Artificial Evolution

by Joseph R. Lallo

  “They have missile launchers?” Lex said, concern flavoring his voice for the first time since hopping into his ship. The constant small-arms fire had chipped away only about 20 percent of his defensive shields, but a few missile hits could cause him trouble.

  He tilted the ship and pulled hard to the right, just barely sweeping out of the path of the missile. Reluctantly, he decided the time had come to activate the closest thing he had to a weapon, his tractor beam. With a bit of tweaking to the software, he’d been given a mode that would use the beam like a jackhammer, rattling pieces of hardware to bits in short order. He let the autotracking mode target and detonate the missile as it sailed past. The indicator blared again, and he felt the shudder of his shield grazing it as he dodged it by an even narrower margin.

  “Are you about through?” Michella asked. “These shots are getting a little close for comfort.”

  “Yeah. I think I’ve had my fill of toying with the army.”

  One of the wonderful things about hovercars and ships alike was the fact that since thrusters were responsible for keeping them airborne, the direction they were facing was largely irrelevant. In a practiced sequence of maneuvers, Lex cut the engines and neatly pivoted 180 degrees, drifting backward on momentum alone. The new orientation put him face-to-face with his pursuers and treated him to the sight of the lead assault pilot’s face going from furious at the unknown pilot of this black ship to terrified at the prospect of a head-on collision with him. He scrambled to heave his hovertruck out of the way. It sent a ripple of random avoidance maneuvers down the line of trucks. Lex waited until they’d each just barely recovered before he pounded the throttle again, ripping through the air toward them, scattering them with the leading edge of his shield, and then rattling their windows with a powerful sonic boom as he pulled up and away. A few gave halfhearted chase, but within a few seconds he was gone from sight and sensors, along with the escapees. The troops shifted their mission from pursuit and capture to retrieval of their disabled brethren.

  #

  Garotte paced along the gravel of the valley floor. He’d dropped the disabled Declaration to the ground, harvested the sky crane of as many useful parts as could be quickly salvaged, and rigged it to pilot itself to a point far away from anything. Silo sat atop the powered-down hovertank.

  “I’m of two minds about keeping that tank with us. While I’m confident I’ve found all of the tracking devices and transponders, there is always the chance that additions have been made to standard location apparatus since I last familiarized myself,” Garotte said. “Conversely, if I can’t get the Declaration powered up, that vehicle will be indispensable should we be discovered by troops or robots.”

  “This is the first vehicle in years that I’ve really enjoyed putting through its paces. I vote we keep it,” she said.

  “So be it. Keep the weapons on standby while I’m surveying the damage to our chariot. In light of the remarkable assortment of misfortunes of late, I don’t imagine we can rely upon being left alone for very long.”

  “Speaking of surveying the damage,” Silo said, hopping down from the tank and walking up to him, “look at me for a minute, sweetheart.”

  “What?” he asked.

  She stepped close and cupped her hand to his cheek, turning his head gently and eyeing the bruises from his questioning. “They worked you over pretty good.” There was a strained quality to her voice. She’d always been casual and friendly in her noncombat interactions, but this was the first time that she seemed to be holding something back. Her tone had the tiniest tremor of anger and frustration.

  “We’ve both seen worse,” he said, taking her hand from his face.

  “We’ve seen worse at the hands of an enemy. The Luddites and such. Or during skirmishes. We’re trying to help these people.”

  “Their techniques are questionable, I grant you, but when you work unsanctioned you can’t always depend upon people interpreting your actions in the proper light. They wouldn’t be doing their diligence if they didn’t suspect us of misdeed.”

  She sighed. “When did the lines get so blurry, Garotte?”

  “I wouldn’t know anything about lines, my pet. I stopped paying them any mind ages ago. You’ll never get anything done if you spend your time minding laws, borders, and sides.” He turned back to the Declaration. “How much do you remember from your maintenance drills?”

  “Focused on firearms, but I think I can scrape the basics out of the crannies of my brain,” she replied. She watched him march inside the ship, then followed him inside.

  He was sitting at the controls, leafing through a binder. “The best evidence of a properly built piece of machinery,” he said, thumping the page, “the presence of mind to include a hard copy of the start-up procedures. Help me with his panel, would you?”

  Silo popped open the two clips he indicated and heaved down an overhead panel. He clicked on a flashlight and shined it inside. “That’s a worrying smell. I don’t like the looks of these lines… I’ll fetch the parts bin, shall I, Silo?”

  “You know something? My real name’s never been a secret,” she said, crouching down and removing damaged components while Garotte grabbed a black case filled with assorted spare wires and boards. “I don’t mind throwing codenames around while we’re on a mission. Can’t have people connecting us to a solid identity and all that, but you do know my name. Meanwhile, I must’ve heard a dozen names for you, and I don’t believe a one of them. When do you figure you’ll trust me with your first name?”

  He selected an appropriate replacement cable and handed it to her. “It isn’t a matter of trust.”

  “Then what is it?” She set about removing a board assembly to get at the most damaged of the wires. “I gave up an awful lot to be a soldier, and I lost most of what I had left once I decided it was more important to get the job done than follow the rules to do it. Life’s whittled my list of friends and allies to barely enough folks to play a decent game of cards. I gotta believe it’s done the same for you.”

  “I suppose that would depend upon how one defines the words friend and ally.”

  “My therapist used to call that deflection,” she said.

  “As did mine. It is one of the great many reasons I was glad to be rid of him.”

  “I really think you need to assess what you’re doing and why you’re doing it.”

  “We’re replacing a power conduit because it was charred by a power surge.”

  “More deflection, sweetheart. You know what it means when someone can’t bring themselves to face the truth?”

  “Silo, is this really the time for this?”

  “Seems to me all you’ve got to do is hold that flashlight. I may as well make the most of the captive audience. Now, way back when I got kicked out of the armed forces for that little dare—”

  “And I’ve apologized for that.”

  “And I’ve told you it wasn’t your doing. And don’t interrupt, hon, there’s a point to this. Back then you hired me because you were hip deep in mercenary work, and getting pretty rich doing it.”

  “I recall.”

  “Was it about the money?”

  “Of course it was about the money. I’m not a bloody philanthropist.”

  “Couldn’t you have just as easily stolen it?”

  “Where’s the fun in that?”

  Silo nodded, finishing her current repair and gazing over at the bin. “You got replacement board marked… B-10UX in there?”

  “As luck would have it, yes.” He handed it over.

  “Now, me? There were a thousand private-sector jobs I could have taken, checkered past and all. But when you came knocking, I was sold on the job even before you started talking about the paycheck. I never really thought about why that was until I got locked up. After a few months of sessions, I realized it was like I said before. Fixation. I got to thinking that I could only ever be one thing, do one thing. That it was all there was to me. And that isn’t healthy.”


  “You are a soldier, Silo. I am a spy.”

  “I’m not denying that. What I’m saying is there’s got to be more. You’ve got to be a whole person. And there’s got to be a time when you decide you’ve done enough and start making decisions for you. This is a game for the young. Even when I was too deep in the job to see anything but the next mission, I knew I wasn’t one of those folks who wanted to die for a cause. I wanted to fight for one, sure, but I always figured on coming back. The thing is, if you do it just to do it, you’ll never stop. You’ll keep doing it until you can’t.”

  “Well, soldiering is a game for the young. I won’t deny that. One must set the physical pursuits aside when the time comes. But espionage is a game for all ages. One simply begins to shift one’s focus from combat to politics.”

  Silo sighed. “You’re missing the point.”

  “And what is that?”

  “That you’re missing the point, hon,” she said. “There has to be a point to it all, or else you’ll end up doing it because there’s nothing else. And you don’t have a point.”

  “And do you?”

  “Not yet, but I’m darn sure working on it. And I’m hoping to just once get a look under that mask of yours while there’s still someone left underneath.”

  “If you’re interested in getting a look underneath…” he began slyly.

  “Oh, sure. Hide behind the banter.” She leaned back from the compartment. “We’ve done all the good we’re going to do here. What’s next?”

  “We’ll try the manual start,” Garotte said.

  He found the panel indicated by the binder and pulled it open. Inside was a heavy lever. He pulled it out, gave it a twist, and thrust it back in. From all around the ship came weak tones indicating the booting up of minor systems. A few screens flickered to life on the control panel. Most had nothing but bad news.

  “Well, Silo, we’ve got power to diagnostics, which means we at least know the degree to which our little ship is disabled.”

  “And what degree is that?”

  He glanced over the screens. “An exceedingly high one.”

  “Thank goodness for the diagnostics. Never would have worked that one out on our own.”

  “At least the cargo is both intact and inactive,” he said, placing his hand on the side of the large metallic chest they’d stolen from the Neo-Luddites. “Lucky thing the army wasn’t able to get at it while it was in their care.”

  “Looks like that tinkering got the secure radio up. I’m going to plug in the communication code from the tank. At least we can keep tabs on what they’re saying about us,” Silo said.

  She punched the appropriate digits into a device they’d patched into the ship’s control panel. Like most of their additions, it took the military’s typical approach to the scale of form versus function by completely ignoring the form part. It was a brushed metal box with buttons, indicators, and a speaker. Once she’d entered the proper information, the device filled the cabin of the Declaration with voices ranging from anxious to panicked.

  “No, no. I need those men on a standard search pattern. Find the escapees! I want them secured, and I want to continue questioning them so we know what else they’ve got planned. … No, sir, we haven’t assembled a second recon crew yet. We’re still tied in knots from the escape and the air support.” Messages of confusion and disorder continued to clash and step on each other for a few moments until suddenly they were silenced. A second later an authoritative voice was the only one speaking. “Attention. We have officially shifted this channel to command mode. All personnel listen closely. Orders follow. The transit and communication lockdown is being upgraded to a full quarantine. A capital ship with drone escorts is entering orbit. It shall be responsible for quarantine enforcement. All available heavy forces are to muster at designated Alpha-1 defense points. Repeat, all available heavy forces are to muster at designated Alpha-1 defense points. You are to defend only when under direct assault. Reinforcements are not to be deployed to any areas under attack. Remain at Alpha-1 defense points. Light forces and engineering teams are to locate and decommission all high-powered transmission and communication equipment in major cities as part of the information control aspect of the quarantine. All nonessential communication, both civilian and military, is to be discontinued. Nonmilitary access to the communication network has been severed.”

  The message continued, listing out in precise detail how to prevent people from leaving the planet and what to do if they tried. It was a strange, almost nonsensical string of orders. There was every indication that they were fully aware that a massive threat existed, but no coordinated defense against it was advised or even permitted. They were being commanded to be sitting ducks. The message concluded with the most cryptic statement of all.

  “Officers with command clearance are to enact Omega-White protocol, as detailed in the classified contingency briefs.”

  With that, the silence lifted and the channel was again abuzz, this time primarily with confusion.

  “Egad…” Garotte uttered.

  “I’ve never heard of Omega-White.”

  “Nor should you have. That’s the sort of protocol reserved for commanding officers and those who hack into their classified files. Omega-White is the Teeker name for scorched-earth tactics on a global scale. They are going to sanitize the surface of the planet.”

  “During a quarantine? They aren’t even going to try to evacuate?”

  “Tactically they must feel it is too great a risk. From what we’ve seen of those robots, that’s a sound assessment. One of these things turned into a building-destroying swarm overnight. Imagine if one got off planet and ended up on a major industrialized world. But they didn’t witness it. There’s no two ways about it now. Someone in the command structure knows about these things, has known about them for some time, and doesn’t have a workable plan to stop them without taking out the planet along with them.”

  Garotte’s slidepad bleeped.

  “Guys, Lex here. Did you make it someplace safe?” he asked.

  “In light of a recent revelation, I’m not certain we have,” Garotte said.

  “We’re clear, sweetheart,” Silo called. “Normally I’d be peeved at you making a fool of a bunch of military grunts, but I think it’s pretty clear these folks don’t have much in common with real soldiers, and we’ve got bigger problems to worry about.”

  “I got them off my tail and I’m heading to those coordinates you sent. I’m pretty sure they didn’t follow me, but I think the faster we do this handoff the better,” he said.

  “Agreed. We’ll be ready for you.” Garotte closed the connection.

  “You think we can trust that gadget to keep the robot under control?” Silo asked, eyeing the Neo-Luddite crate that contained their sample robot.

  “Look at it, my dear. This isn’t a piece of fragile, experimental equipment. It is polished, engineered. Dare I say overengineered. I would suggest this was designed precisely for the purpose of keeping a piece of electronics safely scrambled for a prolonged period of time, which further suggests the Neo-Luddites knew what to expect from those robots as well.”

  Silo sighed and scratched her head. “I thought I had these guys figured out. They’re supposed to use half-baked gadgets to blow up civilians or steal other half-baked gadgets. These high-precision sensors and custom-made stasis chambers don’t fit.”

  “Further evidence of a saner mind pulling the strings. Evidently whatever person or group has been guiding and supplying the Luddites toward their recent successes has begun taking a more active role in their activities.” Garotte looked up to a black form approaching on the horizon. “Ah. Here’s our boy.”

  The SOB hissed along close to the surface until it reached their position, then expertly dipped into the valley and hovered over what little flat ground remained. Lex popped the cockpit and climbed to the ground.

  “So what’s the plan? What have you got and what do I do with it?” he asked.

/>   “Silo, would you do the honors?” Garotte said.

  Silo stepped into the Declaration and hefted the crate from the ground. Lex eyed Garotte’s injuries.

  “What happened to you?” he asked.

  “Occupational hazard. Overly curious jailer. Nothing to fuss about,” Garotte replied.

  “This is a crate we found with the Neo-Luddites back when they were trying to get the first one of these robot things. The meaty one. Near as we can figure, this is how they were planning to transport it once they got it.” She lowered it to the ground with care and pointed out a small panel on one of the top corners. “The inside of this thing releases a continuous, focused scrambler pulse. We dumped one of the least damaged bots in here before it recovered from the EMP, and it hasn’t made a peep since, so it should be safe as long as the power holds out. That looks like the power meter there, and the estimated battery life is six days.”

  “More than enough time to get us to Big Sigma,” Lex said, trying to heave the crate off the ground and failing. “Uh… could you just get this over there?”

  The deceivingly strong Silo hefted it up again and plodded toward the ship.

  “We can’t be sure we’ll be able to get any messages out from now on. The military is knocking out planetary communications. Making it a quarantine right down to an information level. You’re on your own once you leave orbit. We need an answer on how to beat these things right quick, and if we can’t work out our own communication, you’re going to have to deliver it to us.”

  “And Ms. Modane,” Garotte called to the woman in the passenger seat, “I’m counting on you to find some decent clues regarding the source of the equipment and orders. There is no doubt in my mind that, regardless of what these robots are, the Luddites were after them for their destructive potential, which means they knew a lot more about them than we did.”

  “I’ll get to the bottom of this,” Michella called from the cockpit with confidence.

  “I’m sure you will,” he said. He ducked inside the Declaration and returned with a thumb-sized memory drive. “This contains as much information as we’re able to share without putting you in even more danger than you already are. I’d wager it will get you a few steps further in the right direction.” He tossed it to her.