by Scott Baron
“Communications lines, yes,” Sergeant Franklin continued. “But Joshua’s facilities also include a trio of hardened linkage hubs that tie in to key infrastructure in the area, as well as providing him with direct access to all military facilities across the globe.”
“What about the virus? Isn’t that a risk? The vulnerability seems rather like a ‘Death Star exhaust port’ kind of design flaw.”
“The military facilities he linked to are all non-AI, so it would be nearly impossible for him to be compromised via that route. Unfortunately, when all the human operators died, he was left with a one-way connection to scores of silent facilities.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah. Must’ve sucked something fierce,” Franklin said. “When the virus first hit, we severed the other two links. Those are the ones Tamara and her crew are trying to restore. Only the one closest to the transit network stayed operational. Though we did also pack it full of explosives. Just in case.”
“Just in case you needed to cut a feed?”
“That, and just in case the alien bastards somehow found the hub,” the cybernetic soldier replied. “You see, those hubs are located near the surface, due to the nature of all of the long-distance connections that had to be made. They originally designed it to be able to grow to accommodate new facility tie-ins, you see.”
Daisy realized where he was going.
“So, despite being safe beneath a solid granite mountain, Joshua is still vulnerable via those hubs,” she said.
“Yes, technically, but not really,” Franklin replied. “They’re protected by camouflaged blast doors, and only a few of the highest-level military bases are even aware of their existence. Add to that an incredibly robust firewall should there somehow be a breach, and he’d see any compromise and cut off the hub long before it was an issue. But since all of his core systems are still linked through it, additional precautions were made, just the same.”
“And now he is helping us get back to Denver because of that linkage. Fortune smiles upon us, George.”
“Don’t tempt Murphy, Daisy. You know better than that,” the cyborg said with a laugh.
A little over an hour later, they arrived in Denver, stopping beneath the same warehouse where Daisy and her team had originally come across the regional monorail system that carried them to Colorado Springs.
“Okay, George, listen up. There were some big-ass bears up there last time we came through.”
The cyborg rolled his shoulders like a boxer readying for a prize fight.
“I’m a robustly reinforced combat unit. I think I can handle a teddy bear, Daisy.”
“I said big.”
He saw the look in her eye and grew a bit more serious.
“Um, exactly how big are we talking, here?”
“You know grizzlies?”
“Yeah, but they’re not so––”
“Bigger.”
“Oh. But really, how much large––”
“You know kodiaks?”
“Ooh, they’re pretty big, I’ll admit. But still, I think I can––”
“Bigger.”
Sergeant Franklin’s shoulders sagged almost imperceptibly.
“Shit,” he finally said. He perked up a second later as he charged his weapon. “Okay, then. Pulse rifles it is.”
Daisy, having been through the area once before, took point, carefully easing the warehouse door open.
Silence greeted her, but no sign of the bears that had pursued her team.
Something else greeted her. A stench she was growing all too familiar with.
“Something died out there, Daisy,” George said from behind.
“Yeah, I kind of noticed that, what with the fucking stench and all,” she snarked back at him.
“Jeez, sorry. I just figured most of you humans don’t have as finely tuned odor-sensing apparatus as we do.”
“Believe me, George, a person would have to be the nasal equivalent of blind to miss this one.”
Weapons ready, the pair slowly stepped out into the street. A fight had taken place, that much was clear, but it didn’t appear as though there had been any pulse weapon fire.
“No scorch marks,” Sarah noted. “You remember that racket when we barely made it out of here heading the other way?”
Yeah, of course.
“You think the bears got territorial and killed each other?”
It doesn’t seem that likely, but I don’t see any signs of Chithiid or Ra’az weaponry, and we sure as shit didn’t engage them.
Daisy rounded the building’s corner and saw what had become of the furry beast. Beasts, plural, she soon realized.
Five massive bears lay slaughtered on the ground behind the building, all in varied states of dismemberment. Even the battle-seasoned cyborg was taken aback by the scene.
“What on Earth could have done that?” he marveled, moving between the massive corpses, studying their fatal injuries.
“I don’t know,” Daisy replied. “But whatever it was, it took out five enormous apex predators like it was nothing. Look at the impact marks. It threw them around like a dog shaking a squeaky toy.”
“I see, “ Franklin said. “But look at the other injuries. Clean slices, and not from teeth, it looks like. See the edges? Smooth, not rough and torn. Whatever did this, it must’ve been deadly fierce.”
“I’m not liking this, Daze.”
Me, either. I think it’s time we were on our way, she silently replied. Like, yesterday.
“Okay, George. Whaddya say we get the hell out of here before whatever did this comes back and finds us standing in its larder?”
The cyborg was already moving.
“One step ahead of you, Daisy. One thing we learn early on in the military. Know when to fight, and know when to run.”
“You got your running shoes laced up, then?” she asked, jokingly.
“Damn straight. Move as fast as you’re comfortable. I’m on your six.”
“Copy that,” she replied, immediately moving out from the area as fast as was safely reasonable.
A few hours later, exhausted from the non-stop stress of constantly looking over her shoulder, wondering if every shadow or twig rustling might be her only warning of a pending attack, Daisy and Franklin finally made it to the access hatch to the damaged loop tube network.
It was only once they were safely in the tunnel, well below the surface, that she felt the hairs on the back of her neck finally relax.
“This way, George,” she said. “The pods are a couple of miles down the tube.”
“The damage doesn’t seem as bad as I thought it would be,” he noted as they walked. Ten minutes later, stepping over fallen debris, he changed his tune. “No longer passable, but impressive engineering nevertheless, you have to admit.”
“I suppose. Didn’t know you were an engineering buff. I guess being a cyborg, it makes sense you’d be into that sort of thing,” Daisy said.
“Actually, I was studying to be an architect after completing my service,” he replied. “It was several years out, of course. I mean, I couldn’t really imagine doing anything but what I’d always done, but Joshua was always so supportive. He used to say, ‘Think outside the box, George. Just because you’re metal, doesn’t make you any less of a man. Be what you want to be. Not what people tell you to be.’ You could say his words really made an impression on me.”
“He is a rather unique AI,” Daisy agreed. “And who knows? Maybe you’ll become an architect yet. You might even design some new wings in NORAD for him.”
“We shall see,” he replied. “For now, let’s just get to LA. I’ll worry about the rest later.”
They trekked onward, and not long after, the ruined nose of the lead loop tube pod came into view in the distance. Even from afar, it was clear it wouldn’t be moving ever again. The attached rear pod, however, Daisy hoped had survived intact.
“Help me with this release,” she said, stepping through the ruined lead pod to the
sealed passage into the rear one. “If we can get them separated, and if the front one took the brunt of the damage, we may just be able to catch ourselves a ride back to LA.”
“Beats walking,” the tin man agreed as he put his shoulder to the task. “Nearly eleven hundred miles. Not a forced march I really want to make, even with a fresh power cell.”
The pod shuddered as the connections broke free with a hiss, then slid backward, intact, so far as she could see. A quick survey showed she wasn’t exactly one-hundred percent accurate in that first impression, but the pod would hold pressure, though it would not travel anywhere near its normal supersonic speeds.
Daisy keyed in her comms device to the tunnel’s hardline while they powered it up.
“Cal, are you reading me?”
“Yes, Daisy. I see you’re using the hardline now. Your deadman switches are working perfectly, by the way. We already had one infected node tied in via Dallas attempt to bypass the system, but the signal was caught and neutralized, exactly as you designed.”
“Great. So I assume Joshua has been in touch to update you, then?”
“Yes, that initial direct connection is still sound. He gave me a heads-up, and I’ve begun priming the tube for your return.”
“Excellent. Glad you two are collaborating so easily.”
“Yes, it is refreshing. But I was thinking, Daisy. We really should have a team install a deadman on that connection as well. While both he and I are uncompromised and connected with that dedicated direct line, it would still be prudent nonetheless.”
“Yeah, I see your point. Better safe than sorry,” Daisy agreed. “I’ll get a team on it once we’re in LA. We should be back soon.”
“It should only be the slightest of further delays. There was a Chithiid crew working up above along the route, but they have been focusing far enough from the loop tubes that they should not be an issue. I’ll clear the line and pressurize now. See you soon, Daisy.”
She unplugged from the hardline and took a seat in the pod. Within no time it would be ready, and in just a few hours, give or take, she would be back in LA.
Minutes later, the loop pod lurched as it began the return trip to the west.
“So far, so good,” she said as the vessel picked up speed.
“It’s impressive what you’ve done, you know,” her metal escort said. “I mean, to come from a more or less civilian role as a ship’s technician, to this… what I mean to say is, I have great respect for you, ma’am.”
“Oh, God, don’t call me that. I’m not forty.”
“More like a hundred and forty,”
Bite me.
“Sorry, I know you dislike that term. Old habits, you know,” the cyborg said. “I meant no disrespect.”
“It’s okay.”
Daisy felt the hum in the floor increase ever-so-slightly, telling her they were ready to depart.
“You might want to hold on. We’re about to go.”
“Copy that,” he said, settling into his seat.
Daisy studied the cyborg, as she’d frequently done during their recent mission. He was an older model, obviously, but good old George seemed to have developed something of an unusual personality over the many, many years spent locked inside the mountain.
“Sergeant George Franklin,” she said, considering the words that defined the man. “Tell me, who named you?”
“I chose the name myself, ma’a––Daisy. After things went to hell, well, I thought it was important to remember the great leaders who came before us.”
“Interesting. But Benjamin Franklin wasn’t a military leader. Just George Washington.”
“True, but a man––or woman––does not need to be in the military to be a great leader. Take you, for instance.”
“I’m not a leader.”
“You are, Daisy, though like many before you, it wasn’t a job you wanted. You know, it’s funny, but it seems the ones who don’t aspire for the position yet take it when it’s the right thing to do are the ones who often excel. You’re no exception.”
“Thank you, George. You’re pretty okay too.”
“I appreciate the sentiment,” he replied.
They rode in silence for several minutes before he turned to her again.
“Daisy?”
“Uh-huh?”
“I hope you don’t mind my asking, but I noticed your stress levels seem to be increasing as we draw closer to Los Angeles.”
“You can tell that?”
“Specialized military cybernetic unit. They outfitted us with additional sensors since we were running security for the facility. Detecting emotional and hormonal anomalies helped us spot potential trouble.”
“I assure you, I’m not trouble.”
“No, but something is weighing on you. Is it the loss of those men and women under your command? Because if it is, I can assure you that you did all––”
“It’s not that, George,” she interrupted him. “It’s just that…”
Am I actually spilling this to a cyborg? What the hell.
“It’s just that my, um, boyfriend is really sick and might die.”
“Oh, my word. I’m so sorry, Daisy. Is there anything I can do?”
“Not unless you know how to reboot the implanted AI created a few hundred years after you were that’s wedged in his brain.”
“So he’s enhanced?” George said. “I assume if he needs a reboot that his onboard AI was compromised?”
Daisy nodded.
“Ah, I see. Well, I’m not an expert, and from what I gather, your tech is far more advanced than back in my day, but from what I know of even the early implants, the human brain sometimes has difficulty bonding with the hardware. In his case, perhaps he’s just having a hard time letting it go.”
Daisy considered his input a moment. Oddly, it actually kind of made sense. Vince’s implant had been with him his entire life, only furthering her concern that in wiping the AI, he had been essentially lobotomized.
The rest of the trip was spent in silence.
Chapter Twelve
“So, what’s with you, anyway, Duke?” Tamara asked the sturdy mechanical man walking by her side. “I mean, you guys down here, you seem pretty damn different from the other cyborgs I’ve met.”
“Well, we’re hardened military units, for one. And then there’s the additional training and––”
“No, dumbass. I mean different up here,” she said, tapping his metal head.
“What, are you saying we have a few screws loose, Tamara?” he replied with a laugh.
“You see? That’s what I mean. You all have a sense of humor. You act more like humans than cyborgs. I’m not saying it’s a bad thing, by any means, it’s just unusual is all.”
“Oh, that,” he said with a little shrug. “You know how it is. We were given additional processing power, along with a different set of boot parameters.”
“In English, please.”
“We have bigger brains, and we were given a broader spectrum of thought processes. Specialized combat units such as myself need to be able to think on their feet, you see. The vast majority of your run-of-the-mill service cyborgs, while having independent thought by virtue of being a true mid-tier AI, are still running on a different level than we are.”
“How so? Is it merely a processor power thing, or is it in the coding? I mean, Jonathan here has stepped up to the task pretty well.”
“Thank you, Tamara,” the cyborg said, shifting the heavy load on his shoulders.
“Well, yeah, but even that is in a domestic service role. Whose bag is that he’s carrying?” Duke asked.
“Mine,” Tamara admitted.
“But I do not mind!” Jonathan interjected in a perky voice. “I am glad to be of assistance.”
“My point exactly,” Duke said. “My squad needs to be able to not only think fast, but also weigh the consequences of our actions. That means sometimes thinking in ways far beyond the capability of a domestic model. I mean, sur
e, they are smart, but in a crisis scenario they lack the ability to think much beyond ‘will the milk spoil?’ or ‘what time was I supposed to pick up the dry cleaning?’”
He turned to his lesser cousin.
“No offense, man.”
“None taken,” Jonathan replied.
Tamara contrasted the two. The battle-hardened soldier, and the dapper personal assistant.
“I see your point,” she conceded. “But you guys can be a bit morbid at times. And that’s coming from someone who has been known to be called that and worse. And you’re not entirely right about Jonathan. Did you know he had me tear out his wireless receiver to better survive that fight with the infected cyborgs when we first got here?”
“Really?” Duke said, startled. “Damn. That’s pretty hardcore, Jonathan.”
“Thank you,” the domestic cyborg replied.
“See? Seems to me you’re not as different as you think.”
Duke laughed.
“Watch your head,” he said, ducking under a hot conduit. “You might be right, Tamara, unexpected as the revelation may be. That doesn’t surprise me, though. You’ve got a good eye for details.”
“So, what gives with you guys? Processor differences aside, you’re still pretty unusual.”
Duke paused a moment, finding the best way to explain it.
“We’re a tight-knit unit, but we didn’t start out that way. We’ve all served under Sergeant Franklin at one point or another, and that’s when we really coalesced as a team. I mean, we’d already been through some real shit long before those damn aliens invaded. Terrestrial wars. Regional disputes. The things we’ve seen humans do to one another. Well, let’s just say you should be glad you don’t have a memory storage system that allows perfect recall of things you’ve witnessed.”
“I can only imagine,” Tamara said.
“Sergeant Franklin, though. He’s made of tougher stuff than all of us combined, and he’s saved each of our asses more than once when the shit got thick and hope was lost.”
“But he seems like a pretty upbeat fella,” Jonathan interjected cheerfully.
“Oh, he is. But he’s also one of those cheerful-seeming people you want on your good side, if you know what I mean,” Duke replied.
