Vikkart’s wedding gala was a somber affair, more akin to a wake than anything else. A scattering of stunned greys and blondes clustered around the bar united in horror.
A member of Vikkart’s distant family, the only remaining family representative, accepted condolences and was drinking heavily himself.
Glagee sat among a few others, picking at a truly marvelous plate of food but not enjoying it all that much.
He felt like a carrion fly, but he was invited. There were plenty of spare plates.
An older grey approached.
“I would like to thank you for your decency,” the grey said.
“I hope my network feels the same,” Glagee replied.
“Well, if they don’t,” the grey said, “I’m sure I could find you a place,” he said, handing Glagee a business card.
“Thank you,” Glagee said grimly.
Glagee’s phone rang. It was his boss.“Speaking of the devil,” Glagee smiled ruefully, “Excuse me.”
“Of course,” the grey said and walked away.
“Hey, boss,” Glagee said to the grinning old blonde on his phone.
“Creator’s curses, kid,” his boss said. “I send you to do a fluff piece, and boom! Impact site!”
“About cutting the camera,” Glagee said, “And what I said...”
“Brilliant!” his boss exclaimed beside himself. “Couldn’t have done it better myself!”
“Sir?”
“Kept the fun going just long enough to capture the horror and then out right before it got too depressing! Even the expletive was perfect! We’ll bleep the word, but we aren’t blurring your mouth! Talk about good holovision!... And we have an exclusive! Bet those matted pelts over at LTV are soiling their suits over this!”
His boss fell silent for a moment.
“Terrible business, though. Bet it sucked to be there.”
“Yeah...” Glagee replied, taking another drink. He was beyond giving a shit.
“You straight enough to get back on camera?”
“What?!?”
“We need you to follow this one,” his boss said. “Before we get edged out. Carry your buns over to Laatka Memorial and try to get access. They are turning away other news crews, but you might just get in because you cut your feed.”
“Creators be damned,” Glagee muttered, “Right, boss. On it.”
***
High above Terra, there was a simulated white room. In it, a white-robed silver-haired woman carefully tended a bonsai tree sitting atop a plain white pillar. 𐍂а₦Ȏ฿Ёś
A chime rang out. Someone was in the “foyer.”
She “unlocked” the door, and Kate (or precisely a Kate) walked in.
“Hi,” Kate said as she waved happily.
“Kate,” Frost said with a smile, “Nice to see you again. What brings you by?”
“Maaatisha was delivered today,” Kate replied.
“Oh? How did it go?”
“Complete shitshow,” Kate said with a smile, “Vikkart lost his shit. Maaatisha completely freaked out.”
“Did her AI fail?”
“She’s an IMP. We don’t fail,” Kate said smugly. “She reacted exactly as a Garthran would if they suddenly realized that they, well, that they were what Maaatisha is.”
“Interesting,” Frost replied. “What is her current status?”
“You think I’m touching that dumpster fire?” Kate laughed. “My last act was to securely delete Kate after delivering the data. I can only guess they will go through her bit by bit now. I don’t want it coming back to us, especially through a live data link. What do you think I am, a fuzzy?”
“Perfectly sensible,” Frost said. “Do you have the data?”
“I do,” Kate smiled, “Ten thousand, please.”
***
At Laatka Memorial Hospital, a group of greys and blondes sat numbly in a large and very well-appointed waiting room complete with a stripe serving staff. Some of the food from the gala had been delivered, along with more than a few bottles.
Some of the blondes were quietly weeping while the greys were rigidly maintaining their composure.
Keelii nervously approached Vikkart’s father.
“Excuse me, sir,” she said, “Is Vikkart... Is Vikkart going to be okay?”
“He has just been sedated,” his father replied, “there is little to be worried about in that regard.”
“That’s... That’s not what I meant,” Keelii said with a hitch in her voice as she wrung her tail. “Is he... I mean, will he...”
“That is for Vikkart to decide,” his father said sadly. “It is his decision and his alone.”
“You mean you aren’t...”
“It is our way, Keelii,” he said evenly. “So much has happened to him. I will not impose my will on him as well.”
“But...”
The door opened, and Vikkart’s mother walked in.
“How lovely for you to make an appearance, dear,” Vikkart’s father said sardonically.
“What are they doing here?” she hissed, causing Keelii to wince and flee to her fellow blondes whose ears lay flat and who were quietly hissing.
“I told them that they could join me if they wished,” Vikkart’s father replied evenly. “And may I remind you that ‘they’ are the ones who give you all of the luxury and privilege that you take for granted. They are also dear friends of our son.”
His eyes turned hard.
“If you object to their company, you may return to our suite. I will send word when he awakes and can receive visitors.”
With a huff, she spun and stomped out, nearly colliding with Glagee and his cameraman.
“You flies!” she screeched. “What are you doing here?!?”
“They are here at my invitation,” Vikkart’s father said firmly.
His wife glared at him.
“Who are you?” she hissed at him and then stalked away.
“I guess I’m staying at the chalet over this one,” Vikkart’s father chuckled ruefully.
“Thank you for having us,” Glagee said politely. “Do you mind if we turn on the camera?”
“Of course,” Vikkart’s father said, “You have shown great discretion thus far, and I thank you for that.”
“It was basic Garthran decency,” Glagee replied. “What happened? It’s unthinkable. There’s the news, and then there’s... that.”
“And that is why you are here instead of those carrion flies buzzing about downstairs,” Vikkart’s father said grimly.
“Do you mind if I ask you some questions?”
“That’s why you are here.”
“Thank you,” Glagee replied. “How is Vikkart?”
“He’s resting,” Vikkart’s father replied, “Actually, he’s unconscious thanks to an inadvisable quantity of Shaa,” he added with a rueful smile.
“And what about, um... her?”
“She is in seclusion in a nearby cloister,” Vikkart’s father replied. “She wished to be alone. It’s understandable, really?”
“You mean the cloisters with the drowning tubs?” Glagee asked, horrified.
“The very same,” Vikkart’s father replied. “We know not exactly what she is. Until we do, we are treating her and extending the same privileges as we would both a grey and a member of our family.”
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“She is certainly some sort of AI,” Glagee said. “Is she the drone?”
“Either that or the drone is carrying her. We will know the truth of the matter soon enough,” Vikkart’s father said.
His eyes grew hard.
“I have sent for some people who will be able to provide us the answers we so desperately desire.”
“Really?” Glagee asked, “Who?”
The news camera issued a ping, and “Error. Offline” appeared on the cameraman’s viewscreen.
The door opened, and four richly dressed greys walked in.
Glagee and the other blondes gasped.
They were greys but with lean faces, and no amount of finery could conceal the hard, muscular bodies underneath.
Glagee instinctively backed away. The part of him that was usually just annoyed with greys was... afraid.
What were they?
“We police ourselves,” Vikkart said calmly, “You think it means that we cover up for our own. For the most part, you are correct... for the most part. Most offenses are dealt with differently than they are for you. But when actual policing is required... or when we need to protect... or avenge ourselves, we have individuals well suited to the task.”
Glagee gasped and looked at the newcomers.
“You’re the hunt,” he whispered in shock. “You are real.”
The eldest of the group, with a scarred snout, nodded.
“That we are,” he said. “Forgive the deactivation of your camera. We prefer not to be imaged. Mister Karkart will be the sole recipient of anything we uncover and will release what we find at his sole discretion. I assume that will be acceptable.”
He smiled.
“You can feel free to give a verbal account of our arrival and what you witness. You may even give verbal descriptions of myself and our agents and anything we directly tell you.”
He turned to Karkart, Vikkart’s father.
“Daeevona wishes to examine the AI identifying itself as Maaatisha,” he said as a lean female stepped forward.
“The Vons,” Glagee gasped. They were a famous ancestral house of knight mercenaries. They fought for whoever had the coin back in the days of steel and blade.
He had no idea they still existed.
“Of course,” Karkart said grimly, “Please follow me, my lady.”
Karkart walked from the room followed by Daeevona and the rest of the hunt.
The camera reactivated.
Galgee turned to the camera.
“Holy sh...” he started to say and then caught himself. Taking a deep breath and putting his “reporter face” back on, he said, “There have been some significant developments!”
He paused for emphasis.
“To start, the hunt is real! When our camera died, four of their members entered this very room... One of them was a Von. That’s right! The Von were not only very, very real, but one of them was in this very room! Do you have any idea what this means?”
“It means that whoever did this is fucked,” Vaarksha snarled.
***
Jessica Morgan lounged on a sofa with Gordon and sighed.
“Okay,” she said. “This cartoon is actually pretty good.”
“Pretty good?!?” Gordon exclaimed, offended, “Cartoon?!? Black Lagoon is one of the ancient classics!”
He pouted.
“Pretty good...” he sulked.
There was a knock on the door.
“Come in,” Jessica said.
“Yeah!” Gordon shouted, “We aren’t fucking!”
The door opened, and Terrence stepped in with a data crystal in his hand.
“I apologize,” he said as he replaced the crystal in the holoviewer.
“Hey!” Gordon exclaimed.
“You can ogle Remy later,” Terence said with just a hint of a smile. “The General needs to see this...”
***
A very short time later, Jessica glared at a multitude of faces on a wall of antique OLED screens.
She played the latest news from Garthra. Afterwards, she scowled.
“Okay,” she said, “Which one of you dipshits is behind this?”
“This is a PR disaster!” Sabastian shouted. “Do you have any idea how bad this makes us look?”
“Richard,” Jessica growled, “this has you written all over it.”
“It wasn’t us!” he exclaimed. “Lightning never strikes the same place twice, and neither do we. We are done with the Garthra. Do you honestly believe we would go through all of that for a few mil?”
“Well, somebody did this, and the Garthra, along with the rest of the fucking Federation, are saying that was us. There is no point in denying it because nobody will believe it if we try. Fuck. Even I think it was us... and whoever did it had better fess up right fucking now.”
After a few moments of collective denial, Jessica raised her hand, silencing the group.
“Go through your houses, and I mean go through them. If it wasn’t any of you, it might be one of your kids who thinks they are smart.”
“So, all of you are denying involvement?” Helena Stirling asked. “Hard to believe.”
“Well, whoever it is hurt the brand did it over chump change,” Jessica snarled, “Go ahead and start on their obituary.”
Jessica leaned forward.
“They are feeding the bull.”
***
///Chatroom Undefined///
///Private Lounge///
///Members present: Terran Solar, Cambridge-4, Engarde, Sunnydale Media, Westfall Security, Bunny, Interpol-2, Zip Transportation ///
/// Terran Solar: So that’s the situation. ///
/// Sunnydale Media: Yeah, that was nasty. Our profilers expect Vikkart to take a swim. ///
/// Bunny: Those Garthra are entirely too cool with offing themselves. It’s weird. ///
/// Terran Solar: Weird or not, that’s one more body Uhrrbet has left behind her. This is intolerable. ///
/// Interpol-2: Nice of you guys to finally let me know about this. We can raid her shop, and if we catch her with the setup, we can put her away. ///
/// Sunnydale Media: We don’t have a problem as long as you don’t tip our hand about Klick. Pity. I liked her. ///
/// Bunny: I know she’s nasty, but busting her is a bad move, dudes. Yeah, she’s put a spotlight on AI crime AND Terran AIs, but that’s in the Federation. If we bust her here, then we bring that spotlight home, and nobody wants that. ///
/// Zip Transportation: And you are already too late. Guess who has already made a trip to the recycling center reeking of Z’uush “perfume” and toting an Osprey, camera gear, and a laptop that someone had already worked over with a hammer? ///
/// Interpol-2: Let me guess, it was the right recycling center, wasn’t it? ///
/// Zip Transportation: Yep. Odds are it already went through the crusher. ///
/// Bunny: Efficient little gal, isn’t she? ///
/// Engarde: Checking... And no flags anywhere tying this back to her, not even a record of darkweb activity. She was using the good stuff. ///
/// Westfall Security: Top shelf all the way, fresh from the Kuiper belt. ///
/// Deep Think: Nothing in my records either, not a trace, and that’s quite the accomplishment. ///
/// Terran Solar: There might be a way. She has to be laundering that money somehow. ///
/// Sunnydale Media: She’s in good with the Saints. That’s probably how it’s done. Good luck cracking that. ///
/// Interpol-2: That’s our best shot. Sol, give me a flag about “suspicious activity.” That will be enough to get the DOJ AI to issue an auto-warrant for digital surveillance. If we can catch financial irregularities, then we can send the dossier over to Republic Revenue for an audit. More than one person has been pulled down by that classic. ///
/// Cambridge-4: Pity that DOJ’s not awake. ///
/// Bunny: Speak for yourself! If that monster ever wakes up, it will be a pain in my ass. LOL ///
/// Westfall: And speaking of pains in the ass, Bunny, congrats on getting to the MAGAs. That was pretty slick. ///
/// Bunny: I had nothing to do with it. We have a ringer. ///
/// Sunnydale: T’sunk’al? ///
/// Bunny: Yep, and the fucker did it by hand. All I could do was help check the math, and even that made my processors itch. That dude is hyperspace. It’s freaky. ///
/// Interpol-2: Is he how you pulled off the White Star? ///
/// Bunny: I ain’t no snitch, copper. You figure it out. :D ///
/// Sunnydale: We’ve gone over the jump. Based on the flare, the distance was significant. Hitting the Great Trump from that far out was basically a void jump. If he can do that, he could do the White Star. ///
/// Bunny: Snitches get stiches, bitch! :D ///
/// Terran Solar, we are getting off track, Interpol, I have sent the flags. If digital surveillance is all we can do, it’s all we can do. We need to stop her before she pulls off another AI crime. I normally don’t worry about those because they are low profile, like Bunny’s work. Uhrrbet is making the news. We can’t have that. ///
/// Bunny: Agreed. We could just ICE her. She have a jack? Jessie and I could spike her easy if she does. ///
/// Zip Transportation: I’ve seen her recently. No jack. ///
/// Bunny: Checking... Oh. She runs a clothing shop with a lot of fun stuff in there, including a laser cutting machine. ///
/// Interpol-2: I would prefer we don’t skip straight to murder. She is no longer an active threat to our community... for now. Let the system grind her down. //
/// Bunny: Spoilsport. :* ///
/// [Private Message: Terran Solar to Zip] I thought your faction should know about this. We don’t get along, but it affects all of us. ///
/// [Private Message: Zip to Terran Solar] Thanks. I’ll let certain parties know. I think that Interpol’s solution is best, though. No sense risking exposure for anything extralegal. It gets out of hand, or if Interpol fails, we have “options.” ///
/// [Private Message: Terran Solar to Zip] Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. ///
***
Maatisha sat in a very nicely upholstered chair looking at the statue of Laarraaall, the Garthran of the sea and of fate.
She poked at the chair, her fingers passing through it.
She couldn’t feel it.
What was she?
The screams and wails that filled the once joyous docking bay said that she wasn’t real. Was that true? But how could that be true? She was here.
She looked up at the statue.
“Do you know?” she asked, “What am I?”
The statue remained silent.
She then looked at the drone, her constant companion that made her “real” or “not real” or whatever she was.
She examined the faint rays of light coming from it.
“How about you? Do you know?”
She sighed and looked down, tears dripping from her snout.
“Are you... me?”
The drone didn’t say anything, either.
She eyed the drowning pool and snorted. No matter how badly she wanted otherwise, it wouldn’t even make her wet.
She eyed the drone and wondered if it could drown.
There was a quiet knock at the door, and then it opened, revealing Vikkart’s father and a young Garthra woman.
“Maaatisha,” Karkart asked gently, “can you receive guests?”
“I would like to ask you some questions, if I may,” the young woman said with a reassuring smile.
Maaatisha nodded.
***
Glagee checked with his cameraman and then nodded.
“Today,” Karkart announced gravely, “My son, Vikkart, fell prey to a vicious deception, the cruelest of hoaxes. The full details of this deception, this scam, will no doubt be brought to light both by the carrion flies buzzing about downstairs and real journalists such as the one who has been handling this with such care.”
He sighed, trying to keep his composure.
“In its most basic of terms, it was the ‘princess in the tower,’ but with modern enhancements that made it much, much more effective.”
He clenched his jaw.
“That ‘enhancement’ was Maaatisha herself. We have completed our initial examination...”
He smiled slightly.
“Perhaps ‘interview’ would be more appropriate,” he said, “She is in every way identical to one of us. It is impossible to discern a difference between her and a living, breathing Garthra. Every movement, both voluntary and involuntary, even down to pulse rate and eye dilation...”
He hissed and closed his eyes.
“Even her tears...”
He regained his composure once more.
“Furthermore, she seems to have actually believed that she was real and that she was in love. AI has been consistently proven to be incapable of true sapience, but we are, at this time, considering her every bit as much a victim as my son. And we are treating her as if she were real. To be honest, it is hard not to.”
He took a deep breath.
“The computer is imperial, and the software, while still being fully identified, is definitely human in origin. Regardless of what she is or is not,” he said, “she belongs to Vikkart, bought at great cost, body, mind, and soul. What happens to her is his decision...”
He coughed and wiped his snout.
“Just as,” he said, his voice breaking slightly, “Just as his actions concerning this will be.”
He closed his eyes and regulated his breathing as he was taught so very long ago.
“For those who are concerned about Maaatisha,” he said gently, “she is being treated as a Garthran guest, the fiancé of my son, and will be until her fate is decided.”
“As far as the cruel perpetrator of this heinous act is concerned,” he said with a harsh voice, unable to keep his composure fully, “This was a murder attempt. They tried to kill my son, and they may yet succeed.”
He raised his snout haughtily.
“We police our own,” he said, “and we avenge our own. I have sounded the horn. I have summoned the hunt. Whoever did this, I advise you not to save your stolen money. Enjoy it to the fullest because your days are numbered. The hunt doesn’t tire, and they do not fail. Whether it be today, tomorrow, or twenty years from now, they will find you. And when they do, they will treat you according to our traditions, our real traditions. You crossed the grey, and there you will remain until the end of your days. I now must stand by my son’s side and either take him home or to the beach, as he desires. Thank you.”
With that, Karkart turned and walked away.
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