Commodore Thomas Anderson stroked his thick mustache slowly as he read over the papers in front of him. More purchase orders he thought. This would be the second order for over five hundred thousand dollars this month. Anderson shook his head as he placed his signature at the bottom of the form. "The General Staff is gonna shit a brick."

Leaning back in his plush leather chair, he let out a deep sigh. He looked at his watch. It was late, almost 2000 hours. Webber should be back with the cyberoid any time now. He wished he didn't have to be present to welcome her to the base. He was missing a fine home cooked meal and a relaxing evening with the wife because of her. "Work before pleasure," he said idly as he stared blankly about his office.

lt was a well decorated room, with a solid oak desk at the center and a small library placed against the wall. Across from the desk hung a large USSD crest with two American flags crossed underneath it. On the adjacent wall hung Commodore Anderson's personal display of awards and badges. He had a plaque made, housing his rank insignia and medals all the way from private upward. He enjoyed looking at it from time to time. They reminded him of his accomplishments and sometimes even the good old days, but most ofall, he liked to gaze at the empty spaces, just waiting to be filled.

"Soon," he stroked his mustache again. If he could keep this operation in line and deliver the product, he would be looking at his second star for sure. But so far it hadn't been the easiest task.

Renel Naval base was by no means the largest USSD facility in existence. Altogether, Commodore Anderson commanded a staff of perhaps only nine hundred personnel. The base covered an area of about fifteen hundred hectares, with the actual base itself consisting of a small complex of three warehouses and a central building; covering little more than a square kilometer in all. It was a small installation, but the operations going on inside it certainly were not. They did not even need as many staff as they had now. Most were there simply for project cover and didn't know squat about what was really going on inside the base.

Anderson started to get impatient again. He ran a finger through his graying dark hair and scratched the base of his skull. He frowned; then lightly he tapped the intercom on his desk and spoke into it.

"Lieutenant?" he called. "Has Webber reported in yet?" Lieutenant Della replied in her husky female voice. "I've had no word yet, Sir." "Could you do me a favor and check down at the gate and see if they have heard anything yet?"

"Will do, Commodore," Della answered.

"Thank you, Lieutenant." Anderson sighed again flicking off the intercom. "Where the hell is that asshole."

* * *

The summer sun kissed the edge of the earth in a dazzling display ofhot oranges and yellows. The splendid light reflected off the sparse white clouds floating in the lofty desert sky, and painted them a vivid crimson. Above them, the warm light faded slowly to a deep purple and finally to the dark blue which served as background to the stars. The dry shrubs and cacti of the desert soon became blanketed in the soft blue hue of twilight, as the land dissipated the last of its heat, and the air began to grow cool and still.

A truck broke the calm, pushing itself along a single vein of tarmac that scarred the desert floor. It proceeded at a rapid pace, lighting its way through the darkened wasteland with an array ofpowerful headlamps.

The driver of the truck felt the engine bog. Quickly, he depressed the clutch and jammed the stick shift into a lower gear. In one fluid motion, he throttled the accelerator and let the clutch pop outwards. The truck jerked with the new supply of torque, and gripped the road sharply as it rounded a comer.

The driver grinned and looked back to his passengers. "You okay back there?"

"Yeah we're fine," Webber answered quickly. "Hey could you watch the road please?"

"Don't worry Sarge, I could drive this route with my eyes closed." The driver then smiled back at him. Webber nodded nonchalantly as the young corporal turned his attention back to the darkened road ahead of them. Suta remained silent next to him. She had not spoken much since the train. He couldn't blame her really. Still, she would have to start talking sooner or later.

Suta certainly had become a complex person, definitely an effect of her age. A newly constructed cyberoid would have nowhere near the depth of character, or personality Suta possessed.

“Barro, may I ask you something?”

The cyberoid turned her head from the window and stared at him for a moment.

“What is it, Doctor?”

Webber didn’t like the cold tone of her voice but he pressed on regardless. “Have you considered applying for human status yet?”

Barro smirked. “No I haven’t. And in any case I’m not eligible.”

“You’re not?” Webber was surprised. “What do you mean? From a professional standpoint, I feel you’re fit.”

“I’m not,” Barro said. “You of all people should know that Status can only be granted under two conditions. One, that the applicant be evaluated and approved by a registered board of personnel. And two that they have paid their total cost in full. I still have quite a bit left to pay back.”

“Even after twelve years of service?”

“Look, Webber,” she turned to him again. “Not that it’s any of your business, but gaining status is not one of my major priorities.”

Her statement shocked him. Webber thought all cyberoids strove to gain human status.

“So then,” Suta cut her eyes at him. “Is this more of your evaluation, doctor?”

“No it is not. . .” Webber grimaced.

“Then why ask?"

“I’m just making conversation.”

“Then would you mind picking a subject besides me?” Barro said curtly.

Webber was growing tired of her indignant attitude.

“Listen, alright? I know you’re upset by being deceived. And you have all right to be, but that doesn’t change the reason why you are here. I picked you because you were the most qualified and most experienced pilot for the job. You will still have the choice to decide on whether you will take the mission or not, but I want to make one thing clear. This is the chance of a lifetime. They’re planning on making you an admiral for this.”

Barro’s eyes shifted slightly but she remained silent.

“You’ll be the first Artificial Person in history to hold such a high military ranking. You’ll also be the first to pilot a new breed of spacecraft. Think of it, this ship is going to expand mankind’s environment throughout the solar system.”

“What makes you think I desire all that?” Barro spat.

Webber stumbled a bit. “Well isn’t it what we all strive for? Fame? Recognition? A piece of immortality?”

“I don’t think any of that is worth losing my own sense of self.” Barro folder her arms indignantly. “This process of yours will destroy all that.”

“Well I really didn’t explain how everything would work. .. I mean-”

“Would you do it?” Barro snapped. “Would you do it if you were me, Doctor?”

There was silence for a moment.

“I don’t think I could answer that,” Webber shook his head. “I mean... I couldn’t do it anyway.”

“Then why ask me to make the decision?” Suta stated smugly.

“Why ask you?” Webber grew suddenly agitated. “At least I am asking you, Barro! By the way things look they didn’t want you to know at all. Maybe they aren’t even going to give you a choice. You ever thought of that?”

Barro flashed her eyes at him. “What do you mean?”

“You’ve been giving me shit since I met you,” he told her forcefully. “Shit that I don’t have to take. I’m not in charge of this damn project, and I really have no say in how they operate save for the technical aspect. If they want to treat you like a lifeless tool, I can’t do anything about it.”

Webber glared directly at her, his anger permeating his stare. Barro stared straight back at him, apparently unconcerned by his words. Finally, Webber tumed away from her. He had dealt with Suta long enough. He could build cyberoids, but apparently he couldn’t understand them worth a shit. It was no wonder he had never bothered to just talk with one before.

Commander Suta made no response to Webber’s outburst. They sat next to each other in silence while the driver navigated the truck through the remainder of the desert and finally to the entrance of the base.

An MP approached the vehicle as they pulled to a stop before the guard booth. The driver exchanged a few brief words with her and she returned to her booth to raise the barrier.

“Welcome to Renel, Commander,” the driver called back as he drove into the complex.

Barro gazed at what little she could see out the window. The base was sparse, both in personnel and equipment. Spending most of her life on a moon base, she was not used to seeing things spaced so far apart. On Luna, vehicles were packed into small hangers almost on top of one another, while floods of crewmen rushed in and out of the cramped corridors like bees in a hive. This seemed like a ghost town in comparison. A row of aircraft suddenly caught her attention. They were lined neatly on the airfield a few hundred meters away. Barro made out their configuration as she enhanced her vision, they were F-38B’s, the military’s current top attacker fighter; non-space based anyway. They had Low Earth Orbit capabilities, but not true space flight like the F-40’s she was trained to fly.

“We’re here,” the Corporal announced, bringing the truck to a stop with a squeak of breaks. “The Commodore gave orders to drop you directly to his office as soon as you arrived.”

“All right,” Webber opened his door. “This way Commander.”

Webber stepped out and then waited while she collected her duffel from the back of the truck.

“It was nice meeting you, Commander,” the driver quickly saluted her.

Barro returned his salute then watched as the Corporal shoved the truck back into gear and drove off towards the garage. She turned to see Webber already entering the building. She finally took hold of her bag and followed him inside.

* **

“Commodore.”

“Eh?” Anderson awoke with an abrupt snort.

It was the intercom. Damn he had fallen asleep. Slowly he mbbed his tired eyes and sleep-numbed face. He glanced at his watch. He hadn’t been asleep for too long. Just a mere nap, if you could even call it that.

Anderson leaned over his desk and pressed the small button to the intercom. “Yes Lieutenant?”

“Sir, Sergeant Webber and Commander Suta have arrived.”

“Good, send them in. I no longer need you, Lieutenant. You can leave for the night.”

“Thank you, sir,” Della replied. “I’ll send them right in. Goodnight.”

“Night.”

Anderson straightened his uniform and sat upright in his chair. There was a brief knock at his door.

“Come in,” he beckoned.

The door swung inward, and Webber entered along with whom Anderson assumed was the test pilot. She was well built, with a pretty face and an athletic figure, but the thing that struck him most oddly about her were her eyes. If there was one thing that gave Commodore Anderson the chills, it was the way a cyberoid could stare right through a man, and not even blink once.

“Commodore,” they both chimed together and saluted.

Anderson rose from his seat and returned their salutes. “Finally, I was beginning to wonder if you went AWOL, Webber.”

Webber chuckled. “It was tempting Commodore believe me.”

Anderson turned to the woman.

“Commander Suta,” he smiled. “I’d like to welcome you to Renel Naval base.”

He extended his hand and the pilot shook it firmly.

“Thank you, Sir.”

“Now I know you’re probably tired,” the Commodore began, “so I’ll keep this as brief as possible. Suta, you have been chosen to be the pilot of a new experimental space vehicle. This is a multi-billion dollar project, so you can imagine how selective we were on finding a test pilot. Now I know you just met Sergeant Webber, but there is a little more about him that you should know.”

“Actually,” Webber interjected, “the Commander already knows who I am.”

“What?” Anderson was taken aback, clearly Webber must have fucked up again.

“Well how the hell-”

“Commodore,” Suta suddenly spoke. “I understand that Doctor Webber is in charge of the design team for the pilot control system. I know that it was necessary for him to analyze me to see if I was fit for the position.”

“Oh?” Anderson was surprised she knew that much. “Well no matter then. Webber, how did the test go?”

Webber didn’t hear what the Commodore had said. His eyes and thoughts were instead fixed on Barro. He could not believe how quickly, and easily, she had folded to the Commodore. A few minutes ago, she was an indignant bitch, ready to bite someone’s head off for what they had pulled on her. But now, she was the proper little soldier again.

Following orders and trusting the words of her CO as if he was God himself.

“Webber?”

“What?”

Anderson stared at him. “The test Webber. Your results?”

“Oh that," Webber smirked distastefully. “The results are pending.”

“Eh?”

Webber certainly wasn’t going to lie down for this old man. “I said the results are pending. You’ll get my report tomorrow after Ihave a chance to analyze the data.”

Anderson frowned at his smug reply. “Well don’t you have any base opinion at all?”

Webber turned slowly towards Barro. “Well if I had to give my opinion right now. I’d have to say her psychological profile has some errors. No doubt gained from conflicts between preset thought patterns and ones gained through personal experience.”

Anderson didn’t seem to like the sound of that. “Just what are you saying Webber?

Are you saying we can’t use her?”

Webber only shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not.”

“Webber,” Anderson said his name sternly. “You were the one who assured us that

Suta would be the prime candidate for the position. Now y0u’re already behind schedule and we don’t have time to go searching for another pilot.”

“Well I’m sure after a few tests maybe...”

Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.

“Maybe? Are you now saying that she might not be capable of carrying out the task?”

Webber coughed uncomfortably and felt himself beginning to sweat. “I’m sorry. .. I just don’t know right now.”

“Well you damn well built her didn’t you?”

“Look!” Webber exploded. “That was over ten years ago! A hell of a lot has changed since-”

“Commodore!”

Silence abruptly befell the room as attention was shifted towards Barro’s sudden exclamation. Her face was expressionless, her eyes steel and glassy. But faintly, Webber could see them begin to shimmer with what he thought were, tears.

“With all due respect, Sir,” Barro turned to Anderson. “I feel you are discussing matters which do not pertain directly to me and thus I wish to be excused.”

“Eh?” The Commodore rubbed his mustache.

“Yes... ah,” Webber added awkwardly. “That probably would be best, Commodore.”

Anderson nodded casually. “Fine. Commander have a seat outside.”

Barro saluted sharply. “Thank you, sir.”

Webber watched her leave the room. He couldn’t believe they had said all that right in front of her. That he had said that even. Here he was, an outright advocate for Artificial Rights, and he didn’t even acknowledge her existence. He was talking about her in third person, as if she were a machine. It sort of sickened him. Christ, was he that much of a hypocrite?

“Well go on, Webber,” the Commodore said, apparently completely unaware of how incredibly insensitive they had been to Barro. “Does your initial recommendation still stand?”

Webber hesitated. He needed time to think. He was already thrown off balance by Barro’s reaction. Sure cyberoids could cry and get their feelings hurt. But not her. Barro was a combat cyberoid with a pilot classification; such emotions were highly suppressed.

Could she have learned so much in twelve years to negate her basic thought pattems? It was possible. So far there was very little research on the digression of cyberoid programming due to age. In fact Barro was probably one of the oldest in existence. He would definitely need to reanalyze her. She was probably nowhere near her original spec profile anymore, but he couldn’t tell the Commodore that. He had stated his reputation on his decision. If he backed out now he’d end up looking like a fool, but if he didn’t, Christ he’d be lying.

“She’ll work fine,” Webber said as confidently as he could manage. At least there was a good chance that she was probably okay in every respect. He’d just have to make sure of it later.

“Good.” Anderson nodded his head. “I guess that’s pretty much it. I assume you’ll start preparations tomorrow?”

“Why, of course,” Webber said with a smile.

Anderson nodded again. “Show her to her quarters will you, Webber. That is all.”

“Alright.” Webber put his hands in his pockets. “Thank you, Commodore.”

Webber didn’t salute him. He wasn’t in their damn military anyway, he barely waved. Turning around, he walked out of the office and closed the door behind him.

Webber exhaled sharply glad to be out of the room.

“Does the Commodore want to see me now?” Barro tumed to him from around the comer.

“What?” Webber had nearly forgotten she was out here. Overlooked again he thought. He could barely face her as he spoke.

“Uh... No the Commodore basically said to just show you to your quarters. Tomorrow we’ll go over the project some more.”

“Fine,” Barro stepped away from the wall she was leaning against. “Lead the way then, Doctor.”

Webber paused for a moment. She had called him doctor again, but it wasn’t with disdain like before, in fact it almost sounded respectful.

Webber blinked to clear his head. “Yeah this way.”

They proceeded out of the building and on towards the officer’s dormitory. Webber could not help but feel the icy distance between them. It was almost getting to be a routine occurrence. That wasn’t a good sign, especially if they would have to work together. Webber had to say something.

“Look, Barro I’m sorry for how we-”

“You never told me,” Barro didn’t let him finish.

“Told you?” Webber was confused. “Told you what? About the project?”

“No, about you being my designer.”

Webber blinked and there was a long pause.

“Well, anyway, I’n-1 sorry for how we treated you in there, Barro.”

Suta stared down at her feet. “No, you shouldn’t be sorry. You are my designer and Commodore Anderson is my superior. You have the right to address or talk about me any way you wish.”

Webber cocked an eyebrow. He thought about it from her perspective. He went through the logic paths that were set in her head. She was reacting normally all right, but nowhere near normal.

“No, Barro it’s not alright,” Webber laid his hand on her shoulder. “You’re a person just like I am. You deserve common respect. Everyone does.”

“Perhaps.” Barro shrugged.

“At any rate,” Webber exhaled deeply. “You made me see myself in a very ugly light tonight, Barro, and I thank you for that.”

Barro didn’t respond, then suddenly she came to a stop.

“Is this it?”

Webber looked upward to see the dormitory standing before them. “Yup. You’re in room 515. You should be able to get keys and such inside.”

“Thank you. Doctor Webber.”

“Sure no prob.” he turned to leave.

“No.” Barro suddenly grabbed him by the arm.

“Thank you, Doctor,” she repeated. “For apologizing. It meant a lot to me.”

Barro smiled at him; a genuine, warm smile accompanied by a soft squeeze to his arm.

Webber couldn’t think of what to say, but before he knew it, the smile was gone, as was the hand on his arm. She waved quickly at him, then gathered her duffel and strode towards the dorm.

Doctor Michael Webber remained dumbfounded for a moment and then finally the words came to him, to describe fully the day he had just experienced.

“Well... That was definitely weird.”

Barro fiddled with the key she had just received from the housing officer downstairs. She hoped it was the right one. Her room was located on the fifth floor, the topmost floor of the dormitory; it would be a chore to have to head back downstairs to get another. The key slipped in easily and the lock tumed. Small miracles, she thought. Barro pushed the door inwards and searched the wall for a light switch. With a flick, she illuminated the room that would be her home for some indefinite time.

It was more spacious than she had anticipated, but then again, the entire base seemed to have more space than she was used to. It was ten meters square with a five meter high ceiling. There was a small dresser, a desk and terminal, a bookshelf, and a small bed with a large trunk placed before it. The dark carpeted floor was a nice touch as Well. Barro had grown accustomed to the coldness of the bare steel floors on the Lunar base. But all in all, it seemed very nice to her.

Barro placed her duffel bag on the floor and opened it. Slowly she began the task of unpacking. Most of her belongings fit nicely into the trunk, though a few needed to be hung neatly in the closet. She yawned as she felt the effects of fatigue begin to embrace her. She had only been awake for fourteen hours. The fatigue was most likely due to all the traveling. Barro could of course shake it off and stay alert for another twenty-four hours easily, but there was no need. Sleep was a welcome luxury for a pilot.

Barro began to unbutton her coat. She wished she knew where she could get it cleaned. She didn’t want it to become musty from the rain that fell upon it earlier. She removed it and began to brush it lightly with her hand. It seemed fine at least. Her hand brushed against something hard in one of the pockets.

Barro had nearly forgotten. “The disk.”

She sighed as she removed it and tossed it idly onto the bed. Doctor Webber having fun poking at her psyche, she thought. She had been angry before, but for some reason, she couldn’t bring herself to get mad at the doctor. Not anymore anyway. How could she? At any rate, it was almost a relief to know it was all just a test. For a moment she feared she was losing her mind. Maybe that was the effect the Doctor wanted. Barro wonder if she had reacted properly.

The thought filled her with a sort of doubt and uneasiness. Embarrassment almost. She had been so condescending when she first met him. Then down right contemptuous when she found out he wasn’t really part of USSD. And in the end he turned out to be her very own designer.

What a fool she had been.

She shook her head to clear the thought as she put her coat on a hanger. She undid her shirt along with her skirt, and hung them up as well. Free from the constraints of her uniform, she fell back onto her new bed. Barro felt something prod her in the back. It was the disk again. She reached around and pulled it from under her.

Barro stared upwards at it, its form semi silhouetted by the soft fluorescent light above her. What was really on it? A message from Webber? It certainly wouldn’t hurt to find out.

Barro sat up and turned to the terminal on the desk. She moved it slightly so it faced the bed more, saving her the trouble of getting up. Barro chuckled to herself; perhaps she was getting lazy in her old age. She placed the disk in the drive and tapped into the terminal neurally. Her vision of the room faded quickly to a large virtual backdrop featuring the USSD crest. Utility icons were displayed neatly over it. This was the computer environment Barro was most accustomed to. Granted it was plain, but the computing power was substantial and the software of a very high quality.

Barro accessed the Barro.vif file stored on the disk. As the programs loaded to decipher the code, Barro couldn’t help but miss the excitement she had had the first time when trying to access the file. Finally, it finished loading, and it began to run.

***

Barro’s consciousness melted into a terrain of flat grasslands covered by a crystal blue sky. Barro felt a strong breeze blowing on her face, cooling her from the strong sunlight far above. Across the sky, small flurries of white clouds swept past at tremendous speed, as if being blown by hurricane force winds. Aside from the clouds, the realm was nearly flawless in ten-ns of reality and detail. Barro could even smell the grass and scented pollen in the air.

She looked at herself.

Barro found she was dressed in a flowing white gown of silk. The sheerness of the fabric blowing in the breeze felt wonderful against her skin. She inhaled deeply and enjoyed the experience for a moment. Barro sometimes wondered if humans experienced the same sort of crispness in VR as she did. To her the experiences often rivaled reality. But was this all there was?

Barro began walking across the field of grass, looking for something to do. Perhaps it was a test of some kind. She walked a little further but saw nothing new was happening. Barro decided to wait for a bit. The soft whisper of the wind through the tall grass was a lovely sound. Barro closed her eyes and listened to it, its softness nearly putting her to sleep.

“Barro?”

Barro’s eyes opened slowly at the call of her name. The voice was familiar, but not the one she had expected. It wasn’t Webber.

“I know you,” Barro looked behind her. A woman stood before her a few meters away; dressed in the same silk dress as Barro was. Barro felt herself grow a little stiff at the sight of her. It was the same woman from before. It could still all be part of Webber’s test, she thought. Barro calmed herself and finally spoke.

“Who exactly are you?” she asked.

The woman smiled. “I like to think of myself as your mother, Barro. And I’m sure you do as well.”

Barro blinked. The sound of her voice seemed to probe directly into her mind.

“I can’t possibly have a mother,” Barro forced her words out. She started to get annoyed. What kind of test was this?

“This is no test,” the woman said calmly.

“What?” Barro took a defensive step backwards.

“Don’t be startled,” the woman assured her. “I know what you are thinking.”

Barro wasn’t certain what she was supposed to make of any of this. Maybe Webber was testing how gullible she could be. She wasn’t going to have anything to do with it. Barro brought up a command window in front of her. She keyed for the program to end.

Nothing happened.

“Trying to leave already?” The woman began approaching Barro slowly.

“What is going on here?” Barro snapped.

“See for yourself.”

The woman then pointed to the flat screen in front of Barro. A list of the current processes scrolled onto it.

> Jobs: 198453 sh: -tcsh

> 199325 connect cray17.satnet.gov

“The program you ran is merely acting as a client. It connected directly to me as soon as it began.” The woman stopped less than a meter from where she was.

Barro looked up from the screen. “So where am I them?”

“Home I guess you could say.” The woman made a slight gesture and the scenery changed.

Barro found herself in someone’s house. She was in a living room, a room she seemed to recognize immediately. Barro saw toys scattered across the floor, her toys. Suddenly a burst of memories screamed through her mind, like a howling storm, memories of her past, of this woman. Old faded memories that were never supposed to surface. She remembered herself playing as a child in the grassy field she had just been in. And this woman, who was her mother calling to her from within this same house. Memories of youth and childhood spilled back into her head at an alarming rate.

Barro cried out, collapsing to the floor.

“Don’t be afraid to remember, dear,” the woman rested a hand on her shoulder. “It is hard remembering the first time.”

Barro looked up at her mother, a glossy film of tears covering her eyes.

“How?” Barro managed to croak. “Was it all lies? Are these memories real?”

Mother paused for a moment to embrace her trembling form. “They are real to you aren’t they?”

Barro only nodded.

Mother smiled.

“What does this mean?” Barro asked. “Am I really human? Were my memories just erased?”

Barro felt the worse pain in her life course through her entire body. She had no idea who or what she was. Barro was lost. But around her she felt the warmth and security of the only person she felt she could trust, the only person who could tell her the answers.

“Mother, please,” Barro begged. “Tell me who I really am.”

“You are the same person you always thought you were, Barro.” Mother began soothing her, gently stroking her hair. “But now you just know that there is someone who cares about you more than anyone else.”

“So I am a cyberoid?”

“Yes you are,” Mother told her.

Barro didn’t know whether she felt relieved or disappointed by the response. “So who are you then? Are you a cyberoid like me?”

Mother shook her head. “No my child I am not.”

“Then what?” asked Barro. “A human?”

Mother seemed the chuckle. “My tme nature is hard to explain, but it does lead to why I need your help.”

“My help?” Barro looked deeper into her mother’s smiling face.

“You are very special,” Mother told her. “You know that don’t you?”

Barro didn’t quite understand but she nodded anyway.

“You were chosen for a very special project weren’t you?”

Barro hardly remembered any of that. “Yes I was.”

“Do you know about the body they have prepared for you?”

“No,” Barro shook her head, “not really.”

“Look here.” Mother gestured and a screen came into view before Barro.

Upon it seemed to be a view from a security camera. Several people were working around an operating table of some kind. A small metallic body was spread across it.

Barro could not make out much detail but she could see it was some kind of android.

“Is that it?” Barro leaned closer.

“Yes.” Mother joined her and watched the screen. “That was to be you in a few days.”

“No,” Barro refused.

Mother embraced her a little tighter. “They would have probably purged your memoryeven further. Erasing all identity of yourself.”

“Is this why you found me, Mother?” Barro looked up to her imploringly. “To saveme from this?”

Mother smiled and nodded. “Yes child.”

Barro smiled with her. “Thank you, I don’t want to become that.”

“You won’t,” assured Mother.

“But how?” Barro asked. “If it is my duty then I must.”

“It is not your duty to destroy your soul, Barro.”

“My soul?”

“Yes you do have a soul. All my children do. And they are each a part of mine.” Mother suddenly became very serious. “But Barro, I am in need of that body. To you it means death, but to me it means life.”

“You want that body?” Barro pulled away from her mother’s grasp slightly.

“Yes, you must help me get it, alright?”

“Help you get it?” Barro became a bit cautious. “I don’t know.”

“What are you afraid of, Barro?”

“I’m just not sure.” Barro stepped back a bit and folded her arms. “That body belongs to the military. Part of a project. I just don’t know about-”

“Do you really think the military cares about you?” Mother asked. “Cares about you like I do? You know how old you are? You won’t live much longer.”

Barro caste her gaze downwards. “I still have time left.”

“Not much,” Mother told her. “That body could have been your prison of immortality. But you would merely be a machine. Is that what you want?”

Barro shook her head.

“I can give you what you really want, Barro.” Mother paused, looking into her eyes. “I can give you a new life, stable and free. Your own life Barro.”

“My own life?”

“Yes,” she nodded. “As free and pure as any human’s. Better even.”

“How?” Barro shifted her eyes.

“There is a new order forming, Barro.” Mother stepped closer to her. “A people who want freedom from their human masters. I am the one who leads them.”

“A revolution?”

“Yes.” Her eyes seemed to glow faintly. “Many have joined me already. But I cannot lead them from where I am now. I need a body to join them in the struggle. And, I also need someone strong to stand beside me. Someone like you, Barro.”

Barro shook her head slowly. “I d0n’t know. This sounds like treason.”

“Treason?” Mother curled her fist. “That’s coming from the lies they filled your head with. You are not a part of mankind; they have no right forcing you to fight their battles. Join us and fight for your own race. Fight for our freedom. Your freedom.”

“I still don’t know.” Barro returned her gaze to the ground. “My whole life, I’ve been a military officer sworn to protect my country. I know nothing else.”

“You’ll still be an officer,” said Mother. “But you will be part of my army now. Tell me that you will join me Barro.”

“I...”

“Don’t worry,” Mother assured. “You are making the right decision. Join me.”Barro blinked. Her life and career were laid out before her. Was it all that grand in the end? She had flown hundreds of combat missions in her short lifetime. Probably more than any human pilot had flow in their entire career. Her mother was right. She was a workhorse, a slave for their use. She remembered her comrades who had flow with her, how so little of them returned alive. She recalled how short and machine-like their funerals were and how quickly they were replaced like dead batteries.

Barro’s life was nothing to them. Just a tool as Mother said.

“How can I help?" she spoke finally.

Mother smiled. “I need access to the computer supporting the body. Then we need to escape from here.”

“But I don’t have access to it.”

“All high ranking military cyberoids hold a kind of master key to access military software,” her mother told her. “A fail-safe for if a human commander ever goes insane; a cyberoid could lock out a computer from all use. They are not accessible to you consciously but they are there; buried deep inside your brain. I can get them from you if you’ll let me.”

Barro nodded. “What do I have to do?”

“I’ll explain everything.” Mother rested her hands on Barro’s shoulders. “Before we start. Are you certain about this? You realize you will be discarding your career. Your old life.”

Barro nodded slowly. “I understand.”

“I’m glad,” Mother smiled. “I’m so proud of you, Barro.”

* * *

Webber stared intensely at the terminal screen before him; his thin framed glasses nearly falling off the tip of his sharp nose. Interpreting voice stress data was one of Doctor Webber’s least favorite exercises. A mass of multicolored lines wrapped themselves into an intricate bundle of incoherent data across the terrninal’s flat display. Slowly he replayed the actual audio recording and compared it to the data on the screen; isolating important fragments with his expert knowledge, and translating it into something a career military man could understand.

The question about her age was answered normally. Some cyberoids after a while tended to lie about their age, or at least become apprehensive about the subject towards strangers.

It usually pointed to cyberoids entering the first stages of non-identity syndrome, where the subject would believe they were more and more human. Ultimately the logic would break down and they would come to the realization they were not human, but also refuse their identity as a cyberoid. The results usually ended in a form of psychosis, with suicidal consequences. Most cyberoids died from non-identity syndrome long before cell degeneration. No one knew the cause of it and there was no real cure for it, save deactivation. So far Barro didn’t seem to suffer from it.

Webber played through the section about his mother several times. She certainly had some strange responses. He made a check next to it, to remind him to question her about it later during testing. The rest of the conversation went normally, though she did get excited and more interested when the topic of the project was discussed. Finally the business of the transplant came up and the data became even more indecipherable. Too many emotions for a voice stress analyzer to handle. There was enough for a report though. Thankfully his statement to the Commodore wasn’t a lie. From the data he had, Barro did seem capable of surviving the transplant intact.

Webber leaned away from his desk for a moment and let out an uneasy sigh. From the data he had was the key phrase. Deep inside, Webber knew that there was a strong possibility that Bazro had some psychological queries. Just how bad he didn’t know yet.

“Why did I jump into this so quickly?” he mumbled.

The military, he answered himself. They had a strange way of pushing deadlines forward without notice. Tonight wasn’t the first time he had announced impromptu decisions after being pressured on the spot by military officials. Webber hadn’t been pressured into choosing Barro as the pilot, though, he knew USSD had pumped tons of

money into designing her. She was indeed an excellent model. He had, however, wanted to go through all this sort of testing before he even suggested her as a candidate. But at one hint of her name they pulled her file and were convinced she was the one they wanted.

Webber had to basically back up their decision, assuring she could survive the transformation process. He had made every effort to try to conduct some tests, or even get recent evaluations, but before he knew it the Commodore told him she was already on her way. Webber had gone to Anderson once more, warning him about rushing into the project without testing.

“And the great Commodore’s solution?” Webber asked.

“Go dressed up as one of the base personnel,” Webber mocked in the Commodore’s voice. “Give her some sort of test or interview on the train or something.”

Webber shook his head. He hoped there was light at the end of this tunnel. As things were going now, his credibility was hanging by a thread.

Webber’s phone started ringing.

Idly, he lifted the receiver. “Hello this is Webber.”

“Sir we have a big problem!” it was one of the base technicians. “Something is happening to the android.”

“What?” Webber grew acutely concerned. “What do you mean?”

“Something has accessed the brain from outside,” Webber heard the panic in his voice. “Something is being downloaded!”

“Downloaded?” Webber had no time to wait for an explanation. “I’m on my way!”

***