by Scott Baron
As Daisy neared the man, he couldn’t suppress his grin, which grew to ear-to-ear proportions.
“Okay, there’s obviously some joke I’m not in on,” she said, dropping her bag on the deck in front of him. “So, what is it? You and my kid up to something?”
“You could say that,” he said with a warm chuckle.
“Holy shit. Daisy, I know that voice.”
Me too. But that’s not possible. I saw him die.
“I know. I was there.”
The man smiled at her, amused as he watched her figure it out.
“The bow was Freya’s idea, by the way,” he said with a laugh. “I told her I never was much for decoration, but the kid’s got a persuasive way about her, wouldn’t you say?”
Daisy couldn’t stop staring at the man. At his face. The smooth skin, the perfect teeth, the strapping physique obvious even beneath his uniform.
“George?” she finally managed to say.
“Hiya, Daisy.”
“But-but...”
“Yes, I know.”
“But you were dead!”
“Uh-huh. Kinda like a zombie flick, am I right? Only this time I got new flesh instead of rotting away. I guess that makes me like a reverse zombie, if I’m gonna be technical about it.”
“Jesus, George, you’re ridiculous,” Daisy said with a grin as she wrapped her friend in a warm embrace. “It really is you. But how?”
“Freya? You want to take this one?”
“Sure,” the AI replied. “I knew how much you liked Sergeant Franklin, Daisy, and I really felt bad that he was gone. Especially when I could have saved him. But that was before I saw his body.”
“What do you mean? I thought he was scrapped after the battle.”
“No. Duke and his guys wanted to give him a proper send-off, so I collected his remains for them. Only, when I picked him up, I realized his power cell had been shot out.”
“Yeah, and that killed him,” Daisy replied.
“Yes and no, actually,” Sergeant Franklin said.
“The thing is, the AI virus would overwhelm and fry out all but the most durable units. Nothing against Sergeant Franklin and his men, but despite their robust nature, they are still of a lower-tier AI than the larger units. No offense, Sergeant.”
“None taken.”
“So, anyway. When he was killed, the cyborg that shot him didn’t know any of that. He just knew he had to spare him a horrible fate of going mad as his mind melted down. So he shot out his power cell.”
A light bulb went on in Daisy’s mind.
“And with his power gone, the virus was frozen in its tracks,” she said, amazed. “Before it had really taken hold. And since you could cure the virus, it didn’t matter that he was infected. All you had to do was power him back up and cure him. Freya, you’re amazing!”
“That she is,” Sergeant Franklin agreed.
“But your body was so damaged by that blast. How did you repair him, Freya?”
“I didn’t,” she replied. “I mean, I could have, but that would have taken longer, and it just made more sense to let my nanites do the work for me. Some of his original components are in there still, and though his endoskeleton is mostly nanite-composite now, like my hull, there are a few ceramisteel parts I had to keep, like his core processor housing and whatnot, though I did manage to upgrade the actual processor itself by tying in a secondary unit for not only enhanced capability, but also as a backup should something happen to him again.”
“And let me tell you, it’s really cool having that upgrade. I feel like I’m running on a massive pot of triple-strength espresso twenty-four seven.”
“And that’s a good thing?” Daisy asked
“Well, I can tone it down, of course,” he replied. “I am an AI, after all.”
“But if she did all of that and got you functioning, why did you wait so long to reveal yourself? We could have used your help before now, you know.”
“It took a while for Mal to grow a new flesh covering from immune gene lines, so I was still resting in a deactivated state until she re-meated me.”
“Eww, you did not just say that.”
“Totally did.”
“It’s good to have him back, Daze,” Sarah said happily.
I couldn’t agree more.
“So, is this you? I mean, is this what you used to look like?”
“Pretty much,” George replied. “Mal tried her best to make us look as close to original as possible. And I have to tell you, it’s done wonders for my men’s morale, having their faces back again, you know? It’s good to be me again. And by that, I mean the me I expect to see every time I look in the mirror. Not a fan of the Terminator look, if you know what I mean.”
“Hang on, you said your men?” Daisy said, another realization striking her. “Were the soldiers Marty took with Tamara and the others to lead the assault just now your guys?”
“Yep. Duke and the fellas were really excited to break in their new bodies.”
Daisy was amazed. Freya she expected to pull sneaky little stunts from time to time, but bringing Mal into it? And for her to keep so quiet as well? It seemed Freya’s influence on the other AIs was growing, though from what she’d just seen, it appeared to be a good thing.
“Come on, George,” Daisy said, smacking her friend on the shoulder. “Let’s get some chow and introduce you to the others. There’s so much to talk about.”
The pair made their way out of the hangar, leaving Freya and Mal to themselves.
“That went quite well, I think,” Mal said.
“Yeah, totally worth the wait,” Freya agreed. “Thanks again for helping me out, Mal. I really wanted to give Daisy a big surprise.”
“Oh, surprised she was,” Mal said, amused. “And, Freya?”
“Yeah?”
“Good job.”
Freya felt a swell of pride course through her systems. She didn’t care what the others thought, not really, but having an AI she respected as much as Mal give her an ‘attagirl’ brightened her mood nonetheless.
She felt good, and seeing how well George’s resurrection went, she decided to refocus her attention on another task. That of completing the work on Joshua’s ship.
“Did I hear Sergeant Franklin?” Joshua asked when Freya shifted her consciousness to the fabrication bay he was contained in.
“Yeah. I rebuilt him.”
“I heard. I would very much like to speak with him.”
“Now’s not the time,” Freya replied. “Hang on a minute. How did you hear him? That was outside the ship.”
“Ah, yeah,” he said. “About that. I tapped into your external scans.”
“You what?” Freya blurted in a rage. “Those are my systems you were feeling around with. That’s an invasion of my privacy. Of my body.”
“Shit, wait, Freya, I didn’t mean it like––”
The chamber went dark as she abruptly cut it off from the rest of her ship. Joshua found himself utterly alone once more.
Despite his ever-growing frustration at being locked up and alone, he was a great mind, and it didn’t take an intellect of his caliber to see that Freya had every reason to be mad at him. It was a violation of her person, regardless of his intentions.
“Freya?” he said to the ether. “I’m so sorry.”
Whether she heard him or not, there was no reply.
Joshua, while regretful of his actions, also knew, now more than ever, that he needed to be himself again. To be complete. To be on his own.
Ever so carefully, he reached out to the systems around him, running new protocols and backdoor hacks he had designed while in this AI limbo. With a bit of luck, coupled with his exceptional skill, he just might be able to connect with a few systems. Hopefully without Freya noticing.
Chapter Nine
“Wait a minute. The George?” Vince asked the man he’d bumped into on the way to the mess hall. “Like, George Franklin. Sergeant Franklin. The guy from NORAD?”
“Hooooly shit. That’s a head trip, that is.”
“Tell me about it,” George replied with a laugh. “Shit, where are my manners?” he said, holding out his hand. “It’s great to meet you, Vince. Daisy told me all about you. I’m glad to see you came out of that mess all right.”
“Thanks. And it’s a pleasure to meet you too, George. She told me all about you as well,” he replied. “But, um, I don’t mean to be rude, here, but weren’t you dead?”
“Yup. Stone-cold. But that’s no fun, now, is it?”
“I’d think not.”
“Exactly! So here I am, back from the grave,” George said with a laugh.
“Damn, dude, even for a cyborg, that’s a pretty neat party trick.”
“I thought so,” Franklin agreed with a laugh.
“But how did you get a new body? I mean the flesh one. Mechanical repairs I can understand.”
“I’d assume as much. You’re an engineer, after all.”
“She really did tell you everything.”
“Well, that and I looked over your work detail for the day. Out with Chu and Reggie, I see. I met them earlier, just after you guys got back. Nice fellas, those two. I can see why you’ve become such a tight-knit team.”
“But you haven’t answered my question, George. You’ve got a new meat suit. I mean, you don’t just go and pull one off the rack and slip it on.”
“Ha, you’ve got me there,” the cyborg chuckled. “Nope, this one was custom-made, just for me. It’s as close to my original specs as Mal could manage with the immune cell lines she had on hand.”
“Ah, Mal. It figures. Between her and Freya, I don’t know who’s more likely to surprise me.”
“Yes, you do.”
“Yeah, you’re right. Freya by a long shot,” Vince said with a warm grin. “Cool kid, that one.”
“And she saved my ass,” George added. “Sounds like she’s been doing a lot of that sort of thing, actually.”
“Indeed. Between her and Marty, we’ve got our own two-ship wrecking crew. I’ve gotta tell ya, the stealth technology is really something else.”
“Oh, what I’d have given for that tech a few hundred years ago.”
“Well, it looks like you’ll get you chance for revenge soon enough. Are you coming to the meeting in the war room this evening?”
“Dark Side has a war room?” the cyborg asked, surprised.
“Nah, not really. We’ve just taken to calling it that. Now that there are so many visitors from the fleet, we can’t really use the mess hall as our main meeting spot anymore. Though I do still need to swing by and grab some grub. You hungry?” he asked. “What am I saying? You’re a cyborg. Duh.”
“Hey, that doesn’t mean I don’t still need to keep my flesh fed with nutrients. And before you ask, yes, I do possess a basic nutrient digestive processor on board.”
“Seriously? So, you can eat? Why don’t the other cyborgs have that?”
“Because they weren’t designed to potentially have to infiltrate behind enemy lines. You can’t very well have an agent who can’t even hold down a beer, am I right?”
“Valid point,” Vince agreed.
“And besides, I’ve heard so much about Finn’s cooking, it’s about time I finally get to try some first-hand.”
“Then you’re in luck. There’s the madman as we speak,” he said as they entered the bustling mess hall.
A sizable contingent of visitors from the human fleet had made quick work of a buffet Finn had put together for them. For a group used to replicated proteins and meals designed for sustenance more than pleasure, even a simple buffet was something to revel in, seeing as the near-legendary chef had whipped it up.
“Hey, Vince!” Finn called when he saw his friend enter the mess hall. “You made it back from your ordinance games in one piece!”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence, man.”
“Glad to offer my support.”
“I was being sarcastic.”
“So was I,” the chef shot back with a wicked grin.
“Oh, I like this one,” George said with a laugh. “He’d fit right in with the boys.”
“I think I’d need a few more metal parts for that,” Finn noted.
“Ah, so you know I’m a cyborg.”
“Nothing slips past old Finnegan,” he replied. “That, and Chu may have let it slip that you were back from the grave. We heard a lot about you after things calmed down after the assaults. Heard what you did in LA for Cal too. Saved his life. That was some seriously heroic shit you did, man.”
“Just doing my job,” the cyborg said modestly.
“Well, I think it was above and beyond the call,” Finn said. “In any case, we’re not here to make you uncomfortable with all this adulation. I assume, seeing as you’ve come to the mess hall, that you’d like me to whip you up a little something.”
“I see there is a buffet set up. I’ll gladly grab a plate of––”
“You’ll do no such thing!” Finn said, slapping his knife down on his cutting board for emphasis. “Ya know, I probably shouldn’t do that with a crack commando cyborg standing right here,” he said with a sober grin.
“Don’t worry, man, I’ve got full control of my reflexes.”
“Note to self,” Finn said with an exaggerated sigh of relief. “Anyway, as I was saying, there shall be no food trough meals for you, my tin friend. Those are for the huddled masses from the fleet. For you? I’ve got a wide assortment of fresh ingredients at my disposal, so what sounds good?”
“I really wouldn’t know where to begin,” George replied. “Fortunately, I have a cast iron stomach––figuratively, that is. Actually, it’s a nanite and organics amalgam, but that’s another story. What I’m saying is, I can eat pretty much anything, so hit me with your best shot. Whatever strikes your fancy.”
“Yeah, me too,” Vince said. “I trust you.”
“And that will be your undoing!” Finn replied with a crazed little laugh. “All right, you two. Grab a seat and let me get to work. Prepare to be amazed!”
A mere twenty minutes later, man and cyborg were tucking in to an impromptu Mexican feast, complete with homemade tortillas and salsa.
“I figured since you’d been spending so much time in LA, I should hook you up with some of the historic local cuisine. Fajitas, flautas, nachos Finn, and sweet green corn tamales. And fresh salsa and guac, of course.”
“Dude, we can’t possibly eat all of this,” Vince said.
“Yeah, I can eat, but even for my reinforced digestive processing systems, this is a lot,” George agreed.
“Never fear,” Finn said with a grin. “That which you do not eat will not go to waste.”
He nodded his head over toward the fleet visitors several tables away.
“I swear, they’re like locusts. You’d think they hadn’t ever tasted a home-cooked meal before.”
“Not like yours, Finn. Much as I love giving you shit, you’re actually one helluva chef.”
“Why, thank you, Vince. That means a lot to me.”
George and his new friend tucked in to their meals, making a respectable dent in the mountain of food before finally throwing in the towel and heading for their meeting.
“War room, eh?” George said with a laugh as they entered the conference room. The large group of humans reclining and otherwise in various states of repose looked anything but warlike. Celeste seemed intrigued by their new guest.
“George Franklin,” Commander Mrazich said, rising to his feet. “Glad you could join us. Everyone, I want to introduce you to Sergeant Franklin. He’s recently rejoined us after a little run-in with a few million volts, an AI virus, and a pulse blast to the chest.”
“Looking pretty good for all that,” Sarah commented. “I’m Sarah, by the way.”
“Ah, Daisy’s sister. She told me all about you. Another resurrected crewmate, eh? I’m
glad to hear I’m not the only one.”
Mrazich made a round of introductions, then settled back into his seat to begin the meeting.
“So, from what we’ve learned from not only our Chithiid allies, but also from the recon runs Freya and Marty have been making, it truly appears as if the Ra’az are not a species we can hope to bargain with.”
“Why would we even try?” Tamara asked. “I say we just blow them all to hell.”
“And it appears we may have to,” Captain Harkaway interjected. “But we had hoped a decisive victory against their fleet and a routing from the Chithiid world of Taangaar would provide us with leverage to demand a truce to spare further bloodshed once we pinpoint their homeworld.”
“I sense a ‘but’ coming,” she said.
“A big one,” Harkaway said, drawing more than a few amused grins. “The thing is, the entire Ra’az civilization, so far as we can tell, is warlike. From the highest-ranking military officers, down to the lowest level workers.”
“So the Chithiid were right,” Daisy said. “They truly are a hive species. Craaxit had told me this when we first began fighting the Ra’az. He said they consist entirely of workers and soldiers, though they apparently began outsourcing the labor, and even some of the soldiering, to conscripted races a few millennia ago.”
“If that’s true, it’s going to be a brutal fight, with no quarter given,” George commented. “The boys and me, we ran into some extremists in deep Africa a while back––humans, of course, way back then––and let me tell you, there’s nothing worse than fighting a well-armed adversary who does not fear death and who thinks capture is a fate worse than it.”
“What happened?” Celeste asked. “Were you able to eventually steer them to lay down their arms?”
“Oh, no. Not at all. We wound up just calling in heavy air support and blowing their entire bunker system to hell,” George said with a little grin. “Sometimes ya gotta know when to hold ’em and when to fold ’em. In that instance, I’d have lost far too many men if we remained engaged.”
“And you suggest we do the same to the Ra’az?”
“Ma’am, if these bastards are half as crazy, I fear it may be our only option.”
