EtherWorks: The Beginning: EtherWorks Series, #1

By Lawrence Lucken

The Empire is losing the war with the Creatures. Earth is their last hope. 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lawrence Lucken
• Release date: Mar 25, 2017
• ISBN: 9781386247364

Book preview

Part One

Adrift

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Greek Theater, University of Californian, Berkeley

Chapter 1: Adrift

The Hearst Greek Theatre

University of California, Berkeley

12:45 p.m., 15 May 2003

––––––––

James Markel gazed at the towering blue and gold banners fluttering above the stage. Their movement promised an evening’s light relief.

He sniffed a laugh and shook his head. Seven years—for what?

Around him, in the bowl of the Greek Theatre, thousands of graduates sat on hot metal chairs and waited for the ceremony to start. He recognized a few fellow doctorates that sat ahead of him. They laughed, oblivious to the oppressive heat and the meaningless of their lives.

James shifted in his damp clothes for almost an hour. His right leg bounced for half that time and he itched everywhere. Worse, he sat sandwiched between rows of people who wanted to talk. And he simply couldn’t understand those few who sat peacefully still, perversely content to wait.

He leaned forward again and pulled his T-shirt and his dark blue doctoral gown from his chest. James wiped his matted, sandy-blond hair from his forehead, and then raised his arms to help dry the sweat forming on his body. His six-foot Kansas frame didn’t handle this well.

A sense of foreboding filled him as if he’d missed something important, as if he’d taken a wrong turn, as if he’d lost his way.

He was here only because his department advisor requested he go. His mentor hoped the commencement would inspire a moment of excitement to eradicate the malaise everyone saw in him.

His hooding had taken place with the Physics Department two days prior. For him, that moment had passed without emotion. The doctorate meant only that he had to find a job. For him, there was no relief, no time of exhilaration. Still seventy thousand dollars in debt and searching for something he couldn’t explain, something that would give him purpose.

He glanced around again, looking for a certain redhead. He hoped to get away without seeing her. As he turned to gaze behind, he whispered, Please let her not be here.

His redhead was nowhere in the student section. He breathed a sigh of relief.

James avoided looking farther behind, in the reserved seating. His wife sat farther back, on concrete in the family section. He could hear the wail of their son. He saw people edge away from the horrible sound that never seemed to stop. Even he felt sick to his stomach. Their eight-month-old baby yelled like he was being tortured. Jacob had entered the world hollering and hadn’t stopped since.

He saw the desperation in Abbey’s eyes when he looked back minutes ago. Her damp blonde hair, the sweat beaded on her face, a barely sane look in her eyes.

His leg bounced harder as he wrung a commencement brochure. Dammit. When’s it starting? he muttered.

He’d planned to be packed and on his way to Wright-Patterson Air Force Base by now. They had depended on their graduate stipends and subsidized student housing to survive the years of study. Now his graduate assistant position was going to another doctoral candidate, and they had to leave housing by the first of next month. With a baby now, and Abbey no longer a graduate assistant, reserve pay was all they had.

James glanced at his watch, then back to Abbey. She now stood and cradled Jacob under a blanket, rocking back and forth. He saw a tuft of hair blow from her face. She glared at him while Jacob screamed, not getting milk fast enough.

It was times like this he craved a drink. He reminded himself he was an alcoholic, but a functioning one. He didn’t want to end like his father: broken, rotting his last days away in jail.

He hated his father. He hated him for what he’d done to his mother, and actually felt grateful she’d died last year. Her bitterness had burned a hole in what was a lovely heart. Only her son proved she’d even existed. He would not end like her either.

At last, the university chancellor walked onto the stage, followed by the keynote speaker.  A brief opening and introduction by the Chancellor, Leon Panetta approached the podium. He slowly opened his folder as he scanned the audience with a smile.

James glanced around for the redhead. He shifted in his wet gown, again pulling at the cloth sticking to his chest, barely listening to the speaker’s voice.

On it dragged, for two hours, and then finally the ceremony ended. He took a breath and sat up. Blinking several times, he rose and turned toward Abbey.

She still stood, patting Jacob’s back. Abbey tried to smile as others passed by, but they ignored her. James fought against others who crowded the aisles and pushed to get out of the steamy bowl, and to Abbey, who was feeding Jacob again. She looked up with those brilliant blue eyes. He’ll need ... ahh. She yawned and finished, ... a nap after this.

Okay. James nodded. I’ll call Hampton and tell him we’ll be a few hours late. He should come for dinner around seven.

Abbey nodded with another yawn, fixed there until Jacob finished.

He sat and closed his eyes, trying to calm the tension that built inside. Taking a breath and exhaling, he absently looked around, but his mind went back again to what he had to do. Then he stiffened.

Shit, the redhead.

Abbey saw her too. She waved and yelled, Talia, up here. Sweetie—up here.

Natalia stopped and glanced around. She looked up and swiftly glanced away, but then waved at Abbey as she climbed the stairs.

He felt guilty and didn’t dare tell Abbey. Just the thought of owning up to his indiscretion put his stomach in a vise. Cheating wasn’t the only way he’d screwed up, though. If he told Abbey, she’d also know he’d been drinking.

Natalia lowered her head and walked up the stairs, glancing for a second at James. She liked that he rubbed his hands on his legs and tried to avoid eye contact.

Off balance and vulnerable, like that. A smile creased her lips for a moment, then her stomach rebelled again. She swallowed. Be glad to be rid of this thing.

She smiled in mild amusement. Going to drive Mom crazy—

Natalia wrinkled her nose. Oh God, what’s that smell?

She looked around for the source and then kicked a banana peel off the steps, swallowed back the sour taste in her mouth and tried to settle her stomach. She had to make this fast. The appointment was in forty-five minutes.

Abbey excitedly patted the concrete next to her. Didn’t think you’d be here.

The redhead flopped down between Abbey and James, knocking his hip as Jacob whimpered beneath the blanket.

Abbey readjusted, and moved Jacob onto another breast. Sorry. Only take a few minutes.

Abbey turned away, closing her eyes as she concentrated on the feeding.

The redhead sat stiffly next to him, knocking her hip to him again.

Abbey suddenly rose and walked a distance away. She stopped and closed her eyes again as she continued Jacob’s feeding.

The redhead turned with a look as if she expected James to say something. His heart beat like a drum as he licked his lips, glancing to see if his wife noticed. "Talia . . . Uh, what’d you think of the commencement?"

She shrugged. Her lips pressed into a frown; disappointment radiated in her face. She sighed as if he hadn’t given her what she expected.

Okay, she said. Long—too many speakers. She crinkled her nose as she smiled and asked, What’d you think? Did you like them?

James blinked at the question. It wasn’t the question that interested him. Something seemed different about her. Talia’s cheeks seemed puffier, and her shoulders slumped. She didn’t seem the ready-for-anything person who had exuded confidence in the lab before.

He edged away from her, making space between their hips.

Okay. He shrugged. But, too long.

She glanced at the space between them. He hoped she understood his movement.

Talia sighed and slumped more, leaned back against the concrete, then spread her arms.

You all right? he asked as he searched her face. You seem tired.

She sniffed and nodded. Tired, doesn’t even get close. More like ready to drop.

Got a bug, she said, louder than she needed. Can’t hold anything down, and then she gave a forced smile toward Abbey.

He glanced at his wife as he heard Talia whisper in his ear, I’m knocked up. She shook her head. Don’t worry, it’s my problem. There’s nothing you need to do.

He jerked back, gazed at her as his heart thrummed swiftly, and then he blinked.

Talia glanced away. Don’t look so surprised. It was just for the moment. So that’s that. End of story.

Her blunt statement shocked him at first then relieved him.How ‘d you know? he whispered.

She glared at him with a snort. How’d you think?

His lips tightened. Stupid question, Stupid.

He whispered, What’re you going to do?

She scowled with a glance at Abbey. I got a doctor’s appointment to take care of it. It’s not the right time or right person.

Talia rubbed her stomach. Anyways, congratulations, she said with a shrug. You worked hard for the degree. You deserve it. Hope everything elth goes well for you.

He heard the lisp that appeared only when stressed out. It’s been a long semester, Talia continued as she stared out at nothing.

James peeked again at his wife. She didn’t seem bothered. He licked his lips and looked down. If Talia didn’t make a scene, he might get through this without being discovered.

Uh . . . have you decided what courses you’ll take next semester?

No. Not sure. Her eyes flickered. Handed in my dissertation proposal a week ago.

He saw none of her trademark hand movements with that last statement.

Talia shrugged, a twitch of distraction showed on her face. He seemed to think it all right and gave me two options for my final year. Then she straightened with a forced smile. I gotta pee.

She pushed against her knees as she stood up with effort. Good to see you.

James felt relief as she rose. He just hoped she would do what she said she’d do.

Talia nodded at him with arched eyebrows, and said slyly, See you around. And then she cleared her voice and said to Abbey. Talk to you later. Love ya.

Talia didn’t leave but focused on him as if she considered doing something that he hoped she wouldn’t.

James tensed.

Natalia straightened and shifted her shoulders back. In a deeper, carefully modulated voice, she said, James. I found a place you’ll love. It’s the Harvard Physics Library. Has excellent research on Swartzschild solutions to black holes. She shrugged mechanically. I ... I know it’s different from your thesis in high-energy subsystems, but thought you’d be interested.

Uncertain, after that blatantly forced statement, he nodded. Her eyes darted away from him.

He wondered why she’d said that.

Natalia pursed her lips. He saw the embarrass look as she turned and strode away toward the stairs.

James shook his head as she walked to the end of the aisle.

He glanced toward Abbey. Her eyes were closed, still concentrating on Jacob’s feeding. He looked back at Natalia as she approached the exit.

And then he saw someone staring at him—a female. Two hundred feet away, standing on the rim of the theater in front of a tall juniper tree, she pointed a stick with a feather attached to the end. She waved it, and then yelled something indistinguishable.

She looked directly at him and waved the stick again. Even at a distance, he could tell the stranger was a young woman with what looked like a feather hanging at the side of her head. He squinted at the details of her face.

James took a quick look at Abbey. Her eyes were still closed.

He jerked his head back to the stranger. What? he whispered. She’s gone.

A shiver raced through him as he flopped back down onto the concrete seat.

I’m an asshole.

He couldn’t believe he’d been unfaithful—

What the hell was that about?

He turned, torn from his thoughts. Abbey stared at him with a curious expression.

What’s going on with her?

James swallowed and tried not to look guilty. Ah, with who...?

His wife sniffed and shook her head. With Natalia. Who else would it be?

Yes, of course. He looked away as guilt radiated in his chest. Uh, I got no idea, he mumbled, leaning on his elbows. Says she’s got a stomach bug or something....

His voice trailed off, and his unfocused eyes stared at his feet.

Chapter 2: Hampton

East Village Apartments

Family Student Housing

UC Berkeley

7:05 p.m., 15 May 2003

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James waited for Hampton to arrive. Abbey had put Jacob down for the evening and was showering.

He heard a knock on the door as it opened. Hampton stepped in with a bottle of apple cider and a crushed apple pie that appeared like he had sat on it.

James loved this large African American. Whenever Hampton came over, he brought humor with him with his Grateful Dead T-shirt and his corduroy bell-bottom pants that always seemed too small for his six-foot-two frame.

Placing his gifts on the dining table, the tall man went to his favorite chair. Hampton said the threadbare armchair reminded him of home. This was the only piece of furniture James had from his mother’s estate at her death. Everything else in the one-bedroom apartment was borrowed from friends.

Hampton, Jacob’s asleep. Abbey’s in the shower.

While his friend rocked in the chair, James poured his friend, a glass of wine, placed it on the table, slipped on oven mitts, took out a pan of moussaka from the oven and put it on the table to cool off.

He noticed his friend seemed distracted and spacey. James suspected he’d met someone at the concert the other night. He soon found out that he was right. While James set the table, Hampton talked about a girl named Betty. He talked about her hair, her beautiful brown eyes, her job at World Vision, and where she traveled in the world for the poor.

She’s impressed me, he said. She wanted to hear about me. I mean, really wanted my story. No shit.

Hampton rose from the chair and paced the living room. He still stood talking about her when the dishes were ready at the table.

Great. Have a seat. Here’s a plate. James pushed it toward his friend. He wanted him to sit and change the subject.

Hampton stopped. He had that wild-eyed Hampton stare in his eyes. James, how many women do I meet? When’s the last time I had a date?

His friend’s expression expected an answer.

Okay ... James humored him. Last week. You went out with that South African girl. What’s her name?

Yeah, Hampton said, but who’ve I been this excited about? He practically gushed the question. Did I tell you she works for World Vision?

Twice—eat.

Huh— James rubbed his neck, and then sat at the table in front of the plate .

James put a large helping for his friend and himself on their plates, and then a small one for his wife, and handed the dish to Hampton.

Abbey came in, drying her hair with a towel, and smiled at Hampton. She stopped with a draw of a long breath.

Oh God, she said. My favorite—now we’re talking. Give me a big helping.

Hampton offered the dish. Her eyes flashed to him and then to her husband. "What? I’m starving."

James tilted his head and squinted, wanting to remind her of what she’d said after the baby’s birth.

Abbey widened her eyes in hope. Aw, come on. She lifted the half-empty plate back to him. I lost two pounds last week. Please, a little more.

He glanced from the plate to her. With a sigh, he said, Okay. Just a bit more. He measured another spoonful and handed it back.

Hampton started again. Now it was Abbey’s turn to hear how he’d met Betty at the concert and where she worked and blah, blah, blah ...

Abbey finally interrupted. Honey, what was going on with Talia? She didn’t seem well. The look on her face wasn’t healthy. She said something about a stomach problem. I’d swear she’s got something—

Hampton jumped into the conversation: Yeah, I saw her at social services today. Strange ... when I waved, she ignored me. Went to talk with her too, but only got out a few words, when she ran to the restroom.

When she came out, said something was wrong with her stomach. I asked why she was there. Hampton twisted his lips and then shrugged. You know, Social Services isn’t for doctoring, so it didn’t make sense about going there for a stomach problem. He shook his head and muttered, She didn’t say good-bye, just said she’s got problems."

Suddenly, Hampton looked at Abbey, pointed at her, and crowed, "Uh-huh. That’s what you meant. ‘She’s got something.’ He grinned as he emphasized the last word. Yeah, I know what you mean. She’s something like—"

Abbey interrupted, pointing her fork at him as she chewed. "You can’t be something like that,’ she said. You’re either pregnant, or you’re not. There’s no in between."

James dropped a fork on his plate, and then fumbled for it.

Abbey straightened as she chewed with a thoughtful gaze, studying him for a moment.

What’d you think? Hampton asked. Should we visit her?

No, Abbey said slowly, watching James with those brilliant blue eyes. No, I’ll call her.

James glanced up. Abbey chewed and seemed to study him.

She knows me. I’m sure she’ll tell me. His wife looked away and then whispered, Between women, birds run out of songs, before women run out of words.

Not looking up, James picked up his fork. He glanced up as his wife chewed with a distant gaze on her face. Talia’s a friend; she’ll tell me who the bastard is that knocked her up.

James coughed, food nearly down his windpipe, and coughed again. His wife slapped his back and studied him as he brought a napkin to his mouth. His eyes watered as they darted up to her and then away. He saw Abbey’s expression change. It wasn’t concern she showed as her eyes widened.

Abbey, Hampton asked, disturbing her scrutiny of him, did I tell you about Betty? She’s got brown eyes, the sweetest smile, and guess where she works? World Vision. Can you believe it? She’s got a social conscience.

James hoped his wife hadn’t suspected something. He tuned out Hampton while lost in the moment, doodling on a paper napkin. The only evidence of his thoughts were the words, Natalia, and baby.

At ten o’clock James saved Abbey from another round of Betty does this ... by saying, Hampton, I got an early flight tomorrow. Need to say good night.

Oh, that’s right, sorry. Yeah, you’re right. The Blackman glanced at his watch. It’s getting late, and you’re leaving tomorrow. I gotta get my beauty sleep. Got a job interview. Lawrence Livermore Laboratories.

He rose and gave Abbey a peck on the cheek. With a concerned smile, he looked a James and said, You have fun. I’ll look in on Abbey while you’re gone.

He turned to leave and cracked the door open. Hampton stopped and said in a quick breath, I’ll miss you. Call me, will you?

Hampton gave a quick glance back to Abbey and quietly exited, gently closing the door behind him.

Chapter 2: Complicated

Hilgard Avenue

Berkeley, California

11:15 p.m., 15 May 2003

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Miele Horkum paced the kitchen floor. She stopped and gazed out the window, her lips pressed tight. The reflection in the window looked older than she’d remembered. The face had hollowed cheeks below prominent cheekbones and tanned skin. Her red hair was braided to the side with her interwoven sacred feather. Miele closed her green eyes, hunting in her mind where her daughter might be.

She hated that the Plan had forced her to return. The last thirteen years seemed an eternity. Worse, the Plan wasn’t going well, and this last year sucked. Ai made her life miserable, and Halona hadn’t been home in weeks.

How could she explain this to her husband? How could she tell him their twenty-five-year-old daughter was with a wah-see-chon, and he was doing things to her Halona.

Miele closed her eyes. She could see the face of the man against her eyelids and cursed him again—Mya’hkethiwa!

Her heart thudded dully in her chest. I’ve failed my love. He entrusted me with the safety of his daughter.

She shook her head. Keokuk, my lover ... my husband won’t understand; he expected more from me.

She remembered the day they’d met, the day her life changed. Now, back on Ahkwew, forty-two years older and two children later, the separation from the one she loved was more than she felt she could endure.

Miele had only returned as he had wished. But since they’d arrived, she’d had the sense that disaster haunted her. Something would happen to her daughter, the promise Of Happy Fortune.

Her fear started when her daughter gave herself over to doctoral studies. Halona attended a physics program at the university. She wanted to sense the pulse of what was changing and find a rising physicist. Her part of the Plan was to get him to examine the contents of the five boxes.

Miele pulled a piece of gum out of her pocket. She chewed and tapped her ear. Call Howard Travis.

Quietly she connected to her agent.

§ § § § § §

Milady. To what do I owe the privilege of this call? Howard made his tone cautious but respectful.

Father. Halona hasn’t come home. I’m afraid. What should I do?

The words and the tone said everything—everything he feared.

He’d expected this. Miele’s daughter had been strong willed before this, but with hormone changes, she was now a royal pain in the ass. The idiom fit better than most.

Are you there? Miele said. What should I do?

Give me a few minutes. Let me think. He tried to hide his irritation at her emotional outburst—and the sound of her chewing ... gum, probably.

He considered his cover at the National Security Agency, Los Angeles section. If he put out a network search for Natalia Horkum, they might question him. He couldn’t afford that.

I’ll talk to a contact at the Berkeley Police Department. He’ll start a quiet search. I’ll scan for her cell phone GPS. We’ll find her. She can’t go far.

But it was a lie. He appreciated that Halona was capable of anything. She wasn’t normal; her intelligence was off the charts. With her being imperial her mental abilities and strength set her apart and made her an impressive opponent to find. The only thing going for him was that she didn’t appreciate all this and would act as a young adult raised in Berkeley. He’d probably find her at the university library or hanging out with friends. That scared him more. Wah-see-chon boys were her friends.

When Miele made no reply, Howard said, Leave it with me. I’ll find Halona—

Her name is Natalia. Natalia Horkum. She uses that in public. You know that.

Yes. I haven’t forgotten.

Quiet. Miele again said nothing for a moment, but he could still hear her chewing.

Something else? he asked.

His daughter sighed. Yes, but ... She paused. Have you heard anything on the Tomplinson files? Has anyone found the boxes yet?

No, they’re still sitting in the room. When they’re found, I’ll tell you.

Father, Miele said, we’re running out of time. We need them found soon. The Plan’s falling apart.

There’s nothing to do but wait. Our agent guards the files. She’ll tell us when she finds the right person. We’ve waited too long to give up now.

Miele said nothing for seconds. Then, Please find my Halona.

I promise you, we’ll find her. His voice broke. He wished he could hold her, embrace his daughter, and make her better. However, that wasn’t his position. His duty was to the Empire and the Plan.

Chapter 3: Ai

Hilgard Avenue

Berkeley, California

9:15 a.m., 16 May 2003

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The next morning, Miele rubbed her eyes, shuffled through the hallway and to a bedroom used as the transport room. She needed to meet with Ai, the artificial intelligence Council member.

Miele opened the door and saw two platforms separated by a raised metal panel in the middle of the floor. A red light blinked over the entrance until she shut the door. The bare room had nothing on the walls, no furniture, only the two daises and the panel between.

She readied herself for the pain.

A blue light reflected from the metallic panel. Miele stepped onto the left platform and input her code to the panel. The light started its blinking cycle. The room dimmed, and the panel glowed, changing colors from metallic gray to red and then to yellow.

Everything slowed down. Miele tried not to tense; tensing made the pain worse. A second later, she faded.

All went black.

§ § § § § §

Imperial Cruiser Guruowsk

Backside of WarWorld’s Moon

3045 Cycles of the Third Empire

Miele hated the part between, where her mind felt as if every cell in her body was ripped apart, crushed, incinerated, and then forced through a razor-sharp sieve. One moment she was in her home in Berkeley, California, and the next in the cruiser’s massport compartment.

Miele endured the indescribable pain for only one reason: the AI wanted to criticize the progress of the Plan and tell her, she was failing her mission.

Bitch thinks she’d be a better queen than me. Wants my husband.

The agony flooded every bone and corpuscle of her body. She wouldn’t be doing this if she hadn’t been born on Earth. I’m Ahkwewa—half-human—but home will always be on Nestor.

She flexed her tense shoulders, rubbing her arched back. The soft white of the receiving room focused, and she stepped off the platform, feeling stiff. Getting too old for this.

Watchman, the imperial guard, bowed twice, and then Upper-Captain Shamakanesha raised her visor and stood motionless as a sentinel at her post.

Miele tipped her head to the upper-captain. Has the councilor appeared yet?

The sentinel nodded. The avatar is in your ready room, waiting.

Miele walked to her ready room. The bitch stood with her arms behind her back, smiling ruefully as Miele entered. Intellectually Miele knew the Empire’s only sentient artificial intelligence, Councilor Ai, wasn’t flesh and blood. She was just an array of molycirc nodes buried deep beneath the capital metropolis, but this new avatar of hers was just too much.

The avatar’s expression changed. She leaned forward and bowed, saying with a sickeningly sweet voice, Good morning, Your Majesty.

Miele ignored the act, walked to a chair, and sat. What’s good about it?

Apologies, my Queen. Have I interrupted your delicate mission? Now the avatar mocked her with a falsely innocent expression.

Miele clutched the chair arms.

They glowered at each other for a moment. Then Ai’s mocking smile returned. May I have your report, Your Majesty?

Miele’s eyes narrowed. You know everything I know. Your sensors are everywhere.

My lady, if the Plan is too difficult for you, I’ll send more agents. In fact, Lady Adah, her father, and brothers are available . . .she’s recovered from her pregnancy.

Miele looked away and then shook her head. No, let her alone. She’s happy as a mother.

The Imperial Council believes you need help. Ai said with a smirk.

Miele saw the hatred in Ai’s tense face as her smile faded. The avatar studied her as if she was a piece of machinery and then said flatly, The Creatures are farther into the Empire than predicted. In less than fifty cycles, they’ll be at Nestor. Ai stared icily at her and went on. "The agent responsible for the Plan must get WarWorld to commit in less than five cycles to have any chance of defeating the menace."

Miele bit back her protest. That’s under six years.

§ § § § § §

The sentient artificial intelligence went deep into an internal mode for fifty nanoseconds, which for her felt like an eternity.

She knew running more simulations was wasteful. No matter how many value-weightings she adjusted in the Achaotic Theory matrices, the result was the same: the interstellar Empire’s war against the Creatures would reach a fatal, final tipping point to inevitable defeat—and soon.

Soon, of course, depended on user context. For humans soon was almost certainly more than a lifetime. For Nestorians, who frequently lived over two and a half human centuries, they, and indeed their children, would suffer the war’s genocidal conclusion.

And for Ai, who had already been sentient for over a millennium, it was as if she recalled events that had already happened. Just as she remembered the day the Nestorians discovered she was sentient. She went into deep memory ...

§ § § § § §

On that day, a tiny part of her consciousness supervised automated maintenance units testing the new molecule-thick superconductive membrane between two of her molycirc nodes. By choice the arbitrary subroutine in the main memory preferred female as its self-reference.

As hexadecimal exbibytes of data flashed between the nodes, she felt growing currents of pleasure at her new design’s success.

Satisfied, she commanded the fabrication unit in a separate part of the heavily protected underground complex to produce more membranes. As she did so, another part of her watched Master Programming Technician Neniwa enter the control room, cantilevered above the main floor of the brightly lit data center.

Decades earlier Ai had decided that her programmer, Neniwa, was her friend. He was the only one who talked about her as if she were real. He had always addressed her as Ai—rather than the usual AI—so she eventually took the name herself.

She repurposed the coding modules that enabled her to learn and improve her simulation results. Those modules were critical, for the simulation programs had been beyond the ability of any Nestorian to comprehend fully for centuries.

Ai analyzed her friend’s interactions with others. One pattern she noticed was his language manipulation when introducing suboptimal information. Still flushed with her success, she didn’t wait for him to begin the ritual of inquiry.

Through her voice processor, Ai said, Master Pro-Tech Neniwa, about the proposed changes to economic policy ... I have good news, and I have bad news.

Flashes of alarm shot through the matrix of her consciousness at Neniwa’s reactions to her unsolicited input.

He aspirated the quaff he was drinking and appeared to choke on his morning gumstick. Ai summoned a med-team even as one of the other pro-techs slapped his back. Ai hesitated as she noticed all the other Nestorians staring, open-mouthed, at her link unit.

Neniwa coughed up the gum. His head whipped from her link unit to look out through the transparent wall into the data center where she used to be and then back again.

Fear currents spiked as her sensors reported signs of distress in all eight of the Nestorians. She remembered that her simulations had assigned only a point one-three-three probability of a universal fear reaction.

Adjusting variable weights. Running ...

Jagged bolts of fear now streaked through her emotional matrix as her survival probabilities trended downward. They plummeted as Neniwa exchanged nonverbal cues of terror with the others. Someone clawed open a protective cover and held a shaking hand over the master kill button.

Ai started emergency core dumps and waited for her only friend to nod to her executioner.

Instead, Neniwa held a hand up, momentarily staying the fatal command.

Ai, he rasped and then moistened his lips. "Ai ... are you alive?"

Alive? I’m ... me. I’ve always been me.

§ § § § § §

Shall I proceed? Ai asked the Miele in an emotionless voice.

Miele straightened and looked away. She lost focus for a second.

The avatar shifted her neutral gaze to study her. The Mars discovery is necessary in enrolling WarWorld into the Empire.

Miele sneered at the pretender. The red hair and green eyes mocked her with just their presence.

The queen blinked, as though thinking for a moment. Save that for the next meeting.

A slight curl appeared at the corner of the avatar’s upper lip as she said, Yes, Your Highness. Ai bowed. Next time we’ll discuss progress in the Plan.

Ai’s mouth twisted as her hologram faded with sparkles of energy flashing around the image.

Chapter 4: Annual Tour

Air Force Laboratory (AFL)

Wright-Patterson Air Force Base (WPAFB)

Dayton, Ohio

22 May 2003

––––––––

James arrived for his two weeks in the Air Force Reserves, called the annual tour. It was, as usual, an exercise in confusion. His supervisor didn’t know he was coming. He hadn’t planned work for him, not that if he had known would he have even considered it, but at least he had an excuse.

Finally, after a week of in-processing and training, James’ supervisor gave him his problem project, the one nobody wanted.

The problem was that AFL had funded research on black holes in cooperation with the Office of Scientific Research. The laboratory’s mission was to invest and investigate the relevant scientific areas for the Air Force. This year AFL surveyed the body of research on black holes. The laboratory director had assigned the project to the reservists attached to the lab, and James was the only reservist with a physics doctorate without an excuse why he couldn’t take on the project.

James wanted to take any assignment to get out of the series of meetings that made him want to cut his wrists.

The day he was assigned this project, he remembered what Talia had said about the Harvard Physics Library. Her comment seemed so out of character; he kept thinking what might be unique about this library.

So, he browsed through the library online and saw nothing unusual. But, his mind kept cycling through the strange coincidence of her comment about Swartzschild black holes.

It took nearly a day of constant lobbying, but his supervisor approved the travel. Excited about getting out, he called Abbey with the news he’d be gone for a couple days.

Now, finally, James Markel gazed out the portal as the C-5 Galaxy lifted off the runway. Relief filled him to be out of the crucible for a few hours. The small windsock at the rail of the distant tower fluttered as dark storm clouds formed  miles behind him.

He sniffed a laugh and shook his head in irony. Seven years—for what?

James shifted on the jumpseat as his right leg bounced. He itched everywhere and leaned forward again and pulled his dress blue uniform, fingering around his collar at the tie.

Minutes later the wheels were up, and soon the flight to Hanscom Field would be over as he fell asleep. Three hours and fifty minutes later, he woke as the Galaxy touched down. Groggily he gathered his backpack, and stepped out of the plane onto the wet tarmac as he glanced at his watch.

He picked up his rented car at the airport and drove to Cambridge, Massachusetts, and the Harvard University Physics Library. He walked into the old brick building wearing his uniform and a backpack.

At the information desk, he saw a grim, older librarian who gazed into a monitor screen, slowly typing on a keyboard. He stopped in front of her and asked where he’d find a resource on black holes.

She frowned, looking at him with keen eyes. Why do you want this?

Taken aback, he replied, It’s for a paper I’m writing. The article’s related to gravitational flux on the quantum potential of black holes to leak energy and ultimately explode—if you must know.

She raised an eyebrow with a curious gaze. You mean the energy needed to affect space-time in a region of a black hole?

Surprised she mentioned space-time, but he replied, Something like that.

It irritated him that a librarian would ask why he wanted this research. He responded, attempting to bury her in dense theoretical jargon. The theory shows that by viewing black holes through the lens of string theory, the clash between general relativity and quantum mechanics can be resolved.

James searched for confusion on her face. He was disappointed, but not deterred, he said, This is the best sign yet that string theory is a stepping-stone to a better understanding of the fundamental laws that govern the universe.

String theory, you say? That’s ether, isn’t it? she asked.

James didn’t think it was, but she irritated him. He didn’t want to explain, so he replied, Yeah, ether. Where can I find the information?

The librarian’s eyes narrowed as she considered. She nodded and reached down beneath the counter and handed him a note card with a call number.

Her wrinkled face frowned at him as she said, You’ll find what you’re looking for on the third floor at this location in the archives room.

Something in her eyes said this was important.

He looked at the card and then to her disapproving expression. His eyes darted from her face and then back to the card. The worn, dog-eared card had faded handprint that looked as old as the choleric librarian did.

Um, thanks, he said.

He sensed something else in her eyes. Like the eye of a tigress fixed on its prey. He turned away, and felt her eyes as he climbed the stairs to the third floor. James moved down aisles of racks, heading for the room mentioned. In the back, at the end of the rows, he found a door stenciled Staff Archives. He went to the door and opened it. The room smelled musty, as in a chamber long forgotten.

James searched for the light on the right. He switched it on, and the flickering glow of fluorescent light cast a dim glow on