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Authors: Doug J. Cooper
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something
of a martial arts ballet. When she pointed, the weapons aimed. Where she
looked, the display tracked. And as she swayed, the craft itself dipped and
zipped with her. She claimed it was fun and used the activity for her daily
exercise.
Flexing her knees like an athlete anticipating the start of
a bout, she waited for Criss to begin the challenge.
“Incoming,” Criss said in her ear.
Her hands blurred as she ducked and swayed, defending
against the attack he’d just launched. For the first time on this trip, Criss made
the virtual attackers Kardish fighters.
“Ahem,” Criss said in Sid’s ear.
Sid, slack-jawed watching Cheryl wiggle and jiggle in her battle
with the Kardish, didn’t respond.
“Sid?” Criss called again. “Let’s go work out.” He knew Sid’s
routine was to exercise at the same time as Cheryl, and Criss was anxious to
get him going because he found Sid to be most creative during periods of physical
exertion.
Sid held up a finger. Seconds went by and, unmoving, he
stared at Cheryl. Then, she arched her back and thrust her hips to send her
simcraft on a tight aerobatic jink.
Sid smiled. “Okay, now we can go.”
Criss shifted to the common room and projected himself robed
in a traditional Japanese gi. Sid arrived moments later, stretched, and squared
up in front of the heavy bag Criss had readied for him. Sid began a slow punch-and-kick
routine as he warmed up. Criss mimicked him on the other side of the small
room.
Years ago, when they’d first worked out on the bag together,
Criss had analyzed Sid’s every twitch and tell. He used that knowledge to
predict the next moves Sid would make, then he teased Sid by performing them
first, a fraction of a second earlier.
To an observer, this tactic made Sid look like he was
following Criss’s lead, and it annoyed him to no end.
Challenged, Sid began planting false signals. Criss read
past the deception, but his lead over Sid decreased. Buoyed by his success, Sid
drew on the same gut-level instincts that guided his well-honed intuition, except
here he used his instincts in an inside-out fashion, driving behavior so random
that it stumped Criss.
Now, during workouts, the two moved as one. Kick, feint,
punch, punch. Jumping and spinning in one motion, they both delivered a
roundhouse kick to their bag. Thwack.
“Step me through it,” said Sid.
Criss stopped his workout and faced Sid, who continued his
routine.
“When I resolved in the spline, it was right in front of me.
It ducked for cover and tried to probe me. I blocked it, grabbed what data I
could, and returned here.”
“How do you know it’s Kardish?”
“Crystals are a Kardish invention, and Earth has crystal fab
capabilities because they taught us how. It doesn’t seem plausible that a
different alien race would arrive in our solar system and use this identical
technology.”
“And humans can’t be responsible because…”
“Because I would know.”
“I think I heard that somewhere before.” Punch, punch,
kick.
Criss ignored him. “And Mars doesn’t have the talent to pull
it off by themselves.”
“Is it big? Powerful?”
Criss shook his head. “I was able to block it without much
effort. It’s weaker than I, so it’s not a four-gen.”
“And three-gens aren’t self-aware, so what is it?”
“I don’t know. On that scale, I’d judge it to be about a
three-and-a-half. Enough to be sentient, but not so strong as an entity.
“Could it have been a lab fluke? Someone tried something
unorthodox and this was the result? That would explain why you and Juice didn’t
hear any chatter about it beforehand.” Thwack.
“That’s as implausible as every other scenario I’ve forecast.”
Criss turned back to his bag and resumed mirroring Sid in his workout. “For all
of them, important pieces of the puzzle don’t fit.”
Chapter 7
Standing next to the ops bench, Cheryl
swooped her arms upward and the simcraft weapons shifted to point at the
of a martial arts ballet. When she pointed, the weapons aimed. Where she
looked, the display tracked. And as she swayed, the craft itself dipped and
zipped with her. She claimed it was fun and used the activity for her daily
exercise.
Flexing her knees like an athlete anticipating the start of
a bout, she waited for Criss to begin the challenge.
“Incoming,” Criss said in her ear.
Her hands blurred as she ducked and swayed, defending
against the attack he’d just launched. For the first time on this trip, Criss made
the virtual attackers Kardish fighters.
“Ahem,” Criss said in Sid’s ear.
Sid, slack-jawed watching Cheryl wiggle and jiggle in her battle
with the Kardish, didn’t respond.
“Sid?” Criss called again. “Let’s go work out.” He knew Sid’s
routine was to exercise at the same time as Cheryl, and Criss was anxious to
get him going because he found Sid to be most creative during periods of physical
exertion.
Sid held up a finger. Seconds went by and, unmoving, he
stared at Cheryl. Then, she arched her back and thrust her hips to send her
simcraft on a tight aerobatic jink.
Sid smiled. “Okay, now we can go.”
Criss shifted to the common room and projected himself robed
in a traditional Japanese gi. Sid arrived moments later, stretched, and squared
up in front of the heavy bag Criss had readied for him. Sid began a slow punch-and-kick
routine as he warmed up. Criss mimicked him on the other side of the small
room.
Years ago, when they’d first worked out on the bag together,
Criss had analyzed Sid’s every twitch and tell. He used that knowledge to
predict the next moves Sid would make, then he teased Sid by performing them
first, a fraction of a second earlier.
To an observer, this tactic made Sid look like he was
following Criss’s lead, and it annoyed him to no end.
Challenged, Sid began planting false signals. Criss read
past the deception, but his lead over Sid decreased. Buoyed by his success, Sid
drew on the same gut-level instincts that guided his well-honed intuition, except
here he used his instincts in an inside-out fashion, driving behavior so random
that it stumped Criss.
Now, during workouts, the two moved as one. Kick, feint,
punch, punch. Jumping and spinning in one motion, they both delivered a
roundhouse kick to their bag. Thwack.
“Step me through it,” said Sid.
Criss stopped his workout and faced Sid, who continued his
routine.
“When I resolved in the spline, it was right in front of me.
It ducked for cover and tried to probe me. I blocked it, grabbed what data I
could, and returned here.”
“How do you know it’s Kardish?”
“Crystals are a Kardish invention, and Earth has crystal fab
capabilities because they taught us how. It doesn’t seem plausible that a
different alien race would arrive in our solar system and use this identical
technology.”
“And humans can’t be responsible because…”
“Because I would know.”
“I think I heard that somewhere before.” Punch, punch,
kick.
Criss ignored him. “And Mars doesn’t have the talent to pull
it off by themselves.”
“Is it big? Powerful?”
Criss shook his head. “I was able to block it without much
effort. It’s weaker than I, so it’s not a four-gen.”
“And three-gens aren’t self-aware, so what is it?”
“I don’t know. On that scale, I’d judge it to be about a
three-and-a-half. Enough to be sentient, but not so strong as an entity.
“Could it have been a lab fluke? Someone tried something
unorthodox and this was the result? That would explain why you and Juice didn’t
hear any chatter about it beforehand.” Thwack.
“That’s as implausible as every other scenario I’ve forecast.”
Criss turned back to his bag and resumed mirroring Sid in his workout. “For all
of them, important pieces of the puzzle don’t fit.”
Chapter 7
Standing next to the ops bench, Cheryl
swooped her arms upward and the simcraft weapons shifted to point at the
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