#androids

January 25 2020

Vortex Episode Six: On Serlat 3

Chickadee Prince Fiction, Science Fiction #alien_tech, #androids, #insectoids, #parallel_universe, #science_fiction, #scifi, #space_travel, #symbiotes, #temporal_anomaly, aliens, mark laporta

[Editor’s Note: Read the whole story from the beginning, starting with Episode One.]

The trip to the metaversal parallel of Serlat 3 was easily the most tense time in the two insectoids’ lives. Instead of indulging in wise-cracking banter, they were forced into sullen silence. There was no escaping the thought that this flight was merely a detour on their way to mental oblivion.

To protect themselves, they’d both adopted the same defensive strategy. Maybe, they both hoped, if they emptied their minds, the Alornoz that had infested the ship’s AI would have less to use against them. But they were mistaken.

“You might as well relax,” the symbiote said through the ship’s intercom. “Your attempt to minimize your mental activity is as conspicuous to me as if you were reliving a childhood trauma ─ which, by the look of things, the two of you know nothing about.”

“Is that supposed to be a bad thing?” asked Zevdra.

“No,” said the symbiote. “But it does make your minds rather boring.”

“Step out of the human,” said Bleenor, “an wriggle around out in the open a while. I have a length of pipe in the engine room that will give you all the trauma you’ll ever need.”

“There,” said the symbiote. “Much better. A quick snack of stifled rage is the perfect pick-me-up, after hours in a coma.”

There was so much more to Bleenor’s angry rant, but he held his tongue. Instinctively, he turned the discussion in a different direction, for reasons he dared not articulate to himself.

“So what’s your plan, Big Shot?” he asked. “Once your species has locked up every sentient mind in this universe, what will you do for an encore?”

A smug chuckle rolled out of the intercom speakers.

“Oh that,” said the symbiote, “that will take ages. At the moment, we’re focused on the survival of the fittest, which is clearly us. You single-mind sentients are too limited to compete.”

“Is that it?” asked Bleenor. “Or is your real problem that you have no ideas of your own ─ and you’re completely dependent on your hosts?”

“Since when is dependency a failing?” asked the symbiote. “I have it on good authority from your own mind that you, my little bug, are totally dependent on Zevdra’s well-being. For example.”

Zevdra doubled over in pain.

“What….” she gasped. “What are you … Bleenor … help … help me!”

Zevdra’s shrieks pierced Bleenor’s ears like jagged shards of glass. He raced to her side.

“Cut it out,” he yelled. “If ‘fitness’ tells you to torture someone, torture me.”

“My pleasure,” said the symbiote. As Zevdra felt her own agony subside, she watched helpless, while Bleenor fell to the floor of the command center, his mandibles clacking uncontrollably.

“Stop it!” she shouted. “He’s worth a thousand of you.”

“Ha!” said the symbiote. “Better check your figures.”

“That’s it,” said Zevdra. “Emergency override code Z/Zero-One-Three-Eight. Initiate electrical system shutdown now!”

Immediately, the Shiny Nova went dark. Bleenor’s body, which had been writhing in pain, suddenly relaxed. Like Zevdra and everything else that wasn’t bolted down, he floated upward.

“Like to see that symbiote control an AI with no power,” said Zevdra.

“Good thinking,” said Bleenor, “Only you shut off life support too and … um … artificial gravity.”

“Can’t help it,” said Zevdra. “I’d rather die than let that monster hurt you. Come on, we still have our pressure suits. If we snap on helmets we might make it to Serlat 3, and find a solution.

“Have my doubts,” said Bleenor. “But the air’s already getting thin. Helmets are in the supply closets below.”

With the AI blockade turned off, the two insectoids pulled themselves down the titanium spiral staircase leading to the lower deck. Bleenor grabbed a helmet for Zevdra, helped her on with it, then waited while she returned the favor. Lucky for them, with the helmet in place, each suit had its own limited power source. Soon his sigh echoed in Zevdra’s ears through their shared comlink.

“Better than nothing,” he said. “And the helmet’s sensors indicate we’re now in orbit around Serlat 3. But how are we going to land without power? We can’t even open the Launch Bay doors.”

“Good thing one of us bothered to read the Shiny Nova’s operating manual,” said Zevdra. “We can restore power to just the Launch Bay. The landers have their own power supply.”

Bleenor smiled at first, before a cloud crossed his multifaceted eyes.

“Only thing that worries me,” he said, “is that the Alornoz might have seen your plan in your mind and taken evasive maneuvers.”

“Bot One,” Zevdra called out. “Any trace of the symbiote in any of our systems?”

When the servicebot replied, its voice was strangely altered.

“You might say, Captain,” it said, “that the symbiote is more adaptable than you anticipated. Though I do admire your ingenuity. Let’s call a truce, shall we? No more pain from me, and no more power outages from you. Now, I suggest we take Lander 2. Much roomier.”

Zevdra glanced at Bleenor, whose defeated shrug of all four shoulders confirmed her fears. The three of them climbed into the waiting lander.

“Partial electrical system reboot, Launch Bay,” said Zevdra. “Code ZP/Five-Four-Two-Nine. Initiate.”

A deep, whirling hum filled their ears as the Launch Bay sprang back to life. They watched as Hatch Two opened to deep space.

“Serlat 3,” said Zevdra. “Standard landing pattern.”

“Superb,” said the Alornoz. “Now I can explore on my own.”

The symbiote’s smug self-confidence was just the mental shield Bleenor needed to send a series of subvocal commands through his helmet to Bot Two on the Shiny Nova. Soon, the ship’s AI would be back online with complete control of every system.

As the lander spiraled down to the planet’s surface, Bleenor had to hope that Zevdra’s enthusiastic awe and the symbiote’s insufferable gloating would continue to hide his secret. The lander alit and, after a routine pressure check, the two Veratrese and the sinister Alornoz who controlled Bot One stepped onto the planet’s surface.

“What a tragic loss,” said the symbiote. “We could’ve made good use of their technology.”

Zevdra pulled Bleenor close, as they surveyed the planet’s broken landscape. Even in decay, the remaining structures seemed imbued with intelligence.

“Hey what’s this?” she heard the symbiote say. The two insectoids raced over to a small clearing in the rubble. Sticking out of the ground was a hemisphere of amber polyglass, about half a meter in diameter. A bright light emanated from it in discrete pulses. Bleenor’s antennae twitched.

What, he wondered, did those pulses remind him of?

(To be continued: Read the Next Episode)

^^^

Mark Laporta is the acclaimed author of the Changing Hearts of Ixdahan Daherek series and the new novel, Probability Shadow, available now in paperback or ebook on Amazon, Barnes & Noble or at a bookstore near you.

October 12 2019

Moonrock, Episode 4: The Conclusion of the new Science Fiction serial from Mark Laporta

Chickadee Prince Fiction, Science Fiction # time_dilation, #alien_tech, #androids, #sci-fi, #science_fiction, #space_travel, aliens

Editor’s Note: You may start the series from the beginning with Episode 1 by clicking here.

The Rulzarians, a monotreme species, reminded Armand of the long-extinct terrestrial platypus he’d seen only in photos. That is, except that these creatures walked on two legs and had hands of such dexterity as to make human pianists tear their hair out with envy.

But considering the intricate genomic makeover he needed, that was all to the good. There was just one problem.

“I’m afraid it’s impossible to make you humanoid,” said Yegholidaar, the geneticist assigned to Armand’s case. “The disparity is too great. The most we could do is give you a number of insectoid species to choose from.”

“That’s no improvement,” said Armand.

“Even if you could fly?” asked Gleanant. “Don’t all humanoids dream about that?”

“Not that kind of flying,” said Armand. “Seriously, that’s the best you can do?”

“Hmm … well,” said Yegholidaar. “We do have several humanoid genomes on file. Perhaps your android could help us select an appropriate option for cloning?”

“Got your complete medical records on file, Boss,” said M429.

“You’d transfer my consciousness into a clone?” asked Armand. “But then I’d be a biological robot.”

“Don’t worry,” said Gleanant. “None of your Earth friends would know the difference. Why, I bet Yegholidaar could even make some enhancements.”

“Indeed,” said the alien geneticist. “But what is this … Earth?”

“Never mind,” said Gleanant. “It won’t be inhabited for another million years.

“What?” asked Armand.

Gleanant explained that the Ruzarian star had gone supernova centuries before humans walked on two legs. Despite that, she told Armand, no one had ever surpassed them in genetic engineering.

“More messing around with Time?” asked Armand. “OK, Yegholidaar, when can you start?”

“Why as soon as you give us the down payment,” said Yegholidaar. “Hmm, in your case, a hundred fifty thousand credits.”

“Where the moldy muon am I gonna get that?” asked Armand.

“Honestly,” said Gleanant, “your ignorance is astonishing. You’re a Dolnatrid now. They make the strongest silk thread in six galaxies. It supports more weight than titanium and it’s worth thousands of credits a meter.”

“Is this true, Yegholidaar?” asked Armand.

The monotreme clacked his duck-like bill.

“Oh definitely,” he said. “A hundred kilos of Dolnatrid silk would buy you two cloned bodies.”

“But … I don’t know how to make an ounce of it,” said Armand.

“Boss,” said M429, “let me explain a few things.”

During a brief conversation, the spidery android gave him a basic primer in “where Dolnatrid silk comes from.” For once, Armand was grateful he wasn’t human, so he couldn’t throw up.

“OK,” he said. “But I want some privacy. I’ll need a comfortable room and about three-hundred kilos of trelidra leaves.”

“Coming up,” said Gleanant

Armand turned back to Yegholidaar.

“Make sure my body’s first class,” he said. “After I’m done with this … project … I’m gonna need a complete makeover.”

A little over an hour later, Gleanant had completed her work and Armand entered a spacious dome, stacked high inside with baskets full of Dolnatrid trelidra leaves. Meanwhile, M429 consulted with Yegholidaar about Armand’s clone.

“You’ve got me worried,” it said. “Consciousness transference is a risky business. You could end up erasing my boss for good.”

“Risks dog every endeavor,” said the Rulzarian. “But as long as no one interferes, there should be no problem.”

With that, he hurried off to his lab. While M429’s logic circuits accepted Yegholidaar’s reassurances, his agile mind was still troubled. If Gleanant pulled a fast one….

“You forget, I’m telepathic,” said fiery alien AI from behind him.

M429 spun around to defend himself, but it was too late.

“Power down, M,” she said. “Nobody likes a smarty-pants robot.

Armand’s android tried to object, but it was all over. Its status lights went dark and it came to a dead halt.

“Time we moved things along,” whispered Gleanant. Once again, she deflected the flow of Time. But now it was aimed at M429, which crumbled into a pile of corroded metal and burnt out circuitry. Mere minutes later of subjective time, Armand emerged from his dome, exhausted.

“There,” he said. “That took a lot less time than I … Oh no.”

Just then, Yegholidaar returned from his lab, wheeling a humanoid clone on a gurney.

“All ready,” he said. “And faster than I expected. But look, you have the silk ready, too. Well, then, let’s get your consciousness transferred, shall we?”

“But …” said Armand.

“Nothing to worry about,” said the monotreme. “I’ll attach these electrodes and….”

Before he could touch Armand, Gleanant swooped down and attached herself to the mental scanning device. A few moments later, a triumphant cry echoed out of the clone’s mouth.

“Free!” the clone shouted. “I’m free!”

Armand’s heart sank. Not only was he devastated at the thought of living the rest of his life as a sentient arachnid, and distressed by the loss of M429. But the thought of Gleanant roaming free in the universe was a terrifying thought.

He knew he had to find some way to stop her. But how?

“Look at me,” Gleanant shouted in the male clone’s voice. “Nothing can stop me, now that I’m free of that horrible sphere.”

“Excuse me,” said Yegholidaar. “Stop you from what?”

“Ruling the universe!” said Gleanant.

“How?” asked the Ruzarian. “We didn’t encode any extraordinary abilities into your humanoid body. There’s only so much a phenotype like that can do without machines and electronics.”

Gleanant thrust out her new right arm and pointed at M429.

“I’ll show you,” she said. “Dance, you talking trash bin.”

M429 raised its left antenna.

“Thanks,” it said, “but I’d better conserve energy. It’s getting close to charging time.”

“I’ll charge you, Worm,” Gleanant shrieked, and pointed again — to no effect.

“Kind of looks like, no sphere, no power,” said Armand. “I’m stuck like this forever!”

Gleanant stumbled over to Yegholidaar.

““You!” she said. “Zap me back.”

“Oh, no,” said Armand. “No more of your ‘help.’ Put me in the sphere, Yegholidaar.”

The master geneticist waved his hands in the air.

“Absolutely not,” he said. “Organic minds are too fragile to transfer into a machine.”

“But I am a machine mind,” said Gleanant.

“Not anymore,” said Yegholidaar. “The only candidate for transference into that globe is M429. And who knows if their systems are compatible.”

“What do you think?” asked Armand.

“Don’t know as we have a choice, Boss,” said his android assistant.

“Hmm….” said Yegholidaar. “If you’re willing to risk it, we do have the technology. Bring me the sphere and we can begin at once.”

“No!” said Gleanant.

Armand, who’d been a Dolnatrid long enough to become familiar with his new body, leapt forward and bit the unsuspecting humanoid clone on the leg. As he’d hoped, venom flowed out of the fangs at the front of his mouth, and into his one-time “servant.”

“I…I feel faint,” said Gleanant. “How did you … did you … know … about …”

“Lucky guess,” said Armand. who now took pleasure in watching the clone collapse to the ground ─ until a thought crossed his mind. “Didn’t kill her did I?”

“No way, Boss,” said M429. “But let’s do this before she wakes up.”

Armand’s thorax tensed. If Yegholidaar succeeded, would M429 become as power-mad as Gleanant? The Ruzarian connected one end of his device to inputs on the sphere and the other end to M429’s ovoid brain case. After a series of comlink calls to his lab, the device was recalibrated and ready.

“Are you sure about this?” he asked.

“A sure as the square root of Pi,” said M429.

Yegholidaar nodded and entered a few commands into his transference console. The sphere rocked to and fro on the ground and rose into the sky.

“Whoa,” said a hollow version of M429’s voice. “Hey Boss, you wanna be a little taller this time?”

“Just … make me human again,” said Armand, “and get us back to our own time.”’’

“What about Gleanant?” asked M429.

“I know what that monster deserves,” said Armand. “Why don’t you….”

Suddenly, Armand’s mandibles clamped shut, and he lost consciousness. Hours later, he awoke from a deep sleep, after a bizarre web-spinning dream. Without thinking, he stood up on two legs for the first time in days.

“I’m me again!” he shouted. “You even remembered some clothes.”

“That was the hard part,” said M429. “Human fashion is so illogical.”

In full control of the sphere’s astonishing technological array, M429 whisked Armand off Rulzaria and back to the moon he was mining days before. In the nick of time, the spidery android loaded Armand back into his familiar pressure suit and set him down on the moon’s rocky surface. Armand gazed around.

“Where’s Gleanant?” he asked.

“Dropped her off with the species that made her,” said the android. “Let them deal with her … attitude.”

“So now what?” asked Armand.

“Depends,” said M429, “How rich do you want to be?”

“Oh no,” said the human. “I’ve had enough wishes come true. Just change into your old self and let’s forget the whole thing. Are we where we started, in 3067?”

“To the nanosecond, Boss,” said M429.

Armand’s jaw dropped as the bright red sphere fell into a small crater to his right and M429 appeared to his left.

“Great to be back,” said M429.

“Too bad about you losing your unlimited power,” said Armand. “But I think it’s for the best.”

“Whatever you say, Boss,” said the android.

But, as anyone familiar with M-series androids would have known, its status lights were no longer blinking according to spec. Had the android really given up that power? Armand might never find out. Until, that is, the next time he found himself horribly transfigured by idle curiosity.

Mark Laporta is the acclaimed author of the Changing Hearts of Ixdahan Daherek series and the new novel, Probability Shadow, which was published in October by Chickadee Prince Books, available now in paperback or ebook on Amazon, Barnes & Noble or at a bookstore near you. He is also the author of the innovative science fiction noir serial, Insective, which you can read for free in Audere Magazine.

Illustration: Detail of an image by RiccoStange/Pixabay

Discover a universe of alien intrigue and adventure at http://tinyurl.com/ml-sci-fi

September 26 2019

Moonrock, Episode 3: A new Science Fiction serial from Mark Laporta

Chickadee Prince Fiction, Science Fiction # time_dilation, #alien_tech, #androids, #sci-fi, #science_fiction, #space_travel

Editor’s Note: You may start with Episode 1 by clicking here.

When Armand Dubois founded Moonbeam, LLC, he never imagined that, one day, he might be standing, minus his pressure suit, on the surface of Dolnatri 4.

He’d never heard of that world, let alone the sentient arachnids who lived there, in perfect harmony with its lush, nearly pristine ecosystem.

And yet, there he was, with M429 looking on and Gleanant’s chirpy voice ringing through his tormented thoughts.

“There!” said Gleanant. “I hope you don’t mind. Bringing your pressure suit would’ve complicated my calculations. I assumed you’d rather keep all your internal organs in tact.”

“Good call,” said Armand. “Just a little … embarrassing.”

“Flaming galaxies,” said Gleanant. “What is it about you humanoids and self-loathing?”

“Take a closer look, Boss-Lady,” said M429. “The question pretty much answers itself.”

Armand stifled the snappy comeback that popped into his mind. There was, after all, no point in trying to insult an android. Instead he looked up the glowing red sphere that hovered overhead.

“Where’s that rejuvenation pond you promised me?” he asked.

“Ten kilometers due east,” said Gleanant. “Step lively and we should make it there by mid-afternoon.”

“You brought me … what? … fifteen parsecs, so I could walk for hours … like this?” said Armand.

“Goodness, what a whiney little sack of bio-matter you are,” said Gleanant. “I suppose you want a ground car?”

“Yes,” said Armand. “And some clothes. Feels like we’re heading into fall on this planet.”

“Fine,” said Gleanant, whose petulance made Armand wonder at the civilization that would build such a device.

Regardless, minutes later, Gleanant had extruded enough raw materials from the planet’s crust to build a solar-powered flat-bed truck and a blue-grey jumpsuit modeled after an image hovering in Armand’s mind. Soon he was dressed and sitting in the truck’s cabin. His tired eyes gazed up at the rear view mirror to see M429 crawling into the truck’s bed behind him.

“Move out,” said Gleanant. The truck jolted forward. Armand sat back and took in the planet’s unspoiled scenery. A trickle of hope seeped into his mind.

“Beautiful,” he whispered. With any luck, he told himself, he’d soon be restored to his proper age, so he could get on with his life. Ten kilometers later, a large pond came into view, set back into a stand of evergreens.

“Last stop,” said Gleanant. “Now, you’ll have to disrobe again before you enter the pond. I do hope that won’t be too traumatic for you.”

Armand ignored her, rushed out of the truck and peeled off the jumpsuit. As he edged toward the pond, he was surprised to see M429 climb out of the truck and follow him.

“Hey Boss, you sure this is a good idea?” it asked. “I was just thinking….”

“If you’d been thinking,” snapped Armand, “you would’ve talked me out of opening Gleanant’s casing.”

The glowing orb above him grew paler and dipped a bit closer to the ground.

“Now that hurts,” said Gleanant.

“You’re both nuts.” said Armand. “I’m going in.”

Over M429’s repeated protests, the aging human limped over to the pond’s edge and submerged himself in its sky-blue waters. Hours later, he re-emerged, reinvigorated.

“Wow, I feel great!” he shouted. “But how did I ever hold my breath that long?”

M429’s doleful reply caught him off guard.

“Boss,” it said, “I think you should check out your reflection in the pond.”

Just then, a contingent of twelve Dolnatrids crept out of the surrounding forest. Though distinctly arachnid in general terms, Evolution had granted them the power of speech. Gleanant translated their reedy language and piped it into Armand’s mind.

“Welcome, Brother,” they said in unison. “You have been reborn. Let us teach you the ways of your people.”

“My … my people?” asked Armand. He spun around and took M429’s advice. There, reflected in the pond, was his new arachnoid body.

“What have you done to me?” he shouted at Gleanant.

“Rejuvenation,” said the alien AI. “Come on, that’s what you asked for. We both heard you. You’re now a thirty-five-cycle -old Dolnatri. Their average lifespan is five hundred cycles. I’d say that’s a pretty good deal.”

“You didn’t hear me say I wanted to change species, did you?”

“Well, no,” said Gleanant. “OK, minor glitch. But don’t worry, the folks at the Rulzarian Genome Center in the Aleelean Sector should be able to fix you up.”

“I dunno, Boss,” said spidery M429. “Maybe you should quit while you’re ahead. You look pretty good to me.”

Armand wanted to shake his head, but his new anatomy made that impossible.

“Just take me there,” he said. “But this time….”

Before he could complete his thought, the former human was once again whisked across the cosmos by a powerful, if somewhat erratic alien force.

(To be continued: read the next episode here)

Design by Steven S. Drachman, from a photograph from vicariousalex/pixabay

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Discover a universe of alien intrigue and adventure at http://tinyurl.com/ml-sci-fi

September 2 2019

Moonrock, Episode 2: A new Science Fiction serial from Mark Laporta

Chickadee Prince Fiction, Science Fiction # time_dilation, #alien_tech, #androids, #sci-fi, #science_fiction, #space_travel

Editor’s Note: You may start with Episode 1 by clicking here.

The startled contractor’s puzzled expression was masked by the light bouncing off his helmet visor.

“Wha … What’s so funny?” he asked.

The female voice, which he assumed was coming from the glaring red ball that hovered directly overhead, spoke with a decided lilt.

“Sorry,” it said. “I’ve always wanted to say that.”

“Weird sense of humor,” said Armand. “You know, M429 here is fully armed.”

“And completely under my control,” said the voice. “Right M?”

“Sure thing, Boss Lady,” said the android.

“But that’s just a precaution,” said the voice. “I’m known as Gleanant, and I exist to serve you.”

Armand shifted his weight on the moon’s arid surface.

“Why me … Gleanant?” he asked. “I’ve never heard of you.”

“It’s a function of my programming,” said the alien AI. “You released me from my capsule. Therefore I must serve you.”

“M429, are you tracking this?” asked Armand. “I’ve never heard of an activation protocol like that.”

“Beats me,” said the android. “Occasionally, a malfunctioning android that’s essential enough gets reprogrammed to reduce its independence until a replacement arrives.”

“But why leave an android cooped up on a lunar surface for … how long is it, Gleanant?”

The hovering red sphere dimmed for a moment then flared up again.

“Based on your ship’s chronograph,” she said, “I’d say about a thousand cycles. It looks like they forgot about me.”

“Who?” asked Armand. “And where’d they go?”

But as Gleanant explained, there was a gap in her data log.

“Ships have come and gone on this rock forever,” she said. “I must have been knocked around a bit.”

Armand had a sudden urge to scratch his head, until he remembered his helmet.

“OK, well, if you’re serious about serving me,” he said, “can you speed things up around here? I’m way behind schedule on this job.”

Gleanant’s glowing orb burned brighter than ever.

“Right,” she said, “temporal displacement. Coming up.”

“Wait, Boss-Lady….” said M429.

Too late. Armand was overwhelmed by a feeling of un-Earthly calm, which was quickly shattered by the realization that all of his machinery had ground to a halt.

“There,” said Gleanant. “Now tell me which devices you want to operate outside of Time.”

“What?” asked Armand. “How could any … process … do that?”

“Oh my,” said the alien contraption. “At this power level, an explanation would use up more subjective time than I can possibly suspend with my time dam. So which is it? Explanation or work?”

Shaken, Armand opted for work, with the proviso that Gleanant explain herself to M429 later.

“Oh I already get it,” said the spidery android, “and you’re not gonna like it.”

“Don’t be negative,” snapped Gleanant. “Machine interface established.”

Armand stared out at the bizarre ballet of rapidly moving equipment that unfolded in front of him. As if in a stop-action nature film made centuries before he was born, the housing complex he’d been commissioned to build rose up in a comic frenzy. Comic, that is, if it hadn’t also been slightly terrifying.

Nevertheless, the work, when completed looked indistinguishable from normal and, a moment later, Armand experienced a strange sensation in the pit of his stomach.

“Time’s … normal again, isn’t it?” he said.

“You wish,” said M429.

“What my sourpuss of a colleague means,” said the alien android, “is that, of course, I didn’t use magic to get your workload caught up. The Laws of Physics are immutable, now aren’t they?”

“Guess so,” said Armand. “But why do I feel … weird … like my joints are stiffening up?”

“Physics,” said Gleanant. “I can’t make Time disappear. It’s like a big, unstoppable river. All I did was redirect it for a while.”

“To you, Boss,” said M429. “This thing reflected the flow of Time from this moon and bounced it off you. Sensors indicate you just aged forty years.”

“I aim to please,” said Gleanant.

“But … I’m not pleased,” Armand shouted. “I’m seventy-five now. What will my girlfriend say?”

“Guess I should have warned you,” said Gleanant. “My bad, as you humans say.”

“Correction,” said M429. “Humans haven’t said that for over a thousand cycles.”

“What does it even mean?” asked Armand.

“You’ve got bigger problems,” said M429.

“Yeah, like blurry vision,” said Armand. “Well, Gleanant, if you’re supposed to serve me, how about curing me?”

“Kind of ageist, aren’t we?” asked the alien. “What’s wrong? You were going to be older someday anyway. But all right, I’ve dealt with organic vanity before. What you need are the rejuvenation ponds of Dolnatri 4. What do you say?”

“Will they change me back?” asked Armand.

“Let’s find out, shall we?” were the last words the previously bored lunar contractor heard — before everything went black, his organic matter was transformed into tachyons and he was whisked across a vast swath of interstellar space.

(To be Continued – read Episode 3 here)

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Discover a universe of alien intrigue and adventure at http://tinyurl.com/ml-sci-fi

August 28 2019

Moonrock: A New Science Fiction Serial by Mark Laporta

Chickadee Prince Fiction, Science Fiction #alien_tech, #androids, #sci-fi, #science_fiction, #space_travel

Day in and day out, the lunar construction business was a constant grind. Heavy-duty excavators cleared the surface rubble and dug the foundation, according to one of several government-approved templates. Next, teams of servicebots laid down plumbing, electricity, AI interface and a GalaxyNet connection. Finally, work on the super structure and its interior amenities began, supervised by an organic design team.

Armand DuBois ran one such construction concern way out on the fringes of the Tau Ceti galaxy. On a typical work day in 3067, he paused to gaze out over the starry horizon. His mind reeled as he tried to imagine how the engineers behind the first extra-solar construction projects had managed.

Back then, it was said, rudimentary Artificial Intelligence climbed a steep learning curve in each new scenario — despite millions of lines of code and terabytes of archived visual data. Plus, there were no replicators or extruders to help deal with emergency repair.

In a pinch, less vital equipment was cannibalized, and missing components were cobbled together from scraps. That is, until your primary systems seized up or burned out altogether. The alternative was an agonizing wait for a supply drone. Armand shook his head at the thought of how many of those earliest colonists had fallen ill when leaky air valves created a lush environment for airborne microbes.

In his mind, those first missions were Courage in action, taken by people who believed in an ideal. By contrast, his decidedly average construction business, which operated within a cubic light year at most, was just a job. Serving as the sole proprietor of Moonbeam, LLC hardly made him a hero.

But on this particular day, a chance occurrence bumped his destiny up a notch. For once he looked away from the horizon, his eyes came to rest on an unusual surface formation not ten meters from where he stood in his standard, Akimoto pressure suit.

“Weird-looking magma nodule,” he muttered into his helmet.

What Armand didn’t know about geology, let alone exogeology, could have filled fifty volumes of the “Encyclopedia Astronomica,” if the ungainly tome hadn’t ceased publication eight hundred years earlier. Lucky for him, he was just smart enough to know his limitations. Instead of guessing, he called out to one of two supervising AIs he took with him on every job.

“M429, you wanna swing by and take a look at this?” he said

The lithe android, a spidery affair with eight legs, raised its com-tennae and pointed them in his direction.

“Detours from protocol cost money, Boss,” its mellow voice rang out inside Armand’s helmet.

“Yeah, I know,” said Armand. “Get over here anyway. Don’t make me run a diagnostic on you.”

“Promises, promises,” said the AI. A minute later, it had clomped over the moon’s rugged surface to meet him. “I presume you want an analysis of the anomalous nodule to your right.”

“You knew about it?” asked Armand.

“Basically?” said the android. “I see everything. But we have a job to do.”

“’We’ have the job I tell ‘us’ we have,” said Armand. “Right now, ‘our’ job is to deliver an analysis of that nodule.”

“Galaxies, Boss,” said the AI. “I was just pointing out that you need credits to operate this company and some of them go to recharging my power packs and replicating my replacement parts. See why I have a vested interest?”

The human smiled, in spite of himself. It was impossible to stay mad at an android, though he wasn’t a hundred percent sure that was a good thing.

“Long as we understand each other,” he said. “Is the object in question as unusual as it looks?”

“Oh … more so, Boss,” said M429. “There’s a chunk of advanced tech stuck in there that I can’t even describe.”

“Then leave it alone,” said Armand. “Just transmit an image to Central so they can waste their own time on it.”

“Too late,” said M429. “Now that we’ve got its attention, the thing is ordering me to break it out of that nodule.”

“Can’t you say no?” asked Armand, then gasped as the android spun around and blasted the nodule with its forearm-mounted laser.

“Sorry, Boss,” said M429.

Within seconds a small red orb emerged from the rubble of the nodule, rose into the moon’s airless sky swelled to twice its size and emitted a fearsome glow. All thought of reprimand drained from the human’s mind as a snarling female voice echoed inside his helmet.

“You!” it said. “You will serve me or be destroyed.’

“Hey, cut it out, will ya?” said Armand. “You’re breaking my eardrums.”

And to his great surprise, Armand’s helmet filled with eerie, jovial laughter.

(To be continued: read the next episode here)