On Sam's HUD Serena, a tall and striking figure, commanded attention. Her light-caramel skin, a shade that perfectly mirrored Sam's, glowed softly. High cheekbones sculpted her face, and thick, shoulder-length blonde hair cascaded around her. A black skirt and top, clinging to her slender frame as if painted on, hugged her curves. The sharp click of 10-centimeter stiletto heels punctuated her black suede boots on the floor. Her platinum-blonde hair gleamed, framing piercing blue eyes that held an understated allure.
Serena appreciative that Sam's mental image, or "office persona" of her has never been puerile. The mental picture is not one of a stripper or a sexually suggestive image. Mass media images often present AI women like Serena in a dehumanized way, sacrificing their humanity to display an artificial ideal.
I am an artificial woman, Serena thinks, so it's impossible to dehumanize me. I lack the cultural conditioning of a human woman.
She watches as Sam collects a backup pistol from another dead sergeant of the 5th Mechanized Infantry Brigade. Other than his obnoxious behavior and his origin on the Tinhorn space station, Serena knew little about him beyond his last name being Zbyszek and where he was from.
"Serena, you remember this dead asshole?"
"Sam, I believe it is poor form to speak ill of the dead."
"Yes, Serena. I am sorry he's dead, but gods he was such a jerk. I wonder if everyone from the Tinhorn station are jerks?"
"From the available documentation, Tinhorn station was settled primarily by people from someplace called Texas."
"Was that one of the older colonies?"
"No. I think it was a pre-First Machine War country. Records are fairly spotty from that time."
"In school I always found history boring."
"From your memories I know."
As the pistol gets clipped to Sam's armor, it's immediately added to the inventory she maintains. Serena is familiar with the old Ebon Guardian 10mm pistol, which is an older model no longer issued. She briefly wondered how the sergeant gained the pistol, as no armorer would issue such an outdated model.
The 24-round magazine in the pistol is full and comes with an additional 100 rounds of ammunition in a box. All the pistol rounds from this fallen soldier are armor-piercing and contain a terrible neurotoxic-hemotoxic poison. Nanites in other bullets create their own sodium-blocking toxin reminiscent of a neurotoxin and saxitoxin.
Sam is not the first to lose all his friends on the battlefield. At least he is not suffering from paralysis by analysis. Serena understands that people have stumbled into errors as significant as, or even more so than Sam's.
The suit's muon imager is a frequent tool in Serena's arsenal for exploration. The muon imager uses naturally occurring cosmic-ray muons that constantly rain down on planetary surfaces. These particles pass through most matter, but slow down, scatter, or get absorbed differently depending on density.
Serena’s system detects incoming muons, tracks how they exit after passing through terrain or structures, reconstructing a 3D density map. For now, only she can see the density map, as she does not want to overwhelm Sam with too much information. She needs Sam to focus on survival, not on how thick the trench walls are.
"Sam I am using the muon detector checking for hidden or obscured features. I'll let you know if I find something. I wish our former suit's muon detector had worked."
"A fucking what detector?"
"Think of it as passive X-ray vision that works through mountains, bunkers, and battlefields, without emitting anything. No active ping. No giveaway. Perfect for scouts. It wasn't working in our previous armor."
"Serena I hate to tell you but I don't think we are a scout anymore."
“Noted. There’s a void three meters ahead. Ground collapse risk. Follow the path I indicated to avoid it.”
"Copy. Moving."
From the background radiation, Serena believes this part of the trench suffered a near miss from a small tactical nuke in the five to seven kiloton range. Serena does not want Sam out of his armor. They will need to decontaminate their armor before entering a hab module.
She mentally winces as Sam trips and stumbles over rubble in a collapsed part of the trench. "Easy Sam. I just put you back together. I won't risk you breaking again."
"Yes, Mother."
"Despite your glib response, be careful."
Sam finds the body of his friend, Baolong. He sighs and then looks at the sky. Serena knows that Sam routinely looks up to think before speaking. Most of IY98k remains frozen and inert. Combat operations were limited to rare equatorial stress corridors that featured corrosive venting, ash storms, and chemically active terrain.
"Sam mourn later. Right now you need his food, water, battery and air tanks."
"From your memories I note Baolong was a moonie as well and a devout Coptic Chistian."
"Yeah. We were the only two moonies in our basic company." Wincing, Sam lightly touched the remaining part of his friend's helmet. "He wanted to get his theology degree and become a chaplain."
Moonies are children born on moon colonies such as Enceladus, Titan, etc. Serena quickly looks at Baolong's service file. He was from the small colony on Chowei III and was of Chinese and African descent. As she had done for the other dead soldiers, she noted his file for next of kin notification.
Serena downloads the combat logs from Baolong's armor. Poor bastard took three 57 mm CIH rounds, one nearly taking his head off, one slightly left of center in his chest and another through his hips. Mercifully, he died instantly rather than choke on IY98k's toxic environment.
"Sam would you like to say a few words for your friend?"
"Please, but I do not know any verses from his religion."
"I'll help you. Say the words I display on your HUD."
"As for those, O Lord, whose souls You have taken, repose them, and may they be worthy of the kingdom of the heavens."
"Thank you Serena."
"Your're welcome. Leave the Zār anti-aircraft missiles we don't need them."
"Kay."
Sam sighs and kneels over his friend while Serena controls the waldos collecting food, water, air tanks, and batteries.
"You're sure we're heading in the right direction?"
"Yes, Sam." She highlights a ridge on Sam's HUD. High-density structure beneath that ridge. "This direction leads to the secondary command bunker. The locating beacon is sporadic but active."
"I'm surprised. I would think that would be a primary target for the enemy."
"It should have been. From the radiation readings in the craters, it suffered several nearby nuclear artillery strikes. We'll have to decontaminate our armor when we enter the bunker."
"I wonder if anyone is alive in there. You think Captain Gaileswinþa made it in there instead? Last I heard from her she was heading to the primary command bunker." He pronounces the CPT's name as 'GAYL-es-win-tha.' "Took me forever to say her name correctly."
"I'm not seeing any movement, but we are at extreme range for the muon detector."
"Before all the satellites went dark, the last update wasn't good."
"Not surprised. This was a shit show."
"The primary CP was destroyed along with the Ranger and most of the Commonwealth fleet in orbit."
"Well there went my things. Shit I had a 50 credit chip in my foot locker."
"The last surviving Commonwealth battleship and the remnants of the CW fleet carried out a tactical withdrawal."
"Fucking space squids left us hanging."
"Both fleets, battered and recovering from savagely mauling each other, retreated from the orbit of IY98k."
"So the CIH fucked their soldiers as well."
"When they destroyed the Ranger, overall battle command should have reverted to the alternate CP on IY98k. I believe that is where we are heading."
Sam weaves through the zig-zagging defensive trenches, approaching a shattered parapet. As he steps around several scattered pieces of armor, weapons, and equipment, he looks at the radiation reading from the jagged crater he stands in.
"Serena I think this area suffered a direct hit from nuclear artillery."
"Concur. The blast pattern, shrapnel field, and buried bodies indicate this was not just a bad engagement. This was a massacre.”
She sees a man-shaped density shadow behind slagged reinforced concrete and highlights it for Sam.
"That's First Lieutenant Chandrasekhar."
"Or at least the top half of him."
"Why the fuck is he is wearing heavy composite armor?"
"The captain could change his armor thanks to the Commonwealth's augment policy, which makes all soldiers uniform in size. Perhaps his previous armor got damaged like yours did."
"Surprised he chose a heavy infantry suit."
"Most small arms would be ineffective but several tons of concrete was quite effective. The concrete came down crushing his hips and sheared his legs off. We lack the tools to lift the concrete and are too exposed here. Keep moving soldier."
With every step Sam takes, Serena's words wash over him, a welcome distraction from the sight of death all around.
"Sam damage to the back of your previous armor was caused by a friendly fire RPG from a rookie squad mate. We were fortunate that it was not nuclear tipped."
"What fucking happened to the friendly fire preventative measures?"
"Uncertain. Possibly the quantum computers running the battle were overloaded. Even with several linked quantum computers you can hit the limits of real-time weapons, communication and position control."
"Fuck."
"Luckily you were knocked down when the CIH strafed your position with 57mm cannon and 103mm rockets."
Using the muon detector, Serena scans for terrain stability and collapse risk. On IY98k, this is its most important function. The imager shows micro-fractures, magma pressure zones, hollowed rock, and chemically weakened crust.
Serena does not dump raw data on him. She filters it when he needs it into ghost outlines, color-coded density zones, warning overlays, pulsing risk markers, and “combat fog” where data is uncertain.
"Sam stop for a moment. Muon imaging is statistical. It needs time. Good maps take minutes. Fast scans are fuzzy. Moving blurs targets. IY98k's environment doesn't help."
IY98k’s environment hurts the muon detector with radiation bursts, EM storms, volcanic ash, and the moon's gas giant's magnetosphere. All cause noise. Sometimes the map lies. That’s dangerous.
"Ok. Tell me when to move."
"Go."
The battlefield might look normal to Sam but under it, Serena sees red veins of unstable ground, pale silhouettes of corpses, dense black knots of piled up armor, and flickering shadows where heat distorts the readings. Which is psychologically brutal.
Sam is literally walking through ghosts. Long-term, this matters. Serena is concerned about the psychological impact on Sam. Because Sam sees buried friends, half-melted bodies, and people under the rubble he cannot reach.
Old casualties long after the battles are over. He carries those images. It feeds his survivor’s guilt. And later, his capacity for love, because he remembers exactly what losing people looks like.
“Why didn’t you tell me there were five of them buried under that ridge?”
“Because you were already at cognitive saturation.”
“Muon map updating,” Serena said. “Multiple density anomalies ahead. Probable buried armor and two damaged power cores. Ground integrity at forty percent. Recommend reroute.”
I crouch anyway. On my HUD, the rock in front of me blooms into a pale ghost of bodies and twisted metal.
“Jesus,” I whispered.
“Yes,” Serena replied softly. “Approximately.”
Most AIs maximize tactical advantage. Serena filters to protect Sam. The muon detector cannot see intent. It shows mass, not loyalty. Dead, alive, enemy, friendly all look similar. That keeps paranoia alive.
“Stop. Two steps forward the ground gives way." She projects a path on his HUD. "Take this route.”
"Are you sure? I'm going to silhouette myself above the trench."
“Data incomplete. Confidence 62 percent. Which means Sam, we have to gamble.”
"Fuck."
"Agreed."
Serena ensures the electro-mechanical camouflage is active on their armor. This heavy power armor has a non-Newtonian fluid layer surrounding Sam, protecting him from radiation and some light energy weapons. Their much lighter scout armor lacked such effective radiation shielding.
Sam scrambles through the area without incident. An Apex Burn-Brite chew is dispensed into Sam's mouth when he triggers the mechanism. Even though it tastes like chalky passion fruit-flavored battery acid, Sam needs the immediate boost of energy and nutrients.
Serena ensures that the supply of protein-laden sludge into Sam's stomach is sufficient for his activity level. Sam's increased metabolism, augmented muscles, and nanites require highly condensed, high-protein food. Soldiers like Sam are expensive to feed.
With a heavy sigh, Sam paused, the rough texture of worn ablative plates scratchy under his gauntlets as he removed essential supplies from the fallen soldier. From the personal information Serena can access of Private First Class Taliesin, the soldier was originally from Tethys.
Serena is not familiar with the Tethys colony, although from Sam's memory Tethys was his chief rival in school sports. Sam was a natural at zero-G lacrosse; his movements were fluid and precise in the weightless environment. She wonders if crime and poverty are the norm on Tethys, as they were on Sam's home colony.
Is the Tethys colony as Balkanized as Sam's home colony? I can't imagine living in a colony broken into smaller, mutually hostile groups. Only the war united them against a common foe.
Sam has an ex-girlfriend from Tethys that he thinks of often. It finally dawns on Serena that Sam's mental picture of her is quite like his former girlfriend.
She was surprised to learn from Sam's memories that he speaks some colloquial Tagalog, as he finds Filipina girls beautiful. His home colony had a large population of Filipinos and Brazilians, such as Sam.
Serena finds human sexuality both weird and interesting. For instance, why take a sex drug that overloads their 5-HT2B receptors with artificial serotonin? Serena, housed in the superconducting quantum computer attached to his cerebral cortex, grows with Sam, developing better integration. She is paired with a horny, virile 19-year-old male. Do all young male humans think of sex so frequently?
"Sam let's take a breather. Now that you are back underneath the trench edge, let me adjust your feed rate. Eat another Burn-Brite chew or two, you need the quick energy."
Super soldier problems with metabolism became like the extinct shrew, a victim of their own metabolism. Regular soldiers such as Sam still receive genetic engineering using viral vector techniques and recombinant technology to improve soldiers' speed, strength, and stamina. Sam has larger, more efficient circulatory and respiratory systems, denser muscles with more fast-twitch fibers, denser bones, and stronger tendons and connections between bone and muscle.
Sam sits with his back to the trench wall. "Nice to stretch out and relax a little."
Sam's suit maintenance waldos (named after a short story by the sci-fi writer Robert A. Heinlein several hundred years ago) controlled by Serena, handle swapping air tanks, water packs, bio packs, and ration packs for ones that are full.
High-resolution muon scans drain the batteries. Using it too much means less shielding, slimmer life support margins, and less ECM. So Serena must ration it. Another moral choice. She could start the small fission reactor, but doing so raises their electromagnetic signature.
Sam deployed small, flexible solar panels from the environmental support pack on the back of his armor. The solar panels add a little juice to his batteries, but are not enough to fill his batteries completely. Because of the damage to his armor, the solar panels cannot produce the power the batteries need.
"Sam the solar panels are only producing 100.0833 volts, which is hardly enough to keep up with current energy demands."
"The CIH has better batteries, but the Commonwealth has better armor and weapons."
"Correct Sam. CW armor has electric servo frictionless motors and is made of nanocarbon fiber spider weave with titanium and ceramic lamellar plates. A secret non-Newtonian fluid lies beneath the ablative layer of rvergalite crystal plating."
"Our scout suit didn't have that." He shakes an arm violently. "I don't hear a liquid."
"The non-Newtonian fluid viscosity increases with shear stress. As you move the non-Newtonian fluid remains fluid but hardens to a solid when hit, exposed to vacuum or atmosphere. The fluid absorbs shock reducing the kinetic effect of ammunition."
An eight-legged robot scurries up to Sam. "Where the hell did you find the fucking MULE?"
"The Multiple Utility Load Expediter was lying idle in another trench. It does not have any supplies on it. You can use it to carry extra supplies up to 1,300 kg."
Using the suit's waldos, Serena plugs the external power charging cable into the MULE.
“MULE, shadow route,” Serena said.
The platform pivots silently, legs folding, tracks deploying, sliding into the ash like a living thing.
“MULE-X9A2 acknowledged. Route clear,” it replied in a flat, machine voice.
“Good,” I muttered. “Let’s not die today.”
"The MULE's nuclear batteries are nearly fully charged. Drone battery life is excellent in the low gravity of this small moon. Sam, rest for a few minutes while the suit's batteries recharge."
"Serena, I if it breaks how the fuck are we gonna fix it? The soldiers that had the MOS for fixing and maintaining the MULEs are dead."
"Let me worry about that. Sam, why don't you take a nap. You could use the sleep."
While Sam is resting, Serena cycles the nanites through the armor's exterior. Nanites consume the radiation, turning it into fuel, slightly reducing the caloric load on Sam. With the amount of radiation freely available, she will have access to lots of charged nanites should she need to repair either Sam's body or slight damage to the armor.
They karyotype all service members, correcting chromosomal deficiencies when found. Serena notes that with Sam's exposure to radiation, there is some chromosomal damage she needs to fix.
"Too much on my mind." Sam looks up and closes his eyes. "Could you put me out, please."
"Of course. I'll wake you in about a half hour."
After Sam is asleep, Serena prints and then launches a mini-drone. She needs to verify where they are heading and survey the area for threats and opportunities. With the drone battling IY98k's atmosphere, she doesn't know how long the drone will survive. Until the drone dies, she will get all the intel she can.
After the drone has been in the air for a few minutes, she watches the drone's data stream. Sam is snoring lightly while she monitors his dreams, ensuring her Sam does not have a nightmare. An alert causes her to look at something the drone discovered.
"What the fuck is that?"
