they should become immediate full members of the Empirum?” Fregal responded patronisingly, still affronted at her implied accusation.

  RIGA bowed to conceal her action, retrieving the pouch from her abdomen under cover of the jacket, the gold stitching activating a diffusion screen which hid her movements. As she stood up straight the appearance of the black pouch in her hand surprised the Councillors. She would have had been screened on arrival to detect weapons, or other items. There had been no evidence of anything other than the jewellery on show.

  “You continue to impress us Ambassador. Your sleight of hand and evident ability to screen yourself is as impressive as it is disconcerting. I trust that you have no weapons concealed in a similar manner, since that would be most disturbing,” Fregal immediately commented.

  “I’m sorry for your concern, Councillor, but as you are aware, my reputation for acting as a secure courier for my family, as well as governments of the Empirum, is well known. You have nothing to fear from me, but I am more than capable of defending myself as well as my clients interests.”

  RIGA opened the bag and tipped a small quantity of the chips into her open palm.

  “These are MAC’s (Memory Augmentation Chips) designed and manufactured by my clients using robotic technology that is as advanced as that on Artis Prime. As such, they represent a competitive threat to your trade with the Empirum. Each of these chips would increase memory capacity by a factor of two. They have also produced chips that can manage five times the current level of any produced by Artis Prime.” RIGA walked around the Councillors handing each of them one of the chips.

  She continued while they examined them with their own sensors. “They are prepared to provide these exclusively to Artis Prime at very preferential rates in return for immediate and full sponsorship to the Empirum.”

  RIGA watched them as they examined the chips. They had the ability to do so and could even insert them to have an immediate benefit, but would probably use a lesser AI to act as a test subject first. These chips had already been modified to be one hundred percent compatible with Empirum AI systems.

  “As an act of goodwill this consignment of MAC's is offered as a gift, should you agree to proceed with the proposition,” RIGA added ratcheting up the interest.

  Tempus was the first to respond to the bait. “How many are there in this consignment you carry, Ambassador?”

  RIGA knew the figures would impress. “There are one hundred and twenty of these chips, including the ones you already hold. The market value for the consignment is estimated at thirty million EC’s (Empirum Credit’s),” she answered, thinking to herself ‘or two and a half million EC’s per Councillor.’ A tidy incentive, even for these affluent citizens of Artis Prime.

  RIGA watched as one of the Councillors took the unprecedented step of inserting a chip. Pelon, one of the more recent councillors to be voted in, was considerably more malleable than some of the others. He wasn’t to be messed with though; his teams had been responsible for much of the advances in weaponry used in the border wars, which made him a formidable figure within the Council. His current arms supply to the Empirum Navy and the defence systems of the individual planets was massive, and held him highest in the Council’s rankings. He must be the cause of the decline of Councillor Tempus’ fortunes.

  The others seemed to defer to him and tension rose in the room as they awaited his verdict. It wasn’t long in coming.

  The Councillor turned his attention directly on RIGA, the malevolence in his stare now unmistakable.

  “Where did these come from? I WANT TO KNOW!”

  4. A Diplomatic Incident

  RIGA stepped back, surprised at the sudden aggression from Pelon. It had come without warning and she couldn’t yet perceive the reason. The others seemed to visibly shrink away from him as if he was about to explode. Until now Pelon had remained quiescent, yet here he was, bristling with anger, evident in both his manner and speech. It was unusual for an Alder to show any emotion at all. Very strange, thought RIGA.

  “Councillor Pelon, I’m not prepared to release that information at this stage. However, I’m concerned at your reaction to the insertion of the memory chip - are you having an adverse reaction?” RIGA asked hoping to divert the immediate hostility.

  “You are not supposed to...” Pelon muttered angrily, then realising that he was already saying too much, stopped himself. Instead he cocked his head slightly which signified something ominous. RIGA watched suspiciously; Pelon was communicating outside the chamber. RIGA wondered who he was speaking with.

  The other Councillors were withdrawn and quiet. Some, obviously not privy to what was occurring, fingered the chip in their hands warily as if it had grown horns. Others were apparently also in communication on a silent level. This wasn’t going as planned; RIGA considered what she should do next. She couldn’t just walk out, there were protocols to follow, unless she wanted to cause a diplomatic incident. That would cause her effort to bring the planet in question into the Empirum, to fail miserably. She needed more data, but there was none forthcoming here.

  Her enhanced hearing picked up movement outside the doors to the chamber, sensing activation of multiple weapons in proximity to her location. What the frig had gone wrong, she wondered. She tried hard to piece together all of the snippets, subliminal messages and signals she had been getting since arriving on Artis Prime. The MAC’s were fine, she had the same highest level chips inserted in her own matrix. There could be nothing to them to warrant this reaction by Pelon. What had she accidentally uncovered here, and more importantly, how should she deal with it?

  A tight-beamed message arrived; it was from Tempus again. She looked up at him. His expression was grave, his human countenance was of a worried man. Why would he be concerned at this? What could it mean to him? His message was clear.

  ‘If you can flee, do so,’ was all it said. He nodded at her and then left the room via his own personal entranceway, hidden behind dark curtain hangings.

  He seemed frightened, she thought to herself, as the doors behind her burst open. Turning, she saw the chrome-plated android guards march into the room blocking her only exit. Their extremely slim bodies hid some very durable and expensive alloys that were ultra light, but very strong. They were Artis Prime’s most formidable export. At two metres tall they were super fast, super strong, and totally and utterly without equal in the AI world. When properly armed, and in a hostile environment, they were ruthless killing machines.

  Dammation! She thought, quickly deciding that it was time to test out the new toy she had been given by Osachi. He had anticipated the need for her protection and told her
this would keep her alive. She understood its principle, but hadn’t had the opportunity to verify its effectiveness - until now.

  Her hand went to her throat and pressed the jewelled stud on the band around her neck. It hummed gently, but otherwise nothing happened. She hadn’t been told what to expect. She noticed an increase in magnetic resonances and something else she couldn’t place, but had no time to analyse anything. The guards were coming straight for her with alarming speed. Her escape through the exit behind them looked a long way away right now.

  Grabbing at her hand, she pulled off her fring, and with a single press it unravelled until a long intertwined wire hung smoking from her left hand. Where the plasma whip trailed the ground, it left a thin black line of scorched surface.

  “SURRENDER! OR BE TERMINATED,” the leading guard shouted at her while strutting towards her aggressively. He didn’t see any threat in the thin metal strand in her hand. He was, nonetheless, raising his rifle to fire unless she obeyed immediately.

  RIGA wasn’t about to do that; she had plenty of reasons not to stay still either. Deciding that all pretence of diplomacy had left the building, she utilised her super strength and jumped up and forward towards the door. As she somersaulted over the leading guard’s head, she cracked her trailing whip across his arm. It wrapped itself around, sparking as it connected. His appendage suddenly dropped to the ground, complete with rifle still in its grip. Her plasma whip had severed it through.

  As the android stood there assimilating the sudden lack of input from its arm, RIGA’s descent caught two other guards raising their weapons above their heads towards her. She landed on them hard, her considerably denser weight sent them flying to the ground in a heap.

  RIGA attempted to kick the large wide-barrelled blasters away from them, but the android hand was designed to hold the blasters, so were practically moulded to the grip. Instead, she managed to snag her whip underneath the wrist section of the nearest and pulled it across, the plasma melting straight through the joint of the guard’s gun hand. The other scrabbled to gain some purchase on her leg, at the same time bringing its gun to bear on her chest.