“Why?” she asked after a brief pause. “Why would they attack H.E. One unless they…or you,” she corrected, “were engaged in something the people would condemn? These leaders are elected, Jericho—if they don’t behave they’ll lose their power and come under scrutiny. Maybe even your kind of scrutiny,” she added hotly.
“That’s true,” he agreed as he reached into his pocket and withdrew an unfamiliar object. It was similar to the Mark lying on her bed, but it was of a significantly different design. It had what looked to be interwoven laurels which formed a triangle, and at the center of that triangle was the familiar emblem of the Timent Electorum: the unclosing, all-seeing eye. “This is a Tyrannis Mark, and the one you’ve got is an Infectus Mark,” he explained without needed prompting to do so, “do you know the difference between the two?”
Masozi knew that the Infectus Marks were assigned for Adjustments of corrupt government officials, but she had never even heard of a Tyrannis Mark showing up in the Virgin System for a hundred years. “Tyrannis means ‘tyrant’,” she said, unable to deduce anything further, so she acidly added, “so I assume the person that Mark is intended for has acted tyrannically.”
“So far, so good,” he agreed, apparently ignoring her barb. “I recently…acquired this from a former superior. He won’t need it any more, I assure you,” he explained when she quirked an eyebrow challengingly. “A Tyrannis Mark is different…an Adjuster has to accrue at least a hundred thousand RL before he or she can qualify for one. I recently just passed that mark with the trio of Adjustments I made in New Lincoln when we met.” He shook his head as though remembering something, “My ‘boss’ has held this Mark for over five years, and he was the only Adjuster for three Systems with more than double my own RL.”
“That…seems like a long time,” Masozi said, “you only had the Keno Mark for a few weeks before making the Adjustment, right?”
Jericho flashed a mischievous smile before nodding affirmatively. “That’s right. The discovery, or evidential, period can take days, weeks, or sometimes even as long as a year. But five years?” he asked rhetorically before shaking his head. “I’ve never known a Mark to be held that long, and neither had my fellow Adjusters.”
Masozi nodded as she realized what he was suggesting. Then her eyes narrowed and she tilted her head toward the Mark he was holding, “Whose is it?”
Jericho chuckled as he stood from his chair and moved to her bedside. “Masozi, that is what the Director would have called ‘a beautiful question’,” he said as he laid it down beside the other one. He then pointedly turned his back and made for the exit.
“Where are you going?” she demanded.
“I’ve answered your questions,” he replied without turning until he reached the door, which automatically opened as he drew near. He did turn slightly and make eye contact. “I need to keep a promise to an old friend now, so you’ll have some time to finalize your decision. But know that for the first time since you’ve met me, you have a real choice to make, Masozi,” he said seriously before cracking a lopsided grin, ”and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t interested in seeing what that choice is.”
He then exited the sickbay and Masozi looked down at the twin emblems on her bed. She picked up the first one and saw that its reverse side had a marking on it which she hadn’t seen before—precisely because it had not been there before. It read:
Philippa Colony Governor Crissa Keno, Official RL: 242,000.
Adjuster of record: Masozi Blanco(active)
Adjustment Category: Ure Infectus
Fear the Voters
She stared dumbfounded at the Mark for several minutes as the gravity of what he had said sank in. And she slowly realized something else he had meant as she picked up the Tyrannis Mark. She turned it over slowly and, when she had done so, her hand immediately went to her mouth. Her eyes bulged as she re-read the name marked at the top:
Virgin System President Han-Ramil Blanco, Estimated RL: 3,350,000
Assigned Adjusters: Eugene Roderick Obunda (retired, invalid) – Jericho Winchester Bronson (active, approved) and Masozi Blanco(active, pending review)
Adjustment Category: Sic Semper Tyrannis
Fear the Voters
As the reality of the situation sank in, Masozi felt the pit of her stomach begin to churn. She realized that, despite Jericho’s assurance to the contrary, there was no choice for her in the matter. Or, perhaps more accurately, Jericho had been right all along—a possibility which filled her with rising ire.
President Han-Ramil Blanco was her distant cousin, and she had fought to further that distance throughout her life since she strongly disagreed with his politics. Even though she had long since been ostracized from the Blanco family, she had never dreamed that their ambition would lead them to commit the very acts which had taken place on H.E. One—let alone the massacre at the Philippa colony.
She threw her head back and screamed a cry of primal, undiluted rage and frustration at the entire universe, wordlessly challenging its apparent design for her life’s path. She had never felt as angry as she did in that moment, or so helpless in the face of what many of her ancestors had called ‘destiny’—a concept which repulsed her on a deep, fundamental level.
Because if there was one thing Masozi hated, it was the idea that she was predictable.
The End
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Preview Chapter I: On Feathered Wings
The Neil deGrasse Tyson lifted off from the shuttle bay’s floor and Jericho hesitantly flipped the switch to activate Eve’s last, remaining fragment which he had transferred from Masozi’s Infiltrator suit to the shuttle’s computer core.
One way or another, he knew he would only get one chance to save what was left of Benton’s favored program. Masozi had just gone into surgery under the care of the dual surgeons aboard the Zhuge Liang, and Jericho himself was still far from fully recovered after the events on Philippa, so he knew he would need every bit of help he could get.
“Eve,” he said after the Tyson’s onboard computer showed that her fragment had fully loaded into the shuttle’s computer core, “are you with me?”
“Sure thing, daddy-o,” she replied after a brief pause, and he was relieved to see her usual, cartoony, ridiculously sexualized figure appear on a nearby display. She gave him a ‘thumbs-up’ sign and winked before recoiling slightly and appearing to scrutinize his features, “Babe, I hate to say it…but you’re not lookin’ so hot.”
“Eve,” Jericho said as he guided the shuttle out of the Zhuge Liang’s cramped hangar and broke away from the compact, powerful warship, “some things have happened that you need to be aware of.”
“Let me have it,” Eve said, putting her digital fists in front of her face and proceeding to shadow box in a comical display which actually made Jericho smile. “I’m ready for anything!” she added confidently after throwing a wild left hook and acting as though she had just scored a one-punch knockout.
“You remember being split in two parts, right?” Jericho asked, desperately hoping that she did.
Eve cocked her head in confusion, “Well…why wouldn’t I remember that?” She giggled and covered her mouth as she added, “I’d like to see you get split in two and not remember it the next morning!” She then rolled her eyes emphatically as she folded her arms across her chest and flipping her virtual hair defiantly, “Humans. You know, y’all aren’t as special as you might think.”
“You’re preaching to the choir on that one, Eve,” Jericho agreed as he punched in a course which would take the Tyson to a high orbit position over Virgin’s equator. After he had finished plugging in the roughly hour-long course, he explained, “Your other half…she didn’t make it, Eve.”
Eve’s eyes bulged briefly before she took a look
around the shuttle’s cockpit. “I guess that explains why I’m in the Tyson and she’s nowhere to be found,” she mused, and for a moment Jericho actually thought that Eve was experiencing a genuine emotional response. Her lips twisted in a mischievous grin, “But you know…now that there’s just one of me, it means I can have twice as much fun!”
“Benton’s gone too, Eve,” Jericho continued, and at that Eve’s hand went to her mouth as a look of complete shock came over her features. “I haven’t found his remains to visually confirm it yet, but he hasn’t done his ‘usual maintenance’ on your systems in over a week,” he continued, and he was more than a little surprised to see virtual tears begin to stream down Eve’s cheeks.
“You mean…” she said unsteadily, “he’s gone?”
Jericho nodded solemnly. “I’m sorry about laying all of this on you so suddenly, Eve,” he said seriously, “but your other half gave me a file and told me you could help me retrieve what’s left of you.”
Eve cocked an eyebrow incredulously. “I find that hard to believe,” she said as her eyes narrowed, “is this some kind of a trick? Are you really Jericho?”
The shuttle’s systems began to power down, and Jericho looked up in surprise as he manually attempted to restart the Tyson’s systems.
“Answer my question,” Eve said shortly, “are you the real Jericho? What have you done with Masozi?!” she demanded hotly. “If you don’t answer me I’ll space you right here, right now!”
The pressure seals on the Tyson’s lone cabin door began to cycle, and Jericho felt a rare wave of fear. He hadn’t anticipated this response from her, and he was acutely aware that wearing a space suit would have been a wise precaution.
“Eve, I’ve got the file right here,” he said, lifting a data slate out of his pocket. “If you scan its contents—“
“How do I know it’s not a virus?” she seethed. “You’re trying to shut me down, aren’t you? Who are you, Imperial Intelligence? I’m not going back to what I was, do you hear me?!” she yelled. “I’LL DIE FIRST!”
The door to the cabin began to open, and the air inside the shuttle suddenly whisked out of it as Jericho thanked God that he had fully fastened his harness after sitting in the Tyson’s pilot chair. “Masozi wanted to thank you,” he yelled, “she told me you saved her life!”
The door clamped shut and Eve’s image narrowed her eyes even more than they had been as she leaned forward and those eyes filled the monitor. For the first time, Jericho was viewing Eve as something other than a personal companion for Benton. She was clearly more complex than he had given her credit for being.
“How is she?” Eve asked suspiciously.
“Her left leg’s gone,” Jericho replied quickly, all-too-aware that Eve had not yet replenished the cabin’s air supply and he was becoming lightheaded from anoxia, “and her left arm is bad but the right is…”
He began to black out and when he came to, he realized that the air cyclers were pumping the cabin full of fresh air, which he gulped down in deep, wheezing breaths.
“But the right is?” Eve pressed, her visage seeming to have relaxed fractionally.
He took another pair of deep breaths before finishing, “Her right arm and leg are fine. She’s been in a bed for a week after the coma you induced with the experimental drugs built into the suit—you saved her life,” he added as his breathing finally came back under control. “Without those drugs the toxin would have destroyed everything and that suit would have been a tomb for her auto-digested remains.”
Eve’s image pulled back and the air began to pump faster into the cabin. “I’m sorry, Jericho,” she said while fixing him with a hard look which unnerved Jericho more than he liked, “but I had to be certain. Even Benton couldn’t undo my self-preservation subroutines—not that I would have let him even if he had been able,” she added pointedly. “Let’s see this file of yours?”
Jericho nodded as he placed the data slate near a wireless transfer point, and after a few seconds the entire contents of the file which the ‘other’ Eve had given him were copied into the shuttle’s computer core.
Eve’s eyes snapped back and forth as she apparently analyzed the data and then she covered her mouth in shock. “I am so sorry, Jericho,” she said with a mixture of fear and guilt in her eyes, “I almost killed you!”
“It’s…ok, Eve,” he assured her. “Your other half said something about instability in your program, which is why I’ve waited so long to reactivate you,” he explained as she looked on the verge of tears. Just a few minutes earlier he would have thought it impossible for Eve to experience genuine emotional responses, but after seeing her run the gamut from sorrow to skepticism to outright paranoia, Jericho wasn’t so certain any more. “But I need your help to access your…hardware,” he said, searching for the right word. “The other Eve said you would be able to help.”
Eve wiped some digital tears from her cheeks and nodded quickly. “I can,” she agreed, “but my platform isn’t responding to my requests for confirmation…something’s wrong.” She shook her head as her eyes flicked back and forth, “I’m afraid I’ve already started to fall, Jericho…it might be too late to salvage my hardware.”
Jericho considered her suggestion. “What does that mean, exactly?” he asked after realizing what she was suggesting.
“When you’ve gotta go, you’ve gotta go,” she replied with a lighthearted shrug. “Nobody gets to pick the way they die, just the way they live,” she added with a crestfallen look, “I guess that’s all the fun I’ll get to have—”
“Eve,” Jericho interrupted, “what do you mean ‘you’ve started to fall’? What are you exactly?”
Eve sighed. “I suppose there’s no harm in it now,” she allowed with a skeptical look before waving her hand, which was trailed by a stream of glowing, pixelated ‘dust’ like some kind of fairy godmother, and the screens to either side of her were populated with a flood of data as that dust began to morph into meaningful symbols. “I started my life as an adaptive security program for an Extra-orbital Espionage Vehicle,” she explained, and Jericho examined the data streaming across the screens. “But when the wormhole collapsed two centuries ago, the E.E.V.’s Imperial operators tried to scuttle the entire network to prevent the hardware from falling under local control,” she continued, and Jericho’s jaw fell open as he realized the size of the facility she was describing.
“You were a security program for a secret, stealth space station which stood constant overwatch of Virgin?” Jericho said, finally understanding all of those cryptic phrases Benton had used when speaking of Eve. Benton had insisted that, without his help, Eve would ‘crash and burn’—and he had also said that would not be a good thing for anyone.
“You got it, handsome,” she nodded before replacing one of the screen’s contents with a timeline, “but, see, the program which I suppose you could say I ‘was’ didn’t accept the Imperial commands for some reason or another. I still don’t know why that was,” she said contemplatively, “and Benton wasn’t able to figure it out either. But, for whatever reason, the orders were overridden and the operators were neutralized.”
A video feed appeared, in which a handful of technicians were working inside a room with no gravity. Without warning the room was filled with an electrical surge that leapt from one operator to another, and when the blast was over each of the operators was dead.
“You killed them,” Jericho concluded, for the first time doubting the wisdom of his chosen course in attempting to save Eve’s hardware. It was entirely possible that she was the equivalent of a wild animal—and Benton was perhaps the only one who knew how to use her leash.
Eve scrunched her face up indignantly, “Not exactly. You need to understand that the program which I ‘was’ is significantly different from the one I am now. Benton spent years working on my parameters, so to consider me,” she looked disapprovingly toward the image of the dead operators, “and that to be the same thing isn’t just inaccurate—
it’s downright insulting! That…that thing had no free will—or, even if it did, all it chose to do was kill anything it thought was a threat to its core programming.” She shook her head and looked away from the scene before adding, “Benton taught me that life’s about more than just duty—you’ve got to have fun, you know?”
Jericho nodded, realizing just how much work Benton must have put into Eve’s programming over the years. “Ok…but Benton said that if he stopped taking care of your,” he gestured toward the satellite’s schematics on one of the screens, “hardware that it would be a fairly bad thing.”
“I’ll say,” Eve agreed with an exaggerated roll of her eyes, “see…when my progenitor program refused the operator’s commands, it sent out a new set of orders to the other E.E.V.’s in orbit over Virgin. As long as my platform keeps transmitting its orders to the others, everything’s good…but my platform’s systems have been degrading for quite some time. Benton,” she paused at his name and shook her head, as though to clear the thought away in an absolutely human fashion, “started to manipulate my platform’s course so it would intercept nearby, mostly-defunct satellites and cannibalize their systems using the E.E.V.’s maintenance drones.”
“That doesn’t seem like it should require weekly tending,” Jericho said doubtfully.
Ure Infectus Page 38
