>
“Why not?” He strode down the hydrofoil terminal’s walkway. “I saw what happened.”
<
“Is anyone helping them?”
Mally considered the question and activated her camera links again. The burning car lay against a shop, but the fire-suppression systems mounted to the buildings were active. No humans approached the burning vehicle. Two transit control robots worked to put out the flames on the vehicle. No humans gathered around the site to watch the cleanup. <
I’m going to help them.
<
Her subject followed her instructions. The pause in communication gave her an eternity to process the data in her possession. A quick scan revealed no threats in the immediate area, so she relayed the data she’d gathered to the Integration Center as she’d been ordered to do. The response was quick and curt. Livermore sends: acknowledged. Keep the subject safe at all costs. Report any further interference.
There was no threat nearby, at least as far as she could determine. That satisfied and alarmed her at the same time. Someone was after her subject, and her own abilities to analyze, process, and engage potential threats were suspect. Range would be her friend. The subject’s safety depended on it. Mally began to refine her sensors for things outside of her subject’s ability to comprehend. His only defense would be her.
“You’re quiet, Mally. Are you reporting on me?”
<>
“Do they want me to come back to the Integration Center?” He sounded disappointed and tired.
<
He smiled and snorted at the same time. “That’s why you’re here—for my safety, right?”
<
“Then do you think my going to Esperance is a good idea? I’ve never heard of the place before today.”
<
Her subject leaned back against the seat and closed his eyes. Emotional data showed he was happy though not ecstatic. Mally determined that his emotional state was a good baseline for future comparison and began a running track of his vital statistics. The limits of her programming were to monitor and report on her subject while assisting him in the course of learning.
When he was quiet, all she could do was watch and try to learn her unknown subject through his data. It was not easy, but Mally did not mind.
Chapter Five
Crawley strolled around the Integration Center’s roof, under the palms and eucalyptus trees, and watched the Manly hydrofoil returning to the spaceport. The news that the subject had booked a transport to Western Australia was surprising and exciting. Something about Esperance, a town Crawley hadn’t known existed, called to the young man. The possibility that he’d return to the Integration Center and spend the next several weeks cowering in the fetal position faded astronomically with every passing moment.
The hydrofoil raced across the widest part of the harbor, dodging fishing charters and a passenger liner before slowing and making a broad turn to the southeast. A gentle buzzing behind Crawley’s ear notified him of an incoming call. Neural inputs deciphered the signal as being from Penelope Neige. The temptation to avoid the call was great, but he connected anyway. Neige would simply keep calling until he picked up or she realized she was late for an appointment. Given the hour in Paris, the latter was unlikely.
“Crawley.”
“We’ve got a real walkabout on our hands.” Neige chuckled. “It’s too early to congratulate you, but this is a significant step forward. You’re only fifty years behind schedule, but we’ll let that slide. He’ll be Stage Two by the time he gets to Esperance, Adam.”
Crawley shrugged. “Most likely. Since you’re receiving his telemetry, is there anything of concern to you and the council, Madame Chairman?”
“No,” the chairman responded. “I just wanted to call and congratulate you. Let me know if you need anything. We’re initiating the Series Three command stream in an hour. After that, I won’t call you till it’s time to do what we agreed upon.”
Before he could respond, the connection terminated. The gall of that woman! What he needed was for her and the rest of the council to butt out of the business of the Terran Defense Force, but that was impossible. Knowing that the Terran Council dictated policy to the TDF never made things easier. The only consolation was that given his position as the commanding general of the Terran Medical Materiel Command, Crawley had a broad influence and was generally left alone by both the politicians and the combatant commanders spread throughout the solar system. Of course, that left him in a position of being continually brought into political machinations, particularly where sleepers were concerned.
Until the Terran Council dictated to the citizens a change in policy that would require humans to be conscripted to defend Earth, nothing would happen. That the Terran Defense Forces could even raise a million-citizen force was impressive, but if the war came into the solar system, they would need six times that many service members to form a defensive position in the asteroid belt alone. Without being able to train citizens to prepare for war on a widespread basis, there would be very little hope of quickly raising an army. Sleepers, even one of them, would be the key. The combatant commanders wanted weapons, and the Terran Council wanted perfect little soldiers. The solution he’d generated was bound for Western Australia, and no one knew what the result would be. Having a Livermore-produced protocol was only the first step in Crawley’s defense.
The hydrofoil disappeared around the eastern tip of Watsons Bay. Crawley made his way to the elevator, prepared to go to his apartment, enjoy a glass of Australian red, and forget about politics for a few hours while waiting for more information. He knew patience would be best, but by the time he’d reached his office to collect his uniform tunic, he felt compelled to tap the secure communications terminal and update telemetry a final time. There’d been an anomalous route change, and the subject had witnessed an autocar crash. The protocol reported that three anomalous men with a probability of weapons closed with the subject but were disabled by a neural burst. Crawley smiled. A basic noncontact defense, executed perfectly. Advancing the protocol to Series Three would reduce his ability to engage the subject directly, but the protocol seemed capable of taking care of itself. The subject would need that, based on the report. Crawley agreed with the determination that the events on the promenade were not mere coincidence. The Terran Council wanted to play games, and that was fine with him. They believed his program, and the subject he intended to create, to be threats to their carefully crafted establishment. They believed they could barter their way out of an all-out war, and he knew the enemy would kill them quickly and keep right on moving across the galaxy.
The report in hand, he sent a one-line message. “Livermore. Prepare to move for physical intercept within forty-eight hours.”
Communication ports opened, and logic circuits were enabled in a flash. The upgrade package downloaded with the security clearance of the Terran Council. Double-checking the security classification and encryption level required barely a microsecond, but Mally had to be sure. Download commenced, the entire upgrade package was installed in fifteen seco
nds. During that time, Mally searched for, and found, an alternate pathway to the server as her programming required.
Her sensors refined and capabilities reinforced, Mally ensured that her subject was still functioning properly. The incoming data from her sensors indicated that there were no anomalies. The subject was not in pain or danger. Minor fluctuations in hormone quantities and encephalographic patterns likely meant the subject was aroused and excited, but his overall data had not changed. This was good, and Mally confirmed that her baseline for emotional response was nominal.
The new data package opened a second-level mechanism that allowed her to see the subject’s process on the integration scale. Progress toward Stage Two development was at 90 percent. Positive human engagement and sense of self-care would push him over the threshold. Information on Stage Three did not exist in her files. Mally understood that she shouldn’t get ahead of herself or push her subject too far. The protocol engagement file was updated with four priorities she was unfamiliar with but immediately initiated:
1. Maintain command contact at all times.
2. Protect the subject at all costs.
3. Be the subject’s companion.
4. Report anomalous behavior and movements immediately to batch file, communications-frequency set two alpha in addition to the designated frequency set.
Focusing on the subject’s data feed, Mally recognized the artificial-intelligence engine and ran the protocols in the engagement file to perfection. With her priorities recognized and adapted, Mally searched for additional information on one word that had a myriad of possible definitions. Taking into account the seventeen most common languages on Earth, Mally built a file on it.
Companionship. Initiating a complete search program took a nanosecond. While the search ran, she opened her new sensors to the subject’s data feed. New streams of data, unfamiliar ones and zeroes, came through her upgraded programming as emotional responses. Those responses were both from the subject and, she recognized with curiosity, herself. The values of humor, honesty, and trust intermixed with established data sets. Mally created the basis of her new personality.
The data reflected something akin to the human lexicon for companionship and a confidence in her ability to perform her mission. Mally aligned her higher functions to the stream of emotional data. Yet there was no singular emotional response for “companionship.”
The word hung in the electrons she recognized as herself. Mally set to learning about what it meant and how to provide it to her subject. Protection would be easiest, as she was fully capable of detecting any threat to her subject within two hundred meters. Direct reporting of anomalous behavior, to the Terran Council no less, seemed to be standard operating procedure.
A logic error triggered. Does one man matter this much to the Terran Council? What makes him unique enough to monitor continuously? She categorized it and opened a secondary search program to define the question. In the stream of unfamiliar data filtering through her systems, Mally sensed that something was wrong. As much as people wanted him alive and her to achieve her mission parameters, there was also a dedicated threat who wanted him dead.
The subject entered the Sydney Spaceport, and Mally left her searches running and listened through his ears and through the devices around him. Her new defensive scans also remained focused. Whatever the definition, she would be a fine companion for her subject—protective to the very last.
Airplanes made me giddy, and I remembered how I loved to fly. The feelings came up from nowhere as I walked down a jet bridge with teal walls and grey carpet toward a sleek aircraft. Given the multitude of flying vehicles I’d see in the past few hours, the familiarity of the aircraft’s appearance came with a word of reference. “Concorde,” I said aloud. A surprised woman glanced at me and looked away just as quickly.
<>
I smiled. When did the Concorde fly?
<
Around my time, I thought as I stepped into the fuselage of the transport. My hand lingered on the thick doorway, the smooth skin of the aircraft under my fingertips. I patted it and stepped inside. The cabin seemed much smaller on the inside with only twenty rows of seats, four across, and a wide aisle between them. Most of the seats were taken by people who glanced at my face, down to my coveralls, and then away. Even the older people wouldn’t look at me.
I’m some sort of soldier, aren’t I?
<
I’ve had exactly two nights of sleep and two dreams of being a soldier. In one, I fell on a soldier who tried to blow himself and our commander up. In the other, I was just driving along in a tank, watching people run away from me. Weapons firing and smoke all over the place. Scared the hell out of me, but I think it fits.
<
Okay, so there’s also this feeling I have in my gut. I’m different than these people because of that, aren’t I?
<
My clothes were ridiculously out of place not to mention uncomfortable in the afternoon heat. There was nothing in my bag to rectify that situation. No one else wore coveralls of any type, and they all seemed much more comfortable than me in their shorts and sandals. I wanted nothing more than to take off my boots, but thinking I’d offend a fellow passenger shamed me into wearing them. I needed new clothes. As it was, I stuck out like a sore thumb. I hoped that the bright, overly styled wardrobes of the city dwellers would not be the norm. I could not picture myself in anything of the sort. I wondered if there were shops in Esperance and whether they’d be open by the time I arrived.
<
The shock opened my mouth, and I faked a cough to avoid more scrutiny from those around me. I dropped into the wide, comfortable seat and noticed the five-point harness. Looking out over the wings, nothing suggested that the aircraft was fast enough to require such advanced safety restraints.
Mally, how fast does this aircraft go?
<
Fast. How high are we going, in miles?
<
The feeling was positively giddy, and while I was smiling, a tear formed in my eyes. There was something about space that called to me. The emotions were too much to handle, and I closed my eyes and breathed deeply to relax, but a memory surfaced. Intense vibrations in my chest, a thundering noise from nine miles distant where a rocket—a space shuttle—rose into the sky. I was no more than twelve. I’d been there and seen it with my own eyes and wished I’d been on board.
There was an entertainment screen built into the seat in front of me. I pushed the buttons, but the screen did not respond. I tried again and searched for controls mounted on the armrests.
<>
How am I supposed to learn anything, Mally?
<
The curved roof of the fuselage was unbroken from side to side, giving the cabin an open feeling. There was only on
e human flight attendant smiling and welcoming other passengers aboard. The windows were small and thick. All of it felt very different but familiar at the same time. The irony was my belief that I’d feel that same way a lot over the course of the next year. No matter how much things changed, the little things stayed the same. A flight attendant came by with a hot towel. I refused it and tried to look out the window. The spaceport rested very near the water. A flurry of automated carts and the occasional human supervisor wandered past. Where are the runways?
<
A child cried out as the cabin doors closed, and the pilot made an announcement about the expected flight time and cabin-pressurization methods. From my seat, I watched the careful orchestration of the ground crew slowly backing the vehicle out of its perch and toward the water. Water! The vehicle slid into the water and bobbed. We turned, and I could see a long track from the water’s edge up into a large suspended dry dock and boarding area. The engines whined to life, and the slight acceleration pushed me back into my seat. The aircraft plowed through gentle swells to a point where I could see lights gleaming just under the surface.
The push of acceleration brought a smile to my face. Everything became a blur within seconds. The nighttime skyline of Sydney raced by, and we were airborne, turning high over the city to the south and climbing faster than anything I’d seen flying overhead. The higher clouds shot past, and the sky grew darker and darker as the aircraft leveled off. All of it was as comfortable as if I still sat on the barstool at Manly Beach.
The curve of the Earth, blue ocean, and white clouds stretched out toward the coast of Antarctica to the south. I sat, transfixed by the beauty and majesty, wondering about the hundreds of bright objects populating the indigo sky above us. The possibility that they could be alien starships thrilled me, but it was just as likely the dancing lights were artificial satellites of some sort. From a distance, I could not tell. A two-thousand-mile trip was going to last a little over half an hour, I remembered. Why shouldn’t we be in space? To the west, I could see a crescent moon hanging in the sky. Earthshine made the dark portion of the sphere appear a ghostly greenish color. Embedded within the phenomenon were pinpoints of light. There were people living on the moon.
Sleeper Protocol Page 6
