Rubicon, page 18
And sometimes, not even that. The thing had seemed to know her thoughts before she had on multiple occasions.
// Not precisely. That is the result of stimulus bias. //
Stimulus bias?
// Typically, the Rubicon implant receives stimulus at the same time as your neurons. However, due to processing power ratios and a variety of other factors, I can, on occasion, interpret and declare the signal faster. //
Seriously?
// Yes. Ordinarily, these are what you would consider “instinctive” reactions. Other times, it is a matter of priority. When a deluge of stimuli occur, while you attend to the most pressing, other stimuli deemed of less importance go ignored. I can process those simultaneously and act on them to your benefit. //
Adriene picked at her cuticles. Like having a two-tiered brain.
Her thoughts trailed back to the VI’s use of the word “coexistence.”
Finally, Daroga returned. He pulled a fresh wipe from the new pack, moving on from her jaw to begin cleaning the blood from the side of her neck.
She held on to the edge of the gurney with both hands to keep herself as steady as possible. “So, Prova … how’d you end up there?”
Daroga cleared his throat. “Well, after the Brownout, they brought us to Estes for a while to parade us around for the media, boast about our ‘perseverance,’ inspire patriotism, et cetera.”
“He says with disdain.”
Daroga cast a wry smile. “He says with much disdain, yes.” Though he’d tied his hair back, loose strands hung against the sides of his face as he kept his chin low, gaze down. “It was just a ruse so the directorate’s minions could debrief us, glean any intel we had about the Mechan. Then show us off to the public and pretend like just because we survived, that meant they hadn’t wildly mishandled the entire situation.”
Adriene’s head bobbed in unconscious agreement. At the time, she hadn’t thought much of it—she’d been barely nine years old, her mother missing, her father panicking. She didn’t consider the broad societal or political ramifications of any of it until much later. Even now, whenever anyone talked about the Brownout, it was always centered around the event itself. The trial the colonists had endured during those few weeks. She’d never considered what’d happen to them after.
“When we were no longer of use to them, they relocated most of us to Prova.” Daroga replaced the wipe with another fresh one. “Chin up, please,” he requested, and Adriene leaned back on her palms, canting her head to one side. “Prova was busy with the Shift evac already in full swing,” Daroga went on, “so Kato’s family hosted ours for almost two years before our acreage deed was finalized. Halfway across the continent, unfortunately, so we lost touch after that. But we both ended up on the Aurora, somehow.”
“Small universe.”
“No kidding. May I?” He indicated the bloodied collar of her shirt, and she nodded.
He slid his thumb under her neckline, moving the fabric aside to clean along her collarbone, his cool fingers and the damp cloth a welcome chill against her warm skin.
// Vitals elevated. //
She rolled her eyes. All right. Calm down, please.
// I believe it is you who needs to calm down. //
“Damn,” Daroga mumbled, discarding another wipe. “I’m not sure how you have any blood left. Inside, I mean.” He glanced up with a crooked smile, but his humor faded as he met her eye, brow creasing. “Feel okay? You look like you’re running a fever.”
“Yeah, fine.” She shifted side to side to scoot farther back on the gurney. “Just been running hot since I got back from the mission.”
Daroga tugged off his gloves, discarding them along with the bloodied wipes. He grabbed a small tablet off a tray nearby and held it up to Adriene’s eye. “Hold still.”
A few seconds later, the device beeped.
He cocked his head as he read the result. “Elevated, but nothing to worry on yet.”
// I could have told you that. //
And yet you didn’t.
“Let me know if it gets worse,” Daroga said, concern edging his tone. “The terminal in your quarters can check your temperature.”
// I can check your temperature. //
She exhaled a barely controlled sigh. Then why didn’t you?
// As he mentioned, it was not pressing. //
Daroga stepped away to a nearby supply cart.
Adriene looked up as her stomach dropped, and it took her a disorienting second to realize what’d happened. The ship had entered subspace.
Daroga glanced at the ceiling, then back at Adriene. “They must have finally figured out where we’re going.” He approached again, snapping on a new pair of gloves. “I’m guessing they figured that out from whatever you guys picked up planetside?”
Chewing the inside of her cheek, she gave a short nod. “Yeah, I guess so.” In all her hundreds of missions with the 803rd, she’d never seen anything like those ruins—especially nothing like that sealed storage room where she’d found the “technology artifact.” She had to admit, she was curious as to what it’d contained.
“Brigham said the scrappers got the drop on you.” Daroga’s green eyes lifted to meet hers. “That the place was swarming, but you still made it out with the objective in hand.”
“I was lucky.”
“Well,” he said, ruthlessly sincere, “I’m glad you made it back in one piece.”
Adriene cast a tight-lipped smile. She couldn’t get used to people being “glad” she’d made it. Accepting it felt deceitful. Completing the mission had been a means to an end. She’d only wanted to avoid a rezone.
Daroga continued his work with a quiet sigh. “I guess it’s good Blackwell didn’t listen to me.”
She refocused on him. “Listen to you about what?”
“I told him you should sit it out. That you needed more time with your implant first.” His eyes skimmed over her for a second before refocusing on her wound. “Guess I was wrong. You’ve taken to it all … quite well, to say the least. Quicker than I’ve seen anyone.”
Adriene gave an appreciative nod, though she wasn’t sure if he’d meant it as a compliment or subtle inquiry. “It’s been pretty intuitive,” she agreed. “But still taking some getting used to.” She scratched at the hairline above her temple. “Are they always so talkative? Mine has barely shut up all night.”
// If I was capable of feeling offended, I would. //
Daroga took a step back, black eyebrows lifted. “It’s on now?”
“Yeah. It activated during the fight.”
“Right, of course.” Daroga shed his gloves again, then exited the row of gurneys, rounding toward a desk at the back corner of the room. He picked up a tablet and tapped in a few quick commands.
With a sharp prick behind her eyes, Adriene’s HUD vanished. She pressed the heels of her palms into both temples, but the headache did not abate.
Daroga returned with a consoling grin. “Sorry about that. You should have said something. I could have killed it when you first came in.”
“It’s okay. I don’t mind it.” Which was true. Even when it decided to badger her with impertinence.
Daroga lifted an inconsequential, cylindrical metal tool off the tray. “Time to start the graft. Ready?”
She gave a curt nod. “Ready.”
Daroga sidled his hip against the edge of the gurney, drawing close to keep the tool steady. Near enough that even her shallowest inhales drew in his scent—crisp, yet warm, triggering a vague sense of autumn in the foothills.
Blinking a few times, Adriene tried to instead focus on the dull, swollen feeling of her cheek and jaw as sensation slowly returned. Not pain, but pressure and temperature—the sharp, cool metal tool, the smooth pull of gloved fingers, the warmth of his breath on her neck …
She blew out a controlled exhale.
Forcing herself to look past Daroga’s shoulder, she studied the layout of the room: the gurneys, the supply carts, the synthesizers, the comfortable quiet of a completely deserted medical bay.
She felt an urgent need to fill the silence. “Why are you here, anyway?” she asked.
Daroga lifted a black brow. “Mm, like … on this mortal plane?”
The corner of her mouth twitched. “I mean, at Medical at 0230, when you’re not even a medic.”
“Ah. I studied surgical medicine for a while, so I cover the overnight shift sometimes.”
“Hence why they let you do implant installs?”
“Right. It’s usually pretty slow after hours, so I can get my other work done—that is, when upstart newbies don’t start random brawls in the middle of the night.” He flashed a smile.
Adriene’s eyes drifted to his desk in the far back corner. “What’s this ‘other work’ I’m keeping you from?”
“Tonight, only paperwork. So really, I should be thanking you.”
“You’re welcome.” The familiar tingle of growing skin tickled—itched, almost—and she had to resist the urge to scratch it. “And when it’s not only paperwork?”
“Well, day to day, as you know: installing implants, facilitating tech integrations, software upgrades … arguing about the limitations of the simulation VI with the Stormwalkers.”
She breathed a laugh. “All important duties.”
Sighing, he leaned back as he thumbed the grafting tool into standby mode to let the heat dissipate. “I also input all the bugs and suggestions for Rubicon into our project management software, make sure things get prioritized properly. Revert to old builds if shit gets too buggy.”
Flicking the tool back on, he leaned in again. He held his bottom lip between his teeth, green eyes glassy with concentration.
“But you don’t do any of the actual coding?” she clarified.
“No, ma’am. I merely organize it, send it off, and it gets upgraded. Graft’s done.” He set the tool back on the tray. “Feel okay?”
“Yeah, feels great.” Her fingers drifted up to the new, slightly raw skin.
Daroga picked up a disinfection tool. “One more step.” The device gave off a faint, shrill electric hum as he activated it. He held her chin lightly, and her new skin tingled as he ran the narrow disinfection beam over the area in slow, sweeping passes. A bead of sweat traced its way down the back of her neck, and she resisted the urge to wipe it away.
She kept her jaw still as she asked, “Can I ask you a question about the implants?”
“Shoot.”
“What are the limits of the VI?”
His brow creased and he paused the disinfection. “What do you mean?”
She shook her head. “Just trying to gauge what it’s capable of, I guess. Wondering if it could … influence your decisions? Or even take control of motor functions?”
“No,” he said, a sudden firmness in his tone. “Definitely not. We’ve specifically forbade protocols that could lead to artificial ascendence. CNEF brass mandates it. And the Dodson-Mueller Compliance Division, who are even scarier.” His stern look faded, and he continued with the disinfection. “Something about multiple sentient beings in one brain is a bit too Mechan for most people’s comfort.”
Adriene released a sharp breath through her nose. Of course that disturbed them, but not their soldiers having to zero out over and over.
“It’s a nightmare from a coding perspective, anyway,” Daroga added, tone contemplative.
“How so?”
He scratched his jawline. “Same basic reason we can only rezone into our own bodies, back into our own brains. Or why a hybridized Mechan can’t persist through a rezone. Sentience requires a degree of … fidelity. Or that’s the theory, at least.” He flashed a grin. “Developing it’s illegal, after all.” He shook his head and added, “I wouldn’t even know where to begin creating the command structures required for that kind of assimilation.”
“You seem to know your stuff when it comes to the programming side of things.”
The buzz of the disinfection tool ceased, leaving stark, lingering silence. Daroga stepped back. “Yeah, that’s what I did before I came here. Worked with Artillery Command on Khan Launcher VIs until they moved me over to the 461st.”
She tilted her head. “The 461st—the Codebreakers?”
“That’s the one.” He set the disinfection tool back on the tray. “You’ve heard of them?”
“Of course. They came up with the hijacker jamming fix for the subspace beacons. Were you with them then?”
The corners of his eyes wrinkled. “Guilty. Project lead.”
Her lips parted. “Well, shit,” she said under her breath, realizing but not really caring how impressed she sounded. She really was. In the 803rd, that tech had saved their dropships from getting ripped out of subspace and ambushed dozens of times. Saved her having to rezone who knew how many times. “After that, I would think you could pick whatever job you wanted.”
“I did.”
She raised an eyebrow. “And you picked this? Here?”
He sighed and leaned a hip against the gurney. “Yep.”
“Why? You didn’t want to code anymore?”
“I was supposed to…” He hesitated briefly, then crossed his arms and shook his head. “Let’s just say, ‘administering prototype tech’ sounds much cooler on paper.”
Her mouth went dry as his words sank in. An echo of her dream rang in the back of her mind. Administrator permissions.
After all the drinking, punching, and bleeding, she’d almost forgotten about it. And now she sat in front of the only person on board who might know what that meant.
Tilting her head, she feigned benign curiosity as she asked, “If you administer the tech, does that make you the one with ‘administrator permissions’?”
“You’d think,” he muttered, then his brow furrowed. “Where’d you read that?”
She gave a noncommittal headshake. “Just something my Rubicon mentioned.”
He scrubbed a hand through his long hair, freeing it from its tie with a sigh. He tucked the chin-length strands behind his ears. “The 505th’s R&D major is the only one with full admin privileges. If you need something specific, the process is the same as bug reporting—you can go through me or put in a request at your terminal.”
She waved him off. “No need. Just curious.”
“Yeah,” he rumbled quietly, warmth in his tone, “that’s one of the things I like about you, Sergeant.”
Adriene blinked rapidly, the admission catching her off guard. Then she just sat there, briefly stupefied.
“It’s just not very common, is all,” Daroga clarified with a smile, white teeth bright against his brown skin. “I think you’ve asked more questions in your first three days than the rest of the crew ever has, combined.” He cast a fleeting look toward the entrance. “Most of them don’t give a second thought to a single thing they’re told. Honestly, makes me wonder how they can be so good at their jobs.”
She scratched her jawline, recalling how skeptical the Stormwalkers had been about her ability to complete their mission unaided. “Maybe they’re … not.”
Daroga laughed. “Yeah, maybe.”
“Thanks for the repair.” She slid off the edge of the gurney. A wave of heat rolled through her, blood rushing to her. “Though, I feel like the least you could have done is leave me with an awesome scar.”
He wavered his head back and forth. “Sorry. Maybe next time.” He crossed to the cabinet near the door and grabbed a pill case, then passed it to her as she followed behind. “One every twelve hours.”
“Thanks.”
Daroga returned to the gurney to clean up. “Let me know if you need anything else, Sergeant.”
“Adriene,” she found herself saying.
He paused cleaning for a long moment, then looked up and did a terrible job of hiding a smile. “Right. Adriene.”
Sweat trickled down the small of her back, and she fanned her shirt to let in some cooler air. “Thanks again.”
Wariness flickered across his brow, but he didn’t say anything as she turned and left.
The corridor outside felt like a sauna in a midsummer heat wave. Adriene’s hairline dripped and she ran her hands down either side of her face, flicking the wetness from her fingertips.
A couple of minutes into her walk, her pace slowed as her heart picked up speed. A sharp tingle pricked across the back of her neck like some latent danger sense. She checked over her shoulder, but saw nothing.
She kept walking. Her pulse continued to accelerate, unbidden.
She’d made it less than halfway to her quarters before she had to pause, pinching the bridge of her nose to subdue a searing headache. Sweat clung to her skin, accompanied by a bone-deep ache.
Maybe she needed to go back.
Before she could decide, another wall of heat hit her, skin buzzing as if it simmered, molten. She braced herself on her knees, taking a few long, deliberate breaths to steady her racing heart. Her head swam with each inhale, and the white walls bloomed bright, then tilted and skewed.
She spun around—she had to get back to Daroga—but she stumbled, slumping against the wall. Her knees hit the floor as her vision blacked out.
A blaze ignited behind her eyes.
// Welllc—mm to—Rrru—con—//
The normally placid, perfect voice came fractured and distorted. The lines of the HUD cracked and jittered, flashing white and black and red.
The base of her skull throbbed. The waves of heat she’d endured the last few hours had concentrated into a roiling mass of lava, filling the empty void in the back of her brain.
A flat coolness pressed into her cheek—she’d ended up facedown on the floor somehow.
She reached out, trying to focus on the cold metal wherever it touched her simmering skin. Gasping for air, she willed her eyes to open a sliver.
The white floor of the corridor stretched out before her. A ragged, wavering red column laid out on the ground, like the runway tape in a docking bay.
Her vision blurred as she looked around for help, but the halls were silent, empty, no signs of life. Still too late or too early for anyone to be out roaming the halls. If she didn’t get back to Medical, it could be a long time before someone found her. It could be too late. She sure as shit couldn’t stomach a rezone, not like this.
