The Last Human IV - 34 - A Slim Hope (Patreon)

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What if Innovation was lying? 

What if there was no Innovation? What if this was a twisted ruse to make Khadam trust the Sovereign? 

Then again, why would it bother? The Sovereign already had her. What else could it need from her? 

There were too many questions, and she was not in control. Not here. Not in this ship, where the Sovereign, or Innovation, or whatever watched her every movement and recorded her every breath. More helpless than a rat in a lab. Only, unlike the rat, she was all too aware of her situation.

So, Khadam focused on the one problem she could control: designing the suit. If Innovation was really bringing her to Earth—if it really planned to help her create a grand distraction while the individual factions of the Sovereign warred with themselves—then she wanted to do it right.

At the very least, this problem kept her focused. Kept her from spiraling into despair.

There were two problems. One: every piece of the suit had to be assembled without tools, in minutes, in a potentially hostile environment. Two: each piece had to fit into boxes no larger than eight cubic inches. According to Innovation, that size would guarantee the suit slipped past the Sovereign’s orbital sensor arrays. Or, as Innovation said, my sibling’s sensor arrays.

She lay in the hospital bed, staring at the white bulkheads, wincing as a centipede host of medical arms pinched and massaged her flesh and stabbed her with tiny bristling needles. Localized nanite injections made her skin tingle, and made her throat numb. She slurred as she asked aloud, “How much time do we have?”

Innovation’s words poured down from the ceiling, subtly layered and smooth, like the voice of an angel. “I have already alerted the others of your re-capture. As far as the rest of the Sovereign knows, a decoy trap enabled you to escape from Logistics’ clutches. Fortunately, I was there.” 

Fortunately wasn’t the word she would use. But she said nothing. 

“We cannot stall any longer,” Innovation continued. “Logistics knows the exact capabilities of this vessel, down to the micro-newton. We have six days and four hours to reach Earth without arousing suspicion.”

Less than a week to design and tailor a suit, fit it with the proper sensors and motors, not to mention specialist tech. It had to be able to survive Earth’s thin atmosphere, to protect her from radiation, to help her run, and climb, and get around an unknown set of obstacles. Even the extraction point remained a mystery. Innovation said, “Too many variables, and they will only multiply once you have begun the human reclamation process.” 

And she was supposed to do all this beneath the threat the first strike of a new war—a war that had been brewing between machine and itself for thousands of years. 

Though her bruised jaw ached, Khadam smirked to herself. Better make this a damn good suit, then.

Innovation brought in a machine to help her get out of the bed, and walk slow circles around the hospital room. She held one hand to her abdomen, pressing softly against the wrappings that held her wounds together, wincing slightly with every step. 

“What if we built it out of liquid metal?” she asked. 

“Liquid metal?” Innovation’s digital voice hinted at its confusion, “If the metal was liquid, it would be hot enough to melt through your flesh and bones.” 

Huh, she thought. It doesn’t know about Agraneia’s armor. Apparently humanity had continued to build new tech, even after the Lightning Wars. And, they had kept it hidden from the Sovereign. It was almost a shame. Liquid armor would have been perfect to drop from orbit.

“What designs do you have, then?” Khadam asked, “Do you have an inventory?”

The blank, white walls of the room flickered to life. Animated images of suits rotated slowly in place. Pop-out squares showcased each suit’s dynamic features, like the firing motion and resulting damage from a barrage of shoulder-fired needle rockets, or the titanium aluminide wires that glowed red hot as it melted through metal. 

The variety was endless: armored power suits, jump suits, tech-heavy exoskeletons, thin and nimble weaves, and unusual form-fitting structures with extra appendages or back-strapped repulsors. “I have saved every make, model, and custom modification ever designed by humanity,” Innovation said, too confidently. “Simply start listing requirements, and I will attempt to filter the list for your assistance. We might be able to make modifications, but I cannot promise anything.” 

It was obvious Innovation was trying to earn her trust by giving her control over this choice. But this was just an illusion—just as Innovation planned to make a puppet of Domination, it was trying to make a puppet of her. And Khadam was going to be the best damn puppet Innovation had ever seen.

For now.

“First,” Khadam said, “The suit should be independently modular. Especially if you can’t guarantee all parts will get to me at the same time.”

“Wise.” 

“Need something with oxygen as well. And something with freedom of movement.”

Dozens of suits disappeared, replaced by a slew of increasingly similar designs. Khadam made more suggestions about the strength of the material, the kinds of fabrics she thought she might be able to tear with her own teeth, and a dozen other considerations, until there were only a handful of designs left. 

Most of them were about as stylish as a pile of bricks, but they were functional, and each one had its own advantages. And disadvantages. One had stronger batteries, but the weight might drag her down. Another came with packs of arm-mounted firearms, but what happened when she ran out of ammunition? Or if the bullets didn’t arrive at all?

She pressed her hand over her mouth, pretending to be concentrating. In her mind, however, she couldn’t block out the grim reality. If I pick the wrong suit, I’ll die in it. Then again, it might not matter. Might die, no matter what I do. Six days. She swallowed hard, wincing as she rubbed at her throat. She could almost feel it. Icy fingers clutched at her lungs, and chilled her veins.

Innovation will use me. And then, it will kill me.

These were the last days of her life. She could almost count them on one hand.

Fool girl. Certainty is for the machines. The memory of Rodeiro, sternly lecturing her, rose up so violently in her mind, she almost flinched. She could see the cracked crow’s feat around his eyes, the freckles on his bald scalp sprouting thin gray stubble. The gleaming, golden implant lines which carved parallel diagonals across his temples, moving slightly as he frowned intensely at her. You are more than an algorithm, he told her as she lay in the cold chamber, her fluids about to be frozen. For you, there is no black and white. Life is an endless ocean of color. If you cling to one thought, you will only go one direction. Let go of what you no longer need. Old beliefs. Old dreams. Only then will you see what is truly possible.

Khadam lifted her chin, and glared at the images of the suits scrolling along the wall. A few held her attention: 

The first was a power suit, a heavy suit of mechanized armor with backup power. Fully-enclosed plating would protect every inch of her from most low-force weapons, and twin multitools (including a cold torch that could slice through pure chromium) would expand her option in any environment. Each piece was segmented and self-fitting… but the armor was stiff and heavy. How many drop boxes would she need? Would she be able to find them all?

The second was a medical hybrid, a mix of light and nimble exoweave fabrics made to fit like a second skin, a few pieces of light-weight armor plating that doubled as battery packs, and form-fitting prosthetics that would enhance the movements of her legs and arms and parts of her torso. Together, the suit was nimble and light, and would boost her manual strength, though not as much as the power suit. In addition, it had two articulating arms, one on the shoulder, and a smaller one folded into the back, both capped with medical implements and external sensors. Eyes on the back of my head. And a healthy supply of regenerics, performance-enhancing drugs, nanite fluid, and other pharmaceuticals. She would become a mobile hospital. If I can find the boxes…

The last of the three was perhaps the least useful. Collapsible scale armor, heavy but still light enough to flex and not get in her way. Though it would protect her against only the slightest damage, there was one feature that caught her attention: tiny, personal repulsors were built into the armor at every joint, and rippled down the back and front. If nothing else, it would help her move faster. Maybe even fly, in the right environment. The helmet, too, was made from thousands of interlocking scales, each one laced with sensors, cooling threads and hubs, and energy soaks to leech power from ambient sources. Instead of a visor, the scales covered the helmet’s face, empowering sight across myriad spectrums and frequencies.

The scale armor was nowhere as strong and useful as the powersuit. Nor would it enable her to escape much, or survive much damage, like the nimble exoweave. 

Would I be able to survive a gunshot? What if I need to fit in a tight space? If I get wounded?

Limited protection. Lack of utility. No backup batteries. The worst of the three.

Then again, it would fit into the least amount of boxes. Where as the other suits needed multiple pieces, if she could get her hands on just one…

Let go of what you no longer need.

Khadam lifted her chin at the scale armor. “This one.”

“Khadam, I would strongly advise against such a choice. This suit lacks many significant functions. Without extra battery cells—”

“This one,” she said, more firmly.

“But,” Innovation added, “May I ask how you came to your conclusion? The other two appear to be more functional and adept at handling multiple situations. If nothing else, they are more durable. Do you not worry about your personal safety?” 

“The scale armor will fit into the fewest boxes.”

“Hmm,” Innovation hummed, uncannily lifelike. “I find this choice perplexing.” 

Khadam shrugged, as if she really hadn’t thought too much about it. But in truth, she had picked this suit for one reason, and one alone. Innovation would help her, she was sure of that. But how much? 

The other suits needed multiple pieces to get up and running. This one, every scale had a use. Even if Innovation reneged on their deal, if she could get her hands on even one box, she would have all the tools a good coldsmith could ever ask for.

A slim hope, but hope was all she needed.

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