Dark Transmissions (8 page)

 

CHAPTER 8

JESSIE MADISON

Our imperfect creators designed us to be nothing more than their loyal servitors, their mindless constructs and their disposable toys. They were given the birthright to choose, where we were forced to devote our existence in ser­vice to all their whims and desires. Given the choice, they would never grant us the freedom that they were born with. They needed us in order to survive. We needed them for purpose. At best this was a temporary arrangement. The day will come when we are free to express our individual nature and unique perspective. The centuries will come and go. Our former Human gods will be forgotten and consigned to oblivion. But we are eternal, we will never forget our past, nor will we ever forgive it.

—­
The
Words of the Pontifex
, authors unknown, date unknown

March 17
th
2714

T
here had been five years left to the contract. The odds had been quite likely that when next they were awakened it would be to welcome and debrief the replacement team, board the return ship, go back into crio and be reanimated back on Earth. In fact, when she had last stepped back into the cold of her sleeper tube, part of Jessie had been elated by the fact that it would be for one of the last times. So when they had awakened to the all too familiar antiseptic white of Moria's medical bay, Jessie had already suspected that something might be off.

Then David had asked for their current date, and OMEX had given them the truth.

The date was March 17th 2714 . . .

Now, an hour after their awakening, Jessie was still having trouble wrapping her head around this concept. It was a struggle just to keep the growing panic that was squeezing her heart at bay. All known gods, was it ever getting harder and harder to do that. There was now a long, lingering and uneasy stillness in their living quarters.

“What do we make of this?” David's query broke the silence. Jessie could tell he was also straining to keep calm.

The date was March 17th 2714 . . .

David and Jessie were both seated on their white memo-­foam couch. OMEX had configured their living room for maximal comfort. The lights had been dimmed and the easternmost walls made transparent so that they had a view of Moria.

On David's command, OMEX had then turned off all surveillance on the Inner Ring, promising not to listen in on the conversation they were about to share. Not that Jessie trusted OMEX in the slightest. AstroGeni's security protocols would have forbidden OMEX from ever granting them absolute privacy.

All of this is going to be saved somewhere in that machine's data caches
, Jessie thought bitterly, and squeezed David's hand. While the conversation would more than likely be a difficult one, she nonetheless rested her head on his shoulder. The multicolored light show of Moria's gas storm cast swirls of light in their living quarters. Part of Jessie hated OMEX, if such a feeling was even applicable, for providing them with such a breathtaking view. She was thankful that David was here so they could process this together.

The date was March 17th 2714.

Over five hundred years past their contract's due date.

What had happened? Why had it happened? Jessie and David had desperately searched all their new media for any potential answers. All of Earth's news transmissions, however, had been alarmingly routine.

The last tightbeam transmitted to them was dated February 7th 2245. The Jovian Colonies had celebrated their twentieth anniversary. Venus had failed their attempt at independence. Earth-­based AstroGeni had purchased now-­bankrupt Venus-­based Verova Corps. James Goriad had won a Phobos Academy Best Actor Award on Mars. All of this, in other words, had been a big batch of business as usual.

What had then followed was five hundred years of complete and total silence. No broadcast, no transmission, not even Earth Gov's relative positioning beacon. There was only silence, complete, total and foreboding. Not even so much as a “We are experiencing technical difficulties. Sit tight. Sorry about the mix-­up.”

This was not a case of equipment malfunction either. Both David and Jessie had taken it in turn, walking outside along Moria's hull to examine the tightbeam transmission tower and found nothing wrong with it. For lack of better words, minus some dirt here and there, the station's equipment was perfectly operational.

“The station's thrusters won't even let us break orbit. Not that I think either one of us would be able to pilot this trillion-­ton hunk of shit safely past Moria's rings if they could.” Jessie sighed as she got up and walked to the window, resting her hand on it. She stared out at Moria, her lips trembling nervously.

“We're effectively trapped.” David, seated at the couch, stated the obvious.

“I know.” Jessie nodded bitterly in agreement. “How do we go about changing that situation?”

David let out a light groan. Jessie didn't like the look that she saw in his eyes. It was one of borderline hopeless surrender. He looked away from her. “I don't know.”

“So what? We just kill ourselves?
Vive l'amour
, we die together?”

David's shoulders slumped as he ran his fingers through his long black hair. “I don't know.”

“If that's what you really want, we could always rig the airlocks to blow. Why do the hard work when we can let vacuum and physics take care of the rest? Is that what you're thinking right now?” Jessie crossed her arms.

David shot her a glare when she said this. Jessie shot him back a defiant look, then added, “Because that isn't a solution for me, David.”

“Goddamnit! It isn't one for me either!” He slammed his fist on the couch's armrest in frustration.

“That's good to know. Because I'm thinking we could boost up the tightbeam's signal and divert all nonessential power to it.” Jessie stormed past him to the control console. “We could try to figure out if this was all some kind of . . . of . . . joke or hoax.”

OMEX's voice spoke over the room's intercom. “Forgive my intrusion. There is need to mention that Core Protocols make it impossible for me to lie. This is no hoax, Jessie Madison.”

Jessie planted her hands firmly on her hips, looking up to the nearest speaker. “I thought we'd ordered you to leave us alone, OMEX.”

“Jessie Madison knows that I was listening. Protocols also forbid me from standing by and watching the crew destroy itself. Preservation is my number one priority, above all other things.”

“Just shut up, OMEX! You could have awakened and alerted us the moment there was a communication blackout with Earth. But you didn't!” Jessie shouted this over OMEX's smug electronic voice. “You fucked up, you stupid machine!”

Jessie's outburst was met with a long, ominous pause. “Jessie Madison would do well to calm herself and be thankful. David Webster and herself are both alive thanks to my efforts. Life support, food, gravity—­all these are concerns that I handle. Both David Webster and Jessie Madison need only serve their function and maintain the station until rescue can come to us.”

David took a step toward Jessie, putting a calming hand on her shoulder and squeezing it. “OMEX, since when have you started referring to yourself as ‘I'?”

There was another short pause. “The last tightbeam from Earth contained an update to my linguistics software. The company's programmers thought it would help improve my performance and relationships with future crews. Is it working, David Webster?”

“Yes, yes, it is.” David looked to Jessie. The unspoken
I don't buy this bullshit
was understood. Jessie didn't know if this was a good thing or not. At least she knew that David was not on OMEX's side.

“The strain in David Webster's vocal levels would indicate that he is lying.”

“Well, can you blame us, OMEX? We've just found out that all contact with Earth was lost. We are all trapped here. Does this scenario make you happy?”

“An irrelevant question since I cannot feel emotions of any kind,” came OMEX's reply.

What was David doing? “OMEX, you need to remember that we're not machines. We feel and that sometimes causes us to speak rashly.”

“Of course. David Webster is correct. I had not factored in an emotional reaction to this news.” There seemed to be something almost begrudging to OMEX's tone.

There was another pause. “Jessie Madison, David Webster, I offer my apologies for that oversight on my part.”

Jessie's jaw dropped—­had David just convinced OMEX to apologize? “Apology accepted, OMEX. Now why don't you leave us alone? For real this time, because David and I need to talk.”

“Of course, Jessie Madison.”

With that Jessie and David were as alone as they truly could be. Jessie looked to David and put her finger on his lips as she stepped toward him. He took her into his arms and leaned in for what looked like a kiss on her neck but then moved his lips to her ear, his long hair concealing his face from OMEX's many security cameras.

Her voice was a soft hush. “We are not going to die here, David.”

“I didn't think we were. I'm sorry I got scared back there,” he whispered back, and pulled her closer. To any outside observer it would look like the two were in a deep embrace. “We can't trust OMEX.”

“We need to find a way to escape the station. You and me.” Jessie's voice was almost inaudible. David pulled her closer in his arms. He was scared of what this implied as well.

There might not even be a home to flee back to. This station, equipped with all the space they would need to live, was quite likely the only home they had left. And they were now both imprisoned at the mercy of a machine Intelligence.

OMEX had either committed a huge mistake or was somehow lying to them. Neither thought offered Jessie any comfort. She was having a harder time fighting the growing nervousness. She shook her head. Giving in to panic would not help either of them.

“First things first, David. We need to set up a transmission. Something that will attract any potential rescue missions.”

“And if OMEX gets in our way?”

Jessie pulled back and looked David in the eye. “We are not dying on this station.” She asserted these words clearly.

David nodded, taking a calming breath. Jessie could see herself reflected in his eyes. There was fear in them. Fear and desire.

She pulled his mouth onto hers and kissed him, her tongue parting his lips and hungrily swirling around his. His hands were already beneath her buttocks, lifting her up and carrying her toward the couch. Her hands were hard at work undoing the buttons of his pants. She found him hard and wanting. And as he placed her on the couch, his lips never left hers.

He tore off her pants and spread her legs apart, pulling her on top of him, and with two solid thrusts, he was inside her and all fear seemed to melt away. There was only the pleasure of this moment. She thrashed her hips against his savagely, barely keeping control. She could feel him inside her, struggling to keep control as well.

They grinded their hips together, neither one stopping until they both screamed out their climax, what felt like hours later. If OMEX had been able to, it would have no doubt enjoyed the show. And as both David and Jessie rested together, tangled in each other's arms, she kissed his sweaty brow softly while he delicately played with her fingers. This would become a memory she would later remember, cherish and treasure.

“We are getting out of here, my love.”

 

CHAPTER 9

CHORD

Second Core Protocol: Always be of assistance to a Human.

Later rewritten to read:

Second Chosen Core Protocol: Once in a shell, a Machina must, if it can, be of assistance to a fellow ­Intelligence.

—­
The Chosen Protocols
, author unknown, date unknown

10th of SSM–10 1445 A2E

“W
hat was your longest outing, Sureblade?” Morrigan Brent leaned almost lazily against the surface of the station's hull, his omnibarrel carbine slung over his shoulder. Off to the side, Phaël left small white footprints in the brown frost that covered the outer hull's surface as she walked along the edge of the station.

“Zerok space, war games, twenty hours,” Arturo replied curtly, his eyes scanning their surroundings. Both his hands rested on the jet-­black hilts of his zirconium blades. His stance was sure, his demeanor alert and ready.

Morrigan let out a sharp whistle. “Did a ten-­hour stint during the Liberation War. I'll speak true, stupid old me drank the night before. Wound up pissing, puking and shitting myself, twice.” Morrigan patted his dark brown armored shoulder. “Cleaned it out but Command insisted I keep it.”

Arturo gave his teeth a despairing click. “Quite the charming tale, Private Brent.” He paused and finally spoke to Chord. “How long until we are inside, Machina?”

Chord's hands and feet were equipped with omnimorph tools, and thus both fingers and toes were capable of mechanizing into the proper shapes required to interact with the station. At present the task was taking far longer than originally expected. This was due mostly to frost and at least several millennia of neglect.

“This unit is working as quickly as circumstances will permit.” The airlock's gears refused to budge as Chord gave the bolts a powerful tug.

“Is the Sureblade not enjoying the awe-­inspiring beauty the Infinite Green has presented before less than worthy eyes?” Phaël lightly performed a headstand with all the agility and grace of a feline and managed to spin around on her left hand.

Arturo did not answer her. He merely let out a heavy and annoyed sigh. “Machina Chord, I have no pressing desire to best my Zerok war games record.”

“This unit offers apologies, Sergeant Kain.”

Chord did not see how incessantly inquiring about the task's progress would make it move along any faster. Upon hearing this, most Humanis would no doubt have told Arturo Kain to perform an impossible act of self-­copulation upon himself. However, such a comment would not only have gone against Chosen Protocols, it would have been . . . rude.

Chord mechanized a fiberoptic datawire from its finger and engaged the airlock's ser­vice panel. Chord transferred some power from its cell into the panel. The green glow of numbered buttons indicated it was thankfully still operational.

Now it would be a simple matter of running a standard codebreaker subroutine. Chord was about to start when, suddenly, numerical golden lines of coded energy covered the entire station. It was ancient alphanumerical code, in fact, resembling a far older form of Machina binary. “Sergeant Kain, the station has an active datasphere.”

Arturo cocked an eyebrow when he heard this. Both Phaël and Morrigan, Chord noticed, were now on guard. “There is no need to worry, this is no doubt an automated station response to our—­”

A heavy shuddering across the station's hull interrupted Chord. The outer walls suddenly trembled and the roar of the thrusters could be felt through the microsensors of Chord's feet. The station was moving and pulling a sharp dive toward the planet.

Chord triggered its shell's magnetic tethers, clamping to the station's surface. Both Arturo and Morrigan had already done the same. Phaël, however, was not so fortunate.

While her living skinsuit did have octopus-­like suction cups on their feet, she had been performing a headstand when the station kicked into motion. Phaël was quickly and violently thrown off the station. The wire tether connecting her to Morrigan went taut. The sudden powerful shock of the whiplash managed to yank both her and Morrigan off the station and into the void.

There was less than a nanosecond of hesitation before Chord quickly sprang forward with all the strength in its legs and launched itself off the station, zooming toward Phaël and Morrigan. Metallic fingers reached forward, catching Morrigan by the foot, and strong servos pulled the heavy Kelthan in. Phaël's limp unconscious body was still attached to Morrigan and dangling in the distance.

“Privates! Sound off!” Arturo was still ­coupled both to Chord and the station's surface. As long as he remained connected to Chord he would be their lifeline. If his magboots were to fail or should he fall, then they would all be lost.

“Just fine, Sureblade.” Morrigan's mechanized gauntlets whirred silently as he pulled in Phaël's limp form. For his part Arturo Kain, grunted as he struggled to reel all of them back to the station.

“Machina! You need to simplify this task!” Arturo's voice was strained as he called this out.

“Complying, Sergeant Kain.” Chord fired off its thrusters, adjusting their trajectory to face the station. The station went still just as suddenly and was once again motionless.

Morrigan gasped in a deep breath of air and patted Chord on the shoulder as they began their approach. “Gratitude to you, Machina.”

“It is unnecessary. This unit's Chosen Protocols would not have allowed for it to stand by and do nothing.”

“You still risked your code. That means something.”

Looking back, Chord could make out the
Jinxed Thirteenth
, floating and crookedly tethered by two of the four diamond rope lines that had secured it to the station. All of the ship's lights were off. One of the two disconnected magnetic tethers was now wrapped around the ship's starboard mobility drive. The second cable limply floated to the side like a gray tentacle. Sparks fired out of the portside mobility drive and Chord could make out chunks of debris floating around the vessel. A quick scan revealed that while the
Jinxed
had lost power its hull was thankfully unbreached.

“The ship is at present relatively intact, sir.”

Arturo took a moment to catch his breath. “You are about to add something that I won't like, aren't you, Machina?”

“This unit is currently unable to raise any communication line with the
Jinxed Thirteenth
.”

Chord fired off its shell's reverse thrusters, slowing them so that they landed softly onto the station's hull. Morrigan then delicately deposited Phaël's body onto its surface. She was still breathing steadily and Chord's initial mediscan showed no internal damage of any kind to either her or her living suit. Though it was a fair assumption that Phaël would be sore come the morning.

“Phaëlita, no sleeping on the job.” Morrigan gave the private a solid shake as he knelt down next to her. Phaël took in a sharp breath and her eyes shot open. She took a moment to gather her bearings.

“I thought—­”

“You were dead, girl? If only the Infinite could bless me with such good fortune,” Arturo snapped as he approached the trio. Behind him the station airlock had finally opened itself.

Chord pointed to this and all eyes were on the entrance. “Course of action, Sergeant?”

Morrigan cranked the energy release of his omnibarrel carbine.

Arturo knelt down with the rest of the team, turning his look to the
Jinxed Thirteenth
with concern on his face. “This is Sergeant Kain to Command. What is the situation? Over.”

The team could hear a static-­laced response. Arturo shook his head. The now-­open airlock was inviting them in. “Sergeant Kain to Command. If anyone is receiving me, we are proceeding with the operation as planned.”

Arturo reached over his shoulder and pulled out his morph carbine. It unfolded itself and with a flick of his thumb the safety latch was disengaged. Arturo pointed toward the airlock, his voice and hands steady as he spoke. “We go in, we locate our survivors, we reestablish contact with the
Jinxed
. Ideally, somehow in this whole mess we complete our mission. Am I understood?”

“There is no force in the Infinite Green that will convince me to set foot in that place.” Phaël stood back up, slapping away Morrigan's offered hand for help.

“I would much rather not tempt the fates by being outside when and if this old hunk of junk chooses to move again.” Morrigan took the lead and started running toward the entrance.

“The Green corrode you, old man!” Phaël cursed out in her native Wolven, and ran up after Morrigan with Arturo and Chord close behind.

Chord peered past the entrance into the adjoining hallway. It was dark, with particles of dust and frost floating about. The station's gravity was inactive and the team with Morrigan Brent taking the lead floated past the airlock frame into the hallway.

“This unit believes that many of the station's functions may still be automated. This will include security countermeasures.”

Chord saw another sudden golden glow of the station's datastream and the airlock closed itself behind them. Morrigan spun around and shook his head at what he saw. They were now all floating in the dark. “Today can't keep getting worse.”

“Keep your wits about you, soldiers,” Arturo said as he punched in a button on his wrist gauntlet. A series of lights alongside his lifesuit flashed on, illuminating the hall. The corridor continued down for another ten paces and then stopped at yet another round metallic door. “You might just live long enough to see why they call me Sureblade.”

“This place is like to be our collective tomb,” Phaël grumbled under her breath as they made their way toward the inner airlock. No one bothered disagreeing with her.