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HARI-9
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In the workshop area down in the bowels of Bunker R-34, HARI-9 continued to examine the components of Lord Malcolm’s cybernetic remains. Even though she had instantaneous access to the bunker’s technical library and database, none of her overlays were those of a cyber-technician or an electronics engineer of any kind, and that meant her actual capability of using that information was limited. So she was using her ‘Mara’ overlay, which, as a naturally created and then recorded entity, was a lot more generalized than any of the synthetics she possessed like ‘Refugee’, ‘Predator’, ‘Trainer’, or ‘Tactician.
At the moment, she was searching through whatever historical records the database possessed that might have the specifications on any of the components that she had found. Unfortunately, her search hadn’t come up with anything useful. Most of the components were old pre-war designs that had left service a decade or more before the Hi-Side attacks had begun and had filtered out to the civilian markets, judging by all the DECLASSIFIED nomenclature.
That meant they could have been manufactured almost anywhere and sold to almost anyone, but the zero-g alloys and some of the clearly orbital-manufactured chips were a different story. They had to come from Hi-Side, and whether they were imported and sold or smuggled down was impossible to say without checking import reports that had been destroyed centuries before.
She stood away from the workbench. She was going to get nothing more from this at the moment, so it was a better use of her time to check her other tasks.
The satellite mapping had finished, and she now had a good idea of how many functional and growing cities there were in the boundaries of the old United States. Projecting this on a scan of the paper map she had reclaimed from Malcolm’s office, she, with the aid of several expert systems in the bunker network, was able to produce a new digital map, and as the satellite finished, each of its impossible slow high-magnification scans and sent them to the bunker, her new combined map would be updated as well.
Returning to the M1 level, where the offices and conference room were located, she entered the office she had claimed as hers and sat down before bringing up the map data on the wall projection. As she was looking at it, there was a knock on her door.
“Yes?”
“Milady, may I enter?” it was Sandra, Magellan’s assistant.
“Please, come in.”
The young woman entered and looked nervous, “I’m sorry, milady, for disturbing you, but the OP reports that Lord Bonchance and Countess Lindquist’s group is approaching.”
“Thank you…Has Master Peter begun the in-processing of the latest group of refugees?”
“Yes, milady.”
The Duchy had been seeing a steady influx of residents from various disenfranchised groups or even straight-up wanderers like Bonchance had been. One of the first steps of in-processing was housing them in ‘temporary housing’ that had listening devices fitted with an expert system scanning for hot-button words or phrases for further review. Only HARI-9 knew about these devices or their purpose, but she had spotted fifteen potential infiltrators whom she was monitoring very carefully. As a young enlisted, Mara Edgerton had been well-trained at Fort Huachuca to be ‘professionally paranoid’, as her instructors had put it.
“That will be all.”
Sandra left, and HARI-9 brought up the latest transcribed conversation that had come in…
Speaker: ‘Jacob Mills’ -- What do you think of this place?
Speaker: ‘Artie Sorenson’ -- I can see why Slash wanted us to take a close look at it. Their guards have good rifles and look like they know how to use them. It’s really open, though.
Speaker: ‘Jacob Mills’ -- I know…I’m thinking you could bring a bunch in from the west and then sneak some of the boys up and over the ridge and drop them on top of that Duchess’s place. Capture her and whatever loot she has while her guys are fighting the bunch down below.
Speaker: ‘Artie Sorenson’ -- That would work; we could also sneak a few more guys in like us to be ready on the inside.
Speaker: ‘Jacob Mills’ – That’s smart. Maybe on a timber gang, they keep the tools up behind the wall, and it would help to know how it’s laid out up there.
Speaker: ‘Artie Sorenson’ – Tin is supposed to swing by later to pick up the news; we can tell him then.
Thinking for a moment, she brought up Sorenson and Mill’s pictures that had been surreptitiously taken like all potential residents. Then she logged into the OP’s systems and, using one of the six drones that now flew a rotating top cover high enough so the sound of their rotors did not draw attention, initiated a facial match. She spotted Mills almost immediately as he was washing up at the town pump. Sorenson took another minute, but he was standing by the entrance to the market area that had sprung up.
Taking the drone out of the OP’s control, she set it to lock and track. Standing up, she headed to the elevator and made her way to the elevator.
Exiting at the OP level, she smiled at Gerard, the operator on duty, before walking over to the main deployment console for the heavy drones.
“What’s the problem, milady?”
“Check the feed on Number Four.”
“Who’s that?” Gerard asked as he looked at Sorenson’s zoomed-in face.
“He calls himself Artie Sorenson; he and a guy named Mills were sent in to recon for someone named Slash. He’s got a meet with a guy named Tin today. I’m configuring a heavy for extra range to follow this Tin when he leaves to make contact with Slash.”
“How did you find this out?”
She rolled her eyes at him and said, “I am the Duchess, dammit. I know all.”
Gerard laughed, “You want me to monitor the feed and launch the heavy when it’s time?”
“That would be perfect. Call me when it happens.”
“Absolutely, milady.”
She returned to the SURFACE level and exited it from one of the concealed exits in the ridge wall, putting herself in a closet in the ‘Duchess’s Residence’. Listening for any traffic, she opened the closet door and, adjusting her skirts, entered the master bedroom of the three-bedroom cabin.
Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
“Milady!” Katrina, one of the newest residents who had taken up the duties of cleaning, looked up in surprise as HARI-9 came down the hallway. “I didn’t know you were in the house.”
“It’s alright. I was just resting. You are a very hard worker, and cleaning is very trivial. Is there anything you would rather be doing?”
“I was placed on this until I could decide, milady, but I think I want to join the militia.”
“Really?”
My father and mother taught me to hunt and track…before the raiders came, at least, so I’m really good at shooting and not being seen. I know there’s no women in the militia, but I’m sure…”
“That you could do it? I agree with you. Tomorrow morning, report to Master Calvin at the town armory and tell him I want you to be tested as a scout and as a sniper.”
“Really? Even though I’m a woman?”
“Really. Now I think you’re done cleaning for the day. Let’s go out and meet the returning heroes.”
“Heroes?”
“It’s a joke. Lord Bonchance and the Countess and their entourage are due back any minute now.”
“Oh! They had gone before I arrived here. Is the Lord as handsome as they say?”
HARI-9 had a hard time keeping the ‘Mara’ overlay from laughing, “Possibly. He’s my best friend, so I’m not allowed to have an opinion…”
“I thought you and he were…?”
HARI-9 did laugh this time, “No. Not us, the Lord and the Countess, though…”
“Really?”
“Really…but you did not hear it from me, even if…especially if…Lord Bonchance asks.”
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BONCHANCE
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Heading into the final stretch toward Edgerton and the Duchy felt great. In the weeks that we’d been gone, more people had been arriving, and the houses were preparing for the winter. Last winter, I had been on the road and spent the coldest months by myself stranded in a shack I had knocked together, hunting and trying not to starve. It had not been pleasant even though it was far further south than here. Now, I was fairly sure I would be warm, fed, and, most importantly…not alone. I looked over at Clea. This couldn’t be happening.
“What are you staring at?” she asked.
“You, of course.”
“Why?”
“Because I am mostly convinced that I am dying, and all this is a delusion of my last minutes. Therefore, I wish to enjoy every single moment until the cold dark claims me, and if looking at you is not the greatest enjoyment in the world, then I have entirely no concept of what that enjoyment possibly could be.”
“Very elegant, Mister Magellan.”
“Thank you,” I dipped my head in a small bow.
“Have you been practicing that?”
“What will happen if I say ‘Yes’?”
“I congratulate you for being clever and thinking best how to reach my cold, frozen heart.”
“And if I say ‘No’?”
“Then I congratulate you for being witty and clever and able to think rapidly to come up with a pleasing answer that warms my womanly spirit.”
“So both ways I get congratulated?”
“Of course!”
“Then it really does not matter which answer I choose?”
“I knew you were clever enough to figure it out. Now, how should I congratulate you appropriately?” she said with a big smile that almost made me faint with the promise.
We had made the final turn and saw a small crowd forming; of course, we had been spotted by the OP, and they had alerted Mara.
“Section!” Simon called out. “Present arms!”
All our escort saluted the Duchess, who snapped to attention and crisply returned the salute as we stopped in front of her.
“Duchess Edgerton,” I began. “The mission was a success.”
Mara smiled, “Excellent, Lord Bonchance. I expect a full debrief from you and the Countess as soon as you have taken care of your mounts and stowed your gear, Lieutenant Waterman, you too.”
“Of course, milady,” we all replied.
After returning our horses to the common Ducal stable and the Oxen to the barn, a team of trusted volunteers moved the mission’s trunks to the back wall of the barn, which concealed the vehicle entrance to the SURFACE level. When that was done, I looked at Simon and Clea. “Ready?”
He nodded, and the three of us opened the door and entered the bunker. On the way to the conference room, I dropped my bags and my jacket on the bunk in my quarters and watched as Clea did the same.
“Oh?” I asked.
She just kissed me, “Oh yes, I’m staying here now.”
“I seem to be alright with that.”
Heading down to M1 and the conference room, we met Simon on the stairs, “Are you sure she wants me there?”
“She said so, so yes,” I replied.
Entering the room, Mara was seated next to the window that looked out over the Operations Area on the Main Floor. Peter, Cal, John, Fran, and Millie were also here.
“Secure the door, Bonchance.”
Turning, I pressed the red switch by the door and heard the click as the locks engaged. Then I took my normal seat next to Mara.
“All of you know something about me; most of you know more, and one of you knows the most,” she began, glancing at me. “I have considered long and hard who I can tell, Simon, Clea, congratulations. You know my name is Mara Edgerton; I was born over four hundred years ago and fought in what you call the Final War, and I died. Well, almost died…No, actually, Mara Edgerton did die, but it took a while. They couldn’t save her, but they could copy her, her memories, her thoughts, everything that made her, her. Then they took this copy and loaded it into a machine; this body, you see. I’m not human; I have never actually been human, and my true designation is HARI-9. They took this body you are looking at, with what was left of Mara Edgerton loaded into it, and shoved it in a cylinder for later use, and, because they were sure that the war was lost, they put that cylinder inside a base to be used when the Hi-Siders started taking things over. Once that happened, the human personnel in that base would wake me up, and they would have an infiltration specialist gynoid who was ready to sneak into places and lay down the pain. Except…” she looked at me.
“Except the Hi-Siders…the Hivers, they didn’t win,” I said, and she nodded, so I continued, “The CDO released the Pox before this base had personnel assigned, and then the Hivers let loose the last of the stone storms, and then nobody won.”
“As far as I can tell…” Mara said, “…and remember, I was stuffed in a steel tube and out of it for the end, but I have read the last messages this base received; that is what happened.”
She stood up, “And here I lay, on Standby for centuries. Unthinking, not even dreaming until a crazy genius mechanician managed to figure out how to break into an impregnable bunker, get inside, and then figured out how to reactivate me. After that…well, you know the rest.”
“So you’re a machine?” Clea asked. “I had thought you were from the Old World, but a machine?”
“I am. Back in my time, we had all kinds of sentient and sapient machines; the Hi-Siders murdered them with EMP bombs…that’s the real name of the empty bombs you hear about now…destroyed the power plants and grids that kept them alive, destroyed the cities where their servers were. All those machine consciousnesses, from the simplest to the most sophisticated, killed without a thought. I wasn’t destroyed as I was under a hundred feet of rock and powered down, along with being nowhere close to any Electromagnetic Pulse events.”
“So,” Fran asked, “are you Mara Edgerton…or a machine that acts like Mara used to?”
“That’s a good question. When I’m like this, talking to you, I consider myself Mara. I’m who Mara was and who has now done all these crazy things since I was activated, but I also know I’m just a really good copy loaded into a heuristic…learning…matrix.”
She looked out at the window, “The last thing Mara remembered before I woke up for the first time was the pain as her legs and pelvis were crushed by a chunk of debris from the Mass Driver Strike that killed her. Since then, I have memories of meeting all of you, trading jokes and gossip, saving people…no, doing good things for good people. I know Mara would be happy about that because, in most ways, I am Mara. I look like she did, I sound like her, I think like her.”
I looked at her, “I’ve never thought you weren’t.”