Melissa Good - Xena Sci-Fi 1 Partners By Melissa Good

It was good when they were young like this one. There was plenty of storage for him to set his code into, the pulses were gentle and regular and less of a chance of him screwing something up.

It happened.

He found the spot he wanted, and settled down, calling up the programming codes and feeding them in as that oldest of languages, electrical binary.

Yes or no. On or off. Building blocks of data that would slowly be made more complex but started out in a very basic way, changing thoughts and patterns. Changing what would be perceived as instinct to a different bias.

As basic as changing whether one flew, or fought, if that was needed.

This one, he noted, didn’t need that change at least.

He would give her the data and tech first, he decided. Build up that knowledge base and confidence and then, then just before they were ready to send her out, he’d give her that last set.

The brutal truth set.

**

“Are you out of your cotton picking mind?” Stephan Bock stared at the commandant seated in the big chair at the head of the table. “John? Are you nuts?”

Bricker let his hands rest on the table, folded together. “You never really lost that archaic language, did you?” He mused. “Nuts. Cotton.” He flexed his fingers. “I guess hydroponic pod and tartex don’t have the same ring.”

“John.”

The commandant leaned back and studied his old friend. “Stephan, the options here are very limited. We have a problem.”

“Yes, we have a problem, but solving a problem with pointless insanity ‘s never been your game play.” Bock said. “A bio alt? Why don’t you just suggest we put a lab rat in as a field partner. It’s be cuter, and probably have a better chance at making an independent decision.”

“You told me you have a trust problem.” Bricker said, in a calm voice. “You told me you not only have an ops agent refusing to accept a new tech, you have an entire ops group having issues with emplacements since they don’t trust the people with them.”

“Yes, but..”

“Yes, but nothing. “ The commandant stood up. “You know how it is with us, Stephan. How small the pool of ops agents is. What do we have, a thousand, tops? In the whole territory?”

“Nine hundred ninety seven.” Bock stated quietly. “That skill set doesn’t come up much.”

“Exactly. So – they need to be teamed with a tech brain, and the only place that comes from is outside.” Bricker said. “We take what applicants we have, and we vet them hard.”

“Not hard enough.” Bocks voice was bitter. “We got lucky nature slaughtered nurture that time. “

The commandant sighed. “So my point is, we have to take what we can get. You can’t force someone into the corps. Much as everyone believes otherwise.”

Bock grunted. “Pool’s getting shallower.” He admitted. “Not enough diversity.”

“So there it is.” Bricker stood up and paced. “We have a gene pool that’s pathetically restricted, and no resources to support unrestricted breeding – we might even be past the point of no return anyway. We agreed?”

Bock grunted again.

“So.” Bricker turned and leaned his knuckles on the table. “We can’t afford to lose the agents we do have, Stephen. They have to be able to trust the people at their back, if we want to continue this long, painful fight of ours.”

“But bio alts?” Stephan said. “John, they’re just big collections of cell structures with basic instructions added. How can you seriously think one of them can even be able to do the most mundane tech tasks in the field?”

“The pilots fly.”

Bock waved that off with an impatient hand. “Sure.” He said. “They fly, they get from point A to point B, they can land and take care of their machines… but if they run into a drone high up in the gray, they freeze. You know it. We’ve lost a dozen.”

“Training’s too basic.”

“Their brains are plastic bags full of pixie dust.”

“Stephen.”

“John, they are. Just because I’m ops, doesn’t mean I haven't’ done the research. I took the classes, remember? So I could direct them?” He stood up now and did his own pacing. “Look, I’m not saying bio alts aren’t useful. They are. I don’t know what we’d do without them, since they take care of pretty much everything in this place except for operational activities. But they just take instructions, and carry out the basics. They don’t think for themselves.”

“Well.” Bricker sighed and sat down. “I want to try and see if we can make one think.”

“John.”

“Your ops agent, the one that won't take a partner? What happens to them if they can’t be convinced?”

Bock dropped into his seat with a grunt.

“Worth a try?”

“Jess won’t agree to this.” Bock said. “She has no use for bio alts, John. She's from Drakes Bay, remember?”

“We have no use for lone ops agents who refuse orders.”

Stephen frowned. “John, that’s harsh.”

“Life is harsh, Stephen. In case you hadn’t noticed.” Bricker retorted, dryly. “We’re the fine, thin edge trying to prevent complete collapse of our remaining society and frankly, I don’t have time for rebels. So either your prima donna decides to help us with this project, or they can go and spend their days harvesting seaweed. “

“What if I don’t want to help you. You sending me to rake the beds too?” Bock countered. “What if I think trying to send a bio alt out with Jess is the same thing as putting her up in front of a lead cannon.”

Bricker studied him. “Put your jackassery away for a minute and think about one thing. What if it works?”

“It won’t.”

“What if it does?” Bricker insisted. “What if we prove we can have bio alts made that can fill those roles, Stephen? If we take them to another level? If we don’t have to rely on the recruiters? What if this crazy idea turns out to mean we survive?”

Bock was silent for a few minutes. “You’re serious.”

“I am.” The director agreed quietly. “Look this first trial – I know it won’t probably work. We took an existing model and threw some heavy tech into it. But I want to see the potential, if we can have one made to order, to our spec, you understand?”

Bock grunted.

“If this one even gets a few baby steps, we can see what the long term could be for us. “

“And if it doesn’t?”

Bricker shrugged. “Then it’s just a failed experiment, we send it back and get it wiped, and we look elsewhere. But at least it gives you something to toss at this ops agent of yours. Maybe it’ll be a challenge.”

Stephen sighed. Then he lifted a hand and let it fall. “What the hell. Sure.” He said. “Worst can happen is it wont’ work. I don’t think we can put Jess in the field right now anyway. Psych says she’s not fit for it.”

Bricker nodded. “That’s the spirit.” He said. “Did a good clean up job in all that mess I hear.”

Bock nodded. “Took out a whole cell. Killed two dozen including the infiltrator and ID’d the locale for the strike team. Made a very big hole in the ground.”

“Hm.” Bricker grunted. “Impressive.” He said. “I can see why you want to keep the op around.”

“I do, John. I really do.”

**

Jess felt the steady patter of rain against her skin as she stood out in the sentryway, leaning her elbows on the armored rail and looking out.

The sky, as always, was dark gray, filled with layered clouds and allowing only the filtered, muted light to reach the surface that spread out ahead of her.

Gray, and gray, and dark greens, and ochres. The cold wind blew against her face, bringing the smell of brine and damp rock to her nose and she exhaled, absorbing the surroundings of home.