Chapter 139: Epilogue: Consequences

Two cycles prior

Admiral Clarent Voden stepped into his old office, centered on the second level overlooking the prototyping laboratory. The interior had been cleaned—the broken glass and composites vacuumed, the blood scrubbed free—but somehow it still felt soiled.

He walked to the very back, where his desk resided. The chair had been replaced since the incident, meaning the only remaining evidence of the attack was the meter-long hole in the reinforced wall behind his desk. He requested it remain in place. He wanted to see it in person, to be reminded of his failure. And it would stay in that state until his mistake had been rectified.

His aide waited in silence behind him, knowing better than to interrupt the Admiral as he took in the room, absorbing the magnitude of what had occurred.

Voden’s pet project had gone rogue and tried to kill him.

“Here I was cursing the Command Council for summoning me away on short notice,” Voden said. He walked to a side wall, which was adorned with small holos of various awards ceremonies and citations from his long career. “Had they not done so, I would’ve been sitting right there when that thing went haywire.” He left unsaid what the consequence would’ve been—his head turned into pink mist, sprayed over the hand-painted landscape decorating the far wall. His lifetime of achievement and progress, snuffed out in an instant by something he created.

“Yes, sir. I’m very glad that didn’t happen, sir.”

Voden faced his aide—a sharp young woman. Good officer. “There’s a decent chance you would’ve been right here chastising me about some report I had yet to submit. You very well might’ve been dead too.”

“Yes, sir. I’m also very glad that didn’t happen, sir.”

Voden eyed his aide. “Instead, when the shooting started, a guard ran in to secure me, thinking I was in my office. I wasn’t, but unfortunately for him, the AI didn’t know that either.”

“A very unfortunate event, sir.”

“Now that we have permission to resume our work, I want to address the remaining team.” He headed for the opposite wall, which held display cases lined with prototypes. “We need to recover from this tragedy, this disaster. We need to make up for lost time.”

“It’s priority two on my list, sir.”

Voden paused, and glanced at her. “Two?”

“An investigation update just came in.”

“Ah,” he said, and turned back to the displays. “I will read it, but give me the highlights first.”

“Well, sir, there’s no easy way to say this, but we believe it has escaped.”

At this, Voden spun to face her. “Escaped?” he asked. “From the facility?”

She nodded.

“How? It was destroyed. We saw it on the security vids.”

“We destroyed the chassis the AI attempted to escape in. In doing so, the AI should’ve been destroyed. But there’s evidence the AI had that instance of its personality loaded into another system upon its destruction.”

“Which system?”

The woman somehow managed to stand taller. “There’s a high likelihood it replicated into hackware and was sent out into the field on a prototype device.”

Voden felt a chill course through his body. “My Lords. It didn’t malfunction. It knew what it was doing.”

“It appears so, sir. But it gets worse, I’m afraid. The device appears to have been lost in an operation.”

“Do we have any idea where it may be?”

“All we can confirm is that the device made it to the Cova Straits commerce route.”

Voden swallowed as his heartburn flared. He faced the prototype wall again. He remembered working on the first batch when he was a young officer. To think his life’s work might’ve led to a rogue combat AI prowling the stars—

“Cancel my next trip back to Command. I’ll be staying here in person until this business is through,” he said to his aide.

“Yes, sir. When should I schedule the meeting for?”

“An hour from now, so I can review the report first.” He glanced again at the hole in his office wall. “If this thing has truly escaped our grasp, it must be stopped.”

He left unsaid the consequence if it wasn’t—before it could kill again.

---

Port Authority Commander Severion walked at a brisk pace along the main commercial strip of Praxa Prime. Beside her, Officer Colley matched her stride while somehow maintaining an academy-approved posture.

On a normal day, that would have been all the personnel Severion required for a walk through public spaces. But the habitat had elevated to Defense Condition Two since the interdictor incident, requiring extra security for her every move.

A carbine-armed sergeant in dress armor trailed them, while a pair of security bots walked in front. A drone occupied the forward and trailing elements of the procession, scanning for threats and prompting civilians to clear a path.

Though Severion understood it was necessary, the entourage still annoyed her. Commander or not, she wore a sidearm on every shift, and she was perfectly capable of taking care of herself. She visited the range frequently—though not as often as she liked—and was one of the top scorers in the agency. Colley was—much to her chagrin—one of the few above her.

She should have been at the range that morning, had it not been for the little matter of a sudden diplomatic crisis upending the daily lives of those in the Atan system.

The Administrators had called for emergency sessions, which meant all agency and department heads were to report in. The resulting sessions were unmanageable, in her opinion; too many voices wanting to be heard, too much grandstanding, too many unqualified braggarts running their mouths. Too much talking, not enough doing.

Colley, being well aware of Severion’s current temperament, tried to steer her to the light. “I heard some promising chatter on the news circuit this morning.”

“Don’t let the press conferences fool you,” she said. “The Administrators have no idea what to do.”

“Perhaps you’ll be able to offer some guidance with your attendance today?”

“Listen, I didn’t say I had any fucking idea what to do either.”

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“Noted, ma’am.”

The drone in front chirped at a cluster of Tunisi who hadn’t cleared the walkway. The sentients were highlighted as non-compliant actors on the PDs overlays of those in the procession. Severion eyed them past the lead bot. They stared back, not moving from their spot on the walkway. Passive-aggressive punks, she thought, but not a security threat.

Severion’s party wound around them. She could’ve taken a tram directly to the Administration office, but preferred a longer walk. It helped her cool off enough to make it through the sessions. Besides, she was a boots-on-the-ground commander. Sitting on her butt in an office was not in her DNA.

“Based on their defiance, I'm guessing they were in the camp who approved of the Ghupto State's recent secession from the Commonwealth,” Colley said.

“I never would’ve guessed those lumbering goofs would be the first to abandon ship,” Severion said.

“If the Ghupto have left, I presume there will be more to follow.”

“I’d bet creds on that,” Severion said, and noted Colley’s arched eyebrow. “If Port Authority officials were allowed to gamble on such things, of course.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Don't worry, I'm not losing it, Colley. Just keeping you on your toes.”

“I have no worries about you, ma’am.”

Severion laughed. “You’re a worse liar than half the people in these sessions.”

They navigated through the well-kept plaza. On one side were the transport lanes. The popular club Warp Speed and several other business lined the other. The club would reopen—along with every other nightlife establishment on the habitat—after a temporary curfew order in the wake of the yacht incident. Security measures enacted by the Administration. Severion thought that had been an unwise decision. So far, there was no connection between the incident and any known threat on the habitat, and the curfew removed a chief source of relief for the population. In her opinion, the Administration had been unreasonably heavy-handed since the failed SecForce Spec Ops operation in the processing warehouse. She had to push hard to get the curfew lifted, irking SSO further.

She was fine with that. The arrogant asses needed a smackdown, and she was glad to be the one to do it.

They left the plaza, reached a junction in the walkway, and steered toward the Administration building.

“I saw an interesting report go through processing before we left,” Colley said after several minutes of silence.

“What now?”

“Remember those two men who got stunned by the recovery agent in the dockyard brawl?”

Severion nodded. Their cold stares had given her the chills. She knew the type; people quite capable of committing violence. Whoever they were—thugs, brutes, savages, murderers, psychopaths—she knew it was bad news. “What did they do now?”

“They died, along with two of their friends, in custody on the Depot,” Colley said. “Cause of death is some sort of suicide device.”

Severion stopped and looked at him. “Holy shit.”

“I’ll remind you that your father has told you that no amount of prayer or offerings to the Lords will create such a thing.”

“There’s a first time for everything,” Severion said, and continued walking.

Colley caught up to her effortlessly. “There’s more. A friend told me—off the record—that he believes they may be members of a group known as the Nova-Reds.”

“The anti-Church death cult?”

“That’s correct.”

“We know two of them were on the station the night of the warehouse firefight,” Severion said. “There are too many odd things happening at once. There has to be some connection.”

“SSO should prove valuable in the investigation.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it. I know an intersystem security conglomerate sounds like a great idea in theory, but try anything that grand in reality, and it never works out like it should.”

The security procession arrived in the plaza outside the Administration building. Lush gardens ringed the circular exterior. A fountain occupied the center. Water flowed from a sculpture within. A figure bearing traits of different species, holding a globe upon its back.

“Am I the only one who thinks that thing is ugly?” Severion asked Colley.

“Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, ma’am,” he answered.

They neared the front entrance, passing by a few sessions. Participants basked in the last bits of quiet or spoke with a reporter and news drone.

“Always the political answer,” Severion said. "Maybe I should send you in my place to these things.”

“Unfortunately for you, and fortunately for me, you are required to appear in person, ma’am,” Colley said. “I haven’t heard back from your father. Seems he may have extended his travel itinerary.”

Severion slowed as the security bots approached the structure’s outer door. Inside was a security checkpoint, after which another set of doors led to a lobby.

“Once we clear security, message him. He knows he’s supposed to follow protocols,” Severion said. Being the father of the Port Authority Commander—in addition to a high-level Holy Church official—created the potential for security concerns. She’d lectured him on this numerous times. He always gave her his deliciously charming smile, and promised to be a good boy.

“I’ll do that too, ma’am,” Colley said.

Severion checked her uniform in the reflection of the glass doors. “Ready for hours of mind-numbing pontifications?”

“I’m ready for anything, ma’am.”

The outer door parted. The security bots took a single step inside when the inner lobby exploded.

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