Doss blinked. “Interforce? What does he want? Is there some problem with the last set we sent them?”
“I don’t know, sir.” The proctor responded. “He’s waiting in your office.”
The doctor frowned. “Very well.” He got up from the tall chair he’d been huddled in, reviewing the digital scoping system. “I’ll go talk to him now. I certainly hope there wasn’t any mistake.” He tugged his work tunic straight and hurried out of the lab, turning right and moving along one of the curving, well lit corridors of the crèche.
He passed through a steady stream of similarly clad men and women, most with digital pads strapped to their arms, and comm buds blinking in their ears as they moved in abstract distraction – only honed peripheral vision letting them proceed without collision.
He reached the grav tube and triggered it, waiting for it to open then stepping into the column of gravity, giving the little hop that started him downward along the curve. He turned and looked out as he dropped, admiring for the nth time the curve of the earth below him, and the deliciously crisp blackness of space beyond.
At the bottom level he triggered the exit and pushed himself into the hallway, regaining normal gravity in the faint bunny hop typical to the crèche and the other stations in orbit. Another few minutes walking and he was at his office, passing through the outside and giving his attendant a wave as he passed. “Hear I have a visitor, Gigi.”
“Sir you do.” The pretty young woman behind the console agreed. She had wavy brown hair and almond colored eyes, along with a delicately circuit traced collar around her neck. “May I bring you tea?”
“Please, and for my guest as well.” The doctor tugged his tunic straight again and then palmed his door open, revealing his half circle office with it’s twin bubble windows giving a gorgeous view of the stars.
A tall man in a formal uniform was standing near the first bubble, looking out.
“Director? They said you wish to see me?” The doctor waved the door closed behind him. “What can we do for you?”
The director turned to face him. He had iron gray hair, closely cropped to his head, and a neatly trimmed beard and mustache that didn’t quite hide a plasma scar across one side of his face. “Doctor.” He had a low, burring voice. “I have a problem I need you to solve for me.”
“Oh?” The doctor felt a little anxiety subside. He went to his desk and sat down behind it. “Anything we can do for Interforce.” He said. “Please do sit down. My assistant is bringing us some tea.”
The director sat down. “You provide us with resources.”
Doctor Doss nodded after a pause. “We provide you with biological alternative units.” He agreed. “For many purposes. I believe you have our service units and recently we provided you with some higher end samples, for low space jet plane piloting.”
“Yes.”
There was a small silence. “They have been satisfactory?” The doctor finally asked. “There’s no trouble with them is there? Our programming schemas are very stringent.”
“They’re fine.” The director paused, as the door opened and Gigi entered with a tray. He watched the young woman as she expertly poured the tea, and served them. She was wearing a sedate sea green station uniform, and space boots and her well formed body was both graceful and assured as she bowed to him. “Thank you.”
“Sir.” Gigi straightened and picked up the tray, then left, closing the door behind her.
“New model.” The doctor indicated the now closed door. “That’s a G-G 3200. We are enhancing our basic service module with some entry level tech programming.”
The director nodded. “So you are experimenting with mixing some of the genotypes” He stated. “That’s good. It bears on the problem we want you to solve for us.” He sipped his tea. “To state it plainly, doctor, we need you to develop an advanced design for us, but we don’t have time for you to do it from scratch.”
“I see.”
“I need a bio alt I can put in the field as a operative agent.” The director went on. “Military.”
The doctor straightened up, his eyes blinking. “But director.”
The man held a hand up. “I know.” He said. “We’ve told you a dozen times you can’t make a model that will have the independent decision making that’s’ required. I still believe that.”
“But..”
“But my problem is this. We had a failure of process.” The director cut him off. “I can’t go into the details. But the result is, we do not have confidence in a certain process right now and we have an urgent need for an operative.”
Doss stared at him. “Director.” He said. “We can do a lot. But this is… these are still biological organisms we’re dealing with. They’re not machines. They’re human beings.”
“Technically, no they aren’t.”
The doctor lifted a hand, much as the director had done a moment ago. “Legally, no. But from a scientific viewpoint, from the view of reality, director, they are. Regardless of what our society considers them.”
“Regardless of how we pretend to ourselves you’re not creating slaves, yes.” The director assented, in a dry tone. “Let’s not split hairs.”
The doctor’s shoulders twitched at the blunt rudeness. “In any case, we don’t snap our fingers and create a program set just like that.” He said. “There are physical, as well as mental structures to consider.”
“I know that.”
“The models we have in production right now are geared to be assistants, to serve, to provide a helpmate. They’re not soldiers. They’re certainly not capable of putting on a uniform and going into battle.”
“Anyone can be taught to kill.” The director replied. “You may not believe that, but I’ve been in this business a very very long time, doctor, and you’ll just have to take that on faith from me.” He sipped his tea again. “But as it happens – the operative I need is not required to do that. They need to be a tech, and above all, they need to be absolutely trusted.”
“A tech.” The doctor mused.
“Think of it as a possible new line of business.” The tall man said, with an expressionless face. “If this works out, we could perhaps offer you a deal to supply us with this resource ongoing. It would relieve us of a certain responsibility.
The doctor licked his lips. “Well.” He murmured. “Certainly we would love to be able to continue our business relationship, enhance it, as it were.”
“I have to tell you – this is not a popular decision of mine.” The director said. “Many people think it can’t be done.”
The doctor folded his hands on his desk. “Director, given time, money and talent nothing is impossible. “ he watched the man smile grimly. “But as it happens, there might be a resource I.. well, perhaps we could do some modifications. “
The director nodded. “When? The need is urgent, as I said. There is a risk.”
Oh well,. Doss was already running the calculations. If it didn’t work, he could always say he’d told them so. “Two weeks.” He said. “And I will need to know the exact requirement, including any imprinting.”
The director’s smile widened slightly. “That can be arranged. “ He lifted his cup. “Got any more of this? We don’t get it much down side.”
The doctor leaned towards his comm unit. “Gigi?”
“Sir.”
“First, please bring us some more tea.” He said. “And then, please go to the crèche master and tell him I need to see him. I don’t want to disturb him if he’s programming by calling.”
“Sir.”
“Tell him to come to my office when he’s available, and to bring NM-Dev-1 with him.”
“Yes sir.”
The doctor sat back and took a sip of his own tea, swirling the delicate beverage in his mouth before he swallowed it. “The programming could be complex.” He commented. “We’ll have to put a lot of resources into meeting your timeline.”