The Shape of Surrender

Tor’laen leaned back against an empty filing shelf, his muscles aching. It had been a long day.

Mikka did the same, the resealed doorway between the two. After receiving new orders from the Aegis, the Citadel’s forces had hurriedly removed all of the captive women, getting them out to the barracks, which was now a temporary infirmary for Mikka’s soldiers. After that, Tor’laen had muscled the door back into position, and moved to stand guard outside it.

Half a bell later he had been joined by Mikka, her orders issued and delegations made, now left with little to do but guard the laboratory until the Citadel arrived.

Tor’laen had finally taken off his visor, the equipment now attached to his belt. The thing was comfortable, but it was nice to breathe some unfiltered air after the past half day of exertion. Mikka had done the same with her helmet, the device sitting upside down on the carpet by her feet. Both soldiers had opted to switch to simple ear pieces instead.

“Mikka, I have a question,” the Ydani said, breaking the silence.

“A question? Go ahead man, shoot.”

“Why does the Monarchy not allow autonomous weapons?” He glanced at her. “Obviously those drones were dangerous, but so is any firearm. And if we judge by the sheer amount of damage caused, your bombers were much more threatening.”

Mikka was silent a long moment, perhaps considering how best to answer.

“I guess…you could call it a matter of control and escalation,” she said slowly. Reaching up into her fiery red hair, she delicately pulled a hairpin from it. “Have you ever heard of the phrase hairpin maximizer?” She waited until he shook his head. “I figured not. It’s a term our philosophers came up with hundreds of years ago.”

“We don’t have much in the way of philosophy among my people,” Tor’laen replied, shrugging. “Every answer just comes back to survival.”

“We‘ll fix that,” Mikka chuckled. “Soon the Ydani will also have a bunch of boring old-timers who just sit around and discuss useless shit while drinking wine, you’ll see.”

Tor’laen raised an eyebrow at the woman, and she just grinned back at him.

“But yeah, a hairpin maximizer.” She held the small metal clip up for him to see. “Let’s say you fucked around a bunch, and somehow made a true artificial intelligence. And a company gets their mitts on it, and because they wanna make money, of course, they have it run their factory.”

Tor’laen nodded, thus far following along.

“So you put your AI in charge and tell it: make as many hairpins as possible. And, it starts to do so.” Mikka shrugged. “At first it works great, way better than any Zakkili — or Ydani — could hope to. Awesome, great. But remember, it’s a machine. It doesn’t think like you or me. It doesn’t know what reasonable limits are. All it cares about is making more hairpins.” She gestured, emphasizing each word.

“And then, it realizes — if it took over the neighboring factory, it could make even more hairpins. So, it hacks their systems, converts their equipment to make more pins, and locks the workers out.”

“But that would be illegal, would it not?” Tor’laen asked.

“Course it would be,” Mikka scoffed. “But it’s an AI, it doesn’t care about laws. Only about logic. The end result,” she continued. “But the company owners do care about laws. So, they send in people to shut down the AI. Now that would definitely hurt its ability to make hairpins, so what does the thing do?”

Tor’laen gave her a look, not liking the direction the story was going.

“It defends itself, of course.” Mikka gave a grim chuckle. “The workers would hurt its bottom line, so it gets rid of them.”

She drew a thumb across her throat.

“Now the AI can come to a couple conclusions. First, the more land and infrastructure it controls, the more hairpins it can make. Second, people might try to stop it or turn it off, so people gotta go. Assume the thing is smart enough and has access to enough resources, and eventually you end up with an entire planet, devoid of life, focused entirely on making fucking hairpins.”

She folded her arms.

“And why stop there? We made it to the empyrean, so why couldn’t the AI? Wait long enough, and you have the entire galaxy, wiped clean of organic life and repurposed to make hairpins that no one will ever fucking use.”

Mikka flicked the small pin at the Ydani, and it bounced off his forehead.

“But that is just a theory, is it not?” Tor’laen asked, his brow furrowed.

“Oh, no, it happened before,” Mikka said lightly. “Not with fucking hairpins of course, but the idea was close enough.”

Tor’laen simply stared at the woman.

“It was a couple hundred years ago, if I remember my history lessons right.” The woman scratched at her sweaty hair. “There was a society, kind of a similar situation to the Ydani, come to think of it. They knew about the Zakkili, and were ridiculously scared of us while we didn’t even know they fucking existed.”

“From what we can tell, this race had true AI, or at least something close enough, and they were so scared that they actually turned it loose, and gave it access to everything. At some point it must have decided that its own creators were hampering its job to defend against the Zakkili, so it nearly wiped them out.” Mikka shook her head. “By the time we discovered them, something like ninety-five percent of all life on the planet had been exterminated, and the entire landmass was nothing but fortifications, weapon emplacements, and armament factories.”

“What happened?”

“We found the AI in the process of constructing orbital defenses and combat ships. Maybe getting ready to take the fight to us, I dunno.” She shrugged. “Couldn’t let that happen. It was one of only three times we’ve had to crack a planet in the Monarchy’s entire history. Blown to fucking pieces.”

She fell silent, her usual smile gone from her face, and Tor’laen could only sit there, contemplating the horror. Had his people narrowly avoided a similar fate? How far did survival go before it started consuming the lives it was meant to preserve?

“So yeah, as I said — weapons aren’t supposed to think for themselves,” Mikka said. “Because when they do, they start coming to some bad fucking conclusions.” She jerked her chin in the direction of the courtyard. “Those drones out there probably weren’t true AI, but they were close enough to the line that everyone involved probably won’t be keeping their heads on their damn necks.”

Tor’laen wasn’t sure how to respond to that, but he was saved by a voice in his earpiece.

“Heads up, LT. The Crown Daughter just landed in the complex.”

“Acknowledged.” Mikka stood up, Tor’laen following suit. “Let’s look a bit like professionals for the boss lady, yeah?” She picked up her helmet and tucked it under her arm.

They stood rigid for a mark, awaiting the coming of the Crown Daughter. Tor’laen felt her arrival before he saw her, their Bridge coming alive as she drew close.

Immediately, her thoughts rushed toward him, only stopping short when they reached the edge of his mind. She was being rather considerate. The thought popped unbidden into his mind, and he realized that she was waiting for his reaction.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to NovelPhoenix for the genuine story.

He coaxed her in.

After the horrors he had seen that day, experienced that day, Nalyra’s mental touch felt far more of a comfort than an intrusion.

Still, her touch on his mind was gentle, measured. Like the psychic equivalent of looking him over for injuries, her thoughts lightly brushed his, checking to see if he was unhurt.

I am whole, Nalyra, he pushed his thoughts toward their Bridge.

That you are, Tor’laen. You’ll forgive my worrying, yes?

Your mind feels exhausted, Crown Daughter. Are you whole?

It has been a…trying day, consort. We shall speak of it more, later.

Nalyra physically entered the room, flanked by Vessa. Mikka snapped off a lazy salute, while Tor’laen gave a proper one. The Crown Daughter briefly caught Tor’laen’s gaze, much passing between them in an instant.

Tor’laen did not miss the shift that had happened. When had his serenity become tied up in her safety and proximity? Perhaps it did not matter. They were bound together, but it did not concern him as it maybe should.

“Mikka. Commendable work.” Nalyra stopped in front of the two soldiers.

“Just tried to do what I’m good at, Nalyra,” Mikka replied. “Can’t say I’m happy with the results.”

“You performed as well as can be expected under the circumstances, Mikka,” Vessa added. “You could not have foreseen the autonomous weapons.”

“Maybe, but saying that won’t bring back Kollit, Silev, Pella, or Falil.” Mikka’s face was grim.

“They will be remembered, Mikka,” Nalyra said solemnly. “Their names will join the others on the wall. I shall have the crew locate their next-of-kin after this matter is settled.”

“Thank you, Crown Daughter.” Mikka bowed her head slightly.

“Now, as much as I hate to stack one dreadful task on top of another, we must contend with what is contained in this illicit laboratory.” Her gaze went to her consort. “Tor’laen, if you would.”

The Ydani nodded, and moved to the formerly hidden doorway. It still took a decent effort, but far less compared to earlier. Opening the door by force must have permanently damaged whatever mechanism controlled it.

The group of four descended into the hidden room once more. This time the hard concrete walls and floor were illuminated by harsh fluorescent lighting, Mikka having discovered the light controls before they sealed the room.

Nalyra bade the two other women and her consort to remain in the middle of the room, while she started to examine the documents and tablets on the desks. Tor’laen could feel her tension winding over their Bridge, mixed with a mounting feeling of dread building within.

After almost ten full marks of searching, Nalyra went still, staring down at a tablet in her hand.

“It is as I feared,” she said quietly. “Mikka, has this room been swept for hidden recording devices?”

“We did a rough sweep, but…” The Lieutenant Commander donned her helmet once more, tapping on the control panel on the side, cycling through the different scanning modes it offered. “Other than the lights and electric lines, nothing else in the room is powered.”

“Good.” Nalyra nodded, as Mikka removed her helmet.

The Crown Daughter approached her waiting companions, looking them over.

“What is this all about, Nalyra?” Vessa asked softly. “What is going on?”

Nalyra paused for a long moment, her eyes closed. Tor’laen could feel a sliver of her apprehension.

“I will tell you,” she started slowly, catching each of their gazes in turn. “However, before I do, I must Press all of you into compelled secrecy.”

“Press us?” Mikka’s tone was incredulous. “Are you joking, Nalyra?”

“I am not,” the Crown Daughter replied solemnly. “Believe me, I would trust each of you with my life.” She took a deep breath. “But what I am about to tell you could cause untold chaos across the breadth of the Monarchy were it to leak out. I know every one of you would never purposefully betray my trust but…an unconscious slip, a stray thought, even the possibility of one of you getting Delved…there is simply too much at stake.”

“It will prevent us from being Delved?” Tor’laen asked, surprised.

“My Press will seal the information within your minds. Even if another Delves into your mind, they would have to be as mentally strong as a Crown Daughter to pull it from you.”

“I see.”

Silence stretched between them for a few breaths.

“Understood.” Vessa was the one who broke it. “Do what you must, Nalyra.”

Tor’laen and Mikka nodded their agreement as well.

“Thank you. Vessa, Mikka, Tor’laen,” Nalyra said solemnly.

She moved down the line, laying her fingers on Vessa’s forehead for a few moments, then Mikka’s. When she reached Tor’laen, he knelt down to allow her to reach his forehead. Nalyra reached forward, then hesitated, her fingers inches from him. She caught his gaze, and he nodded slightly. Her fingertips brushed his skin, her touch warm.

Her mind slipped into his head once more.

Like she had before, it felt as though she was cupping his entire mind within her hands. Her touch was gentle this time, almost a caress. Nalyra’s thoughts whispered directly into his core.

Reveal not of what you learn in this room, save to those of true Royal blood.

Allow no idle thoughts of these matters to escape you.

Let none pull the knowledge from your mind.

His mind shivered at her power, but there was no backlash this time. His body did not rebel at the commands, and he did not tremble or collapse. After another breath, Nalyra slowly withdrew from his mind, leaving just the lingering sensation of her thoughts.

It seemed that trusting the one Pressing you made quite the difference.

Tor’laen opened his eye to meet Nalyra’s gaze.

“It is done,” she said quietly.

“Damn,” Mikka said mildly, stretching. “It’s been a long fucking time since I got Pressed that way. Almost forgot what it felt like.” She rolled her shoulders. “Now, what’s this big damned secret?”

Nalyra didn’t reply immediately, instead starting to pace back and forth in front of them, her brow furrowed.

“Tor’laen,” she said suddenly, continuing to pace. “When you were brought before the Queen, what were your first thoughts upon seeing her?”

The Ydani blinked a bit in surprise. He tried to think back. Most of his memories around that particular time were blurry, save for the Burn of his new language, so it took him a moment.

The Queen…she had been much larger than he had expected. His first thoughts…was it not the word for “huge” in Ydanic? He could not remember the word, but the meaning remained.

However, it wasn’t exactly a proper reaction to royalty.

“Speak freely, consort.”

Nalyra’s voice jolted him out of his memories. Perhaps some of it had bled out.

“I remember being surprised at her size,” he said softly. “All of our intel on Zakkili — none indicated that one of your race could grow that large.”

“A reasonable reaction.” Nalyra nodded, still pacing. “Mikka, Vessa, did you never think it odd that my mother is so far removed from me, as far as stature is concerned?”

“I mean, that’s because she’s the Queen Matriarch, right?” asked Mikka. “She was chosen by the Maker, yeah?” Vessa nodded in agreement.

“My mother was shorter than I am now, until the measure after my tenth birthday,” Nalyra said quietly. Tension settled over the room like a thick blanket. Nalyra continued to pace. “When my grandmother passed, my mother was chosen from among her surviving sisters, the other Crown Daughters of that generation. Chosen to ascend.”

“Ascend?” Vessa asked.

“In ages past, before our people reached the empyrean, there was a phenomenon among the Zakkili,” Nalyra explained slowly. “When a woman of sufficient age was acknowledged by enough of her community, a certain psychic resonance would occur, leading to a gene inside her becoming active. The Matriarch gene, they called it. The woman would grow, nearly doubling her size, and her mental powers would swell to match. She would become a beacon to her community, a natural leader and psychic protector.”

Tor’laen and the two other women were silent, nearly dumbfounded by the revelation unfolding in front of them.

“However, once we were able to travel the stars, a change needed to be made. Were Matriarchs allowed to naturally manifest, our people would never achieve peaceful unity. Every planet, every fleet, every colony would produce its own Matriarch, and true consensus would become impossible.” Nalyra shook her head. “So before we colonized other worlds, the leaders of our people genetically modified every living Zakkili woman, and through them, every daughter yet to be born. I believe they presented it as a vaccine of some sort. But after they were done, the Matriarch gene was dormant across our entire race. The only Matriarch allowed to exist would be our one, true, unrivaled ruler. The Queen Matriarch.”

Her words were met with stunned silence for a few breaths, before Mikka spoke up.

“So wait, you’re telling me this gene is in all of us?” she asked incredulously, before glancing up at Tor’laen. “Well, almost all of us. Sorry, big guy.”

The Ydani rolled his eye at her.

“Jokes aside, yes, Mikka,” Nalyra sighed at the irrepressible woman. “The gene is present in all Zakkili women, but completely dormant. The secret of activating it, as well as its existence in general, is a royally kept secret, the method known only to the geneticists of the High Fortress.”

That caused Vessa to stiffen, her gaze flying to the operating tables and lab equipment in the room.

“Then this is…?”

“Yes, Vessa.” Nalyra finally stopped pacing. “This is a facility dedicated to illicitly uncovering the method of activating the Matriarch gene.”