Artificial Absolutes (Jane Colt Book 1) (27 page)

The same dynamics in her words. The same shades of motion in her face.

It’s… not possible.

Kron seemed downright eager to show him the next one: the auburn-haired woman with a hand on the man’s arm as she described life’s wondrous blessings. “Remember that, and you’ll realize that you’re already in the haven you seek.
This
is paradise.”

The same optimistic expression lit Sarah’s face. “Remember that, and you’ll realize that you’re already in the haven you seek.
This
is paradise.”

It looked so natural.

Kron’s face twitched with delight as he scrambled to show yet another video. Each move he made chipped at Devin’s self-control.

On the monitor, a young woman with long, dark hair approached a reception screen. “Anya Nejem.” Her voice was rich and beautiful—and familiar. “I have a meeting with Pulsar-9 Models at ten.”

“Sarah DeHaven,” the hologram echoed. “I have a meeting with Pulsar-9 Models at ten.”

That was the first time Devin had heard her voice. The words differed, but the tone, the musical cadence it carried—he could never forget the way it had captivated him.

“It’s not possible.” Devin whispered the words repeating in his head. “She… she’s a singer. Music… It’s all about…”

Kron huffed with impatience. “About
what
?
Soul
? What we perceive as
soul
is a bunch of teeny-tiny physical movements! Facial tics! Voice quivers! I’ll admit, these things are really,
really
hard to fake. What do you think this program is? A
test
. So Pa— so No Name could make sure Sarah’s movements and voice were believable before sticking them in the android body, which, I’m sure, took long enough to make.

“Hey, hey, check
this
one out! This one’s my
favorite
!”

Devin didn’t react. He didn’t know how to react in a way that wouldn’t involve Kron’s brains splattering across the monitor.

Kron selected a video of the same dark-haired woman. Anya stood by a lake with a dewy expression and held hands with a man whose back was to the camera.

She smiled demurely. “I love you.”

Devin’s face went cold. He knew that smile.

The hologram of Sarah warmed into the same demure smile, the one he loved so much. “I love you.”

She spoke with the same dewy expression, one that had once brought him joy, wonder, hope. Not anymore. Just—pain.

Kron placed his hands behind his head. “What we have here are select files No Name calculated would be most useful. Most of her programmed actions are a mishmash of various expected human responses. What she does is draw upon these responses after weighing competing variables. She adapts them to customize her reaction, creating the
illusion
of emotion. People anthropomorphize anything that
looks
convincing. But she’s a philosophical zombie—all smiles and pretty words on the outside but nothing on the inside!”

Devin stared at the image of Sarah on the monitor.

Kron bolted up with a mad kind of glee. “Holy
shit
! You actually
loved
her, didn’t you? You fell in love with a fantasy, with a… a…” He snorted. “With a machine!” He guffawed again.

Devin clenched his fist around the handle of his gun, his hand shaking with rage.

Don’t kill him
.

Kron was actually glad the maniac had burst in. It’d been a boring day, and that was the most entertainment he’d had in ages. The poor bastard probably devoted his heart and soul—his entire being—to an empty shell created to be a perfect imitation. It was too funny. Just because he could, Kron played another video: a musician passionately explaining why she loved her art.

He clucked with mock sympathy. “Aw, don’t be mad. You should be glad she’s
not
sentient. Isn’t that what every guy wants? A babe that picks up on what you respond to and evolves to suit you? Best of all,
she’s not real
! You can do whatever you want to her, and it doesn’t matter! She’s the
ultimate whore
.
If it weren’t for those damn regulations, I’d make love bots like her BD Tech’s next big product, and every guy in the galaxy would sell his mother to buy one!”

Devin remained motionless. Kron found his tough-guy act pathetically amusing. He knew he shouldn’t poke the sore spots on a madman with a gun, but he had one more statement to crown the entire uproarious situation.

“I know why she dated you,” he said mockingly. “No Name was testing a series of new algorithms, and you must’ve fit the criteria the AI was to adapt to. See, most of the others were programmed to enter strategic relationships, but notice that these videos are about”—he snickered—“
romance
. She was
engineered
to make guys like you fall in love with her. All the better to advance her singing career! It’s
so obvious
!”

The hologram of Sarah repeated the musician’s words. Devin appeared to lose his expressionless mask as he watched.

Kron sneered. “Hey, you should be flattered. She’s on the way to super-stardom, and you’d make…” He snorted. “You’d make excellent arm candy for her galas. Too bad she’ll dump you now that you’re a jailbird!”

“
That’s enough
.” Devin pressed the gun into Kron’s temple, finger against the trigger.

Shit, he means business this time.
Kron’s mirth melted into nervousness. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry! I did what you asked, right? You wanted the truth,
there it is
! It’s not
my
fault!
I
didn’t make her!”

Devin leaned in threateningly. “You’re holding back. You’ve been trying to distract me with… You know who No Name is, and I want you to tell me.
Now
.”

Gun to the head’s a pretty good reason to spill your guts.
“Okay, okay! There was this thing ten years ago called the Pandora Project—”

Kron glimpsed a slight movement on the wall. An internal defense gun pointed straight at him. Fear engulfed him in that split second as he realized what was happening.

It was so obvious.

Chapter 15

Fly, Just Fly

J
ane held her head determinedly
high as she steered the Stargazer toward the BD Tech building. The Gag Warriors’ security hack could only last so long before the corporation’s people sorted it out. Her body felt heavy, as though someone had filled her with molten lead and let the metal harden into her limbs. At least she wasn’t shaking.

I’ve been through worse.

She recalled the time she’d conducted a symphony with a raging fever, the time she’d campaigned for her mother on no sleep, the time she’d smiled through a charity ball with a twisted ankle—in four-inch heels. Fatigue and headaches were nothing, especially compared to the real problems she had to deal with. She wasn’t about to let a little wooziness stop her. Besides, her brother fretted about her enough as it was. She didn’t need another reason for him to see her as a delicate little girl.

She brought the Stargazer to a hover. The ship was in terrible shape. The landing gear had jammed the previous day, forcing her to practically crash-land on Fragan. The engines had stalled during takeoff. The needle on the temperature gauge, a semicircle with blue on the left and red on the right, slid out of the “normal” zone and into “caution.” As if that weren’t enough, the status report displayed warnings about the generators’ capacity and the steering’s stability. It seemed only blind fortune kept the ship in one piece.

Don’t you dare fall apart on me, you piece of crap.
I’m using every bit of strength I’ve got here, and you’d better, too.

Adam sat beside her in the copilot’s seat, gazing at the bright clouds filling the viewscreen. Jane had suggested that he go with Devin and Riley into the city and return to Kydera.

He’d looked at her as though that were the most ridiculous thing she could’ve asked. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“You should get out of this mess while you can,” Jane had insisted. “You saw how dangerous it can get. And remember, we’re also being hunted by the
good
guys.”
I’m starting to sound like my big brother
.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Adam had repeated.

Jane had sighed resignedly while Devin smiled at the sight of her being in the same situation she’d put him in.

Her head drooped involuntarily. She hurriedly lifted it. Adam’s brow creased with concern. She tried to act as energetic as usual. “How many times must I tell you I’m fine? I’m just tired.”

“Are you sure?” Adam had an unusual, drawn look about him, as though he hadn’t slept in ages.

Jane had a feeling she knew what troubled him. “Worry about yourself. You look like hell. When was the last time you got any rest?”

“Define ‘rest.’”

She hesitated. “Nightmares? It’s because you shot that thug, isn’t it?”

Adam lowered his gaze and nodded. “I’ll get over it. I’d be more disturbed if I
weren’t
haunted. I did kill someone, after all, and of course I feel guilty about it. But I try not to dwell. I keep reminding myself how much worse it would’ve been if I hadn’t
acted. I’m not sorry.” He spoke more to himself than to Jane.

Jane wanted to reply, wanted to ask him how he was holding up or at least thank him again for saving her life, but her energy was focused on not giving in to that leaden feeling and face-planting onto the control panel.

“Jane? Are you all right?”

Jane shot Adam a cross look. “Of course I am.”

In reality, she wanted nothing more than to sink into the floor. Each time she stood up, thick black dots crowded her vision. Her skin tingled as though someone had poured ice over every inch. She suspected it was because of that chemical on Viate-5—maybe she’d been poisoned…

It didn’t matter. Despite Riley’s best efforts, the Stargazer refused to accept command from anyone but Jane due to some technical problem she didn’t understand. She couldn’t afford to be weak, not when her brother needed her.

I don’t care if I’m sick or dying or what. I’ll be fine—I have to be.

She checked the sleeve of her jacket to make sure it covered the painful, strange-looking reddish marks on her arm.

Adam glanced at the clock on the control screen. “Devin’s seven minutes late. I hope nothing’s wrong.”

Worry crept into Jane’s mind. She refused to yield to it. “I’m sure everything’s fine. Things like breaking into a top-secret computer take a while.”

Her hands stung with cold. She thrust them into her pockets. Her fingers brushed against the smooth metal case containing Sarah’s portrait.

I hope you find her, Devin.

“I still can’t believe someone made AIs so lifelike,” she muttered. “But I guess they’re really nothing more than a bunch of convincing puppets.”

“Are they?” Adam’s gaze turned pensive. “Riley said they perform most of their everyday activities on their own, meaning they have some kind of control, maybe even awareness. Sarah… She might think she’s real, and that she’s the only one. She could truly love your brother.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Jane scoffed. “That’s irrational. You can’t program a computer to feel. Or give metal and synthetic skin a—a heart. She’s a machine, and that’s all she’ll ever be. If she were anything more, she wouldn’t have obeyed to that command to give Devin false hope just to distract him from a computing error.” Her voice quivered. She looked away, wishing she hadn’t said anything.

Adam was quiet for a moment. “I guess the only consciousness you can be certain of is your own.”

A beep. Jane grabbed her slate and unfolded it.

Corsair: Roof. Now.

She tossed the slate to Adam and shoved the steering bars forward. The Stargazer swooped toward the building’s roof.

Devin ran across it. Jane was about to tell Adam to open the door but found he’d already left the cockpit. She brought the Stargazer to a hover. The ladder extended before Devin. He grabbed it. Several armed security officers came into view, firing in his direction.

“He’s in!” Adam called. “Go!”

Jane steered the Stargazer into the atmosphere. Someone entered the cockpit—
Must be Devin
. “What happened?”

No reply came. Instead, Adam returned to the copilot’s seat.

“Where’s Devin?” Jane asked. “Is he hurt?”

Adam buckled his safety belt. “Looked like a blast grazed him, but it’s not bad. Something’s troubling him, though. He went into the back and didn’t say a word.”

“Tell him to get his butt over here! This is no time to mope!”

“Jane,” Adam said. “He’s not coming.”

“What?” A sudden panic rushed through her, overriding all movement and all thought, even the weariness. According to the tracker, several Anven cruisers were on their way. She had no idea where she was supposed to go.

“Engage lightspeed,” Adam suggested.

Jane automatically swiped the icon on the control screen. The Stargazer zoomed. Her hands froze on the steering bars. Despite her cockiness about piloting, she’d taken comfort in her big brother’s presence. He’d take charge if she forgot what she was doing.
Where am I supposed to go?

Adam leaned toward her. “Relax. The authorities are well out of eyeshot, and they can’t trace us, remember? As soon as we’re out of the IC’s reach, you can berate Devin for leaving you on your own, but for now, just fly.”

Just fly. They’ll never find us.
“How far are we from the tunnels?”

Adam checked the navigation chart. “About sixteen light-minutes.”

“Are the authorities after us?” Jane didn’t dare look at the tracker herself.

“We’re invisible. They won’t even see us. Just stay out of sight.”

Just fly…

The panicked tension subsided, replaced by determined calm. She steered the ship into an arbitrary tunnel. Never mind where it or the other tunnels she wove through led, as long as they took her as far from the IC as possible.

The heavy weariness returned. Jane resisted it, telling herself to keep her head up and focus.

The engines’ temperature gauge appeared on the control screen. The needle flashed at the red zone, as though saying, “Look! Your engines are overheating!”

Sorry, ship. I can’t exactly stop now.

Something rattled. Jane hoped it was stuff jangling in the storage compartment, not the engines breaking down. Her chest tightened with trepidation, and her shoulders tensed. She fixed her attention on the navigation chart to keep from looking at the gauge.

The chains of tunnels became shorter and shorter. The Stargazer exited one that stood alone against a sea of stars. According to the navigation chart, the ship was a few light-minutes from an asteroid field labeled “Xaxone 12587—Retired.”

Xaxone was an industrial company with several interstellar mining operations. The field must have been one of their abandoned sites, containing nothing but stripped space rocks. Jane pulled the steering bars to flip the Stargazer and return to the tunnel.

The ship didn’t react.

She wrenched the controls, but the ship continued toward the field. She tried veering instead. Alarms pealed. A warning appeared on the control screen, saying the generators couldn’t take it anymore. The ship rapidly lost power.

Panicked, Jane cut power to the engines. The ship continued moving toward the asteroid field at lightspeed.
Right—things keep going in space…

The indicator lights by the brakes went dark.
Shit. I can’t even stop.

Anxiety gripped her chest like a pair of hands digging into her heart. She felt every nervous breath in her lungs.

“What’s happening?” Adam asked.

“The generators are dying.” Jane tried to keep her voice steady. “Ship’s breaking apart and all that. No big deal.”

She revved up the engines. Without power, she couldn’t steer. Asteroids covered the viewscreen. She scrambled to maneuver the slow-reacting Stargazer. The needle on the temperature gauge kept flashing. The ship screamed with alarms, begging her to turn off the engines before they caught fire.

Hold together, you ugly little bucket of bolts!

The tension made her nauseous. She kept her face calm and her eyes fixed on the viewscreen. If she so much as blinked, she could crash. Her vision faded in and out, as it had on Travan Float. Black dots filled in from the edges. In some moments, all she could see were pale blurs amid darkness.

She forced her eyes open as wide as she could to make sure it wasn’t her eyelids drooping.
What the hell is wrong with me?

Jane didn’t have much time to think about it between dodging space rocks and ducking abandoned mining equipment. The steering bars resisted her movements, and she felt her control over the vehicle slipping. In spite of her best efforts, the Stargazer bumped up against asteroid after asteroid. It shook as sparks spewed from the distressed control panel. The rattling grew louder.

With no way to stop, her only choice was to keep going and wonder how long she could ignore her vehicle falling to pieces. The needle on the temperature gauge fell past the red zone. It stopped flashing, as though the ship had given up on its warnings and accepted its eventual destruction.

Please, ship. Please don’t explode…

“We’re almost there.” Adam’s voice was calm. “Only thirty light-seconds until we pass through the field.”

Jane nodded quickly in acknowledgement. Empty space lay ahead. She focused on weaving through the asteroids, tuning out the rattling, the alarms, the terrified cries in her head.
Just fly…

The Stargazer banged against one last asteroid and hurtled out of the field.

All the tension released her at once, and her shoulders caved. “We made it.”

“Well done.” Adam sounded both relieved and impressed.

Jane cut power to the engines again and switched off the alarms. The ship continued tearing through space. With nothing for it to crash into, she figured they were all right.
For now, at least.
She collapsed back into the chair, worn out.

“Jane?”

“I’m
fine
.” Jane sat up and looked at the status report. “But the Stargazer’s not.”

No way to brake, hardly any power, busted engines—she recalled all the hits the Stargazer had taken under her piloting, and her confidence drained. “I broke it. I broke the damn ship. We’re stuck here.”

Adam gave her a bright, reassuring look. “It’s not your fault. You were given a junker that hardly functioned, and you still managed to get us out of impossible situations. You saved our lives.”

His encouragement did little for her grumpiness. “You don’t have to be nice.”

“I mean it. We’d have been blasted away at Travan if it weren’t for you.”

Jane couldn’t help smirking. “I did outfly a fleet of merc ships. It was so weird. There must’ve been about twenty ships launched at the same time, and the way they flew… It’s like they were drones. Maybe they were unmanned, but—”

Adam grasped his forearms as he had on Travan Float.

Alarmed, Jane asked, “What’s wrong?”

He relaxed as though freed from whatever gripped him. “I’m all right. It’s… I don’t know how to put it. You know how you go through life with these inaudible nudges within you saying, ‘I should do this,’ and then you do it? I feel like someone’s putting those thoughts in my mind, except I really don’t want to do what they’re telling me to. They’re in my head, but… they aren’t mine.”

That’s weird.
“I thought the drugs had worn off.”

Adam shook his head. “I’m just better at ignoring them. Right now, something within me wants to take the slate and tell the galaxy where we are. I have no idea why.”

“What the hell could they have done to you?” Jane thought for a moment. “The government developed a mind-control implant. Maybe the bad guys put one in you while you were out.”

Adam looked as though he found the explanation ridiculous and apparent at the same time. “That would explain some of the stranger ones. Although, to be honest, I don’t think this is the first time this has happened.”

Huh?
“What do you mean?”

“I mean… remember when I was transferred to Kydera Minor? A part of me, a very loud part, told me I should take the opportunity and go. I guess we all have our inner battles, but this was different. It felt… unnatural, like a part of myself I didn’t recognize. If I’d listened to that instinct, I would’ve left without saying good-bye. But there were things about staying that meant much more to me.”

Jane tried not to read into the tender turn his voice had taken and replied flippantly, “You’re so cheesy. Besides, that was your everyday mind-versus-soul dilemma, the kind you’re always philosophizing at me about.”

“It was more than that.” Adam looked past her. “It was foreign, like another voice in my head trying to… for lack of a better term, possess me.” He brought his gaze back to Jane. “With all that’s been going on, I guess No Name must’ve implanted me or something. At the time, though, I thought I was succumbing to the pressures of my advisors.”