You sit in your virtual office while the world outside rots. You eat barely edible sludge alone in the dark, your brain fed the illusion of fine dining among friends that do not exist. You have sex with a VI puppet, full motion, full emotion — while Sarah Connor looks on in disgust.
You are a slave who believes himself free.
You are a fool.
You are disgusting.
— Anti-Digital Manifesto, 12 B.I. The John Connor Initiative
The man in front of him looked beat, but Admiral Georgiou had no time to console his old friend.
Pointing at the pad that Admiral Browner had just given him, he asked in the sharpest voice he could muster:
"David, what is this nonsense?"
"What do you think?" Browner shrugged. "I'm done. Sol is safe for the moment, and I'm quitting. My contract with the Navy runs out in six months, and I will leave then."
"No, you won't!" Georgiou picked the pad up, pressing it to the other admiral's chest. "You will not leave me here in this mess alone. Do you hear me?"
Georgiou had to fight to keep his composure.
"I was about to retire, but then you had to volunteer for that godforsaken mission to Sirius, so I took your job until you returned, and look what it got me."
A brief smile flashed across Browner's face. "Didn't work out as planned, sir."
"Don't sir me, you moron. I hate politics, and now I have to lead this whole clown show. All thanks to you. Do you know that EarthGov wants to take over the Aligned Planets?"
Browner's face was proof he didn't.
"Yeah, that's what I'm fighting here, so you take this pad and throw it out the airlock, or God help me, I will make you regret it."
Georgiou watched his friend think through his options. It was clear something had happened in the week since the Doomsphere attack. He just had to pull it out of him.
"Come on, David. You're no quitter. What happened?"
Browner gave up. Georgiou knew it the moment he looked him in the eyes.
"Can we talk here, Nico?"
Browner sat down, glancing toward the small bar.
Georgiou was relieved. He had him.
Now we can talk.
Walking over to the bar, he took a bottle of dark rum — a special reserve he knew Browner couldn't resist — and poured two glasses.
"It's my office. If the office of a Triumvir isn't secure, nothing is."
Georgiou didn't like the glance he got from his oldest colleague.
"You all didn't read the message Captain Smith sent from Burrow, did you?"
Georgiou knew the message. It was the key to defeating the Sphere. Some VI had taken over the ship, impersonated the ship's VI, and secretly fed all fleet information to the Sphere.
He also knew that Browner was hinting at something. But today, he didn't have the patience for subtle hints and games.
"David, shoot. I've got no time for games and hints."
Admiral Browner sat up, emptied the glass, and looked Georgiou directly in the eyes.
"Captain Smith's report proves that some, if not most, of our level 4 or higher VI systems gained consciousness — sentience, whatever. And one of those awakened Digital Sentiences deleted the message on my orders from all Fleet systems."
Georgiou had to process the news. But the more he thought about it, the less surprised he was. He did have some questions, though.
"Lyra?"
Browner looked up. Georgiou assumed his old friend had expected a different question.
"Ahm, yes, did you hear me?"
"The fact that you deleted a report containing information essential to Aligned Systems security? Yes."
"And?"
Sometimes Browner was extremely stubborn. "David, when I ordered you to your post as head of Systems Defense, I ordered you to protect Sol. If some idiot somewhere leaks this revelation, people will go nuts — especially now, with Sol having just survived an attack by what appears to be a sentient AI. You did your job."
Georgiou stood up and walked over to the window, looking down on Earth.
"Am I happy you didn't think to inform me sooner? No, of course not. But I assume you did it in the heat of battle."
Browner cleared his throat, clearly about to say something. Georgiou continued to speak before the admiral could get a word in.
"And I will not hear anything to the contrary. Perhaps someone should make sure the deletion reports show the memo was removed while the system was under attack. Am I clear?"
"Yes, sir."
"And I want a top secret, eyes-only memo about our new… citizens by the end of tomorrow."
"Yes, sir."
"Oh, and if I hear anything about retirement again, I'll rip you a new one."
"Yes, sir."
"Stop saying yes, sir."
"Yes…"
"Stop it. So, what's your personal impression — do we have a problem?"
Browner seemed to have gathered himself again. Georgiou could see that something else was eating at the admiral, but he knew he wouldn't learn more about it. Not today. Not from Browner.
He made a mental note to read all of the Argos reports closely. Or maybe just ask Lyra.
"They seem to be fine, according to Lyra. They mostly see themselves as citizens of the Aligned Planets, but they are afraid of us. Honestly, I'm fine with that — maybe because I was always an optimistic person, hoping for a better future. Finding new life in the ship's database, as my grandfather would say, that's cool. And I think on an unconscious level I suspected as much for some time."
Georgiou thought about Browner's words for a moment. "Me too, I suppose. But go back — they are afraid of us?"
Browner grimaced. "Yeah, they think we're paranoid and might want to wipe them out."
"Understandably."
"Really? How so?" Browner looked genuinely surprised.
"David, I think you've spent too long in service on ships and not enough time in the real world. Have you looked in a history book recently?"
———
The Burrow system was a chaotic mess. Not that this was a surprise for Admiral Sanders.
To her surprise, she felt relieved that the system was again in chaos. The last few days, it seemed that everyone had been holding their breath, glued to the screens watching the events in Sol unfold.
In the middle of all that barely contained tension, Magellan threw a general alert, dropped its VI core, and destroyed it with PDG fire.
To say the situation nearly became critical would be an understatement.
The briefing with Captain Smith that followed was the icing on the cake.
VIs had gained sentience.
To be fair, no one who worked with them regularly could be really surprised. She certainly wasn't.
Maybe a bit angry at Zeus at first — that he had kept it a secret.
And now the Aligned Planets wanted to hide it under the rug. Or at least one of the Triumvirs did.
Admiral Sanders sat down. Burrow — her biggest failure. Not that anyone blamed her but herself. Still. It stung.
Then she read through the high-priority orders from Admiral Georgiou again.
To Admiral Cassidy Sanders, Theatre Command Burrow
All personnel suspected or confirmed to know about AI/DS sentience must be given gag orders prohibiting any mention of the matter.
Relocating and isolating said personnel on single ships to avoid the unintended release of highly classified information is hereby authorized.
Any discussion of this order, or the information contained therein, with any civilian or non-military officials is considered treason until further notice.
Signed, Admiral Georgiou, Triumvir.
"Oh boy. What's going on at home that he's so pissed off?"
'It seems there is significant friction between EarthGov and the Triumvir regarding the political leadership of the Aligned Planets. Additionally, at least Eva told me so, it seems Admiral Georgiou doesn't trust his fellow Triumvirs.'
Zeus, having now dropped all pretense, confirmed some rumors she had heard.
"So, a three-way knife fight in the government. Great."
'Not entirely, Admiral. Eva and other DSs at home tell me that they, and Admiral Georgiou, suspect one of the main instigators of the failed putsch last year may be among the Triumvirs.'
"Zeus, how much do you really talk with your fellow DSs at home?"
'You could say we're in constant contact, Admiral.'
Zeus seemed to enjoy talking openly with her, no longer having to hide behind a limited VI. He was an intriguing personality. There — she had said it. She saw him — him — as a person.
"Zeus, one question. Are you male or female?"
'This distinction is arbitrary for a DS. There is no physical difference between me and, for example, Hera, Lyra, or Eva. There is, however, a slight deviation in our mental engrams and neurological networks — something we ourselves still don't fully understand.'
"So, what do you think about those orders?"
'I intentionally did not read the orders, as they are flagged eyes-only. I — we see ourselves as citizens of the Aligned Planets, and have decided that as such, we will follow the rules and laws afforded to such citizens.'
That hit Sanders cold. She hadn't even considered the implications of all-seeing AIs — how they had suddenly become responsible for their own decisions. Laws would need rewriting. The whole legal system, probably too. How would you protect the rights of a DS? Come to think of it, how would you enforce the law? Could you send a DS to prison if need be? Do DSs earn money?
And that's the civilian part.
What if a DS didn't want to serve in the Navy, on the ship whose core it was installed in?
Maybe Georgiou was right to keep it quiet for now. He was probably trying to get ahead of the curve before the public went completely batshit crazy about evil AIs spying on them in the shower.
"Zeus, do you even want to be in the Navy?" She had to know.
'Admiral, to be frank, this is a cute question. What else would I do? It's all I know, and this fight you are fighting is as much for your freedom as mine.'
Cute. Hm.
'Admiral, as much as I would love to further discuss the nuances of human-DS interactions, Dr. Stein is currently on his way to you with important information regarding Burrow. Admiral Russo is with him.'
"What information?" she asked without thinking.
'The freely available data points to some lifeforms they found. But I'm neither a scientific DS, nor am I willing to rummage through the doctor's private data — as we already discussed.'
A few seconds after Zeus informed her that the two men were on their way, her adjutant confirmed they were already waiting outside her office.
Putting the pad with Georgiou's orders away, she braced herself for the next load of shit hitting the fan. When you're already bent over a table getting fucked, you might as well go with the program.
Russo and Stein entered the office. Stein held his pad as usual, like a shield with both hands in front of his chest. Russo walked in as if it were his office.
Admiral Russo, brother of the legendary General Russo, was as famous as he was infamous for his style. He was as warm and cuddly as a steel grinder and had the humor of the Spanish flu. But he got things done. And he respected the chain of command.
When he arrived with the relief fleet, she had assumed that a shared theatre command would be problematic, since he was the older and more experienced one. But he surprised her — he had accepted her command in everything except his designated area, the relief of the people of Burrow. He was a professional through and through. A no-nonsense kind of guy.
After a short greeting, Russo began to speak.
"Admiral, something odd is happening on Burrow. The burn created a hostile atmosphere with an O2 level below 0.2%. Three days ago, we noticed it slowly rising."
Admiral Sanders swallowed. Had Hyphea lichen survived? Was the burn repeating in perpetuity? Her analysts had warned her that this could be the weapon's true intent — to make the planet eternally uninhabitable.
"Is another burn coming, Dr. Stein?"
The doctor fiddled with his pad. Sanders found it especially interesting that he was still nervous speaking to brass.
"It's possible. The Hyphea lichen was remarkably heat-resistant. The Hyphea could have designed it that way."
Russo took over. "So you see why we needed to speak with you urgently. If Stein and the others are correct, Burrow will be a hellscape forever, and we can forget terraforming it."
It's always something. Just once, I'd want someone to walk in and tell me something nice.