Chapter 1 (Vanguard)

Six Months Later

David Mercer landed his Skyline VTOL on the small landing pad just outside the gate. The late January weather appeared to have been particularly wintry in the previous weeks; a thick blanket of snow veiled the ground and curtained the trees as far as the eye could see. The beauty of the Alaskan scene was matched only by its rarity. Decades of global warming had taken their toll on the planet and it wasn’t just confined to North America. On the contrary, the largest growing population in the world now resided in Antarctica’s north-western peninsula.

Mercer lingered on the platform for a few moments and soaked in the serenity of his surroundings. He could see why Wright made his retreat here. The natural landscape had an allure not usually found and if you were shopping for seclusion you’d be hard-pressed to find a better location. He had to wonder if that seclusion had anything to do with Wright’s request to have their meeting here. It almost certainly did, he thought.

Just beyond the gate rested the headquarters of the admiral’s retreat, a three story cedar cabin nestled into the crease of two joining hills as if it had been planted there. Mercer followed the stone path up the hillside to the window-infused doorway and knocked sharply. The door immediately flung open and the admiral greeted him with an amicable smile. The two shook hands firmly and retreated to the warmth inside.

A collection of photographs, the majority military and career oriented, lined the entryway. The most recent addition showed a holographic image of the stoic admiral, wearing full military formal dress, standing on the command deck of a ship.

The admiral had sharp, angular features that complimented his short and wiry frame, deep gray eyes and matching neatly trimmed hair, cropped in the decades-old military fashion. At fifty-three, he was twenty-one years Mercer’s senior, but despite their age difference both men projected an aura of confidence and physical fitness typical of military lifers.

A few minutes later Mercer took a seat on the L-shaped couch in the admiral’s den and happily accepted a beer from his old friend.

“Thanks for coming, Commander,” acknowledged Wright. “I know it’s a bit out of the way.”

“It’s my pleasure, Admiral.” Mercer sighed. “And I think it’s just David now.”

Wright nodded. “I’m still going to have to get used to that.”

“You and me both,” Mercer admitted. He glanced out the wall of windows, running the full length of the cabin’s second story, and added, “Quite the place you’ve got here.”

“It’s not for sale,” said Wright.

The first ‘rich guy’ joke of the day, thought Mercer. They happened to be a common occurrence for him now, especially from his old military buddies. Something in human nature appreciated knocking the wealthy down a peg or two—not that Mercer minded. He saw those comments as a sort of a pre-emptive strike against the potential rise of his ego, all part of his strategic plan to avoid becoming like his father.

“Doubt I could afford it anyway.”

Wright smiled wistfully. “The property’s been in the family for over a hundred years,” he explained. “My grandfather bought it for next-to-nothing, now it’s worth a small fortune.”

“Not so small,” Mercer mused, leaning back into the couch.

Wright shrugged his shoulders indifferently. “Speaking of fortunes.” He motioned toward Mercer. “How’s the luxurious life treating you?”

“Not exactly my area expertise,” he confessed. “Soft beds, warm meals, and a full night’s rest every night … not sure how to cope.”

The admiral laughed earnestly. “Yeah it’s rough.” He paused. “Though I’m sure it’s given you the opportunity to get back to your true calling.”

Mercer looked at him quizzically. He knew what the admiral was referring to but his phrasing seemed generous. When Mercer had finally cut ties with his father, he moved to join the military as a science officer—a fairly guaranteed endeavor considering he held a PhD nanoscience—however his family’s billionaire patriarch ensured that didn’t happen. In response, Mercer transferred his commission within the Navy to a combat specific role, a move his father had not seen coming.

“Disappointed?” Mercer asked.

“What, that you’re no longer in the service?”

Mercer nodded.

“Hell, from a command perspective: you’re damn right.” Wright extended his arm and pointed at him. “You’re a great operative, David. Decisive, smart, inventive. Maybe one of the best. And in these times of mechanized militaries, that’s doubly rare.” He paused, choosing his next words with care. “But from a friend’s perspective, I think you did the right thing. I’m happy for you. You were never really cut out for military life. It’s not because you’re too smart and don’t abide ignorant superiors well—which is true—but because it was a waste of your potential. Everyone, including you, could see that. You may not want to admit it.” Wright locked eyes with him. “But you were cornered into the life.” The admiral relaxed, leaning back into the couch with a small smile on his face. “And you had the audacity to finish out your commission with a billion credits sitting in the bank.” He laughed, still amazed at the thought. “Most men would have cashed out right then and there.”

“Not you,” said Mercer emphatically.

“Hmm, maybe,” said Wright half-heartily. “Maybe not.”

“Thanks, Admiral. I appreciate your honesty.” He nodded toward his host. “And what about you, still fighting the good fight?” he asked, signaling that he no longer wanted to be the subject of their conversation.

“Actually that’s the reason I asked you here.” The admiral’s tone turned serious. “I’ve got a bit of a problem and somehow you and your company are connected to it.”

Mercer raised his eyebrows questioningly. “Oh?”

Wright sighed, his gaze drifting off into the distance. After a few seconds he looked back to Mercer with troubled eyes. “Three weeks ago an entity broke into the UAFSOC database and retrieved copies of all your records and the records of everyone you’d been in contact with during your time in service.” He paused for a moment to let the reality of his words sink in. “At the same time there was a breach in UDOMI that led to classified files on… some of Apex Industries’ earlier years. Both were undoubtedly network intrusions.”

Technically speaking, the admiral sounded insane. If Mercer hadn’t known the man for as long as he had, he might’ve thought he was toying with him. The UAFSOC and UDOMI—Union Armed Forces Special Operations Command and Union Department of Military Intelligence, respectively—databases were protected by the most advanced military-grade quantum security systems available. They were quite literally impossible to breach. Theoretically, the only way such a feat could be accomplished was by an artificial intelligence with comparable quantum computing power. And an AI with that much raw processing power would be inconceivable to our puny human intellects—godlike.

The thought of such an AI in existence terrified Mercer. He knew better than most the potential implications. Such constructs were highly illegal and for good reason, though it wasn’t simply the law that halted their development. Modern day AIs were constrained by their very method of creation, thus the title: constrained artificial intelligence. Each CAI in existence had been created using the neural pathways of a human brain as the basis for their construct and a human brain, even an advanced replica of one, couldn’t come close to being able to handle that much information. So the real question was: did someone figure out how to bypass that limitation? And if so, why would they risk creating an AI so far beyond that limitation? Anyone brilliant enough to cross that boundary would be well aware of the natural inconceivability of the new intelligence. It didn’t make sense. It would be like sending someone to Mars on the first rocket ever launched, completely unnecessary.

Mercer looked up from the floor, where his gaze had been fixed for the last minute, to see the admiral watching him intently.

“If it really was a network breach…” Mercer slowly shook his head; he could hardly bring himself to accept it. “You said an ‘entity’ bypassed the security, was there any proof of a constructs involvement, aside from the technical necessity?”

Wright momentarily allowed a crooked grin of satisfaction. It was an expression Mercer had seen before, one the admiral displayed when he had successfully made a point or proven someone wrong.

“There was,” he answered. “A message.” The admiral’s previous gloomy countenance returned in force. “Death is coming. The truth must be revealed.”

There was a long pause of silence. Finally Mercer hunched forward and let out a heavy sigh. “Death is coming, the truth must be revealed…” His words were soft and quiet and spoken more to himself than the admiral. The admiral seemed to be aware of this and said nothing as Mercer contemplated.

Mercer had heard those two phrases used together before and recently. They had been used as the label for a data-stream he had received a few days ago. He had thought it unimportant, just another poor attempt at getting him to stream into a virtual store or overrated vid. Now he wasn’t so sure.

He looked back to the admiral and filled him in.

Wright looked shocked. “What, those words exactly? Where did it stream you to?” he asked hastily.

“I don’t know. I didn’t open it. Before all this, would you have?”

The admiral nodded, if reluctantly. He glanced out the windows then suddenly perked up. “Can you access it now?”

“Not from here. It was sent to my company address and that can only be accessed from an Apex networked station.” He paused. “Speaking of Apex…” Mercer caught the admiral’s attention. “Why would UDOMI have classified data on the company?”

Wright shook his head. “I don’t know. I tried looking into that myself but I kept running into walls that shouldn’t have been there.”

“You think someone’s working behind the scenes?” Mercer asked. “I’d almost prefer that option to the other,” he added earnestly.

The admiral ran a hand roughly through his hair. “I think both possibilities have to be treated as legitimate threats even if the evidence is circumstantial at best.”

Mercer knew the admiral was right. They couldn’t take the risk that one possibility explained the other. Both had to be independently considered and pursued with diligence and, more importantly, discretion.

“To be honest, I’m surprised you’re having this conversation with me, Admiral. The breaches were both connected to me,” he pointed out honestly.

The admiral studied him for a long moment then softly cleared his throat. “I won’t lie to you David, you were our first suspect and in all likelihood, MI probably still has you under surveillance. They’re the ones with the reins on this one.”

Military Intelligence oversaw all the intelligence operations by the Union Armed Forces, from spies to drones to satellites, if they considered him a threat Wright was taking a big chance meeting with him. Unless this meeting had been designed as a setup but Mercer doubted that possibility more than any other.

“If that’s the case, then you’re taking one hell of a risk meeting with me.”

Wright smiled slyly. “Not to worry, that’s been taken care of, at least for the next hour or so. The Navy is holding some advanced EMP detonation experiments in orbit right now, unfortunately any surveillance equipment in the north Alaskan area will not be functioning during that time.”

Smart, Mercer thought. You couldn’t raise suspicions about any one individual if you blacked out an entire area. Being a rear admiral, however, Wright didn’t have that kind of pull. In fact, only a select few did. Considering Wright’s history and service, one possibility came to mind: Admiral Wei Zhao, Admiral Chief of Naval Operations.

“So are you and Admiral Zhao working with or against MI?” Mercer asked without hesitation.

“Neither,” answered Wright, smirking contently at Mercer’s deductive skills. “I’v been trying to make heads-and-tails of these two events since they occurred and nothing adds up the way it should. MI is approaching this as they would any other situation—which will not work. And then there’s the possibility of a mole in their ranks.” He sighed. “I went to Admiral Zhao with what little evidence I had after I realized I wouldn’t find anything myself. It turned out he was holding his own private investigation.” Wright stood and walked to the closest window. “But we have little to go on and even less room to navigate,” he added.

“And that’s where I come in,” said Mercer knowingly.

The admiral hesitated. He clearly didn’t want to have to drag Mercer into this. “If you’re willing,” he said reluctantly, turning from the window. “But nothing would be officially sanctioned. We can’t risk any direct connection to you, not yet anyway. That means that if MI catches on to what you’re doing, you’d be on your own. They may see it as all the proof they need of your involvement with the security breaches and bring you in.”

Mercer’s expression hardened as he considered Wright’s words. The admiral said that MI had been handling the investigation as they would any other, a tactic Mercer agreed wouldn’t work. The fact that they were focusing on him as much as Wright described proved the point. They were navigating by what they didn’t know instead of what they did now. They didn’t know why Mercer and his company appeared to be the objective of the breach and so they focused on him—an obvious mistake. And since it’d been three weeks since the breach and the admiral still felt an orbital D-EMP bombardment a necessity to keep their meeting secret, Mercer had to assume their focus still rested on him.

The existence of such an advanced AI couldn’t be ignored. The potential for disaster was simply too high. If the Union of Democratic Nations’ renowned Department of Military Intelligence couldn’t even bring themselves to accept the possibility of one’s existence then Mercer would deal with the problem himself. He found it hard to admit, but since leaving the service he had been searching for something he had lost. It wasn’t until this moment that he realized what it was.

“I’m already involved in this, you said that yourself,” Mercer remarked pointedly. “Besides, it’s not exactly an altruistic act on my part, a rogue super advanced construct is bad everyone.” Mercer shook his head almost imperceptibly. “If that’s what we’re dealing with.”

Wright’s expression grew grim. “God, I hope not.”