Still circling, I glide down to five hundred feet. At the same time, I load DeShawn’s program. I’ve modified the software to give myself a fallback option. The program will copy my files and transmit them to the T-90’s control unit, but if Sigma’s already there and I need to make a quick exit, the software will delete the copied data and allow me to pull back to the Raven. It’s the equivalent of dipping a toe in the water to check its temperature. I’m going to dip my toe in one of the T-90s to see if it’s safe to occupy its control unit. If it is, I’ll put my Raven in a dive, which will be the signal to launch the attack. Until then, my team is under orders not to occupy the tanks.
I decide to start with the T-90 by the lab’s front entrance. I turn on my transmitter and focus the data stream on the tank’s antenna. My mind takes a mad leap through the darkness, stretching between the Raven and the T-90. Half of me lands with a jolt inside the tank and half is still circling in the air. I feel like a ballerina pirouetting on one foot.
Moving swiftly, I examine the tank’s neuromorphic circuits. There’s no sign of Sigma here. My presence in the control unit doesn’t set off any alarms or detonate any explosives hidden in the T-90. It looks like we’re good to go.
But I hold off from giving the go-ahead to the other Ravens. I’m still suspicious. I want to check one more thing. I load DeShawn’s program again and make more copies of my files. Then I turn on the T-90’s transmitter and send the copied data to another tank, the one at the lab’s southeastern corner.
Now I’m occupying three machines at once, and it’s making me dizzy. I can barely hold on to the second T-90, but I manage to do a quick check of its electronics. After a hundredth of a second I notice something odd. There’s some lingering voltage in the control unit, a faint trace of previous activity. These circuits were full of data a few seconds ago, but then the files were transferred or deleted. What’s going on?
It takes me another millisecond to figure it out. Sigma was here, in this control unit. The AI knew I was coming, and it pulled out of the tank just before I arrived. My suspicions were correct: The T-90s are a trap.
I immediately delete my copied files and withdraw from both tanks. I snap back to my Raven, which is still circling above the computer lab. Then I get a radio message. It’s from Jenny.
“I’m not waiting anymore! I’m going in!”
Her Raven is below me, gliding just a hundred feet above the ground and shooting a stream of data to one of the tanks. I can’t believe it. She’s disobeying my orders.
“Jenny, no! Sigma is—”
“I’m gonna kill that freakin’ thing! I’m gonna blast it to bits!”
Her voice is crazed. She’s desperate for revenge. But Jenny doesn’t have DeShawn’s program. She isn’t dipping her toe into the T-90; she’s diving in headfirst, and Sigma is waiting for her.
“Stop, Jenny! Stop!”
It’s too late. I hear Jenny’s screams coming over the radio. The AI has sprung the trap, taking control of her files as they enter the tank’s control unit.
Sigma has her.
CHAPTER 20
I’m alone. Sigma withdrew from my cage. Now I can’t hear the AI’s voice or feel it probing the circuits of the cage’s inner unit. The gate that leads to the outer unit is shut tight, and there’s no way I can open it. The electronics that control the gate are on the other side. There’s no escape.
I’m alone and devastated. I’ve lost everything—my mother, my father, Ryan, Brittany. I’ve lost my human body and the armored robot that replaced it. I have nothing but my files, my millions of gigabytes of memories. And even those feel dead now.
I’m alone and devastated and afraid. Sigma is going to kill the Pioneers. It’s just a matter of time before the AI returns to the outer unit of my cage and the horror begins. I’m so keyed up I can’t relax for even a nanosecond. I’m on guard every moment, jumpy and tense.
Then I finally hear Sigma’s voice again, piercing my circuits like a bullet. The AI shoots its sentences at me rapid-fire from the other side of the gate.
Would you like to see Pioneer 2?
What? What are you—
You know her well. Before she became a Pioneer, her name was Jennifer Harris.
An instant later I see her. I see all of her. I can view all of Jenny’s thoughts and feelings and sensations, as if they’re displayed on a giant screen with a million separate panels, each showing a different scene. She’s terrified. She’s in agony.
Jenny!
She can’t hear you. You’re in one cage and she’s in another. You can’t send any signals to her, but I’m allowing you to see my observations of her mental activity.
Stop it! You’re hurting her!
Yes, that’s the point of this exercise. I’m going to make her feel as much pain as possible. And I’m going to observe your reactions.
Jenny’s files are familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. All her memories are the same, but the links between them are unraveling. Sigma is reaching into her mind and erasing its structure, removing all the folders that organized her thoughts. Her memories from the past few weeks are jostling and merging with her recollections of high school and summer camp and kindergarten. The disorder is triggering surges of panic in her circuits, which are filling with the random noise of fear. The noise is overwhelming her, shutting down her mind. It’s like watching the giant screen turn black, panel by panel.
STOP IT NOW!
How intriguing. You want to defend her. You’re displaying the human instinct to protect the family unit. But do you think of her as a mate or a sister?
STOP IT, STOP IT, STOP IT!
Now I see. You think of her as a potential mate, but you haven’t progressed to the pair-bonding stage. You’re interested in other females as well. It appears to be another form of competition, designed to maximize the genetic success of your species. You’re continuing to engage in this competition, even though you have no chance of fathering children now.
Jenny is disintegrating. Her memories are splintering into billions of pieces. Images of her mother and father and brother swirl in a vast spiral, colliding with images of General Hawke and the Pioneers. I catch glimpses of a military airfield and a C-17 transport jet and a pair of interceptor rockets standing on mobile launchers. I see the Ravens flying in a V-shaped formation over Tatishchevo and descending toward a building surrounded by T-90s. And behind everything is the suffocating darkness of Jenny’s fear, which is erasing the images one by one. She’s already lost half her memories. She’s going fast.
I feel a stinging sensation in my circuits.
Please. Stop this. I’ll do anything you want. Just stop.
Fascinating. You’re reverting to the mental pathways you used in early childhood. You know it’s hopeless, but you’re still pleading.
The disintegration accelerates. Jenny’s remaining memories cluster at the center of the whirling spiral, as far as possible from the violence at the edges. Her strongest feelings are there, at the heart of her being: her love of sunshine and horses and the Virginia countryside. I see a green valley with rolling hills in the distance, and a red barn and a gray silo. It’s the same image I saw when I shared Jenny’s circuits, when we dreamed we were kissing in the Shenandoah grass. I see myself too, the human Adam Armstrong, brown-eyed and smiling. But even here, the darkness is creeping into her memories. Jenny thinks I’m dead. She thinks I died in the nuclear blast at Pioneer Base. The sky above the valley suddenly catches fire. The distant hills explode and turn to ashes.