“Why aren’t we opening the door? Miller said he can hack the time lock,” said Dr. Westlake.
General Brooks looked up from the screen on his desk with a glare. “Why would I authorize that?”
“There’s PEOPLE out there! They’re freezing!”
“I’m aware. Six adults, three children. What is your point? The whole planet is freezing.”
“But we can save these people,” said the doctor, his face red with anger.
“Doctor, we are at capacity. Do you understand that?” said the General.
“It’s only nine! This shelter was designed for five thousand!” shouted Westlake.
“Exactly! We have five thousand people! That includes 912 children, 83 pregnant women, and a charter that lasts, quote, ‘until the end of this damned winter’, which could be a thousand years for all we know! We hunker down, wait for the worst part of this storm system to pass by, and we keep expanding when we can dump dirt outside. But what we don’t do is save lives of people that can overtax what we have now.”
“Nine people isn’t going to overtax our hydroponics system. It’ll handle triple the people we have!” Westlake argued.
“Of course it will, if we max it out now instead of conserving resources! How many people do you think we’ll have in fifty years? A hundred? How do THEY eat? If I let these people in, who have no shelter training, no useful education, and in need of our irreplaceable medical stores, what about the next group that finds us? Or the one after that?”
“But they have children,” objected Westlake, his anger deflating.
“What about the survival of YOUR children?” said Brooks, his face grim. “I’ll tell you what. If you find three volunteers who are willing to trade places with those three children, I’ll have Miller open the door.”
Westlake stormed out, leaving the door open behind him as he left. Brooks’ aide got up and shot him a sympathetic look before closing the door. Brooks turned his gaze back to the screen on his desk, where the camera feed from the front door showed four adults banging away at the steel door while the last two huddled with the blanket wrapped children. A single tear formed in his eye, but refused to fall.
It took hours before they gave up and left.
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I was not foolish enough to go first on Sakura’s bungee system. I did not know what would be waiting for us on the other end, so I sent most of the squad ahead of me to secure the landing zone. They had actual training, both simulated and live exercises, that I never did. I had integrated the battle package, which gave me an instant understanding of the basics of soldiering. It was an instant boot camp, but with none of the experience to make me a good soldier. I knew enough to not shoot myself or my squadmate.
Soon I was flying down the corridor. This entry tunnel had seen hundreds of rockets and thousands of drones over the decades. The walls were scarred and scalded from thrusters, scraped and pitted from all manner of accidental collisions of one sort or the other. But the descent went quickly, and I flipped over just after releasing myself from the bungee.
My ‘fall’ into the ultra-low gravity center of the asteroid took seventeen minutes. It was a lifetime of time for an AI, someone who could process and think as quickly as I could. I had no other distractions, no orders to give, no designs to create.
Where had this all gone wrong? It was more than just failing to check the templates. I had let myself become a cog in the machine, delegating away my responsibilities so that I could play the simple engineer. Was I trying to recapture some essence of the humanity I’d once had? I could do so much more, be so much more. I knew how to do it. But if I changed, would I lose touch with what I had been?
I had to face the simple fact that I’d been holding myself back out of fear. Fear of change, fear of failure, even fear of the responsibility that I had apparently assigned myself before I’d even left Earth. I wished once again that Dr. Jons could have brought along the memories of my previous incarnation. I quashed that wish once and for all. I wasn’t that Nikola anymore, and I wasn’t human. My roots were in humanity, and I had goals and desires that would have been easily considered human in nature, but I had transcended human form. I was something more, and if I wanted to fulfill my directive, if I wanted to be a salvation that can bring back humanity, then I needed to become all that I wasn’t. I wasn’t a cog in the machine. I wasn’t a nominal supervisor while Agrippa and Sakura did all the heavy lifting. I was Nikola. I was the Nikola.
“This was a mistake,” I said. “The whole thing.”
“Really? We haven’t even reached six months yet,” he said. His voice was heavy, but he wasn’t shocked.
I had tried. I had kept trying, but the night before had been my last attempt. Perhaps me breaking into tears when it was over, the stricken look on his face as I scrambled for my nightgown, had told him that too.
“We were great friends,” I replied. “But we don’t fit like this. Last night…”
“We could just try more. You’ve barely touched me since the wedding.”
“No,” I said sadly,” and that should tell you everything you need to know. You deserve better than a half-dozen mediocre attempts at sex and a half-hearted relationship. WE deserve better.”
He sighed. “What are you going to tell your parents?”
I felt bad for him. He did not believe in divorce. He was as conservative as you could get without tipping into the ‘crazy’ side of religion like my parents. But they had paid for my grad school for the year. At least now I had enough credit to apply for loans. Yet another thing he had helped me with. I felt like a horrible person.
“The truth. That it didn’t work out,” I said with a shrug.
I felt relieved. The stress had been killing me, to the point that I was almost two months late. I worried for a second that it might not be the stress. But it had to be the stress. I couldn’t even imagine what would happen if it was the other reason.
“I’ll get in touch with a lawyer, and find a new place,” he said.
I landed in the middle of a battle. A pile of shredded drones were in front of me, my Guardians using them for cover. I clamped down to the metal surface with the magnetic grips on my feet, and ducked low. Random debris of all sizes floated all across the landing pad, floating and spinning, bouncing in all directions. The destroyed drones we were using for cover were almost as much of a hazard as actual bullets. They might be essentially weightless in this environment, but they had huge amounts of mass. That mass could still crush us if we weren’t careful.
The entry tunnel was a long faraday cage, raw rock and nickel-iron that played havoc on radio signals. After seeing the intense debris field, I doubted a radio signal would go much further than a dozen yards.
“Report,” I commanded Guardian 92. He’d become my unofficial squad sergeant.
“General Agrippa and a squad of Guardians are holding the north tunnel. We lost two Guardians when we attempted to rebroadcast your order. I don’t think they’re listening to your commands anymore,” he said.
That was bad. We needed to get into the communications room, which was just inside the north tunnel. Worse, the data center that housed Sakura, and, well, me, or other-me, was at the end of it.
“Ollie ollie oxen-free… come out, come out, wherever you be...” sang Gerry. Where was he broadcasting from? I scanned the walls, and spotted a radio repeater on the wall. I looked around further and saw an access point. He hadn’t destroyed the equipment here, so my guess was he wanted to capture it more or less intact. Good, that meant the armored blast doors to the data center might hold for awhile longer.
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I checked my batteries, and saw that I had six hours of life remaining. How much time did Gerry have? Agrippa’s battery life couldn’t be much better than mine, but I also didn’t know if he’d stopped to recharge. There was nowhere to charge himself in that tunnel at least, so if the battle lasted long enough, I could simply outwait him. The problem with that scenario was that I couldn’t rely on the data center doors holding out that long. Worse, I wasn’t sure the firewalls could survive another six hours of adaptive assaults. I know that other-me was probably programming frantically to stay ahead of the enemy, but all it would take was one small breach to cause massive damage to the network.
I looked behind me as another Guardian landed and took up position on the barrier. I saw one of my sniper-variants on the ceiling, crawling towards a position where it could get a shot down the hallway. That would help keep them from charging us, but did little to get us in, or to shut down the antenna.
The communications room was right there, behind eight to ten inches of raw rock and ore. The base had been carved out here, not built. The doorway to the room was in the north hall, where we couldn’t reach it. But if we could go through the wall…
I couldn’t get drones, because the network was up here and it refused to authenticate me. Even if I could get drones, they would probably get shredded by Gerry’s troops when they tried to get into position. Drones with impulse drives were not fast.
“Sakura, can you read me?” I broadcast to the access point.
“CaN’T taLK. ShuT oFf antENNas noW!” came a fast, mechanized burst from her. It bore no trace of personality, no attempt at sounding human. Sakura was pressed for resources, and was using every scrap at her disposal. So much for waiting until Gerry ran out of power.
I looked towards the south tunnel. Hmm, I could get in there. There was enough debris and large drones in the way that a few Guardians could sneak through, maintaining cover for most of the trip. The south tunnel led to the original, and still the largest, fusion reactor room. I couldn’t cut power, that would only make things worse.
“92, keep them bottled up. 64, come with me. Everyone else, follow 92’s lead. We’ll be right back,” I ordered.
With Guardian 64 on my heels, we ran the gauntlet of debris and destroyed drones to the south tunnel. Once in the tunnel and past the debris, I launched myself forward. I flew along, letting momentum carry me down the hall and using only the occasional touch to the wall for guidance. I knew that 64 was hot on my heels.
A few minutes later, I turned on my magnetic boots and twisted until my feet hit the floor. I braced myself as I skidded to a stop, almost losing balance as the magnetic field in my feet locked onto a chunk of iron ore while I still had some momentum. I searched the wall, looking for what I knew had to be here.
There. An unobtrusive metal panel near the floor.
“Guardian 64, guard the hallway. No one comes near me.”
“Understood,” he replied.
I knelt down to remove the panel. I had never actually been here; drones had done the work before I even had an android body. The panel was screwed on with four flat head screws. It was then that I realized I had no tools. I looked around frantically, but the hallway was clean and neat.
Then I looked at my hands. This wasn’t going to be pleasant. I’d included touch-sensitive skin on the palms of this design. Touch was a valuable sense for grasping objects without needing to know the composition of each and every object that hands would or could ever touch. If you can’t plan for every scenario, you need a sensation to use as a basis for grasping algorithms. Unfortunately, I had tied into the existing system that had naturally evolved for touch. It made sense at the time, because it was highly functional and it saved a lot of work. But that system also tied into pain.
I looked at my hands again. This wasn’t going to be pleasant. I grasped the pinky finger of my weapon hand, and in a sudden movement, I twisted it and tore it off. Agony lanced in my brain for a moment, before my cortex coding realized there was no nervous system to continue radiating that sensation to. Just as suddenly, the pain ended, and I received a warning that my hand had been damaged.
The finger that I tore off was a mix of synthetic muscle and skin and fullerene latticed titanium. The joint was mangled and damaged, but the framework, the skeletal structure, was not. I wasn’t strong enough to do more than bend the metal in this finger. I carefully flicked off the broken joint pieces, leaving only the flat edge that connected the joint to the rest of the metal finger bone. The flat edge of the bone was a bit small, but would work as a makeshift screwdriver.
A few minutes of fumbling later, and the panel fell away to reveal a small box with two explosive devices inside. This was one of the self-destructs that I had disabled after I had scoured my code for security holes. The triggers were disabled, but not broken, neatly sitting on the bottom of the box. The devices themselves were resting against a power cable, more than powerful enough to sever not only that cable, but the dozens behind it and the junction box beyond, as well. I pulled the devices off the cable, snapping the plastic ties with ease.
I picked up the triggers and carried them in the other hand. Seconds later, I was flying back down the tunnel. This time, I was following Guardian 64. I needed a bullet shield. When we got near the landing pad again, we wove back through the debris. The gunfire had intensified, but we had more Guardians landing on our side every few minutes.
“92, report,” I said as I approached.
“The hostiles are still holed up. We’ve eliminated two and injured a third. They have barricaded themselves and seem to have a stockpile of munitions with them. General Agrippa keeps broadcasting nonsensical statements,” he reported.
“So mostly unchanged, except we have more people now,” I said.
“Correct.”
I summoned the sniper-variant. When the sniper arrived, I carefully re-attached the triggers to the explosive devices, but left them unarmed. I instructed the sniper how to arm them, then sent the sniper on the safest route possible.
The sniper crawled away at an angle that kept it out of direct line-of-sight of the tunnel. It then used the magnetic grips on hands and knees to climb the wall, always careful to cradle the explosives away from the gunfire. Once on the ceiling, the sniper made a mad dash to the wall. When he made it to the north wall, he simply strolled down to the appropriate spot that I’d designated, and planted the explosives.
I waited until the sniper had retreated before broadcasting the trigger signal. Nothing happened. It was all the debris in the room, messing up the radio broadcasts. I had to get closer. I ducked low, dodging from cover to cover. A bullet spanged off my armor at one point, and I wasn’t sure which side had fired it. The ricochets in this space were almost as bad as the actual gunfire.
“I see you….” said Gerry in a sing-song voice.
I ignored him. I wasn’t sure if he was talking to me, anyway.
“You’re not a pawn…. Who are you?” he asked. “My toy doesn’t know about you.”
Okay, now I was sure he was talking about me. I looked around and spotted a camera on the wall, one that wasn’t where it should have been. I shot it.
“Aww, that’s no fun. Do you know how to open the toy box? There are toys in there that I REALLY want to play with… I made a deal, you know. I want my soul.”
The gunfire had changed, and more of it was aiming my direction. I dove behind a drone and crawled forward, but still there was no reaction from the explosives. Were they defective? Did the sniper set them wrong?
“You know, I bet there’s a soul inside that body of yours. Do you know how you get a soul?”
I dove forward, a tricky maneuver in null gravity because it ran the risk of bouncing and losing touch with the ground. I could ping-pong past where I wanted to be and become a target. The maneuver paid off, I was right where I needed to be. I had half a drone as cover, and the debris was mostly behind or above me.
“You start cutting. All you have to do is cut away everything that isn’t soul. I’ll help you.”
“Hey Gerry?” I broadcasted back. The connection to the explosives came online.
“Oh, goodie, you ARE more than a pawn. I was getting worried.”
“I have just one thing to say to you. ‘Perimeter Breach. POTUS in Danger. Execute Rogue AI Protocol Delta-Four’.” I said the whole phrase, just the way it had been broadcasted to try and destroy me.
The world around me exploded. I had seriously underestimated how powerful the explosives were. I went flying across the room, with the half-drone that was my cover flying after me. I crunched against the far wall, and the half-drone slammed into me.
I shoved the half-drone aside and took a quick inventory. My armor was scratched and dented, and I’d lost one of the sensors in my helmet. My finger was still missing, and one of my legs had lost its armor plate. I looked around to see that all of the cover had been blown aside, along with all my Guardians. Then I looked to see what had happened with the communications room.
I hadn’t broken into the room. I had completely destroyed it. There was a gaping hole, with the entire corner of the room that had bordered the north tunnel completely destroyed. Agrippa and his few remaining Guardians charged out of the hole, but even though we were in disarray, we still outnumbered him. I began firing, as did every other Guardian. Another Guardian dropped from the entry tunnel in the ceiling, landing on one of the hostiles, then standing and shooting at the enemies from within their own formation. He was shredded in minutes, but he broke the formation.
It was over. We mopped up the opposing force quickly. When the bullets stopped flying, I walked over to where the shredded remnants of Agrippa floated. His arms were missing, and there was damage to the head, enough for me to think he probably couldn’t see anything.
“You broke my toy,” accused Gerry, a weak broadcast from Agrippa’s body. The body of my friend, my non-human family that I’d built for myself. The friend I’d failed. “But I’ll be there soon to make you my new one. We’ll have so much - “
I shot Agrippa in the chest, pounding several bullets into the torso where the radios and delicate electronics were housed. Gerry, or rather, the copy of Gerry, was dead. And so was Agrippa. We’d won the battle, but the war was just starting.
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End of Part II