by J. N. Chaney
“Hello,” she said pleasantly.
Relief flooded through me at the sound of the Cognitive’s voice. “Athena! You had us worried—”
“Welcome to Titan,” she continued, as if she hadn’t heard me. “I am the host of this seed colony ship. You may refer to me as Athena.”
Oh, no.
* * *
“Doc?” I said slowly, out of the side of my mouth. “What’s happening?”
“I’m not sure,” she said, staring up at the Cognitive. “Athena, do you know who I am?”
The glowing woman smiled brightly. “Of course. Dr. MaryAnn Dressler, former Union scientist. I hope you are well today?”
“I am, thank you,” she murmured before turning to me. “Maybe it was a bug in the startup sequence. Talk to her.”
Honestly, I didn’t know if I wanted to talk to her, not with that strange look on her face. Athena had an inscrutable expression, looking around the Archives with vague interest and not paying us any mind. Keenly aware of the eyes on us, I leaned close and spoke in a clear voice. “Hey, Athena. Remember me?”
She blinked as if coming out of a stupor and seemed to study me. Her eyes were different, emptier than before, and her face retained an empty expression. Then her eyes flickered, and her features changing in one sweeping motion, switching from a flat to a wide smile with no transition. The effect was unsettling to say the least. “Captain Jace Hughes, Renegade, previously wanted for illegal activities, now Earth’s leader,” she said, as if reciting from a report. Her gaze moved to Abigail next. “Abigail Pryar, former nun and wanted across twelve star systems under the codename Sparrow—”
Abigail held up a hand to cut the Cognitive off. “That’s right, Athena. It’s good to see you.”
She nodded and lapsed back into silence.
“Athena, you seem to be suffering some form of data corruption. Can you identify the problem?” inquired Dressler.
“One moment, please.” Her form froze and her eyes flickered as the data processed. In that state, she looked like the Athena I knew.
“I take it she isn’t usually like this?” asked Davon. He’d edged closer without me noticing, his curiosity getting the better of him.
“No,” murmured Abigail.
It took a while for Athena to finish her self-assessment. Most of the observers left, either taking off for other assignments or tending to the other wounded. It took nearly an hour, but MaryAnn told us that wasn’t particularly abnormal. “All of her files are compressed. She has over 2000 years of data to scan. This console isn’t as powerful as the Capsule on Titan and it’s struggling to handle the load,” Dressler explained.
“Can Siggy help?” I asked her.
“I don’t think so,” she replied. “I don’t believe this system can handle two Cognitives simultaneously.” She sighed. “Perhaps I should have waited and started this on Titan.”
Athena’s eyes stopped flickering, drawing my attention. “Scan complete. As you suspected, much of it requires attention—” The Cognitive stopped mid-sentence, and her body shattered into countless pieces of hard light particles. They hadn’t fully settled when the pieces sprang up again to quickly reform Athena’s image. It briefly flashed red with a message that read: “Error Code 37.”
Dr. Dressler acknowledged the error message, prompting Athena to unfreeze. Her features changed instantly, contorting until her eyes were wide with fear and the lines of her forehead creased. Before she spoke a single word, I knew this was our Athena. “Captain Hughes,” said the Cognitive in an urgent tone.
I smiled in relief. “I’m here, Athena.”
Another glitch as she flickered once again, ending my small celebration. “They’re coming,” she said, her voice breaking as she spoke. “You must stop the…” Her construct started to collapse again.
“Athena!” I shouted, unsure if she even knew I was there.
She reappeared, but the image was faint. “Archives… distraction…” The image fell apart again. “...must hurry…”
“Get her back,” I snapped at Dressler.
“What do you think I’m doing?” Her fingers worked the pad furiously, but nothing happened. “I have to reboot again.”
“MaryAnn, turn it off,” Abigail said suddenly.
“What? Why?” I asked.
Dressler looked equally as perplexed as I was, which was not a common occurrence.
“Please, trust me,” said Abigail.
Dressler did as she asked as quickly as her hands allowed.
“What the hell, Abby?” I barked.
“That wasn’t Athena,” she said, looking shaken. “The first one, I mean. I don’t know who or what it was, but we shouldn’t put it in Titan until we know what we’re dealing with. The warning message… I think that part was real. She said the Archives were a distraction.”
“But the battle is over,” Dressler pointed out. “If the Celestials had a planned a trap, they would have sprung it by now.”
“Why did it flash an error message?” I asked. “It said ‘Error Code 37’ right before Athena appeared again.”
Dressler frowned and tapped her pad. “Error Code 37 is generic. It just means the data you’re trying to access is already in use.”
“I don’t get it. Why would that trigger a message from Athena?” I asked.
“It wouldn’t,” Abigail said. “Not unless it was intentional. Dressler, can you access the fault log without turning her program back on?”
She nodded and pulled it up, then passed it over. Abigail studied it, scrolling until she found what she was looking for. “There.”
“What is it?” I asked.
“Athena hid the message in that code for a reason,” Abigail explained. “She replaced the error with her own response and buried it. When the… alternate version of her ran the file scan, one of the issues must have fit the parameters to trigger EC37. Our girl must have altered the steps so it didn’t pop up until after the scan completed.”
“It means that she thought someone else might prevent us from seeing the message,” Dressler clarified. “Whatever plan the Celestials had for us, Athena knew about it and tried to send a warning. She knew we’d run diagnostics and trigger the alert.”
“So what about the other one? You called her an alternate. Are you saying she’s not actually Athena?” I asked.
“I need more information,” Dressler replied. “It could be the corrupted package causing a malfunction in her personality matrix. Malware is another possibility. That might be what she meant by a trap. The Celestials might have planted the drives here knowing we’d come for them and put Athena back in Titan where she could infect our personal network.”
The whole thing made me wonder if the soldiers we’d killed were actually meant to die, all so we’d find the drives and take Athena back to her Capsule to spread the infection.
“For now, let’s operate under the assumption that Athena shouldn’t be installed anywhere until we find a way to safely fix whatever the hell is wrong with her. Tonight, she stays in the drives, locked in the Star under my direct protection.”
* * *
I woke to the sound of Junior calling my name.
“Go away,” I mumbled.
“Sir, Dr. Dressler has asked me to wake you. She said it was an emergency,” he explained.
“Jace,” said Abigail, pushing my shoulder. “Get up.”
Groaning, I rolled over and opened one eye. “What?”
“Captain, Dr. Dressler is waiting for you,” Junior said. “She insists that you arrive immediately.”
“Sorry, Jace. Lights on, 100 percent,” Abigail ordered.
The combined shock of bright lights and cool air jolted me into a sitting position.
“Someone better have a good explanation for this,” I growled.
Abigail was already headed for the door before I could get my boots on, and I ran to catch up. We didn’t have far to go, as the Star wasn’t parked far from the lifts. I took the nearest one
to where Dressler had asked us to meet her.
Dressler paced in front of the main holo display looking like a mad woman. Bleary eyed and mumbling, her hair stuck out in tufts as though she’d been tugging on it. Knowing the doc, that was not an entirely unlikely scenario. A pale blue robe flapped around pajama-clad legs, the belt only haphazardly tucked in two of the loops.
She whipped around when we entered and planted both hands on her waist. “Finally! Captain, we have to get teams in place now. I know what Athena was trying to warn us about.”
“Slow down, Dressler. Take a breath,” I cautioned, worried she might start hyperventilating. “What did you find out?”
“I couldn’t sleep, so I went over my notes from today hoping to understand whether Athena’s malfunction stems from the interrupted transfer procedure or a virus. But then I realized something.”
“Which was?” I asked.
“I had Carl and Sigmond run an analysis to make sure, but I had a feeling that the transfer might be doubling as a split copy,” she explained.
“A what?” I asked.
“It’s where you make multiple copies simultaneously,” said Abigail.
“Precisely,” said Dressler. “Carl verified that the process was started before I woke you, but this could be the reason for what we experienced with Athena.”
“If the Celestials made a copy of Athena’s drive, it should have been in that room,” I explained. “Right? I mean, with all those other data servers around.”
“That’s why she said the Archives were a diversion,” said Dressler. “Don’t you see? Athena herself was the diversion. They knew we’d come after her.”
“I see,” said Abigail, her mouth slowly dropping as she pieced together what the doctor was telling us.
Dressler continued. “Sigmond and Carl are scanning Tartarus now. I checked the Archives’ feeds, just to be sure, but no one took anything off the bodies, and it wasn’t in the console,” said the doctor. “That means it was gone before we arrived. I’m betting your persistence in getting to Athena so fast moved up their timetable. That would explain why they didn’t get the full copy.”
“Which is what caused the data corruption?” I asked. “So it’s my fault Athena is in that state.”
“Yes and no,” Dressler replied. “The Celestials most certainly would have destroyed her if they got to finish the job.”
“She’s right,” Abigail added. “Now Athena has a chance.”
“True enough,” I allowed. “Junior, get me Vick and Sanchez on a shared line.”
“Right away, sir,” the AI replied.
Sanchez answered first, eyes still hazy from sleep, but he was snapping out of it quickly. It was the most unkempt I’d ever seen him, and he still managed to look the part of an officer. “Captain, has something happened?”
I nodded grimly. “Yes. If it’s all the same to you, I’ll start once the vice admiral joins us, so I don’t have to repeat myself.”
“Hughes, do you have any idea how late it is?” Vick barked out, obviously annoyed at having been awoken, when it was only an emergency or something very urgent that I would want to wake him for.
I nodded, taking no small pleasure in his irritation and at being the one responsible. His video was blocked, and I amused myself for just a second by imagining that he wore a fancy sleep mask to bed or something else equally embarrassing. Satisfied, I told them about Dressler’s revelation.
“We need to double—maybe even triple—the guards around the transporter,” Vick proposed.
“Agreed,” I said. “If they managed to copy those drives, there’s nothing stopping them from getting off Tartarus except us.”
“A good suggestion, Captain,” said Sanchez. “I’m sending out the order for more Sarkonian support. Davon will bring his pulse cannon to assist.”
“Appreciate that, Major. I’m doing the same. Vick?”
He sighed loftily. “Done. I’ll inform the current shift that we’ll have additional troops arriving soon.”
They both signed off.
I barely had time to get out of the room when Sigmond’s voice came over the comm. “Sir, hostile movement detected.
“Where?” I snapped, feeling a surge through my body as the thought of an attack brought me to high alert.
“In the assembly chamber, sir,” he said.
I began to move, Abigail beside me. Instead of running with us, the Cognitive jumped from emitter to emitter through the hallway. “What’s in there that a Celestial would want?” I asked between breaths.
“Jace, it’s the mobile armor,” said Abigail. “That’s where Davon took it after the hangar battle.”
“Siggy, did it get in yet?” I asked, quickly. “Did the Celestial take the armor?”
“Oh, no, sir,” said Sigmond. “It wasn’t trying to break in, Captain. It wanted out.”
20
We managed to reach the hangar before the Celestial, but I had a feeling it wasn’t far behind.
A team made up of my people and Sarkonians—Major Sanchez among them—formed a line in front of the door. Octavia stood next to him, ready for whatever we were about to walk into. Leif and Freddie were there as well.
I decided against fanning out or putting people in strategic positions. We didn’t have time for any of that right now. The Celestial wanted one thing: access to the transporter, and I needed every available soldier moving and acting as one.
“Davon, once we’re in range, hit that thing with the cannon,” I instructed. “It won’t take it out completely, but the blast should have some effect. We’ll use it to our advantage and hit it in waves until you’re ready to fire again. Got it?”
“Of course, Captain.” Davon rubbed his hands together, a determined expression on his face. He thumbed open the clear cover of a red button on his pulse cannon. A little less sophisticated than Dressler’s, but it looked functional enough.
“Sir, I’ve detected something on my scans,” Sigmond announced. “It’s moving fast and will reach the outer door in approximately five seconds.”
No one seemed to breathe as we counted off in our heads. Right on time, a loud thump sounded from outside the hangar’s massive door. A long pause set my teeth on edge. What was it doing?
“The hostile has phased into the hangar,” Sigmond announced. “Marking its signal now.”
My visor display updated automatically, and a red dot appeared, moving on our position rapidly. With so many ships in the hangar, I didn’t have a clear visual on the Celestial, but I could hear it. Heavy footfalls that made a metallic clank with each step.
“There!” A Sarkonian soldier pointed in the direction of a sleek fighter craft that sat about 50 or so meters off the ground, nestled between two larger vessels.
Just behind them came the mobile armor approaching more carefully as it assessed the opposition, its head reaching the top of one wing. Instead of ducking to avoid touching it, the thing phased right through it. Some of the soldiers behind me had seen this firsthand already, but a few clearly hadn’t because I heard more than one sharp intake of breath.
“Get ready, Davon,” I whispered into my helmet comm. “I’ll let you know when.”
“Understood. Waiting for your signal.” The Sarkonian doctor sounded a little shaky.
The Celestial continued to advance. Ten meters, then twenty. When it hit the thirty mark, I gave Davon the signal. “Now!”
He didn’t hesitate and the pulse-wave rolled by us, spreading outward. The Celestial paused as if unsure what was happening, then the blast hit him. As I’d suspected, the attack only caused it to waver slightly, but hurting it wasn’t the point of the cannon.
“First wave, fire!” I ordered, before it could recover completely. “Remember to aim for the joints!” A new wave, this one comprised of round after round of rifle fire, punched into the Celestial’s metal-plated frame. It waded through the onslaught with little effort even as shards of its armor flew off.
One of the suit’s
arms raised and its hand disappeared. I thought someone managed to sever it, but I soon realized that it had changed. The fingers and palm retracted and rearranged themselves to become some kind of armament.
“Sir, the Celestial has formed a weapon and is priming an attack,” Sigmond warned.
“Everyone, get to cover now!” I barked.
The team scattered, making a series of small targets that would be harder to hit instead of staying in one big cluster. I ran for Davon, urging him behind the nearby stern of a destroyed strike ship. It wouldn’t do much against heavy artillery, but it was better than nothing.
A blast to my far right shook the ground and sent a dropship careening. The suit’s missiles had found a target. I could only hope our people had gotten clear before it struck.
From behind the other side of the crates, I squeezed the trigger, aiming at its left knee. It didn’t make a dent, which surprised me.
“Jace, there’s hard light shields over the joints,” Abigail called out over the comm.
I focused on the spot I’d been firing at fruitlessly and saw she was right. Every time a bullet found its mark in a would-be vulnerability, a frisson of blue light danced out. Damn. I should have known better. The Celestials were too obsessed with perfection to have missed such an obvious flaw.
My rifle clicked then, signaling the first magazine had run dry. “Davon, you’re up!” I started the reload procedure.
“Pulse cannon armed and ready, Captain,” Davon responded.
“What are you waiting for? Shoot it!” I barked, cursing when my gun jammed. The Celestial was less than a dozen meters away and closing in steadily.
“Something’s wrong with it,” Octavia commented. “I can see him from my position.”
“What?” With the jam cleared, I jerked my head in his direction to see what she was talking about. Davon was smashing his little red button repeatedly to no avail. “I thought you fixed that!”
