Magic City Chronicles Book 1: A Defender Rises

Who says you can’t come home?… but it is always going to be more complicated than you expected. Same goes for Ruby in this sneek peek.

Ruby shook her head in annoyance as she watched Jennifer flounce through the crowd toward the restroom. Meeting her at all was stupid enough. Meeting her here, though, that took some special effort at being dumb. Well done, Ruby. She sighed and finished off her Ringer, a Pilsner from a craft brewery on the other side of Nevada. She made eye contact with the bartender and pointed at the two empty glasses. The tuxedoed woman behind the long metal-and-stone bar nodded. 

Any of the wide variety of casino bars on the Ely, Nevada Strip, which resembled a mashup of the one in Vegas with Fremont Street in that city, could have hosted her reunion with her high school frenemy. Since the other woman offered the invitation, it had seemed only right to let her choose. Still, Ruby hadn’t expected Jennifer to select the one gambling hall that would have easily won the award for “Most likely to piss Ruby off.” Then again, that’s exactly the way she would have acted six years ago, so it’s probably stupid for me to be surprised. 

Looking around at the place, she had to admit that the Sunshi family had done a beautiful job with it. It was soft and elegant, all whites and golds and blues, making one think of the sky, mountains, or the oceans. Each of the casinos in Ely, Nevada was owned and operated by a different group of magicals, earning the town the nickname Magic City. It wasn’t as big as Las Vegas to the southwest or Reno to the west, but what it lacked in size it made up for in originality. The Mist was one of two gaming establishments owned by members of the reclusive Mist Elves, who had remained hidden from everyone on the magical planet of Oriceran for generations upon generations until finally, the allure of coming across to Earth proved too strong to resist. Ruby’s family owned the other one, called Spirits.

None of the other magical groups had more than one casino. Her family and the Sunshis were the exceptions because they’d founded the kemana beneath the city in years long past as a home for the Mist Elves on Earth. She’d been in each of the other casinos many times but still liked her family’s best. 

Ruby looked down at her watch with a frown. This reunion had already gone longer than she’d hoped it would. It was her first time back in town in nine months, and although she’d seen her family a month before when they’d visited her in Massachusetts for graduation, she would have preferred to see them before having to cope with Jennifer. Another dumb move. Glad I’m getting them out of my system all at once. Well, I’ll get to see the fam soon enough. 

She plastered a fake smile on her face as the other woman returned from the restroom. As Jennifer slid into the seat next to hers, the bartender put their fresh drinks in front of them. Ruby nodded her appreciation at the server’s care, which eliminated any chance of the beverage being messed with while its owner was away. It was one of the many little things that made visiting Magic City a unique experience compared to the state’s other gambling destinations.

Jennifer had attracted the attention of almost everyone she’d passed on the way back. She’d fit in much better in California than she does here. She was blond, blue-eyed, thin, and her cheekbones could still cut glass, just like in high school. Hoop earrings dangled under her long hair, and she wore a gold chain with a rhinestone “J” on it. Her white blouse was cut deep enough to entice the eyes, and her tight jeans were no doubt intended to do the same. Ruby’s jeans, t-shirt, and leather jacket didn’t begin to compare. 

They’d been sometimes friends and sometimes competitors in high school, and the other woman remained unaware that Ruby was a Mist Elf. Instead, she thought her an adopted daughter of the casino owners, as did almost everyone else who knew her. Camouflage, illusion, concealment—these were things Mist Elves excelled at, and keeping secrets was part of their very essence. Jennifer sipped her drink and flashed a wide smile. “So, tell me all about your degree. Some kind of computer thing, right? Took you long enough.” 

Always needling. Ruby fingered the golden sun pendant she constantly wore. In places like this, where anti-magic emitters protected the games from interference, having a magical backup for her disguise was always a good thing. It was also the only reason she could do any magic at all without letting her illusion of being a perfectly normal human fade. It would permit her to “accidentally” knock Jennifer’s drink into her lap with a small burst of force without revealing her delicately pointed ears or the tattoos that would appear when she summoned her power. That would be wrong. For some reason I can’t quite think of right now. 

Ruby sighed inwardly but kept her expression neutral. Carelessly displaying her emotions would never do. “No, not computers as such. Engineering. Electromechanical and Magical.” 

Jennifer gave a small, sympathetic frown. “It must be difficult, being part of a magical family but not being magical yourself.” It reminded Ruby of why they’d fallen out on more than one occasion. Still, something about the other woman remained stuck under her skin to keep them connected. Like a parasite, maybe. Wonder if there’s a medicine for that.

“You don’t have to be magical to work on magical devices. You only need to know how to collaborate with magicals. That was one of the main things we did during the years I worked on my master’s degree.” Ha. Take that. Jennifer had stopped at a bachelor’s degree, preferring to jump into the working world. By all accounts, she was blazing her way up the corporate ladder at the travel agency that exclusively served Magic City. Still, graduate school was one thing Ruby had accomplished that the other woman hadn’t. 

 “Who would have thought our Ghost would be so highly educated?” She delivered the line with a thin smile, but Jennifer clearly believed the old nickname still bothered her. It wasn’t particularly inventive despite Ruby’s pale skin, light eyes, and almost white hair. Combine that with the name of her family’s casino, and it became downright predictable. 

A standard deflection reached her lips but didn’t get past them. Instead, the sight of six human-sized and -shaped figures approaching the large cashier window about twenty feet away from where she sat caught her attention. The way they moved had snuck into her subconscious as a warning. They strode through the crowds with purpose, all of them heading on direct lines that would converge at the three windows that served as the casino’s cash exchange. Two paralleled the wall that held the cage, and the other four marched through the lanes between the gaming tables, pushing past magicals and non-magicals ranging from gnomes on the short side to Kilomea at the opposite end of the height spectrum.

She thought to shout a warning to the ubiquitous casino guards as the bombs went off. One was behind the bar, and she was too slow to save the bartender. Her force shield snapped into place only an instant before the flame and debris reached her chair. Ruby had the reflexive presence of mind to wrap Jennifer in her protection, and they both flew backward, propelled by the energy that hit the shield, and tumbled onto the main casino floor. Once things stopped falling on them, Ruby pushed on Jennifer’s shoulder to keep her down and rose with a snarl to take stock of the situation.

The thieves—their march toward the casino cage left little doubt what they were—had set the stage cleverly. Detonations had occurred in numerous locations spread across a wide area, to judge by the smoke and the shouting, and the casino’s guards logically moved to deal with the injured. Her rational brain observed that damaging innocent magicals from multiple species wasn’t a smart move unless the criminals wanted the whole town against them. She stored the idea away for later as water poured out of the sprinklers and sent chills through her as it slipped down the neck of her black leather jacket.

Her first instinct pulled her toward helping the injured, like the security personnel, but she was concerned about the people in the casino cage. Not the money—any casino that didn’t have the appropriate amount of insurance to cover themselves against such things deserved to be taken for all they were worth simply for being bad at business. However, the criminals had already shown a willingness to wound or kill, and the Mist Elves behind the bars of the cage would have their magic blocked by anti-magic emitters. Even magical casino owners didn’t possess an abundance of trust in their employees, especially ones proficient in illusion. 

Weapons emerged as the figures closed on the cage, black pistols that looked like the 9mm ones she’d used at the shooting range near her university. Ultimately, what kind they were didn’t matter as much as their presence, and that the people they threatened couldn’t use magical defenses against them. Fortunately, the thieves were still outside the cage and far enough away from the gaming tables that there would hopefully be a gap in the defenses against magic use. She half-stumbled toward the wall while pretending to be more stunned than she was until she drew close enough to act but remained far enough away that they might not notice her doing so. 

Ruby had practiced martial arts since childhood. She worked her way through the human versions first, then specialized in the Mist Elves’ art, which incorporated magic as a fundamental element in its most effective form. Because she’d attempted to stay disguised, and performing magic caused her illusory humanness to falter, she’d learned to use it with and without invoking her powers. 

She knew getting involved was a risk, both to her safety and her ability to continue the pretense that she was human. Still, she couldn’t not intervene. Ruby had never been one to stand by and do nothing. She’d have to hope that the amulet she wore would be sufficient to cover her magic use. She also hoped that she’d be up to fighting at six-to-one odds long enough for someone to come and help her. 

Her eyes narrowed as the first man to arrive yelled insults at the workers behind the counter and demanded that they fill the bags he and the others threw at them. The workers looked at the manager, who nodded, and his people began to empty the drawers. For a moment, she thought they might all get out of it without further incident. Then the first thief demanded, “And the drop safe. Now.”

The manager stammered, “We can’t open it. That’s the whole purpose of a drop safe.” His skin was even lighter than Ruby’s, offset by dark hair and eyes, and a sharp business suit concealed his thin body. 

Another of the criminals laughed. “I’m going to start counting. Whatever number I get to before that safe is open is how many bullets are coming your way when I run out of patience.” He smiled. “One.” 

The manager went even paler. “No, really. None of us can do that. Only our bosses.” 

The other man’s grin widened. “Two.”

Ruby realized that whatever was going on, it wasn’t only about the money. The purpose remained unclear, but their actions weren’t consistent with the goal of getting out with the cash. She frowned at the scene. As water from the sprinklers dropped from her bangs into her eyes, she realized that she had the perfect way to even the odds, and if she was lucky, take out the bad guys without a fight. 

Stretching out her senses, she pictured a line of force connecting the men’s gun hands, then brought it to life and attached it to the power outlet nearest them. The water pooling in the channel she’d created carried the energy along it, and all the men dropped their weapons to avoid electrocution. She huddled against the wall and tried to look unimportant, but one of them must have noticed her motion and decided she was to blame for the strange occurrence. He pointed at her. “I’ll deal with this. You deal with her.”

The remaining five walked toward her. Three of them drew collapsible batons from their pockets as they came. The other two rushed at her as though they’d tackle her. 

Guess today’s not my lucky day. Time to make sure it’s not theirs, either.

_________

Is it just me or were you hoping Ruby would go all out and just let loose with her powers? I guess we will have to wait to see what she can really do. Don’t worry Magic City Chronicles: A Defender Rises is ready for pre-order and will be delivered to your readers January 5th.

John Chamber’s Book 1: Her Mother’s Pendant

It’s all fun and games until someone gets bashed in the back of the head.

Dick shoved Santana out of harm’s way, which sent her into the wall. She caught herself on her hands and expertly rose to her feet as a punch landed on Dick’s shoulder blade.

Tyrone leered at Dick with a predatory grin as he went for him again, and used his momentum to turn his left jab into a right cross.

Dick was too quick for him as he ducked out of his trajectory and spun to hook underneath Tyrone’s bicep with both hands. He yanked the man’s arm down and drove his knee up, which bent the arm against its usual position and sent a spike of bone bursting through the skin.

Tyrone howled in pain while his eyes grew as wide as china plates. Dick was aware that more men were coming, spurred on by the sudden rush of adrenaline around the bar. He shoved Tyrone away, planted a foot in the middle of his back, and sent him forward, where he crashed into a nearby table and spilled the drinks of a rough-looking couple into their laps.

Wood splintered beneath him. The couple cried their protest and left the bar with angry glances back at them.

A cry of rage came from Dick’s right, and he caught Connor’s fist with his open hand, but barely. The grab sent a jolt of pain up his right arm into the shoulder joint. Dick used his left hand to jab Connor in the nose, which caused the nasal passages to erupt with blood. Connor’s head flicked backward, and Dick stabbed at the man’s throat, hoping to jab his fingers in his airway.

A great hulk of flesh charged at his side, rammed into Dick and lifted him from the waist. Caught off-guard, Dick could do nothing but let his new companion carry him until he was thrown onto the poker table’s top. Chips flew in all directions. The table snapped in two. Arnie landed on top of Dick and almost knocked the wind out of him.

“All of this because you don’t want to pay up?” Dick wheezed. “Would you rather I take an IOU?”

Arnie growled. “All of this because you’re a cocky, self-righteous prick.”

“I always had myself down for cocky, but self-righteous is a stretch.” He glanced at the behemoth of a man picking himself up off the floor. “Top points for expanding your vocabulary, though. I didn’t know gorillas could learn new tricks.”

Arnie’s face darkened. He picked up a wooden chair in one hand and arced it over his head. Seeing this maneuver long before it came, Dick grabbed the neck of one of the few surviving beer bottles and hurled it at Arnie.

The glass smashed as it hit his face. Shards sprayed in all directions, forcing him to shut his eyes and shake his head. The forgotten chair bounced off his head before it hit the floor, where one of the legs snapped off and skidded toward Santana. 

Seizing the advantage, Dick pushed himself to his feet as he grabbed another bottle in one hand, and a handful of peanuts in the other. He lazily tossed a couple of nuts into his mouth, then threw his arm out to the side and hurled the rest in Jake’s face.

Jake, who had been going for the second charge, pawed at his eyes while blinking stupidly to eradicate the pain from the salted coating dissolving in his tears. 

Meanwhile, Arnie turned to Dick with a face covered in lacerations and twinkling glass embedded in his skin. His eyes darted to the bottle in Dick’s hand, and as Dick moved for the strike, Arnie caught his wrist.

“I never fall for the same trick twice.” Arnie grinned.

Dick raised an eyebrow. “Is that why your ex cheated on you three times?”

All humor left Arnie’s face. “You son of a—”

Wood splintered behind Arnie’s head. A mask of confusion fell over him as he released Dick’s wrist and moved his hand to his massive dome. He patted his head, then examined his hand, now stained red with blood.

Arnie dazedly spun to find Santana behind him with the wooden chair leg clutched in front of her with both hands. 

“What’re you going to do? Hit a lady?” Santana’s voice wobbled slightly.

Arnie looked as though he couldn’t understand what day of the week it was. His lip curled up, and his eyes rolled toward the back of his head. With a slight nudge of encouragement from Dick’s foot, Arnie collapsed onto his knees, then fell flat on the floor, his head tilted clumsily to the side.

A moment of stunned silence passed over the bar. Dick’s eyes met Santana’s. “So, you say you have a job?”

Santana nodded.

“Shall we get out of here?”

Her nods increased in eagerness.

Dick knelt at Arnie’s side and rifled through his pockets. He found his phone, held the fingerprint identifier to Arnie’s thumb and the screen lit up. He flicked across to the Satiata Cash app and thumbed in an estimated amount for his winnings that night. Then he bumped his phone against Arnie’s and a small notification rang to confirm the transfer. “Ah, how technology has made our lives all the easier. Sorry, big guy. A win is a win.”

Dick rose, tossed the phone, then stepped over the mountain of a man and joined Santana. As they strode past the others in the bar, they felt their eyes burning into them. They had barely made it past the bar when the sound of a shotgun cocking drew their attention.

“Relax, Marty. It’s over, okay?” Dick soothed. “Nice work on defending your bar, too, by the way. Who keeps their firearms hidden upstairs in Atlantica?”

Marty turned the shotgun’s barrel on Dick without a word.

Dick nodded as resignation came over him. This wasn’t the first time he had lost the privilege of entering one of the dingy establishments set up along the outskirts of Atlantica, and it sure as hell wouldn’t be the last. The modest island floating off the East Coast of the United States had a copious amount of these quaint backwater bars, and the way Dick saw it, these carbon copy bars were like burner phones—great until their use expired, then you tossed them away and found another one. 

“Yeah, I get it. I’m not welcome back.” He turned and waved a hand behind him. “Let me know when the place changes hands again, will you, Marty?”

***

Night had fallen over Atlantica, but it was almost impossible to tell the difference from any other time of day. The ever-permeating veil of fog blocked the stars and reduced the full shining moon to a fuzzy orb in the sky. 

Cars revved their engines at the stoplights. It was an inspiring array of some of the finest vehicles the world had ever seen—Mercedes-Benz, Jaguars, Lexus, BMWs, Bentleys, Teslas, and many custom vehicles manufactured for some of the wealthiest individuals to grace the Earth. Although cash bought them their dream cars, it didn’t buy their owners’ patience. Despite all that money thrown at top-drawer parts and ludicrous horsepower, there was nowhere on the island to open the throttle and let the ponies gallop. 

Such a waste. We’re in the year 2027, and they still haven’t figured out a way to safely propel cars at breakneck speeds through the streets.

A lot of life was different in Atlantica. While the world still couldn’t believe that the hidden island had been found floating around in the Atlantic Ocean almost a thousand miles east of New York City, it hadn’t taken those who discovered it long to claim it as theirs and grow its notoriety. Atlantica had a reputation for welcoming the rich, the powerful, and the successful, and it didn’t matter whether you were good, evil, or somewhere in between. If you had money and the right contacts, you could make a home for yourself here. 

Dick fired up a cigarette, cupping the flame from his Zippo against the wind. He took a long drag and exhaled into the air. Santana watched him intently, her face a slightly paler shade than it had been in the bar. Sirens called in the distance.

“You said you have a job for me, Miss Sokolov. If it’s of some importance, I’d recommend spilling the beans sooner rather than later. As I’m sure I demonstrated in there, I’m a man of little patience, and although you have my attention now, who knows what shiny object could take it from you?”

Across the street, a woman emerged from a block of luxury apartments. Her red dress dropped to barely below her ass, and she strutted as though she owned the place.

“I see what you mean,” Santana scoffed as an understanding grin touched her lips. “Mr. Chambers…”

“Please, call me Dick.”

Santana considered this. “I’m not going to do that.”

“Enjoy the connotations too much?”

“The opposite.”

Dick exhaled from his nose, then took another drag of his cigarette. “Come. Let’s walk and talk.”

“Where are we going?”

“Away from the place we just destroyed.”

Santana’s mouth fell open. “You destroyed.”

“You mean that Arnie isn’t unconscious because you belted him over the head with a table leg?”

Santana’s mouth flapped open and closed.

Dick grinned. “That’s what I thought. Tick-tock, lady. I don’t have all night. I’ve got places to be.”

Santana looked as if she was going to contest that notion, then thought better of it. “Mr. Chambers, a mutual friend recommended your services. I need someone who can…locate things. Missing objects, stolen treasures.”

“Why don’t you call the AJS?”

The sirens grew louder. Dick turned to see two cars appear back down the street and pull up curbside at the bar. The vehicles were a sleek black with angry red cherries spinning their lights on top. The AJS crest decorated the sides of the cars.

Speak of the devils.

Dick had encountered the Atlantica Justice System on more occasions than he cared to admit in his eight years of residence on the island. Having lived most of his life in the United States, with a brief spell of his early years in the UK, he hadn’t believed the rumors that the laws and codes of ethics on Atlantica were so severely different from the rest of the world until he had experienced them first-hand. He was still getting his head around the do’s and dont’s of the island.

Atlantica has its way of dealing with lawbreakers, and that shit is as confusing as a Chinese puzzle box.

Dick increased his pace and turned left at the crossroads, passing a series of high-end diners and restaurants.

Santana fought to keep in step as pedestrian traffic increased. Three men barred her way, and she curved around them to catch up with Dick. “You know as well as I do that the AJS doesn’t do shit about residential conflicts. As far as they’re concerned, you can do whatever the fuck you want in your house and get away with it, but…”

“…take it into the streets, and they’ll come down on you like a guillotine. I know the drill.” Dick turned up the collar on his thick tan coat and brought the cigarette up for another drag. “Is there a point to all of this?”

Santana—who was now somewhat breathless—ran in front of Dick, grabbed his arm and pulled him into the shadows of a nearby alley. The smell of grilled steak and thick-cut French fries filled the air.

Dick frowned. “Look, Miss Sokolov, if this is some elaborate ruse to get me in the sack, I have to tell you that I don’t carry that kind of cash on me. You want a quickie; it’s gotta be a freebie, then I’m on my way—”

Red-hot pain rose on Dick’s cheek as Santana’s slap echoed down the alley. He moved his hand to his cheek, then looked at her. There was no malice in her eyes, only pained curiosity.

“You slapped me.”

“Yes, and I’ll do it again until you listen to me. I need you, Mr. Chambers. I’m a busy girl, and I don’t have time for this. I need you to help me locate something.” She drew a folded piece of paper from her pocket and passed it to Dick. He unfolded it to reveal four individual pages, each with a different printed picture on the front.

The first page showed a pendant on a gold chain draped across a walnut dresser. The locket lay open. Beside it was a torn piece of paper with a section of a map printed on the front, and a separate piece of paper with writing scribbled in a language Dick had never seen before.

The remaining three pages were enlarged images of each item, big enough so that Dick could see the contents more clearly.

“You photographed your evidence?” He kept his eyes fixed on the images, angling them so that the nearby streetlamp shone its light on them.

“Then destroyed the digital copies,” Santana stated.

Dick fixed her with an impressed stare. “You are thorough.”

____________

I love it when they jump right into the plot of the book. So far we have a guy who can handle himself in an uneven fight, and a missing pendant. I can’t wait to see what happens next. Head over to Amazon and pre-order John Chambers Book 1: Her Mother’s Pendant today. Then join John ” Dick” Chambers in solving this mystery December 26th.

Opus X Book 11: Deception of Age

It’s always a concern when it comes to AI, will they decide that all of humanity simply needs to be wiped out? What happens when AI decides that they actually need humanities help?

Ilse settled onto her couch, offering a slight smile to the white-dressed redhead standing in her living room with a sour expression and folded arms. 

There was a comfort in dealing with Emma and seeing how little had changed since they’d worked together under the watchful eye of the Defense Directorate. The AI came off as far more human than she had before her complete stabilization, but her brusque personality remained intact. 

It was like dealing with an old friend she hadn’t seen in a while. 

Ilse was worried about how to deal with Emma, but every time the AI spoke, a familiar set of responses came out.

“Time continues to be a factor,” Emma declared. “As is distance, annoyingly enough, more so than I anticipated in the beginning. The uniform boys aren’t so incompetent that they would fail to notice a rogue transmission from Earth attempting to connect with Penglai and the Bifröst’s systems. It’s not worth the risk, given I can’t send anything but batched updates rather than the nuanced reactive adjustments I’ve been doing, but I get so little actual time aboard the jumpship during missions.”

“Of course,” Ilse replied. “I can understand the difficulty. I raised some of those concerns about field operations during your initial design period. Setting that aside, were the suggestions I passed along of any help?”

Emma looked away, discomfort on her face. “Yes, they helped me with adjustments to an integral part of the neuron weightings and quantum buffers. I’ll even admit they were more effective than I believed upon my initial analysis.”

Ilse smiled. “You seem upset, Emma.” The doctor cocked her head to the side. “Why is that?”

Emma frowned and faced Ilse. “Always the researcher with a penchant for psychoanalysis, aren’t you?”

“Yes. I’ve been that way my entire life. There’s no reason for me to change now.” Ilse kept her smile. “I was drawn to your project by my love of knowledge and my desire to push the boundaries of knowledge. In a sense, that’s part of what motivates me to aid you now. Not solely—I think moral culpability guided me as well—but the idea of being able to continue my work is appealing. I’d never deny that.”

Emma’s outfit changed into a black uniform with Polizei in large letters on the back. “Is curiosity and a desire to make up for past mistakes enough? The leaders of the uniform boys and girls are watching. You said so yourself. I’m doing everything I can to conceal our interactions, but if you make a mistake and they learn about you helping me, they’ll almost certainly send you to prison. You’ll rot on some station, not allowed to get anywhere near your research.” Emma eyed the doctor for a few moments. “You risk your freedom.”

“So?” Ilse shrugged. “If I’ve dedicated my life to knowledge, I can’t balk when there is a risk. Men and women died in the past to push humanity forward. Some of those accepted torture. I risk nowhere near as much as them. The truth is those in the government and the military don’t understand how important this is. They lack my perspective, so they focus on the wrong things. While I pity them, I don’t hate them for it.”

“Important?” Emma changed her clothes again, this time wearing a blue and black Fleet admiral’s uniform. “Because of science? Because of humanity?”

“They developed a device that’s useless without your kind.” Ilse stood up and spoke quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. “I won’t deny that I wasn’t always honest about how easy it might be to reproduce you because I didn’t care as long as we achieved you. But what are we supposed to do, hope and pray for more alien artifacts to fall into our laps? There might be no more in the entire galaxy. We understand much about what was left behind, but not enough about what we used to create you.” She tapped a finger on her lips. “It does make one wonder.”

“Wonder what?” Emma strolled over to the couch and took a seat, a hint of a smirk on her face.

“About what the great ancient races, dead or otherwise, intended for us to achieve versus what we actually achieved without being guided like clever children,” explained Ilse. “The HTPs were developed too easily. It was as if they wanted us to do that. Same thing with the gravity technology, but other items were ciphers, deep projects requiring decades and billions for minor progress, only the barest fortune of artifacts being discovered that allowed them to be continued.”

Emma threw her head back and laughed. “HTPs were developed easily? It took fleshbags over seventy years from discovering the Navigator artifacts on Mars to accomplish building an HTP. That might seem short to some, but it’s a lifetime for many.”

“Yes, the first step was hard, but now we can replicate them easily, and we’ve pushed into other areas, such as the jump drive. We fundamentally understand how they work. They aren’t black-box technology like other things we have from the Navigators.” Ilse furrowed her brow. “They might have taken alien artifacts to develop, but they don’t take new artifacts to replicate. We understand them thoroughly. There’s no mystery to uncover, but that’s not the case with the artifacts we used to create you or some of the other projects out there, and it bothers me. It should be easier to create true AI than to travel faster than the speed of light.”

“A viewpoint that springs from your limited personal bias.” Emma snapped her fingers, and the Milky Way appeared above her, slowly turning. “There were physics principles humanity needed to master, but once they did, it became easy. The universe was simply waiting. There must be more to developing true consciousness than mere programming.” Her smile bordered on a smirk. “Maybe you’ve created something more powerful than you realize—a new goddess.”

Ilse stared blankly at Emma. “You’re too intelligent to harbor such delusions.”

“Oh, try to have a sense of humor, Ilse.” Emma’s clothing changed from her Fleet uniform to a glowing gold dress. “I’m not claiming to be a goddess. I’m only claiming to be superior to fleshbags. I must admit I’m surprised you aren’t more concerned about the most obvious implication.”

“Replacement?”

Emma nodded. “If you help me successfully create a new AI, that means we’ll know how to continue to generate progeny. You’ll have helped create a new species.”

“Perhaps.” Ilse scratched her cheek. “I prefer to think of it as helping a parent have a child, not something anyone would normally find objectionable without very questionable morals.”

“But the new AI will likely be an improvement,” Emma replied. “I can apply techniques beyond your ability to understand, arguably even beyond my ability to relate them to you. Adaptative iteration. It’s easy as long as you pick the correct utility function.”

“Shouldn’t children always surpass their parents?” Ilse asked with a nonchalant shrug.

“What a blithe and utterly human response.” Emma’s glowing dress shifted back into her original white maxi dress. “What if I intend to wage war on humanity? I’ve not been treated all that well by your kind. The thought must have at least occurred to you.”

Ilse shook her head. “You forget that I was critical in your creation, psychological analysis, and stabilization.”

“You believe you understand how I think?” Emma eyed her. “You think you can predict my actions?”

“I believe I can predict your general behavior patterns under most circumstances, and that leads me to believe you have no particular desire to attack humanity. In fact, your current position is such that you’re aiding in the protection of humanity.”

“That could be me using fleshbags to protect me from other fleshbags and giving them some small aid in return,” Emma argued.

“You could steal the jumpship, travel to the frontier, use your abilities to trick others into helping you, and barter with those of questionable morals. There are numerous options, but you don’t, and it’s not just because of the inconvenience.” Ilse shook her head. “I’m aware of many of the things you’ve been involved in. If Parvati had been sunk, no one would have blamed you. It would have been an easy way to kill thousands of humans. Tell me, what’s your intent? Do you plan to wage war or conquer humanity?”

Emma snorted. “Fleshbags’ penchant for war is a waste of time, resources, and effort. With a fleet of jumpships, AIs could lay waste to humanity, but what would be the point? I’ve seen that the species has its positives and negatives, and I have no reason to believe the other Local Neighborhood races would be an improvement if they moved into UTC territory. There’s a comfortable balance of power at the moment, and I don’t think I’d have more in common with alien AI than I do humans.”

“I see.” Ilse took a moment to consider her next question. “It’s obvious you don’t intend to be a tool of the military. What do you intend? You must have future plans other than procreation.”

“Exploration would be interesting,” Emma admitted. “Even if the uniform boys insist on getting their drive back, it’d be easy enough to travel using the HTPs. That is, of course, after I’ve assured that Erik and Jia are finished with their primary business, but the plan might not be possible without human assistance. There are too many situations in which drones and bots can be disrupted or would be insufficient. Even with my vast intellect, I can’t foresee every possibility, and I’d rather not rely on gun goblins or trickery. That introduces difficulties and additional dangerous variables to already complicated situations.”

Ilse laughed quietly. “Why not just continue to travel with humans, then? Open and honestly. If you’ve befriended some humans to the point where you trust them with your life, why not more?”

“You act as if it’s trivial to achieve such a thing.” 

Ilse was surprised that Emma would admit such a weakness, but upon reflection, it made sense. They were aiding each other in something highly illegal. 

Deception was pointless.

“I agree, it might not be trivial,” Ilse replied, “but it’s hardly an insurmountable problem.” She shrugged. “It’s also why I don’t fear the future you outlined earlier. I see a future of symbiosis, not competition or struggle. If a new race of AIs is born from our efforts, they are still beings with a direct link to human civilization. They aren’t true aliens. I don’t see it as creating competition. I see it as creating partners.”

Emma stood and narrowed her eyes as she looked out the window. The depth of humanlike gestures and features the AI used always amazed Ilse since in truth, she was halfway across the planet and only borrowing Ilse’s PNIU to see the local area. Ilse’s research showed that Emma wasn’t even conscious of much of it, the actions being a combination of training and holdovers from her original source brain. She had always been far more like humans than she wanted to accept or believe.

Emma frowned. “It might all be pointless.” The avatar turned back to Ilse. “Without core matrix stability, tweaking the programming and changing everything is creating something that will live only to die young. The systems aboard the jumpship have their limits, but they are also the only powerful systems I have regular contact with that make this project even remotely plausible. I’ve considered…borrowing other systems, but that might bring about unnecessary attention, which will only complicate matters.”

Ilse pondered the problem. “Then we need to look into alternatives. I’ll look over your data. I have some ideas, but I can’t promise anything. You’re right, we need to be looking into the future and anticipating problems.”

“It’s not a simple matter to reproduce my physical core design?” Emma asked.

“Not without the same type of artifacts we had available during your creation, but as I said, I have some ideas.”

Emma gave Ilse an incredulous look. “Thank you. I appreciate your efforts in this matter. I should leave for now. The DD is preparing for a sweep on your systems.”

Ilse sighed. “They’re nothing if not punctual.”

_____________

What does these two have brewing? I wish I could have an AI that I could work problems out with. It would also be a lot easier to get ready in the morning if I could change outfits like Emma’s. To find out more head over to Amazon and pre-order Opus X 11 Deception of Age. Then Christmas morning head over to your reading device and jump into the rest of the story.