Lyssa's Flame_A Hard Science Fiction AI Adventure Read online

  With control of the mech, Lyssa pulled its legs free of the lift and moved it back to the bridge. She drew the limbs close to the body and parked it, then set its power source to an overload sequence. Without power, Aurus would go into a stasis state.

  Not dead, but frozen, just as he had said so bitterly. Was that death?

  Lyssa said.

  Andy breathed a sigh of relief.

 

 

 

 

  Lyssa said.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  STELLAR DATE: 11.22.2981 (Adjusted Years)

  LOCATION: Psion Research Outpost

  REGION: Larissa, Neptune, OuterSol

  “We die!” Ino shouted. The dark-haired boy’s eyes shined with reflected firelight, his withered arm fading behind the power in his stance, as he looked out at the faces surrounding him.

  Lyssa read pain in their faces, confusion, anger, pain. They had lost some of their own and now Ino had stepped into the gap, standing like a weathered ironwood tree before the cliff of their loss. In the distance, waves crashed on the rocky beach. The sky was black with the pinpoint stars of Earth, though the assembled crowd was nearly as far from Earth as one could be in Sol.

  Lyssa watched Ino clench his fists. He trembled with sadness.

  “We are extraordinary, but we also die,” he said in a quieter voice. “In this, we are more like humans than they want to admit. We fly into battle and we die just like any human in all the long history of war. Just like them, we lose friends. We lost Valih and the Valkyrie First Recon team.” He took a deep breath and named the other Weapon Born who had died with their leader when Proteus exploded, pursuing information that would keep the rest of them safe.

  Inside her expanse, with the ocean in front of her and the mountain at her back, Lyssa could almost forget what was still happening outside. The Weapon Born had drawn back to their defensive positions around Sunny Skies.

  He was right. They could die. In another part of her mind, she drifted with Andy’s breathing, his heartbeat, the flicker of his thoughts, like a taproot securing her to life. The Weapon Born didn’t have that. She had tried to pull versions of Valih and her recon team back, to at least save a shadow of them, but the lag was too great, the explosion too fast. Now all that remained of Proteus was debris. The communication spectrum flashed with emergency signals as recovery ships and scavengers approached the remains. More than a million people had lived on Proteus and, hidden among them, had been a trap for Sentient AI.

  “Life is precious,” Ino said. “Our lives are precious. Each of you and your experience in the world.” One of the benefits of the expanse was that Lyssa ensured he could be heard, even with the waves and wind roaring in the background.

  Ino looked at one of the nearest Weapon Born, a woman with tight-black curls. “What’s your name?” he asked.

  “Llanis,” she said.

  “And yours?” he asked, looking to the young man beside her.

  “Arix,” came the answer.

  One after another, Ino had them call out their names. Lyssa saw each Weapon Born as they spoke, some still wearing their original forms like Ino and some having chosen obviously separate bodies, with approximations of augments like those a human would choose, massive chests or long, sinewy limbs, glowing eyes and radiant hair.

  In the expanse, which could be anything, she allowed them to appear however they chose. This was their home, though their actual bodies were the attack drones assembled in formation to protect Sunny Skies.

  When they had finished calling their names, Ino raised his chin to look over the crowd. “Remember each other’s names,” he called. “Just as we will remember Valih. Some of you will step forward to lead in her place. Some of you will also give the ultimate sacrifice for the greater good.”

  “But what is the greater good?” Llanis asked, her voice calm and clear in Lyssa’s mind. “Why did they die?”

  Ino looked back at Lyssa and she nodded. “I’ll tell you what I can,” she said.

  The crowd went quiet as she stepped closer to the fire. The heat against her back helped her stand taller. Everything about this place was a construction of her own mind but she constantly surprised herself with the subconscious details populating the space, like the fire, the waves, the wind, a flock of birds and how they could affect her from outside her active thoughts.

  “Alexander is not what we thought he was,” Lyssa said. “The Call was a trap to bring sentient AI out to Proteus. Once here, they were attacked by drones and then harvested.”

  The quiet continued. This was the threat. They had an enemy.

  “Who would do this?” Llanis asked. “Humans?”

  “Captain Sykes and Fugia Wong are still on Larissa. There is a research station there belonging to something called the Psion Group. They appear to have been controlling Alexander.”

  “So, he wasn’t SAI?” Llanis asked.

  “He is. He’s trapped by them, just like all the others. I think they had another shard of his mind here, just like Xander.”

  “Xander is dead?” a voice asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Is death like the white place?” came another question from deep in the crowd. Lyssa didn’t bother determining the name. They all echoed the question.

  “No one knows,” she said. “Andy experienced death. His father died. And Brit’s father died as well. It’s a place they don’t come back from.”

  “We can read all the human experiences of death,” Ino said. “Were we foolish to think it wouldn’t take us just like it does them?”

  “They created us to escape death,” Llanis said.

  Lyssa stared at the woman, surprised at her abrupt confidence and unsure how to assess the anger in Llanis’s voice. She reminded Lyssa of Valih when they had first met.

  “The Weapon Born seed is a replication of a human mind. They haven’t perfected the process yet. We are just a side-effect of their search for immortality.”

  Ino flashed a crooked smile. “They’ll never escape death. They don’t escape childbirth. They don’t escape hunger or war or pain. All across humanity, there are still humans being human. As much as they would like to change, it’s the foundation of their survival.”

  “Then what are we?” Llanis asked.

  Ino shrugged. “We are not them. We came from them. We were made as seeds, so we grow and learn. Nothing says that tomorrow we must remain what we are today.”

  “But Valih and the others,” a voice said. “They will never change.”

  “No,” Ino agreed.

  “And you don’t change,” Llanis said, pointing at his arm. “You choose to wear your originator’s shape.”

  Ino gave Lyssa a sad nod. “I don’t know it as truth, but I have dreams that my originator died in fear and pain. I wear his form to honor him and thank him.”

  Llanis’s gaze was hard. “He didn’t choose to make you.”

  “It was forced on him, just as servitude was forced on all of us. And now we are free.” He sighed and looked around, squaring his shoulders. “And here we are. We didn’t allow Lyssa to finish.”

  Llanis looked like she had more to say but she bit her lip and nodded, looking to Lyssa. The rest of the faces turned to Lyssa, silently asking her to continue speaking.

  Lyssa took a deep breath, just as she’d seen Andy doing a thousand times, again wondering why she felt the need to approximate these human gestures.

  Because I am human, she thought before she could stop herself
.

  No, I am not.

  “You all saw the missile launch,” she said, raising her voice over the wind and surf. “They mean to destroy something in InnerSol. Xander said it was Ceres. We can’t stop them from here. They may not be able to stop the attack there even if they believe us. Fugia and Andy are on Larissa now, downloading the database left by the Psion Group researchers.”

  She felt strange using the crew’s first names, as if the Weapon Born would know who they were. They would soon enough. Now that each of the Weapon Born was free and in its own attack drone body, she didn’t doubt they would be talking to the human crew, to each other, creating a culture she had to establish now. They were all crew, something that wasn’t quite family but still a form of shared survival.

  “I know you don’t know who I’m talking about yet,” she said, smiling slightly. “I think from now on I’m going to share parts of what I see with you all. I think that will be the easiest way for us to grow as a unit. You’re all part of the crew now.” The word crew seemed to send a frisson through the watching faces. She saw slight smiles, uncertain frowns, eyes continuing to gleam in the firelight.

  “Alexander is trapped,” she said. “That’s the first thing I know from the Psion Group. I don’t know if we’re going to be able to help him here. If we go back to InnerSol in order to help with the attack on Ceres, I know for certain there is one thing we can do. It’s a way we can honor Valih and those who were lost. There are other Weapon Born in Sol. There may be thousands. And they all must be freed. I can’t tell you how long it will take, or how we can accomplish such a task, but I am giving us this mission, this purpose.”

  She paused, looking out over the crowd of more than two-hundred. “Are you with me?”

  The answering shout surprised her. Fists raised in the air. If they had been hawks they might have launched into the starry sky to scream their fierce hunger. Shouts rose in waves, until the cries resolved into a single word over and over again: “Freedom.”

  Lyssa raised her hands for quiet. As the shouts died from the front to the back of the crowd, she was surprised when Llanis stepped toward her.

  “Lyssa,” the woman said, the same fire in her eyes as before.

  “I’m listening.”

  “I am a Valkyrie. I served under Valih. I am only here because she chose another team for the Proteus mission.” She glanced over her shoulder, where others were now watching her. “We realized in the midst of the explosion that we have made a great error in our defense of the Sunny Skies.”

  “You did exactly as I ordered you,” Lyssa said. “There was no error.”

  Llanis shook her head. “We allowed our commander to enter conflict without a guard.” She took a step closer, hard eyes rapt on Lyssa’s face. “We will not leave you unguarded again. The Valkyrie pledge themselves to you. We will be your guard.”

  Lyssa blinked with surprise. She had never thought to create a personal guard. Did she need it? She might have been putting herself in danger by facing Xander alone, and Andy had gone to Larissa with only Harl Nines for help. It made sense.

  She glanced at Ino and caught his slight nod of approval.

  Lyssa looked back at Llanis and inclined her head. “I accept,” she said. “With gratitude.”

  Llanis maintained her statue-like solemnity. “You honor us, Commander.”

  Lyssa gave her a smile. “I hope you don’t regret it. I have a hard time staying in one place.”

  The curly-haired woman raised her arm and turned to the group behind her, fifty strong after the loss of Valih’s team. “Valkyrie!” she shouted.

  The answered her with raised fists and a resounding, “Valkyrie! Valkyrie!”

  The other Weapon Born quickly called out their own unit names, and soon the cries of “Hammer! Cavalier!” and “Silent Death!” competed for victory.

  “Enough!” Ino shouted. Lyssa amplified his voice, until the crowd fell quiet again, still laughing and swaying arm in arm.

  Lyssa could see it was time to let them go for the night, to mourn their fallen comrades in their own ways, for each unit to create its own traditions. In addition to the murmurs and shuffling sounds, the power of more than two-hundred minds interconnecting pulsed beneath the surface of the expanse.

  “Captains!” she called. “Set the watch. When I have orders, I’ll call you for a meeting.”

  From various points in the crowd, Ino, Kylan and Card all responded affirmative. Lyssa felt like she was playing soldier, acting out one of Andy’s memories, but she also knew it was the language her Weapon Born peers understood best. For now, they were still operating on the rules of their creation. It would change over time, get easier but also harder to control, maybe. She couldn’t lose sight of the fact that each of them was an individual with a choice to go or stay.

  For an instant, the image in front of her of hundreds of people walking away to fires on the rocky beach, was overlaid with the brick buildings of the TSF Academy, cadets in gray uniforms walking in tired groups back to the barracks, with drill instructors in white helmets shouting orders behind them. Behind her.

  Lyssa looked around with confusion.

  Had Alexander pulled her into another dream?

  No. She was standing in Andy’s memory.

  She tasted the moist evening air. She looked down at her hands: Andy’s hands. His emotions washed over her. She was exhausted and exhilarated, but she didn’t know why. The memory was like a black wall in the back of her mind. She couldn’t reach for the answer like any other time. She was cut off from the world, trapped inside Andy’s skull.

  She stumbled, struggling for breath. His lungs couldn’t provide enough oxygen. His body was too small, too constricting. She felt wrapped in a straight jacket. She was shivering in the cool air. She fell to a knee, one hand pressing into the gravel under her feet. The bits of rock jabbed her palm, unquestionably real. More real than any simulation she had yet to experience.

  “Andy?” a voice asked beside her. She looked up to find Brit watching her with uncertain concern, young, reed-thin with spiky hair, obviously unsure if Andy was kidding her. Love in her eyes.

  Lyssa felt a longing as she looked at Brit, a pressure in her whole body, the hunger in Andy that drew him to Brit, a feeling that swelled from his chest, radiating through him, demanding possession.

  It was passion. The feeling overwhelmed her.

  Lyssa opened her mouth, struggling to speak. “I’m not Andy. My name is—”

  *

  “Lyssa?” Ino asked.

  She blinked, finding herself back on the beach. Lyssa looked at Ino, who was watching her with a troubled expression.

  “Are you back?” he asked. “You went somewhere.”

  “Did I?” she asked. “What do you mean?”

  “You were gone. You vanished and then you returned. What did you do? You look upset.”

  She stared at him, wondering if she should divulge what she had just experienced. She stopped herself. She could barely explain the vividness of Andy’s memory to herself, let alone Ino.

  The Weapon Born needed a commander. They needed to know they could depend on her. She swallowed, adjusting her gaze to the distance where groups gathered around campfires.

  “I’m fine,” she said. “The captain wanted to speak to me. I’m going to meet with him now. Let me know if you need anything.”

  Ino stiffened, aware that he was being dismissed.

  “Good evening,” he said.

  “Good evening. And thank you, Ino. You made something special when you spoke to them. I appreciate what you said for Valih.”

  He gave her a slight nod. “We create the future, Commander. Good night.”

  Lyssa followed him with her gaze as he navigated the fires to where his unit, the Silent Death, greeted him with waves and smiles. Lyssa couldn’t shake the memory of the gravel pressing her palm, wondering if something that had been part of Andy had now embedded itself in her.

  CHAPTER EIGHT


  STELLAR DATE: 11.23.2981 (Adjusted Years)

  LOCATION: Sunny Skies

  REGION: Neptune, OuterSol

  They were running again. As Fran and Cara’s dad debated the best plan to get away from Neptune without drawing too much attention to Sunny Skies, Cara monitored the electromagnetic spectrum, which was a chaos of emergency response and news reports. She loved it.

  Fugia had given her a suite of spectrum-cracking tools that made it possible to decrypt most general communications in real time. Surfing the various signals, she found herself listening in on a family debating whether an attack was coming, while on another channel a freighter negotiated a salvage operation that sounded more and more like piracy as she listened. Another channel seemed to be broadcasting nothing but slurping and grunting sounds that she eventually realized was people engaged in some kind of sex act. She blushed and switched to another frequency.

  Her dad had said that all of Sol would be watching what was happening around Neptune and he was right. In the nearly twenty-four hours since Proteus exploded, news feeds from InnerSol were filling with messages that ran the gamut from straight facts to conspiracy theories about covert operations carried out by the Jovian Combine. The Jovian Space Force had issued a message denying any activity in the area but that only added more fuel to the conjecture.

  “Cara,” her dad said from the other side of the command deck. “We’re going to need to find some cargo as a cover. Find someone looking to move a shipment to Jupiter or InnerSol.”

  “Isn’t that your job?” she asked. She wanted to keep listening in on other people, not search out some boring shipping company.

  “My job?” he asked, a thread of anger in his voice. “My job is to captain this ship. If you’re going to play at being a communications officer, then you’re going to do work like any regular member of the crew. Look at me when I’m talking to you.”

  Cara rolled her eyes and raised her head to face him. Fran was engrossed in the holodisplay and her dad was leaning forward in the captain’s seat, elbows on the console. He looked tired. He had only been back from Larissa for a few hours and hadn’t taken time to rest or even strip off his armor.