The A-ware by Fandomatic
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Still occupying the incorporeal world, Colonel Sheppard looked down at Enabler Fusia hooked up to the monitors in the quarantine room. He could see the denser mass of her depleted link nestled under the lighter bone of her skull. Fusia did not open her eyes.
Two days ago, a forced quarantine had locked his team in this same room with the observation deck full of monitors and technicians. It seemed like another lifetime. Now armed guards walked the deck and stood outside the door. Occasionally, the guard on the deck looked down at his charge as he paced.
He knew what Atlantis had in store for her—a gateless world without people. As soon as the Daedalus returned in three more weeks, Weir would make it happen. The Atlantis commander could be uncompromising in her sense of justice. For a proud enabler that came from a planet reliant on instant connections and soft living, it would be worse than hell. Under those conditions, he gave her a week.
She would accept his proposal.
John Sheppard passed through the containment wall and headed for Rodney's lab. His internal clock told him it was thirty minutes short of midnight. He walked through the sleeping city and through McKay's door into his lab. The lab sat in darkness, empty. He approached McKay's transparent computer and hesitated.
His pulse raced as he remembered the vivid colors and the rush of sweet power that came with the neutronium flush. During the last merge within the void, he'd gotten a taste of the phase crystal and it was seductive. Something that desirable couldn't be good for you.
He licked his lips and stalled. "Okay, so you think you can do this?"
I HAVE HIS ENTIRE LAPTOP MEMORY AT MY DISPOSAL.
Sheppard warned, "You're gonna have to be fast."
Frank only paused for a heartbeat. THE PROGRAM IS READY.
"When I said 'fast,'" Annoyed, Sheppard redirected, "I mean fast, get-in-get-out fast." Before he finished speaking, the silver neutronium started drowning his green eyes and black hair. The Superman rush from the phase crystal came almost instantaneously. The flush shuddered through him as his synthetics automatically extended a silver conduit to the computer stack, phased into reality for a second to use the connection and then phased back out before withdrawing the tendril.
"Whoa," John had an instant to breathe in the sensation and clarity of thought before the backlash of isolation hit him as the silver drained from his eyes. His shoulders slumped and he cringed, expecting the intruder alarms to blare.
ATLANTIS CAN NO LONGER DETECT YOUR IMPLANTS.
The reassurance brought his head up. There were things to do. "Of course not," he snarled. If he could've slammed a door, he would have, but the ancients didn't build proper doors. He straightened with a renewed sense of purpose and turned away to start back for the observation room. The emotional rollercoaster ride hadn't ended and it frustrated him that his control was so feeble. But anger he could deal with.
By the time he retraced his steps to the enabler's side, he had regained his focus and surveyed the room objectively.
THERE ARE STILL THE GUARDS.
"Yeah and there's a big blind spot right under the window where he's pacing," Sheppard pointed out as he dismissed the other guard leaning against the transparent wall by the door. "And he can't even see into the room." He walked under the observation window and checked for reflections of the pacing guard, which was extraordinarily hard to do when the world looked like a back lit jellyfish.
He gave up and took up a position under the window. Trusting to the bored inattention of the guard, he collapsed back into reality and breathed in the scent of the sterile isolation room. The faint odor of new rubber filled his nostrils and his eyes drank in the solid red and metallic walls. He directed his focus on the sleeping enabler under the gently beeping monitor as silver intent saturated his eyes.
The temptation to return to the dizzying power of the crystal void made his hands shake as his neutronium conduits flowed out of his fingertips. He ignored the desire and concentrated on connecting the power cables to the prisoner and infusing Fusia's implant with the converted energy he'd stolen from her on Puchek.
Her eyes snapped open and he immediately sensed her outrage. His neutronium instantly recoiled from the blast of anger and snapped all the connections—even the link—as it drained from his hair and eyes. He took refuge in the cocoon of colorless jelly and winced. With the best of intentions, he'd trespassed and her sense of violation appalled him. With an eye for damage control, he repaired his link and observed her frustrated search for him. When she couldn't locate him, her calls became hesitant and a bit forlorn.
The instant of contact revealed her crippled implant had been busy mending her nerve paths with limited resources. His infusion had restored her power levels, but not the sizable base the A-ware had stolen. She was still crippled with an undersized link. He detected no trace of narcotics flowing through her system, so Atlantis must have allowed her to wake up. His casual contact disclosed that Atlantis was using her to find him through the link. His natural link to the prisoner was reason enough to abandon the room where he could be discovered. Sheppard walked through the wall into an empty storage room full of bins and shelves and phased into reality. The dark room brightened with his appearance and he turned the lights down with a thought.
Fusia, he greeted her softly. He sensed her offense of his informal address immediately and flinched. She wasn't going to let this be easy.
Enabler, Class G-2: Unassigned, Classified Eminent Directive, she acknowledged him pointedly.
I prefer John Sheppard.
She silently accepted his introduction with only the faintest hint of offense. I believe you were trying to help so I will excuse your crass manners.
John moved a stacked bin and sat down on it. You might want to hold onto that thought.
Her image appeared in front of him and John started in surprise. Because you have something more unpleasant for me, John Sheppard?
Sheppard rose to his feet. Wow. There was nothing unpleasant about her. She wore a simple white gown that gathered and pleated ingeniously around her breasts and defied the laws of gravity. Silver tendrils framed her pale face that had escaped the elaborate comb tucked into a careless mass of silver curls, and when she tilted her head, a heady perfume filled his nostrils.
Her silver eyes swept over his dusty and blood-stained uniform with a dismissive appraisal meant to shame. He knew he looked ill-used and it was her fault. He wouldn't apologize for reality when reality declared an accessory to murder hid behind the beautiful facade.
She closed her eyes and spoke with a husky voice. "You judge us harshly, John Sheppard. We did what we had to. I have witnessed too much death." Her silver eyes lifted to his earnestly. "Catalyst 24 must be stopped." She reached out for his hand with both of hers. "Come, I would talk elsewhere. There is much for you to learn, John Sheppard, that your A-ware cannot know."
Surprisingly, he felt her hand grip his and gently pull him forward. His eyes looked up from her hand as she pulled him down a garden path toward a pond and small arbor under a massive oak. On every side, rolling hills with white tombstones climbed the slopes reminding him of Arlington. With shock, he realized it was Arlington National Cemetery. The change of scenery from the dark storage room was complete with the scent of flowers to the slight whiff of wet earth and the soft breeze that ruffled his hair. The only thing that hadn't changed was his torn uniform and unshaven face.
"I think it fitting that we talk about the dead among the dead."
His history of this place crashed in on him as he recognized the arbor below the newer graves. Graves he blamed on himself. Sheppard pulled his hand from hers. He got the message loud and clear. "You know, you look nice, but you're not very nice."
She had stopped on the path ahead of him and turned around to address him. Fusia walked closer and leaned in to whisper, "Neither are you." She lifted a challenging eyebrow.
When his jaw clenched, she turned away to descend into the tended garden. "If I must hear blame and unpleasant thoughts, I would hear them in a place that screams it to you."
Sheppard's expression froze before he recovered his mask. He followed her to the white arbor where she sat on a bench. She innocently met his schooled face and patted the seat next to her. John leaned against the rail and refused to join her. "You're a telepath. I thought you couldn't read me."
"Not just a telepath, John Sheppard. A gifted telepath. And your link allows access, however, your A-ware cannot access you in here." Fusia regarded the scenery on the hill behind him with a pleasant smile. "Why would you block such a beautiful, poignant memory?"
He crossed his arms and refused to turn around. He knew what casket lay ready to intern. The familiar scene with the green tent was etched in his mind. He frowned. These were drone memories and should mean nothing to him. Yet they tore at his conscious when he should be concerned with new threats.
"You came to seek my help," she realized turning to regard him. "Because you have the phase crystal! Do you know how dangerous that is?"
"I figured that out. Anyway, I've figured out a few more things. Things like the six towers are building up to planet-pulverizing levels. Things like spatial compression theory and universe-ripping experiments. If Integratia continues this experiment, we'll destroy everything!"
"That is not for us to decide."
"Hell yes, it is." The anger in his voice turned to steel. "If we don't do something, nothing's gonna be left!"
"These experiments will bring Integratia great power."
"What good is it if you can't use it?"
"I won't help you cripple Integratia." Fusia pressed her lips together. "You are tainted if you think I will stand in the way of Integratia's progress."
Sheppard shook his head. "No, you're gonna help, all right, or I'll leave you to Atlantis' justice system. They've got a first-rate, gateless planet lined up for you with no people on it for you to murder. And I don't think you could reconnect in any meaningful way without your implant."
Leaping to her feet, her silver eyes stared at him in horror. "You could not! It is your duty to complete the mission directive!"
"Two words, Fusia. Eminent Directive," he reminded. "Well, one word really. Eminent. You don't have a choice."
"You forget. I have been imprinted by the A-ware, and your interpretation is tainted. You changed the directive."
"Because he changed the threat." Sheppard snapped at her. "He reacted to your tactic—he powered up the temple to stop you!"
"You mean our tactic!" Her chin lifted and she deflated, sitting back down. "I saved them from a nightmare. You can't imagine what horrors were in store for them. Centel was going to steal their implants and use them to integrate the Puchek!" He understood her emphasis on Puchek to mean polluted.
He overlooked the general insult. "Centel? Not Catalyst 24?"
"I knew him. I was his student. The catalysts thought I would be their best agent, but Centel became neurotic."
"Neurotic? Try psychotic," Sheppard corrected dryly.
"Yes, quickly," she agreed. "And paranoid, too. I couldn't get him to leave the Puchek laboratory." She studied the view remembering her confusion. "In his lab, I couldn't access my implant. Nothing worked. I'd been too careful. I was afraid of the A-ware buffer since I knew what it did to Centel. I was also afraid he'd see my A-ware so I carried a contained virus. I suppose I was too obvious trying to get him to leave. He became suspicious and he got violent, so I fled."
Fusia swallowed and met Sheppard's eyes when he nodded in understanding. "The temple splinters. Been there, got the tee shirt."
She nodded. "And as soon as I left the temple, I activated the A-ware—I didn't know what else to do—but Centel wouldn't let me back inside. I needed help and Centel's enablers were panicking. We, my A-ware, decided to cripple him and take the linked back to the gate. I intended to send them back to Integratia while the catalyst hid in the temple and then come back for him. Without them, he wouldn't be able to use the phase crystal or start his new collective."
"And if he came after you, you had the surprise 'A' gift. So when he discovered your retreat—"
"He tried to kill me through the link," she finished. "The class C enablers failed first. He had tremendous power."
"And you cut them off."
"The A-ware cut them off!" Her silver eyes flashed. "The A-ware decided to finish crippling him and saved itself for the moment he came to get me."
Uncomfortably, Sheppard remembered the A-ware's favorite plan of uploading from a dying corpse. He'd almost gotten the tee shirt for that one, too. A bad plan twice over is still a bad plan.
She dropped her eyes to his feet. "I barely survived. Even you can understand that…here." She sensed his disapproval. "I am a Class A Enabler, John Sheppard. They were dead the moment Centel took them."
"No," He challenged. "They were dead the moment you decided they were chips."
"I am not responsible under the A-ware's directive!" She abruptly rose and brushed by him, back to the path, where she rounded to confront him. Sheppard turned to follow her and his eyes lifted to the funeral taking place behind her on the hill as the honor guard fired their three-volley salute. The noise hit him on a primal level.
The moment of clarity redirected his anger. He knew why she brought him here and that made him angry, too. He carried the directive. If she was an accessory, he was a murderer.
"If I weren't under eminent directive, I'd be judged harshly for integrating you, John Sheppard. You were tainted even before the buffer virus duplicated my link and the A-ware buffer is known to warp the very best of minds."
"Oh, let me guess. Centel?" Sheppard ripped his attention from the gravesite. Hear that, Frank? Even she thinks you're warped.
Her pink mouth frowned. "Frank? No one can hear you in here. Anyway, you don't name a program. They develop issues."
"Well, he's a lying issue."
"Where is…Frank?" Her eyes narrowed, suddenly suspicious that the A-ware could be summoned to his suppressed memory.
"He's busy."
"Maybe he's hiding in the casket?"
John pushed off from the railing and started up the path toward the gravesite as the haunting tones of Taps drifted across the hill. "I haven't been here in a while. Let's find out." His level gaze challenged her to keep up.
Fusia rolled her silver eyes and joined his determined stride. "You can't hide it. You're upset to be here."
"Maybe. But you're avoiding the question and that makes me think you're upset. You said the A-ware buffer did something to Centel and that it warps minds. What are you hiding?"
She shrugged delicately and glanced at him from under her lashes. She took a moment before she replied. "There are two artificial, intelligent, self-aware programs fused into one. Centel created an A-ware to handle the phase crystal. Essentially, it's a buffer designed with a remarkable ability to adapt to the constant flux of the phase while Centel carried it to study on Integratia. Essentially it buffers the host from the effects of the phase. I think it started exerting influence. Whatever happened, Centel's mind became polluted."
John swallowed. "You built a Trojan horse."
Her fleeting puzzled expression cleared with understanding. "Yes. I hid our A-ware viral-protection within a copy of his buffer and gave it priority. Centel didn't know about the upgrade and it would have worked if he left the lab. The buffer would have accepted the copy without realizing the viral protection was there."
"High tech is overrated. Maybe you should have tried beer," Sheppard said flippantly. "I didn't see a urinal in the place."
Fusia frowned. "I think he stayed in the lab because of the subspace interference—the splintering. It had something to do with maintaining the phase crystal. I've had time to think about it. The A-ware probably had full autonomy within his implant while I couldn't access mine at all."
"So you're telling me we're not only dealing with Centel, we're dealing with—let's call him Frank I, 'cause he's already got issues."
"Yes." With a breath of anger, she continued, "Centel is insane. He was planning to integrate the Puchek with poached implants. He must be stopped."
"He's been a little too busy to harvest that many…" Sheppard abruptly grasped what she'd omitted. "That's why you needed the A-ware viral-protection. You're not worried so much about Centel. You're worried about Frank I!" He caught her arm and pulled her to a stop. "Let's see," he ticked off the points. "Artificial intelligence, self-aware, adaptable, calculates variables, operates on its own mandate, and duplicating into hosts. You got yourself a recipe for a replicator."
She blinked and pressed her lips together.
"I'm guessing you know that though." John nodded and let her arm go. "The A-wares are locked up tight. That's why we're hiding out…here. What happens when Frank I gets upgraded with Frank II? Frank II has already duplicated your implant without your permission."
She tossed her silver curl out of her face and raised an eyebrow. "Your A-ware will see Frank I as a virus and eliminate it. It will seize control of the catalyst and return him to Integratia with the phase crystal."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes."
"Well, I'm not so sure," Sheppard contradicted. "He's adaptable, he's replicated your implant, he's hijacked me several times and he lies. I don't trust him."
Fusia gave him a long searching look and thoughtfully continued up the slope toward the green tent and black-dressed figures. "You're exhibiting signs of psychosis," she stated firmly as he caught up to her. "Just like Centel before he decided to start his own collective. You aren't functioning with the A-ware correctly. Listen to yourself. You're accusing a function of lying to you, you've separated your functions as personalities, you're talking to yourself, and now you're seriously considering risking Integratia's research."
"Frank, the function, couldn't wait until integration. I know him pretty well and if he's based on Frank I, well, let's just say I'm already having separation anxieties here." John rubbed the back of his head furiously. "Look, Frank hijacked me to steal the phase crystal. He didn't wire me for an enabler until after he thoroughly screwed me over and set me up. You said Centel liked the lab and it gave him autonomy. Well, I think the A-ware liked it. He requires autonomy to buffer the phase crystal. That's why he's delegated his primary function to me."
"That's impossible!" She stopped short and stared in horror at him.
"The phase crystal requires constant attention. He adapted. I've been imprinted. I'm better at this than he is. He retired the viral directive." Sheppard shrugged and started walking with her again.
"It must be true. You've talked about changing the mission directive. You couldn't have done that with an active viral directive." She looked at him in alarm. "He can override his own directive!"
"I'm not putting Frank and the phase crystal together with the catalyst. That's a bad plan. We can take them all out and save Integratia by destroying everything—divide and conquer."
She frowned and considered him thoughtfully. "You are behaving like my A-ware virus-protection program. It seeks out threats and eradicates them, unequivocally."
"Fusia, you'll like this plan. You get out of here and you get to take the research home." He cocked his head. "Well, part of the research," he amended.
"And Frank II neutralizes the catalyst while you destroy the lab," she finished his thought aloud.
"I get Frank I and all his issues in one basket case and blow the hell out of it. End of threat one and threat two."
"Is Frank here?" They had arrived under the green tent where Sheppard had a unique perspective of watching himself with the same schooled expression stand with his buddy's wife, when she blamed him so clearly for surviving.
"He's busy." John met his doppelganger's eyes through the crowd and his silver eyes met his own eyes suspiciously. "Let's get out of here. I'll buy you a beer."
Sheppard looked over the rigid rank and file of a military funeral and watched them disappear with a warped shift of flat light. Around him, another virtual world formed into a restaurant bar. He sensed his true surroundings of storage bins in a storage room as the environment changed. He motioned to Fusia to sit at the bar stool and ordered a round of beer for them both while she looked around the bar with interest. He carefully avoided looking at himself as a drone in the dark corner booth while her eyes zeroed in on it.
"What do you want me to do?"
"Here you go," the bartender interrupted with the tall, frozen mugs.
"Put it on my tab." Sheppard accepted the drinks. No one blinked at the illegal high cap forty-five sidearm or the blood on his torn clothes. "All you have to do is keep the link open." John leaned against the bar and took a long drink. "While you're here," he added, pleased with how real the beer tasted. He could get use to this.
Fusia leapt to a logical conclusion. "Who are you planning to integrate?"
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Next chapter, Backup...