“A.I.?” Cameron asked, looking between Logan and Sybil before glancing back at Alistair with a questioning glare, “Is that like V.I. for our A.R.M.S. units?”

Alistair rolled his head in a way to say ‘yes and no’, “Kinda.”

Logan scoffed and crossed his arm, leaning back against the wall, looking only at Alistair as he spoke, “The only way they are remotely the same is that they both go into the same slot on a unit and are meant to assist a pilot on the battlefield. From there, it’s like comparing the energy output between a hand-crank and a nuclear reactor. They're not even playing the same sport, let alone in the same league.

“That’s a fair enough allegory,” Sybil said, continuing Logan’s train of thought, “But I think we can expound on that a little more for Cameron. He’s still a baby pilot after all.”

“Fair enough,” Logan said, shuffling in the booth to get a better look at Cameron. There was a slight pause followed by a smirking chuckle as his eyes focused on the dark bruise forming around his jaw, but eventually he was able to find his train of thought to illuminate his young protégé on the specifics.

“So,” he began, “Without getting into all the mechanical and scientific jargon that confuses even me, yes both V.I. and A.I. serve a similar base purpose. That purpose is twofold, first, it functions as the Primary Control Mechanism or PCM for an A.R.M.S. unit. It manages everything from heat, fluid intake, vision, pneumatics, and life support systems that gives people like us the ability to ride around at mach speed and swing giant weapons the size of a house at each other. Second, they perform performance analysis and battlefield diagnostics in real-time, allowing us to essentially have a three hundred and sixty degree view of our environments at any time. Yes, there are some units that can circumvent this, and get the jump on you, but those are few and far between. For the most part though, both systems are the same when it comes to these things.”

“Okay?” Cameron said slowly, “Then what-”

Logan cut him off, holding up a hand to silence him as he continued, “However, that is where the similarities end. Because that is all the functions that a V.I. can perform. It’s a virtual intelligence, not an artificial one. Meaning, it’s basically just a template of procedures and processes with a personality matrix overlay on it. If me and you where in the same situation and someone was getting ready to jump us from behind, our V.I.’s would notify us such at the same time, just in different voices.”

“And A.I. wouldn’t?” Cameron asked.

Logan shook his head, “No, it would, but it would do so much more than that. A.I. isn’t just a series of processes. It’s… conscious. It possesses a code so dense, so refined, and advanced, built to watch and analyze who you are as fighter to such a fine point that in that same scenario an A.I. would not only alert you, but tell you the best way to react that feels the most natural to you. They’re voices and mannerisms aren’t just a personality matrix. It learns how you learn, it speaks to you in a realistic and emotional way. They’re so advanced and unique that while a V.I. can be swapped in and out from unit to unit and pilot to pilot, an A.I. can only be used once. That’s it. Don’t ask me why, cause that’s all I really know. It’s an autonomous, self-thinking… thing. I can’t even explain it cause I’m only regurgitating what I’ve heard.”

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Cameron raised an eyebrow, looking between the three of them, “Why are you talking about them like they’re some sort of relic, are they that rare or something?”

A chorus of laughter filled the room in response to his question, and Cameron felt a hand rest on his thigh as Sybil spoke up, her honeyed voice and emerald eyes drawing his attention as much as the information she expounded.

“Rare is an understatement honey. I’d say for every 10,000 V.I. integrated mechs, there’s one A.I. unit.”

“Think of this way,” Alistair chimed in, “You could have a tech mech a V.I. for you right here in this room. It’d take a week or so, but they could do it from scratch. An A.I. requires a laboratory the size of Arsius station to make one every five years. They’re worth their weight not in silver, but in planets. The only pilots I know personally that have A.I. integrated units are all Omega class.”

Cameron’s jaw dropped at this, his eyes widening in surprise, as the weight of an A.I.s value was finally starting to dawn on him. He shook his head, clearing it of his surprise, before pointing a finger at Alistair, asking the question that had been on his mind since their lively introduction, “Alright, pardon my language, but just who the fuck are you?”

Alistair smirked and chuckled dryly, giving a mocking bow as he replied, “Alistair Kincaid, information broker at your service. I sell anything from secret black-site GAC operations, to the newest in terms of corporate espionage to the highest bidder, whether that be to a Free-Space mercenary, or in this case,” He paused for dramatic effect, waving a hand towards Sybil, “An EarthGov diplomat.”

All eyes turned towards Sybil, and for the first time the Cameron could recall since meeting her, the woman’s cheeks turned a pale shade of pink from embarrassment.

“Well would you look at that,” Logan said, putting his arms behind his head as he casually leaned back against the cushion of the booth, “The government consorting with shady fucks to do even shadier shit. A tale as old as time.”

Sybil cut a sharp glare towards Logan’s direction, before clearing her throat, attempting to take control of the conversation.

“As discussed earlier,” She said, shooting another look at Logan, who wasn’t even bothering to hide his smirk, “A.I.s are extremely rare as well as expensive. So rare and expensive in fact, that EarthGov controls nearly all A.I. manufacturing in the entire galaxy. I say nearly, because it seems that a few unscrupulous individuals have decided to circumvent our control of the intelligence trade by starting their own creation lab, in EarthGov space no less.”

Now it was Logan’s turn to look surprised, both of his eyes raising as he sat up, “Well that’s interesting… and idiotic. I’ve heard of dead men walking, but never did I think they’d hold up a sign that read ‘turn me into pink mist please’ in giant neon letters.”

Sybil laughed, giving a nodding shrug, “Well, I can abide by a lot, but someone making my job harder is something I won’t let stand… Isn’t that right, Alistair?” She asked, keeping her eyes set on Logan, while Cameron watched the broker start to visibly sweat, giving a nervous chuckle.

“Y-Yes Ma’am,” He said, “Perhaps I should give a proper mission briefing then, now that we’re all acquainted and informed about the subject.”

“Yes,” She said with a tone that was equally upbeat and cold, “Perhaps you should.”