Acheron Inheritance Preview Chapter 2

Quinton stepped outside but stayed close to the side of the building so he could watch for the mechs.

“How do you know they’re hunting PMCs?” he asked.

“When they scanned the maintenance drone and detected the ESS, they became hostile.”

The Energy Storage System—ESS— was a miniature reactor the size of a fist. The low energy output of the leuridium core made it durable and long-lasting, ideal for the data storage requirements of a PMC. The ESS had a unique identifier that made it easy to detect. Quinton glanced down at the agricultural bot body that contained his consciousness. He didn’t think the robot’s chest could shield it from the mechs.

He looked up at thick, dreary clouds pressing on top of him and felt as if he were staring at a tidal wave about to sweep him away in a violent upheaval of destruction and doom. A bellowing rumble came from overhead. Weather-worn buildings that were sagging under the weight of wet volcanic ash lined the streets, fading into the misty fog.

Quinton moved to the other side of the street. Loud banging sounds came from inside the nearby buildings, followed by screeches that came in rapid succession as the mechs forced their way through a heavy door. The agricultural unit was capable of highly acute sound sensitivity and depth perception, probably meant for the delicate work of maintaining the exotic gardens that had once been here.

He heard three distinct sound sources from various areas of the building. The mechs weren’t trying to hide what they were doing.

He glanced around at the crusty brown ash that covered the buildings and saw more fall from the sky in a sleety mix of snow. Peering closely at the clusters of ash as they fell, he realized that the agricultural unit’s optics were able to perceive each unique crystalline structure marred by the particulates filling the air. Where was the ash coming from? The agricultural unit must have had smell receptors, but he was glad they weren’t working. Atmospheric readings on his internal heads-up display showed high levels of sulfur. Skipping the smell of rotting decay was perfectly fine with Quinton.

“I need to know what you plan to do,” Radek said.

The VI’s question startled him out of his thoughts because Radek was just a voice. Although there was a highlighted section of his HUD that flashed when Radek spoke, it was still off-putting. Quinton checked the agricultural unit’s systems to see what was available.

“Radek, update preferences for our normal interactions to require the use of a holographic representation.”

A small sphere that was a semi-transparent silver hovered in the air a few feet away from Quinton’s head. “System preferences have been updated.”

That was better.

“I wonder if we have a case of mistaken identity,” Quinton said. “Maybe the security mechs just detected a power signature that’s not in their data repositories. Given how things look around here, they’re probably still following some kind of latent security protocol. You said they hunted you for days, but did you see any people here? Is there anyone we can go to for help?” Quinton asked.

“There were very few online systems, and no life signs were detected. I was lucky to find this agricultural unit.”

Quinton’s gaze flicked upward in irritation. He was about as far away from what he considered “fortunate” as he could get. He was sure the VI assistants that were part of his PMC were working overtime, managing the interface between him and the machine he was stuck in, but why belabor the point that his current form was the best the VI could find? Radek was just the manifestation of multiple VIs that were part of the PMC.

Quinton had limited access to his memories, but now that everything was online, he remembered going through extensive training before his consciousness was uploaded into an ESS, even if it wasn’t the ESS that was in this specific bot. He couldn’t recall the actual memories of his training, but the skills were there, and the link that the VIs were associating with hinged on the fact that Quinton had been trained. It was supposed to set him at ease so he could focus, but it just brought attention to the fact that he wasn’t anywhere he’d expected to be, which meant that something had gone utterly wrong. Without complete access to his memories, how was he supposed to come up with a solution? He was stumbling in the dark, but he had his training. The possibility of a partial upload had always existed, as well as a chance that the unit the ESS was installed in would have limited capacity, which was what Quinton was dealing with thanks to Radek inserting him into this garden-variety robot.

“It was the only unit available, and it doesn’t quite meet the minimum requirements for a PMC,” Radek said, making Quinton wonder if the VI could read his thoughts.

Quinton accessed the scan data from Radek’s encounter with the mechs. They were accurately identified as Veris Hunter Model Mechs, but that was just the base unit. They could represent any number of mech types, but they all had strict protocols for preserving human life, and an ESS housing a PMC qualified as a living being. These mechs shouldn’t harm him, unless they were military mechs, in which case the restrictions on human life could be rescinded. If Quinton was identified as the enemy, they would attack. Radek’s attempted communication with them had likely been interpreted as just another drone delivery system, which was different from someone who was actually alive.

He had to find out if the mechs would hunt him. If he tried to sneak away and was detected, there was very little chance of him being able to reason with them. He walked out to the middle of the street and shouted, “Hello!”

The glowing holographic sphere bobbed up and down to get his attention. “I must advise against this. Hostiles in the area,” Radek warned.

“Noted. Now stop distracting me,” Quinton replied.

The orb disappeared. VIs helped the PMC interact and cope with being in another form other than a human host. To help facilitate this connection, they were required to act human, but they were machines. Radek was a virtual intelligence, and sometimes they just got things wrong.

Three mechs emerged onto the street a short distance from where Quinton stood. They had extremely long arms that protruded from their stocky wedge-shaped main bodies. Long legs connected to a black-armored pelvis. They’d probably been designed to run at high speeds, using all of their limbs. Serial numbers for each mech appeared on Quinton’s HUD, which were transferred as some kind of default broadcast. This was encouraging because they might listen to him. But what struck him as odd was just how old the mechs looked. The orange stripes along their torsos and down their arms were faded and looked to have been scraped off in several areas. They must’ve been bright when the mechs were in service. He had no idea how long these mechs had been running around. How could they still have power? The fact that they did indicated that there must be a charging station in service nearby.

The three mechs regarded Quinton for a few moments, and he raised his arms to the side in a non-threatening gesture of compliance. The mechs squatted lower in an aggressive posture.

“Wait a minute,” he blurted, his voice going high. “I’m not a danger to you. My name is Quinton Aldren, and I’m a Personality Matrix Construct temporarily stored in this agricultural unit. I need help. Transferring my identification now.”

A beam of light came from one of the mechs and highlighted an area on Quinton’s chest for a few seconds before going out. The three mechs remained motionless, and Quinton was beginning to agree with Radek that this was a bad idea. He tried opening a comlink to the three mechs, thinking that perhaps they had suffered some kind of damage and were attempting to communicate with him.

They weren’t.

The mechs shared a data communication session, which Quinton was able to decipher because they weren’t using any security protocols.

. . . Target hostile: negative.

ESS power signature confirmed.

Must retrieve.

The three Veris mechs began striding toward him. Each step they took seemed to impact the ash-laden ground, and Quinton stepped back.

“Wait a second. I’ll go with you,” Quinton said.

. . . Agricultural unit loss is acceptable.

Retrieve ESS for disposal.

Quinton felt a wave of panic surge through him. They wanted the ESS. What did they want with the ESS? They were going to . . .

They were charging toward him now.