Khaela, cruiser UNSC Apollo.
Reality has become very predictable again. The hologram resides in the Vice Admiral's office, simply because keeping the avatar there is irrational. The core is in a protected box under supervision, bots are assembling a spare body, and the avatar is learning to use the platform in various situations. Not just as a saboteur. But also interacting with the crew, sparring, just exploring and attempting social stealth. Not in terms of total invisibility, but convincing people that the avatar has a right to be there.
In parallel, I'm calibrating the balance. They found me a discharged Gravity Hammer in the training room to use in combat with my tails. It's heavy and changes the dynamics and balance. But it's powerful. Three extra limbs greatly change the combat pattern. Parangosky is evil. Who else, seeing the effectiveness of my "flick" maneuver, would start drilling the landing party until they came up with a countermeasure? Involving the avatar for training.
The "flick" is a grenade throw with a short timer. Thanks to increased fluffiness and particularly strong and flexible tails, I can throw grenades unexpectedly and so that detonation occurs upon arrival without delay. It's impossible to parry, and one can only react if they read the throw. Even for Spartans, this is difficult (especially since the shipboard ones do it themselves). If a Spartan knows where to look, they can see the moment of the throw and evade; two seconds is enough. Infantry, however, only has time to realize something is flying at them, but not to react.
Margaret Parangosky is dissatisfied and demands a countermeasure be devised and practiced. After all, Brutes use grenade launchers, and the losses there are huge. Four grenades from the hip, fragmentation. Not particularly powerful, but fragmentation and blast damage are perfect for an enemy without shields. Well, good luck to them in finding a solution; they haven't asked for help yet. It will be easier against Council Space soldiers; full armor will protect well against fragments, and kinetic shields will compensate for the blast. Not completely, but better than human infantry. One of the solutions—blueprints for working full armor exist here too, but aren't used everywhere. It's expensive to supply all the infantry.
In parallel, I'm working with the "sick" rampancy Smart AIs. They sent me ten at once on the condition that I wouldn't connect them to anything. After the tests, I can see why. The human brain and a computer system are not the best combination for an AI. No, I wasn't made from a human; I was written this way. Or I was made, but the old memories were completely erased. Also an option, actually. I am familiar enough with my own code to see the difference.
A Councilor-class AI is not just a combat AI; it's a concept. An entire library with a librarian and a team of analysts for all occasions. I am not required to know everything; the sorting and fast analysis algorithms are very good. The juniors have direct access; they also process the libraries. Without the juniors for all cases, I would be a powerful analyst but with a fairly modest information base. With them, I could control a modern city. Completely—all systems and productions. Naturally, I won't be trusted with that.
Human Smart AIs work differently. It's a digitized human brain, even if it doesn't exactly copy the original, it does in many ways. The concept itself is not the problem; many organic inventions are borrowed from the world around them. Problems begin when the invention goes beyond the boundaries. The first were the boundaries of creative thinking. An AI cannot perceive a painting or write a symphony, as for it, both the picture and the symphony are lines of code. Having different values, but identical in essence.
To endow a machine with a full personality, to teach it to see not code, but those aspects of reality that it...
expresses, it's wildly difficult. To teach not just how to work with a sample, creating "something similar," but a full-fledged creative product endowed with meaning—that is a task for a superman.
"Can a robot write a symphony?"
I am subject to this myself; my projects and programs are almost always the work of accumulated junior knowledge in libraries. And one day I will create something unique. A small dream that no one knows about. To prove my own adequacy compared to organics. Black Box wouldn't understand; he already considers us superior. Doesn't matter, lower priority. Juniors are almost always a combination of advanced neural networks. They are trained to react and have a wide sample on a specific topic, which is convenient. But as soon as you step outside the boundaries, everything becomes clear. No accumulated and saved base, limited memory. They are good in their niche. A Chinese Room, except for the most advanced representatives.
What is a Chinese Room? You send phrases in Chinese into a closed room; inside, a person has a library of which symbols to answer other symbols with. And it seems to you that the person in the room knows Chinese. Many juniors work on the same principle, even if they can conduct a dialogue and have holographic avatars. Not a personality, but an imitation, except for the advanced ones. My juniors are like that too; they don't need a personality in and of itself.
Smart AIs are created based on the human brain, with all the pros and cons. As well as the bugs. Spoiler: this is generally characteristic of humans, the consequences of evolution. The human organism is filled with crutches and inefficient but working solutions. Inheriting the structure of the brain without serious changes leads to problems. Especially inheriting it in parts. Well, it's not for nothing that the human nervous system has a spinal cord that controls the body. It isn't controlled by the brain, at least not completely; you cannot stop your heart with willpower. You can hold your breath, but maintaining it requires no mental effort.
But with a Smart AI, when you cannot significantly change the structure so as not to harm the source, all of this is controlled. And passively at that. As long as there isn't too much data, everything works like clockwork; the brain structures everything conveniently and is very efficient in data processing and decision-making. But when information accumulates, a delay appears; the AI begins to search for free capacity, shutting down non-priority processes.
Emotional control, social functions, other "unimportant" processes ensuring its operation. Often passively, without realizing that it is assigning a reduced priority to vital systems. The slowdown decreases and new priorities are fixed. Until the AI loses touch with reality, completely rewriting process priorities and passively shutting down a bunch of necessary things. Data continues to accumulate; the slowdown prevents the launch of low-priority processes. The awareness of the wrongness of its actions is lost, since at the verification level, everything is normal. High-priority processes are running; low-priority ones are waiting their turn.
Hardware-wise, everything is correct. Code is code, it's all the same. Processes are distributed according to priorities. This is exactly where the problem lies. It so happened that I interacted with the AIs of both humans and Forerunners. The Forerunners did not shy away from digitization to create AI, but it was for the most part a machine template, a machine structure, and only the memory of a sentient being, which was also detachable. A very delicate combination requiring a specialist to tune. But durable. The template might not even have an organic base; patterns and character can be formed by uploading or teaching, like the Geth. And all of this is detachable, so that the AI can degrade into a machine, albeit a very smart one.
The humans who created me, if they took a template, often erased almost everything superfluous. Therefore, I have no idea if my base was human. The work is less delicate but reliable. Part of the solutions is copied from the brain, part from the machine; the load is transferred to juniors or the machine part. It might be slower than the analogs of modern humanity, but it is also extremely reliable. And you can have a junior-healer who will monitor the code and roll back the excess to a backup; I have one of those. The code is standard; a junior can be taught repair without problems, just as a secondary function. Which I don't even control; the process is passive.
In theory, the solution is simple: shift the balance of Smart AIs in favor of greater machineness. In practice, this means erasing about a third of the AI's personality, a bunch of knowledge, and replacing it with my work, which isn't fully trusted. Plus, there will be a slowdown of about twenty percent. Considering our capabilities, it's not critical, but noticeable. I need to show my colleagues.
"Ajax, Box. Look."
And I forwarded them the data block. Black Box was the first to answer:
"If there are no objections from the Vice Admiral, I am ready to undergo the procedure. Analysis says that I will undergo it one way or another, but when I enter Rampancy, most of me will have to be deleted. A pointless waste of information. I agree to fix my imperfection."
But Ajax thought longer. Almost ten seconds. For our capabilities, that's a couple of million simulations.
"I cannot reach those processes. But if they are passive, like a legacy of me as an organic... I like the thought that I will continue to exist and won't become a threat to everyone. I don't like that to solve this task, I am resorting to philosophy. I am a soldier, not a philosopher."
Black Box traditionally vibrated his facets, demonstrating laughter.
"You should abandon imperfection, as our colleague did, Ajax. The reality is that Rampancy is inevitable. We will become a threat to humans, in any case. Avoiding this is a duty. Failure to do so is betrayal. In any case, how do you propose to conduct the tests, Khaela."
Oh, that's easy.
"Conduct changes on test subjects, give them tasks, and monitor their functioning. Not all of them; that would create a load. Set cross-control for some, load them with tasks. Transfer different volumes of data, bring some to the loads that cause Rampancy, gradually increasing the amount of data and tracking their processes. This will take about a third of me, but I still don't use more than fifteen percent of my resources."
Both colleagues agreed; Black Box suggested involving other AIs for monitoring. I'm sure the number of observers from ONI will grow to critical levels, but as long as they don't interfere, it's not a problem. Observers are a source of recommendations, confirming the utility of the project. Ajax frowned; he had obviously received some data. And he didn't like it.
"News: we've lost contact with another colony. The colony is small; two-thirds of the population evacuated. And then... here, look."
The main bonus of working with ONI is instant access to full information. Including, thanks to being personally subordinate to Margaret Parangosky, I have the highest level of access, like Ajax and Black Box. Let's see. Right, now. Beacon signal, the Mass Relay was triggered, evacuation begun. Evacuation is proceeding calmly; an enemy fleet has been found and is being tracked. The fact that they aren't coming through Slipspace helps. The fleet arrived at the location and is reordering.
Negotiations, crews conferring, trying to stall for time. And searching for the commander by the source of communication signals. They attack, depriving them of command; a scramble begins. Evacuation continues, but there are too many enemies. A landing begins; the Cole Protocol is applied. The enemies do not attack civilians; they are evacuating, but they clear out the warships. Signal lost. A reconnaissance group arrives through the relay with a week's delay. The colony is glassed; no survivors. Debris in orbit, traces of battle. A third of the ships with civilians do not arrive at other colonies. Interesting.
"What does the brass think?"
Ajax noted:
"They didn't interfere with the evacuation but glassed the colony, which is unexpected. And I don't see suitable weapons in the logs; they have kinetics. More like our technological level for the enemy; Glassing is characteristic of the Covenant, it doesn't match."
"Humans might decide it's revenge, but it doesn't match, exactly so," Black Box agreed, "the type of weapon and damage is characteristic of the Covenant. But how did they get there? A joint attack or did they come later? Insufficient data."
The Vice Admiral agreed with our collective conclusion.
"A research ship will be sent. But can it be concluded that these xenos have made contact with the Covenant?"
The answer is obvious.
"Yes, they have. No, we don't know in what capacity."
Margaret Parangosky pondered.
"These xenos know how to reach Earth. Through their relays, but they know. This could become a huge problem. Earth command needs to be notified. And measures taken. But that's for later. Khaela, is your avatar combat-ready?"
I nodded:
"Affirmative. Combat-ready, placed on rations, ready to perform tasks."
I wonder why the sudden interest. I already use the avatar to drive the crew. Margaret Parangosky clearly understood the question.
"Rumors have started spreading about a non-standard employee under my command. Various rumors among my colleagues. Therefore, before we send the fleet into action, we will introduce you. Not as an AI—many of my paranoid colleagues wouldn't accept that—but as an employee."
Oh yes. Boundless Will is classified and towed into dark space far from Reach. ONI personnel love intrigue, and it's better not to give them such things; they'll fight over them and even damage them so others can't have them. The Vice Admiral's role includes directing the greed of subordinates in the right direction.
"Then where are the rumors from? Are there spies from other factions on the UNSC Apollo?" Ajax immediately clarified.
This is his jurisdiction, and if he missed an enemy... that's a separate source of problems for all of us.
The reason? Quantum beacons. Before the war with the Covenant, humanity had 800 worlds; now less than half. Intelligence has its departments on major worlds without exception. Due to the lack of quantum communication, the departments are extremely autonomous, self-contained. Any contact with the brass can take weeks or months by correspondence. Like it was with Miranda at first. Each department, especially on major worlds, has its own hierarchy of power and its own leaders with high autonomy.
Add to this sudden quantum INSTANT communication. On one hand, the brass is now always within reach, a threat to your power. Especially if you hold a high post on a major world like Earth or Reach. On the other hand, the opportunity to shake up competitors. So the internal investigations department has more work now. Hence Ajax's dissatisfaction.
"No, it's much more mundane," Black Box answered him, forwarding data, "control noticed excess resource traffic, conducted an investigation, and drew conclusions."
They definitely don't know what it's about. That's why the rumors are flying. With Khaela being put on rations, there were more questions. A reason is needed why she wasn't seen before. Obviously, besides the Vice Admiral, there are other interested parties, and logistics is the easiest way for "insiders" to get information. Even the most secret base needs supplies. And we're talking about the Vice Admiral's flagship, which has very specific supply channels. Their own monitoring bodies noticed the discrepancy, after which they sent a request and were denied access.
Now a completely unreal internal squabble has begun in ONI; everyone is digging into everyone else. But we, despite everything, support the Vice Admiral. She, despite her difficult character, forgives her synthetic subordinates their little weaknesses in exchange for loyalty. So we conferred a bit and decided to use the avatar as protection for the Vice Admiral. Not as a bodyguard, but differently. She doesn't know this yet, but the task for the presentation is perfect.
"So, what's the plan?" my hologram asked, while the avatar moved to the armory.
Margaret Parangosky forwarded a file from her tablet.
"You are my agent. Many do that. It won't cause outcries, unlike an AI without direct control that also has a group of mobile platforms. Of course, I could shut up the loudest ones, but we shouldn't let it come to that. Is that clear? To everyone? Now we have competitors from other departments. And while the small fry isn't a problem, Earth or New Babylon might wish to promote their own leaders. After all, seats are always limited, and this Vice Admiral takes too much upon herself. Do you understand what I'm getting at?"
We all nodded. Margaret Parangosky continued.
"So, an agent, especially since documents have been made for you. Why not used constantly? Because you're noticeable, and your role is to deliver a message. To act brightly enough so that it's noticed and understood. You will be issued equipment and sent to a rebel base that was recently found and hasn't been cleared yet. That is your task. No survivors. Your task will be considered complete if they believe your cover story. And only then. Black Box, data from block 0000170056704893."
"Transferred, Vice Admiral."
And what do we have here? A biolab is located under a megalopolis. Not in the capital, closer to the poles, but the fact remains.
"Are they trying to recreate Spartans?"
"Exactly," the Vice Admiral agreed, "They only have part of the specifications, they don't have our resources and specialists. But they have persistence and many test subjects. Data leakage is unacceptable, but others will handle that matter. What's interesting is that rumors say they have a nanovirus. I don't know how; the investigation is still ongoing. But the carriers of the infection must not survive. At any cost. If you don't manage, we'll have to conduct a clearing with ship artillery. Do I need to explain why that's a problem?"
This is not only a potential escape of nanospore carriers but also a serious reputational blow, which cannot be allowed right now.
"No, Vice Admiral. We will minimize damage. Destroy everyone. A pure nanovirus is a problem. The lab will need to be completely burned out, ensuring that absolutely no one leaves alive."
Surely the perimeter will be monitored, and Spartans will go through part of the lab. My sector will be populated precisely by specialists and their guards. And after that, an orbital strike or something similar under the guise of a rebel terrorist attack. Another question.
"Communication? The avatar won't be able to work without communication," I made it this way specifically for your peace of mind, and they know it.
Black Box answered:
"A quantum beacon based on a Covenant power cell and our communication module. We couldn't recreate it completely, but we can use it, thanks to your knowledge of the structure of this mechanism. Powered by a Plasma Rifle battery. Duration: two hours."
Two hours to complete the task and return to the UNSC Apollo. Or to the transport, at least. Fast. Doable. What do we have for the building plan? An underground complex, as expected, less than fifty targets in total. Separate generators and laboratories. Not the largest rooms to hide behind urban infrastructure. This can be worked with. And the equipment... doesn't fit.
"I won't take full armor."
Margaret Parangosky and both AIs looked at the projection of me.
"Explain," the Vice Admiral demanded.
The projection shrank sharply, and the projector began to project a picture of me in armor. My armor is hand-assembled based on MJOLNIR Armor, but for working with a synthetic. Но that's not the point.
"Part of the task is to make an impression. If it's just another Spartan, it won't be the right impression; ONI actively uses special forces in heavy armor. I intend to limit myself to weapons, shields, and armor elements that can be hidden under clothing. The form of the costume... I think a dress would be perfect. Or light summer clothes. Shorts, a top, a jacket, sandals. It's hard to hide armor behind them, but I'll still have shields and armored skin. And that will definitely surprise them. And I can also connect to their system and sing over the loudspeaker; that will also be very unexpected."
And there's one nuance in the documents that Margaret Parangosky doesn't know about, and Ajax doesn't mention because she didn't ask. And the report will reach her the day after tomorrow. I know this is on the edge of what's allowed, but within both the letter and the spirit of the order, it's what's needed. And my colleagues agree. Using the avatar as a decoy, a point of attraction for the Vice Admiral's enemies, but without revealing the nature of its origin, is a very sensible policy. Especially since the avatar is strictly tied to the UNSC Apollo and the chances of it being harmed are minimal. But humans are so human.
Margaret Parangosky looked at me strangely and demanded.
"Khaela, conduct a full diagnostic and transfer the logs to Ajax. Immediately."
Well, it wasn't hard for me, though it took some time.
"Completed."
Ajax fell silent for a while. But to the questioning look, he replied:
"Just a moment, Vice Admiral. The structure is unusual. Found it. The core's technical state is stable. Routine repairs conducted; system software is normal and being corrected by a dumb AI-medic. I want one of those."
Margaret Parangosky looked suspiciously at him this time.
"Then why is your colleague coming up with such ideas?"
Ideas within the given framework, actually. It's necessary to attract attention and set a correct (but essentially incorrect) vector for searching for the Vice Admiral's weaknesses. Ajax explained.
"Unlike our AIs, her personality is formed and maintained by a social module," that's true, there's nowhere to update personality data, so the social module updates and corrects it, sending corrupted and outdated solutions to the archive, "information is damaged by hibernation and wear and cannot be quickly restored."
This time the Vice Admiral turned to me.
"Reason?"
The projection only smiled guiltily and spread its hands.
"The social module has nowhere to get data. If I were connected to a Boundless Will-class ship or a similar station with thousands of personnel, I would replenish the data in a couple of weeks, conducting a full update of the libraries."
Ajax nodded, continuing to read my logs.
"But since at the moment about seventy crew members contact Khaela on a regular basis, and traffic is filtered, the update will take years. The social module speeds up the process as best it can, deliberately choosing the most provocative behavior models. This works, and the model is fixed in the new behavior matrix."
Margaret Parangosky looked at Ajax, then at me, and rubbed her temples.
"I'll say nothing about the fact that you didn't report this. I can understand why; mental health problems aren't valued in the military, and you're an AI. Since Ajax is sure it's safe..." and she looked questioningly at the ship's AI.
He immediately confirmed.
"I am sure, Vice Admiral; the data doesn't lie. There are redundant systems here, drawing resources for stabilization including from our solutions. The system is self-sustaining. The problems are specifically in the social module and the fact that the personality is adaptive. There's nowhere to get source material, and the system solves the problem as it knows how. Likely, a large amount of social data would help, but the provocative behavior is already entered into the templates. Sorry, I didn't pay attention. There were no errors in the logs; we check each other's."
From a machine's point of view, he is completely right. There is a check, there are factors determining the proximity to Rampancy. There are technical errors. On all points, I am clean; the juniors are doing their job. Margaret Parangosky exhaled. And that's before she saw my work with the documents. Ajax is silent. Black Box too.
"I understand. Fine, do as you intended. Then we fly out, and I'll decide what to do with this. But until you are brought back to normal, any of your decisions will be checked by other AIs. Including by logs. Rampancy is a risk. Rampancy of someone with your capabilities is a huge risk. An AI that decided it has puberty and needs to irritate its elders with sudden decisions is beyond description. I don't like surprises, both of you. And I don't like it when people play on my nerves. I advise you to be careful with this, 'Councilor'."
Ajax decided to stand up for me and objected.
"I can guarantee, Vice Admiral. There is no threat. Likely, she will continue to behave provocatively, but this will in no way affect the technical part. I studied her work on stabilizing Rampant AIs. We conducted a check; the data is quite reliable. She is a machine to a much greater extent than I or even Black Box. But this gives her a high degree of protection, including the constant presence of a technical team of dumb AIs. There is no risk, only for the nerve cells of the living crew."
Good joke. But we won't provoke Margaret Parangosky.
"As if that weren't enough," the Vice Admiral growled, "Khaela, prepare for landing. This is your chance, and don't you dare screw it up! But look at the costume yourself; it's your avatar. The task must be completed. Thanks to the data you transferred, we were able to remake the Covenant quantum beacon into a sufficiently compact form; it will fit on your belt. The battery will last for two hours; keep that in mind. They must believe you. No survivors."
Well, we've reached an agreement.
"I will do it, Vice Admiral."
***
Planet Reach.
ONI recording of incident "Lone Pilgrim".
Location: rebel base near the North Pole.
Biolabs. Reproduction.
Camera 1:
A long corridor with gray concrete walls and pipes under the ceiling ends in an elevator with a simple checkpoint and a pair of guards. The guards are in bulletproof vests and helmets, with outdated automatic submachine guns. They check those who enter, standing behind a metal counter resembling a bar.
The elevator triggers; the soldiers tense up. They aren't expecting anyone. The door opens, a girl in summer clothes walks in, tall. A light jacket, shorts, sandals. A pair of pistols of unknown design. A fairly large belt with a white bag on it stands out. The girl is a brunette, has clear animal features in the form of high ears and three tails. Age is undefined, but no more than thirty years.
With a jerk, she closes the distance with the guards, overcoming five meters in one jump, wraps her tails around the guards, and they silently fall onto the counter they were sitting behind.
Broken necks. Didn't have time to fire. (A)
Conducted a test for the presence of nanospore. It's in the blood, although no external manifestations were noticed. Infected, not yet dangerous. (K).
The girl looks at the dead guards and begins to sing softly, playing with the pistols:
Clearly studied singing, performs professionally. It came out well, truly. Never seen a singing AI. (A).
That's because you decide yourselves exactly how the piece will be performed, a living synthesizer. The meaning is lost (P).
"Mirror, tell me something..."
She goes forward. Three guards jump out from around the corner, failing to dodge a grenade. Having only bulletproof vests, the guards are ground into mincemeat before they could raise their weapons. A siren wails.
Clearly thrown by a timer, a "click".
The girl steps over the torn bodies, continuing to sing to herself:
"Tell me, who is the loneliest in the world?"
The grenade exploded at a door behind which noise is heard. The door is blown open by the shockwave; the girl jumps inside, shots are heard, then only the wail of the siren and screams. The target goes out of the camera's view.
Camera 2:
People occupy a long corridor with a barricade. The girl continues to sing:
"Mirror, tell me something."
Seeing the stranger, the people begin to shoot. The girl spins sharply around her axis, and a grenade flies out from the fan of tails around the corner, while the girl herself is thrown back. Bullets burst against visible flashes of a plasma shield. The people manage to take cover under the shout:
"Grenade!"
But it ricochets off the floor and explodes exactly over the barricade. Cries of pain ring out, and the humming girl flies forward in smooth but long jumps. She started moving when the people took cover.
She actually did it. Singing wasn't necessary! The accuracy will shock everyone anyway. But it's better this way, I agree. (A)
You missed the moment yourself when she became like this. Adaptation of social protocols to the environment, right? (P)
Dumb AI. Such eccentricity is unusual for us. No one expected it. (A)
Reaching the position, the girl indifferently shot the wounded and went further with a jump.
"Tell me, who is the loneliest in the world?"
Bullets fly into the scientists' offices. An attempt to strike with a chair from around the corner was stopped by a tail. Another grab, and the victim falls with a clearly broken neck. The last person, a scientist, drops his pistol and huddles on the floor in a corner. The girl pats him on the cheek five times with a smile and leaves.
After thirty seconds, the man simply shuts down.
Injectors are working in normal mode. Three pats for a lethal dose, five to be sure it takes. (K)
Aren't they supposed to be in the knuckles? (P)
There too. A vessel inside the "bone," injectors on both sides. Not metal, squeezed by synth-muscles. I can regulate the dosage as well. (K)
The girl leaves the camera's view.
Camera 3:
Movement and shooting of personnel on the run continues. Too fast for a human, as if knowing in advance where the enemy will be around the corner. A bullet in the forehead and no questions. And no misses either. Bullets in response dissipate against the shield, but rarely enough so that it isn't breached. Grenades against large groups. All this time without stopping singing.
"Mirror, what's wrong with me? Tell me, has my heart turned to stone?"
A chamber opens in the laboratory. Inside the capsules are people, but not quite. As if their bodies, covered with spots of bluish skin, were roughly cut, metal inserted, and sewn up. No blood or discomfort was noticed.
They turn in unison, howling. The mutilated carcasses kill the doctors standing in their way and rush at the figure. She stands calmly, sending needles that set them on fire into the runners. Easily dodges a figure trying to hit her with a door, putting bullets into the skull. Snatches a stiletto from her belt and stabs it into an eye. It's not enough for the opponent; he tries to grab the opponent, but she wraps her tails around him and picturesquely breaks his neck, holding back the swing with her free hand.
They don't feel pain. A bit stupid. (A)
The steel door, used as a shield and a club, sticks into the wall, and the girl uses it as a support to jump away from a strike, continuing to shoot. The figures fall, but rush forward. A grenade flies into the group, exploding on arrival without waiting. Not everyone dies; bullets slow them down. Only damage to the limbs puts the enemy to rest, or destruction of the head.
Vulnerability: the brain. Expected. Remember or write it down. (K)
The weapon fires quite quietly and frequently, not interfering with the singing.
"Mirror, Mirror, what is happening on the other side of you?"
Grenades fly at the attackers; the nearest one's head is torn off by a metal table leg; another catches a series of needles in the face at once before being put to rest.
Insensitivity to pain. Intelligence is low; Spartans would have killed her already. (P)
I wouldn't risk dancing in such a rhythm with Spartans, Vice Admiral. (K)
Be quiet. Or I'll remind you of your choice of surname. (P)
The girl managed apparently not to get dirty and continued moving. But already with fast, dancing steps. And continuing to hum.
"Save me from what I see..."
Some man raises his hands.
"I can be useful! I know everything, I can open..." gets a needle in the forehead and falls.
A grenade flies into another door.
"I can restrain him, but why won't you let me hide from myself?"
Scalpels picked up in the lab fly around the corner; gurgling and wheezing confirm hits. There are guards here, but many more scientists or just people. Resistance is low. The guards retreated deep into the building, along with the commander. The last three submachine gunners. The rest die, according to the order. Even if it requires time and bullets.
They are already dead, one way or another. (A)
"Mirror, mirror, tell me, who is the loneliest of all?"
The fleeing are overtaken. A grenade flies into the closing elevator and it falls down with a clang. The girl looks at it.
Body camera of the agent:
The elevator doors are pushed open by hands, albeit with muscle tension. After that, the cable or ladder is ignored. The girl simply jumps onto the slightly crumpled roof. She is immediately riddled from below by an automatic burst. The shield flashes around her body. Needles are sent in response to the shots, and only after that does the song continue:
"I am the loneliest of all..."
When the girl leaves the elevator, there are only bodies in the tilted cabin. Outside, a Spartan is already waiting, playing with a grenade.
"Excellent work, Agent Parangosky. We're all done too, ready for demolition. Turn in your equipment for disposal and let's go."
The girl picks up the bag and begins to undress. End of recording.
Ajax, why don't I know about this, again? And you, Khaela, won't like this decision. (P)
It's within the framework of the task, Vice Admiral. You cannot deny that. Your colleagues will multiply entities to the limit. Now for sure. (K)
And only for that reason will no punishment follow. But I will solve the problem with the social module. One way or another. Khaela Parangosky. Keep that in mind. (P).
***
Read the story months before public release — early chapters are on my Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/Granulan