by Scott Baron
The other scan was not so straightforward.
Vince looked normal on the outside, as you’d expect of a flesh-and-blood man with a beating heart. Unfortunately, only part of that was the case.
Daisy nearly vomited at the sight of his cybernetic skeleton, the advanced composite matrix of metal and bone grown together into a sturdy framework, hidden beneath his muscles and organs.
Metal in the bones means built. Metal doesn’t grow.
She flipped the image and looked closer at an unusual spot on the back of the skull. From what she could tell, a small AI unit was lodged in his cranium, a mix of human brain and computer controlling his every move. The rest of him seemed relatively normal, though rather augmented. He was made of real muscle, but it was denser and stronger than average.
Jesus. I was fucking a machine. Tears flooded her eyes in shock as she stifled a grim laugh that threatened to send her over the edge of sanity.
No wonder he had so much stamina, she thought with a morbid chuckle, remembering her many late-night girl-talk conversations with Sarah.
“And here we’d been joking about Barry’s junk,” her dead friend grimly mused in her head.
“Not now, Sarah,” she told her imaginary companion.
“Sorry.”
Daisy forced herself to look at the pictures in detail. This was not the time to freak out. She needed to understand exactly what it was she was dealing with. Ignoring her own scan, she dragged the image of her lover to the center of the screen and zoomed in.
Not a full-cyborg. Some kind of weird hybrid, maybe? I don’t understand why, though. A real heart, real muscles. She looked closer. Some of his organs seemed enhanced as well. Not artificial, just different. Designed for efficiency. Everything added up to less oxygen consumption.
Daisy snatched up her notepad and began running calculations. She took into account his size and the newfound data on exactly how much of his mass was metal, and how much was merely different. The numbers matched.
Vince wasn’t using enough air for a man his size. At least not for a fully human one. He was the anomaly she had been looking for, and he was right under her nose. Literally, at times.
But they built him with a heart, she kept thinking, horrified. Every single person on this ship is modified to some degree. They’ve all got replacement parts in them, and some even have minor AI helping operate them, but who is in on this? For sure, the captain has detailed crew files, and so does Doc McClain, but what about the rest? My God, does the whole crew know?
Across the pod, her door began to cycle. Only one other person on the ship had access to her quarters.
The inner door slid open.
“Hey, you! I couldn’t sleep, and I figured maybe you’d still be hungry, so I made you a sandwich,” Vince said merrily as he offered her the plastic-wrapped snack.
Daisy wiped her eyes quickly and took his offering, shying from his touch, unsure and freaked out.
“Hey, are you okay? You don’t look so hot.” He laughed, flashing her a bright smile. “No, wait, that sounded wrong. You always look hot—I mean, just look at you. But seriously, are you feeling all right?”
“My boyfriend is a computer,” she muttered.
Vince laughed it off. “Yet you still beat me at chess. Pretty shitty computer, if you ask me. Must be a programming glitch, but at least I have a beautiful singing voice.”
“Don’t, okay? Just don—”
“Daisy, Daisy, give me your answer, do. I’m half-crazy, all for the love of you—”
“Jesus, shut the fuck up!” she blurted, cutting off his song. “That’s not funny.”
“I thought it was. Jeez, you really are upset. What’s up?”
Daisy flipped the tablet to face him.
“You’re a fucking machine, Vince! What in the actual fuck? Are you some kind of sick AI who gets off on torturing me?”
“Hang on, what is that?” he asked, studying the screen. His face paled as he realized what she was holding. “Where did you get this?”
“I built a scanner into the galley airlock, Vince. Someone wasn’t using enough oxygen on this ship, and I was trying to figure out who it was. I just never thought it would be you.”
He bristled at her words.
“That’s a serious invasion of privacy, Daisy. That’s some seriously unethical shit you just pulled,” he said defensively, anger creeping into his voice.
“Ethics? You’re talking to me about ethics? You’re a goddamn machine, Vince! You don’t get to lecture me on ethics.”
“I’m not a machine. I’m a real person, flesh and blood. You should know that better than anyone.”
She shuddered at the thought.
“You’re meat on a metal composite endoskeleton, that’s all.”
“I’m alive, Daisy. My bones aren’t what make me a man. I feel, I think. What we have between us is real. It’s all so obvious, why can’t you accept that?”
“Because you were built. You’ve never been a child, you never grew up. There may be parts of you that are human, but you were never born. You were grown, and you’re still a machine on the inside.”
“If I’m just a machine, how can I love you?”
Oh, for fuck’s sake. After all this time, he finally says the L-word, and it has to be like this?
“No, this is some serious conspiracy-level shit, Vince. You and Mal are plotting something, I know it, and Barry’s probably in on it too.”
“Whoa, babe, hang on, you’re getting seriously carried away. There’s things you should know. I can explain.”
“No! Just get out!”
She shoved him hard, driving him back into the open airlock door.
“Daisy, hang on.”
Her hand flew to the console, slapping the close button. The sturdy door started cycling shut, but abruptly stopped.
Vince’s arm reached through the opening, triggering the automated safety protocol, the door stuck partially ajar.
“Daisy, let me explain. This isn’t what you think,” he said through the small gap.
“Move your arm, Vince.”
“Not until you talk to me, Daisy.”
“Get the hell away from me!” she shrieked.
“You’re being unreasonable. Let me back in. I can explain all of this. Don’t be so difficult.”
Vince waved his arm as he awkwardly tried to reach the control panel, but Daisy was faster. Quickly, and without consciously knowing how she did it, she entered what she somehow knew was an override command into the keypad, disabling the safety.
There was no siren, no warning announcement. Nothing at all, before the door slammed shut with a wet crunch.
Vince’s bloody arm flapped around on the ground a moment, jerking as severed nerve endings fired, uncontrolled. Then it was still. The door had taken it off cleanly, right at the shoulder.
That thing is probably screaming its head off right now, she thought grimly, a madwoman’s laugh threatening to escape her lips as her mind reeled.
A shell-shocked grin flashed on her face, replaced by one of disbelief as her mind tried to cope with what just happened. She looked at the smear of blood trickling down to the severed arm on the deck.
Nice for me the door is soundproof. She chuckled morbidly as she fought off the creeping fit of hysteria.
Then she sat down hard on the deck and sobbed.
Chapter Eighteen
“Daisy? Where are you?” Captain Harkaway stood angrily in her quarters, surveying the bloody scene. “Dammit, Swarthmore, I know you can hear me. Where the hell are you?”
Doctor McClain chimed in. “Daisy, I know you must be scared and upset, but please talk to me. We don’t know how this horrible accident happened, but it looks like Vincent will pull through. Please, talk to us. He lost a lot of blood on the way to medical before losing consciousness in the passageway. Daisy, please. Vince is with the med bot now, and is in serious condition. I’m sure hearing your voice would do him a world of good.”
/> No reply.
“Daisy?”
“I do not believe she wishes to speak with us at this moment,” Barry opined, stepping over the drying blood to survey her quarters.
From the hallway, where her scans could reach, Mal concurred. “Agreed. She is not registering on any of my bio-readings for common areas. It is possible she has merely entered another off-scan crew quarters. I recommend checking Vincent’s pod next. Of course, as our chief electronics expert, it is entirely possible she has altered my sensors in an attempt to mask her whereabouts.”
“Can she even do that?”
“Her skills appear to have far exceeded her anticipated parameters.” Mal sounded a little concerned, but also curiously puzzled.
“What do you mean, Mal? She’s a quick learner, but I hadn’t noticed anything that out of the ordinary in my evaluations.”
“I understand, Doctor McClain, but she appears to be accessing far more implanted skill set data than she should be able to at this point. Additionally, it would appear that she executed a base command override of the safety mechanisms on her compartment door. I’m afraid what happened to Vincent was no accident.”
“Impossible. Those two are nuts about each other.”
“Maybe so, Captain, but the readings are correct. Barry, I cannot scan inside the personal quarters of crew. Please verify my findings, then do a survey for any relevant information.”
“Glad to oblige, Mal,” the cyborg replied, then began riffling through her quarters while his portable terminal interfaced with Daisy’s internal door control panel.
“Hang on a minute,” Captain Harkaway said. “Before we start going through her personal possessions, we should at least verify that—”
The terminal emitted a small ping as it finished its scan.
“Mechanism history for the door unit corresponds with Mal’s assessment, Captain. I will now execute a full search.”
“Well, shit.” Captain Harkaway didn’t know what else to say.
“Mal,” Doctor McClain said, “what is the likelihood that Daisy would act in a violent manner against a member of the crew?”
The computer ran the numbers.
“Previously, twenty-three percent, though slightly higher for Barry, given her dislike of artificial life-forms.”
“And now? Given what we’ve seen?”
“Now I would reassess and adjust that figure to forty-eight percent. She and Vincent had an emotional connection, and humans are far more likely to achieve extremes at either end of the emotional spectrum when those feelings come into play.”
“Mal,” Barry interjected, “I am examining Daisy’s neuro-stim unit. It appears she has added a multitude of additional protocols to her trickle-feed queue, including Sarah’s technical skill set. I am also seeing indications she accessed detailed ship’s schematics far beyond those required for her duties.”
“Most disconcerting. She was not supposed to have that information available to her. Unless there was some cross-leakage during cryo while all neuro-stims were interlinked, but even so, this should not be possible. They are genetically tied to the individual.”
“Agreed, it shouldn’t have happened; however, she does seem to have that skill set in her possession. Judging by the looks of her neuro-stim unit, she has been reconfiguring it since the first days after the crew was awoken. I see she has also accessed files for environmental engineering and life support systems, computer subroutine systems design and troubleshooting, including improvised hacking, combat training, advanced military tactics and strategy—”
“Hang on,” Captain Harkaway interrupted. “That’s not what that says. It says chess.”
“Indeed, Captain. However, nearly every protocol has multiple layers of additional skill sets embedded in them, depending on the settings,” Barry explained. “Normally, it takes months if not years for a proper assimilation of a skills update or training module, however, these have all been loaded with none of the standard parameter guides on them.”
“Oh dear,” Mal said from the passageway. “Even at a trickle, she may have accessed some very dangerous information and abilities. I must now alter my earlier assessment to sixty-four percent likelihood of violence toward crewmembers.”
“Shit,” Barry said matter-of-factly.
“Did Barry just swear?” Doc McClain asked in disbelief. The captain, too, was utterly surprised.
“That he did. I heard it.”
“Barry?” Mal inquired. “What is the matter?”
The cyborg raised his gaze to look at the humans in the room.
“Daisy fully removed all inhibitors from her neuro-stim device. She appears to have performed a subroutine bypass as well. It is unclear to what degree her downloads have been affected, but logs show she had more than ten minutes of wide-open access.”
“Shit,” Mal said in an exasperated tone.
“Is it me, or did both our AIs just swear?”
“Not just you, Doc. Mal, what the hell is going on?” the captain demanded. “Is she dangerous?”
“Daisy has always been dangerous, Captain, now, incredibly more so. Re-assessing.” She paused a moment as new calculations were confirmed. “New likelihood of violence against crew stands at ninety-two percent.”
Captain Harkaway’s face drained of color.
“Shit.”
The two humans and their cyborg companion quickly walked back to Command. The captain barked out orders over his comms as they went.
“Command, switch access to Authority Code Seven. Swarthmore is to be considered dangerous. She attacked Vincent and may be unstable.”
“Why would she do that?” Gustavo keyed over the comms. “I thought what happened to Vince was an accident.”
“We thought so too, but now we aren’t so sure. In any case, whatever happened, I can’t have an unstable crewmember missing somewhere on my ship.” The captain pushed the override for full-ship intercom. “This is Captain Harkaway. As you know, Vincent has been seriously injured. At this time, Daisy Swarthmore is missing and considered a potential threat. All crew, secure your workstations and stay put. Mal will be running a ship-wide scan in two minutes. Once that is complete, you are to report to Command to initiate a ship-wide search. We begin in twenty minutes.”
“She undoubtedly heard that, Captain.”
“I know, Barry. That’s the point. Mal, you can begin.”
“Scanning now, Captain.”
The lights on every level dimmed to ten percent as the massively powerful AI directed the whole of her attention to the living spaces within her walls. Deck by deck, pod by pod, every life sign was registered and logged, while any anomalies were cataloged for further follow up. Barry would be the one handling that job, as his metal endoskeleton and overall design made him the least likely of the crew to be critically damaged should their rogue shipmate do something rash.
Again.
Safe in her main botanical chamber, Tamara scanned her retina and spoke her keyword to a seemingly innocuous section of the bulkhead.
“Tamara Burke. Access: Thunderhead.”
Seams appeared in the smooth wall with a faint hiss, then a long storage rack slid out. On it were a variety of arms and attachments that went far beyond simple farming tools. Tamara keyed in a code to the textured metal behind her elbow and detached her arm from that point down. She had been tilling soil and harvesting snap peas with one of her more delicate attachments. Smiling, she picked up a much sturdier one. An arm with thick, strong fingers and a small pulse beam weapon built into the wrist.
“Not going to cut this baby off in a doorway.”
She closed the panel and resumed her work while she waited for Mal to complete her scans. At long last, when the appointed time came and the lights returned to normal, she exited the pod at a jog, rushing to meet her crewmates and join in the search.
Outside the ship, the captain’s transmission had indeed been received loud and clear in Daisy’s EVA suit. She had plenty of oxygen, enou
gh for several more hours of space-time, but there was work to do. She had overridden the airlock sensors, so Mal shouldn’t have noticed her slipping out the external airlock on Lower Port Twelve, but, eventually the slight variance in air pressure would clue the AI in to her trick. Daisy needed to come up with a plan, and quickly.
She was riding in a ship full of dangerous AIs and their sympathizers, possibly even collaborators, and they were speeding toward Earth. The possibilities worried her.
What would happen if they made it to Dark Side base with the AIs in control of the ship? What if the moon base’s systems became compromised? Was there an even bigger picture? Ultimately, it didn’t matter. Daisy had to warn Dark Side, and then Earth itself.
Earthfall was only two days away, and she had a plan. At least, the beginnings of one. She just hoped the search team would pass by Starboard Pod Eight without too much scrutiny. It was a long walk to the other side of the ship, and she certainly did not wish to redirect to a different airlock if she could avoid it.
As she carefully made her way across the outside of the ship near her modified communications array, making certain not to touch anything that might alert Mal of her position, Daisy once again assessed the damage dotting the ship’s skin. She was always amazed at the char marks on a few sections of the ship’s hull when she did an EVA. They almost looked like blast patterns, though she knew that to be impossible.
She vaguely remembered their launch not so long ago. The Váli was only a few years old, built just before they departed the distant space station to head back to Earth. But why, then, did the exterior look like a ship that had been through a whole lot more than a milk-run home? Daisy wondered what they could have possibly flown through while in cryo-sleep that would have battered the ship to that extent.
No time to worry about that, she thought, grimly. I’ve got much bigger problems on my plate.
“Mal, I’d like you to clarify a few things for me if you can,” Doctor McClain said as she went over Daisy’s files in her office. “I’m looking over Daisy’s neuro-stim logs from the duration of the voyage, and there do seem to be anomalies. Have you seen them?”
