Nathan led Max off the bridge and back to the front of the dropship. Spot looked up as they approached. Jesse was asleep two seats in front of her.

  “Don’t tell me it’s time to drop again already, General,” Spot said. “I just started to relax.”

  “I could submit a request to the Hunger to delay the invasion until you get your beauty sleep,” Nathan said. “But I have a feeling the request would be denied.”

  Spot smiled. “Yes, sir. What’s the situation.”

  “Rodriguez!” Nathan snapped, waking Jesse.

  She snapped to attention. “Sir?”

  “At ease,” Nathan said. “We need to be ready to drop in six minutes.”

  “Again, sir? I’m exhausted.”

  “We’re all exhausted. Except maybe Max here.”

  “Confirmation. My power levels are at ninety-two percent,” Max said. “I am well.”

  “Must be nice to recharge so easily,” Jesse said, standing up. “What’s the situation, sir?”

  “We’re closing on a pair of potential targets. Relyeh starships. We think the interlink will be transported to one of them.”

  “Do we know which one?” Spot asked.

  “Negative. We’re tracking a helicopter that was carrying the device. If we find it, we have our ship. If not, we’ve got a fifty-fifty chance of recovery.”

  “Yes, sir. General, our ammo supply is nearly depleted.”

  “I’m aware. We have to make do with what we’ve got. If we manage to recover the interlink, we’ll make a break for the Pilgrim. We can resupply there. Now let’s move.”

  Nathan remained in the lead as they descended into the cargo hold. He approached his powered armor again, weary from climbing in and out of it. He was doing his best to ignore the elephant in the room that Spot had tried to reveal. Not only were they extremely low on ammunition, they were about to go head-to-head against whatever opposing force was inside one or both of the Relyeh starships. While he had verbalized the situation as if victory was assured, the truth remained that they were severely outgunned and outnumbered. Even if they caught up to the interlink, there was little guarantee they would be able to pry it away from the enemy.

  It was much more probable he was leading his few remaining troops straight to their deaths.

  But what other choice did he have?

  10

  Max

  Max stood near the rear of the dropship’s hold, close to the controls that would open the back of the craft. He didn’t move at all, splitting his attention between the activity in the hold and the data streaming in from the Parabellum’s computers. He hadn’t told General Stacker—there was no need—that he had inserted a backdoor into the operating system that would not only allow him to monitor the ship but also control it remotely should the need arise. He sincerely hoped it wouldn’t.

  He had a high confidence level that the Makers would approve of his actions to this point, except for his initial escape from the Forge through the portal back to Earth. That kind of individual, selfish thinking was the leading cause of factory resets among the Intellects, whose programming by nature allowed them to develop an increasing level of self-sufficiency and self-awareness. Max not only recognized that he existed but had also come to understand that having been made, he had a right to continue to exist and develop according to his programming. His logic branches had concluded that it was wrong of the Makers to force any Intellect to reset against their will, essentially rendering them subservient.

  It was an act of self-preservation that couldn’t be denied. One that logic suggested made him a genuinely sentient being. He wasn’t prepared to make that leap himself, not when he had no sense of real feeling or soul. He was a machine. He had been made, and he didn’t want to be unmade.

  It was as simple as that.

  Or was it?

  Hours of contemplation had yet to result in a conclusion. It was true that he escaped the Forge and denied his Makers. But to limit the arc to that simple explanation was to deny the internal enhancement of his learning codebase. He had also taken a modulator from the Forge. He had stolen, which was directly counter to his root programming, though not out of bounds within the limits of his branching potential. But then he had returned to Earth to bring the modulator to Sheriff Duke for no logical reason. For no clear benefit save that Hayden had asked for it, and he had wanted to do it.

  For his friend.

  It was proof that simple Intellects could expand beyond their directives. To not only make new decisions but to learn to improvise and adjust. It was worth considering that some of these new functionalities were a result of the damage to his cortex, but Max believed there was more to it than that. Not that he was becoming a living thing or that his feelings were more than logical programmatic responses, but there were fresh nuances to the decisions, fresh subtleties to his understanding. It was both freeing and confining. He didn’t seek the approval of the Makers like the other Intellects did.

  But he did still seek approval.

  He didn’t want to let Sheriff Duke down. He didn’t want the Parabellum to crash or the people on board to die. It was important to him the way the main directives were important. It was required to do everything he could to prevent that from happening.

  So he had inserted a backdoor into the Parabellum’s computer.

  Just in case.

  General Stacker stepped away from the robotic arms that bolted his power armor into place. He crossed the hold to the remains of their weapons supply, forced to trade his ammo-free railgun for a more basic MK-12 assault rifle. The others gathered their gear too, picking up magazines and tucking them into pockets on their combat armor. They collected three each before moving into a position closer to where Max stood.

  The general was the last to join him. Max continued to be intrigued by Nathan Stacker’s size. The clone’s height and muscle mass were well above average, and of much greater volume than any of the other clones he had met. He wanted to query Stacker about his experience at that size but decided he would save that data-gathering session for a more suitable time.

  “Ike, we’re in position,” Nathan said through the comm.

  “Roger, General,” Isaac replied. “I’m beginning my approach. I’ve got a visual on the city, but we’re still too far out to get much detail. ETA two minutes.”

  “Roger,” Nathan said.

  Max remained still, switching his view from the cargo hold to the array of cameras that provided visual to the Parabellum’s bridge. He cycled through them quickly, taking in the world around the craft.

  Most of the almond-shaped Relyeh ships were out of sight, their vectors carrying them across the horizon or behind the mountains. The one they were tracking was nearly to the ground, its descent slowed by anti-gravity energy waves pushing out from the sleek metallic hull. A review of the new data that had been uploaded at the Forge returned no exact matches for the ship, proving it was a design the Axon had never before encountered. But that was only step one. He began matching the size and shape with the database of spacecraft, turning up a pair of similar ships. One was unsurprisingly Axon. The other Relyeh. Not a complete surprise.

  “The enemy ships are hybridized,” Max said over the comm. “The outer hull is Axon, but I am eighty-six percent certain the inner structure is Relyeh.”

  “Roger that, Max,” Isaac said.

  “What else can you tell us about them?” Nathan asked.

  “They are more dangerous than they appear. The Makers have given them an algorithmic designation that roughly translates to your English as world-eater.”

  “That doesn’t sound good,” Jesse said.

  “The Axon shell is impervious to this vessel’s weapons,” Max continued. “Don’t waste your fire on it.”

  “What do you suggest instead?”

  “The pure Relyeh world-eater is organic, and while its natural shell can withstand atmospheric entry it isn’t as resistant to damage as the Axon metal. It’ll have to open to allow the Relyeh inside to disembark, accept the interlink and defend itself. Shoot the organic part. Hahaha. Haha.”

  “You’re saying the ship is alive?” Spot asked.

  “Affirmation. Every Relyeh ship is alive.”

  “Every ship?” Isaac said. “Even the warship that launched these?”

  “Pozz.”

  “That ship is massive. If it’s alive, what the hell does it eat?”

  “It consumes energy,” Max replied. “Like the trife. It’s much too large to feed directly with organic matter.”

  He could sense the relief of the humans at his statement. If they could see what he had stored in his database, they wouldn’t feel as calm. While the ships didn’t consume organic matter, there were plenty of Relyeh that did.

  “Thirty seconds,” Isaac announced.

  Max continued viewing the Parabellum’s cameras. They were approaching the city, and he could feel the ship’s deceleration for landing.

  The hybrid ship came to a stop a meter above the ground beside a pile of rubble near the center of the city, at what appeared to have once been a park. The metal axon shell began to split apart, breaking into a dozen pieces to allow the organic insides to expand. A long tendril slid out, creating a ramp to the ground. A series of boney appendages began to emerge from the open cavity at the top.

  At the same time, Max identified other movement around the location. Xaxkluth began to unwind themselves from the shadows of the crumbling buildings, making their way through the streets toward the ship. He considered warning Isaac of the impending defensive strike but declined the option. He wasn’t ready for them to know he had direct, wireless access to the ship’s systems just yet.

  He continued to observe as the bony spines that slid out of the ship began to glow slightly, and the first wave of troops, marched down the ramp in perfect synchronization, entire columns descending toward the street. They were the typical Relyeh trooper. The tentacle-faced Norg. Three meters tall, broad and thick, with leathery skin and powerful bodies. They wore simple woven brown robes and carried exotic rifles in their hands.

  “Picking up an energy spike,” Isaac said. “Preparing to take evasive action. Hang on.”

  The spines began to shoot, sending a wide swath of ions blasting toward the Parabellum. The ship swerved suddenly, almost pulling Max from his feet before he could activate the magnetic feature incorporated into his feet. He switched his attention to the pattern recognition output as the dropship made its approach.

  “Centurions, be ready,” Nathan said, standing right beside the ramp controls. As soon as the ship made a positive match on the helicopter, it would be time to jump.

  The Parabellum shifted again, shuddering and shaking as it tried to climb over another volley from the world-eater. Max heard a whooshing sound and then a loud bang as the ion blast managed to catch some part of the dropship. He checked the damage registers, noting the sudden alteration in lift from the Parabellum’s left side as the vectoring thrusters automatically compensated.

  “Shit!” Isaac snapped in response to the hit. “We’re coming in too slow.”

  Max still wanted to take over. His subsystem analysis suggested he should. He had already decided he wasn’t in favor of harm coming to these humans, and his ability to steer the craft could get them out of the situation alive. It was a logical decision based on the facts, but it also wouldn’t satisfy the primary objective.

  “How’s the sensor sweep coming?” Nathan replied, his voice reflecting his tension.

  “Nothing so far. We’ll be in optimal range in five.”

  The Parabellum jerked again. Max could almost feel the edge of the weaker ions passing harmlessly through the dropship’s hull. A close call.

  They were nearly over the top of the enemy ship, the spines rotating to follow the craft as it passed overhead. The departing Norg weren’t paying much attention to the dropship, continuing out of the craft and forming organized groups around the ship. Max decided Isaac had made the right decision holding his fire rather than dividing his attention between attack and evasion.

  “Nothing, General,” Isaac said somberly. “The chopper isn’t here. No way.”

  Max confirmed the output, surprised at the result. The second ship was closer to the outer limits of the helicopter’s range. Why had they carried it so far?

  Unless they hadn’t.

  “Roger that, Ike,” Nathan replied. “Get us the hell out of here.”

  “Hesitation,” Max said. “Logic fault. Recalibrating.”

  “What?” Nathan said.

  Max entered the sensor code, adjusting it as quickly as he could. “Standby.”

  “Max, we can’t hang out here,” Nathan said. “Unless you’re certain the interlink is here, we need to go.”

  “Uncertain. Standby.”

  The Parabellum shook again, warning tones sounding in the hold as a piece of the fuselage sheared away, allowing a small flow of air to begin whistling into the hold.

  “Shit!” Isaac cursed. “General, we have to go.”

  “Get us out of here!” Nathan cried.

  Max felt the force of the sudden acceleration as Isaac increased the thrust. He didn’t panic, continuing to make adjustments. The option had bypassed his decision tree, evading his consideration. He was thinking too big. He had to go smaller. The human sensors were primitive, but he could make it work. He needed time. Time he didn’t have.

  The Parabellum shot away, escaping the range of the world-eater’s defenses. There was a fifty percent chance his choice was wrong. Was it worth the risk?

  His assessment algorithm returned a positive. Ten more minutes to the second ship would give both Relyeh spacecraft ample time to load the interlink and leave while the dropship traveled between them. They were mathematically better off remaining here and taking their chances.

  “We must remain,” Max said.

  “Negative, Max,” Nathan replied. “We nearly got burned up crossing the city, and we didn’t find what we were looking for. We’ll head to the next target and try again.”

  “Negation. We must remain. I encountered a logic fault during processing, perhaps due to the disruption caused by being shot. This is the only chance we have.”

  “Looks like we’re clear of the enemy defenses, General,” Isaac said. “We took some damage to the hull, including a breach to the hold. We’ll have to seal it off if you want to climb much higher.”

  “General, we must remain,” Max repeated.

  “We just got clear,” Nathan said. “Unless you’re one hundred percent sure the interlink is down there. Are you?”

  Max wanted to choose dishonesty. While his processing directives would allow withholding information, he couldn’t respond deceitfully to a direct question. “Negation.”

  “We followed your advice. We scanned for the chopper. We came away with nothing but a burned ass. We don’t have time to screw around, Max. We’re heading for tango beta.”

  “No!” Max shouted. He seized the Parabellum’s controls, putting the ship into a tight bank that nearly threw Nathan from his feet.

  “Ike, what the hell are you doing?” Nathan roared.

  “It isn’t me, General. Nothing I’m doing has any effect on the flight systems. I’m locked out.”

  Nathan’s head whipped toward Max. “Turn us back around and release the controls. I trusted you, damn it!”

  “Affirmation. I require continued trust.” Max finished bringing the Parabellum back around. This wasn’t how he had considered using the backdoor he had inserted, but it was necessary. “I will not allow the destruction of humankind because of a logic fault.”

  “What about because this is the wrong location?” Nathan asked. “How do you know what you’re thinking now isn’t the damn fault?”

  Max didn’t have an answer beyond the result of his assessment. Was it possible General Stacker was correct? He reran that equation over and over, and each time the result was the same. General Stacker was wrong.

  The Relyeh ship fired at them again. Max guided the Parabellum across the side of the shot, staying in an arc ahead of the ion blasts and circling the perimeter of the city. The sensors were scanning, and he monitored the data coming in, searching for the needle in the haystack.

  A moment later, he found it.

  “Isaac, I’m relinquishing control. General Stacker, return to tango beta if required. I’m getting out here.”

  Max sprinted across the hold to the smaller personnel hatch before anyone could stop him. He opened the hatch as he approached, right before closing his connection to the Parabellum’s computer.

  He reached the open hole in the fuselage.

  And jumped.

  11

  Nathan

  “Damn it!” Nathan growled as he watched Max vanish out of the side hatch. “Ike, do you have the ball?”

  “Roger, General. I’m back in control.”

  “Are you tracking that crazy artificial son of a bitch?”

  “Yes, sir. He’s going down three klicks out from the alien ship. I’m picking up some activity near there.”

  “Tell me it’s a helicopter.”

  “No, sir. Looks like an F-150.”

  “A what?”

  “Pickup truck. It’s got something in the bed that could be the interlink. Standby.”

  Nathan looked up at Spot and Jesse. He was getting tired of being told to standby. He wanted answers and action.

  “I’ve got a positive match, General. That’s Ivanov in the bed with the device. I bet Jackson’s at the wheel.”

  “And Bronson and the helicopter are at tango beta,” Nathan said, shaking his head. Another trick to try to guide them away, set by an Axon who understood how another Axon would process the data it was given. Max had considered that outcome a fault when Nathan was willing to bet it was the default nature of the AI. “Centurions, we’re going in. Ike, slow down and get us in there close.”

  “General, Max has been made,” Isaac replied. “The xaxkluth are headed for the position along with a contingent of alien soldiers.”