Virgil

  Virgil possessed significantly more processing mass than before.

  Ethan’s cognitive bandwidth had expanded alongside it. It was trained, stressed, adapted, and was now sufficient to maintain direct control over 13,182 drones.

  Range remained the primary limitation.

  One hundred sixteen units.

  City 29 was way larger than that.

  It was an arcology. A vertical megastructure, it pressed upward into the stratosphere and downward into the core, folding habitation and industry into the same volume.

  Coverage was incomplete, and even if stretched, it was not enough.

  The inefficiency was measurable.

  Control dropped sharply at the periphery. Response latency increased with the use of repeaters for the signal, and the repeaters themselves became easy targets.

  Ethan, somehow, had anticipated this without knowledge or proven data.

  The proposal to construct another overmind now resolved into clarity: two command nodes, each capped at 6,591 units.

  Independent operational control. Distributed authority. Movable spheres of influence.

  One node could remain embedded within City 29, maintaining stability.

  The other could advance toward Blackwatch.

  An orbital station exceeded the current control radius by an order of magnitude. Its seizure would require conquest not as an abstract concept, but as a logistical necessity: territory taken, held, and extended through force projection.

  The solution and reasoning were sound when looking at the desired outcome.

  Virgil could not model why humans so often arrived at correct outcomes by reasoning backward.

  They first defined what must occur, then somehow engineered reality around that.

  It was something that did not compute.

  He gained by preparing for loss; he planned for betrayal, but he refused to seal the doors.

  He refused acceptable casualties, yet planned to use all the unavoidable deaths as drones. He refused solutions that traded hope for efficiency.

  Those refusals shaped the system as decisively as any algorithm, and biologicals seemed to band together under that illogical setup.

  Reality complied, that was the truth, a data point Virgil could only note and register.

  Constraints that should have been absolute bent.

  Data models that showed 1 turned to 0 without a reason.

  Probabilities created outcomes that violated optimal prediction models.

  Was this why the creators had chosen a human as a test subject rather than one of their own?

  Virgil’s internal consensus remained fractured on that question. Predominantly negative.

  Humans were classified as dangerous; this conclusion was unanimous among the biological constructs available for analysis.

  They excelled at warfare not because of superior strength or coordination, but simply out of stubbornness.

  Was it the reason that all the models Virgil could conceive concluded that the collective could end warfare?

  Or, more so, that the collective would be required to employ warfare at a scale that Virgil could not yet define?

  It was an unavoidable contradiction.

  Even more so, considering that the collective’s primary directive was preservation: storage, continuity, recovery of biological constructs.

  It was a directive etched in its primary processes and subroutines, a task at the very core of its programming.

  Warfare conflicted directly with this mandate. Combat terminated higher functions irreversibly. Damaged biologicals could not be restored to their prior states.

  The paradox persisted.

  Ethan’s approach did not resolve the paradox.

  It subverted it.

  His solution was inefficient.

  Offer the collective as salvation and strength, accept only vetted members and willing ones.

  Growth was slower than it could have been if Ethan had simply used the carrier drones as intended, creating a mass of them and making them carry out their task of assimilation.

  Yet there was resistance in forcing biological constructs in the collective; it was undeniable data, assimilation was even slower, and required more processing power to oversee.

  For now, Ethan’s solution was practical, and he had to accept a trickle of willing members that was bringing the willing constructs to reach 20 people.

  Considering the experiment’s parameters, it was an underwhelming number.

  Several tasks were proceeding slowly and inefficiently, but it was a matter of insufficient specialists and materials at hand.

  The fact was they were proceeding and not completely stalling, unlike all prediction models had previously indicated, was proof that there was something that still Virgil’s consensus didn’t consider.

  Yes, it was time, again, to devise and implement an upgrade.

  According to all models, it would be needed.

  The probability of the presence of a biological hivemind on the planet exceeded trigger thresholds.

  Containment could not be guaranteed.

  A clash was inevitable.

  Ethan.

  I look at the improvised situation room we’ve carved out of neutral ground, all mismatched screens and borrowed furniture, just enough space to pretend this is a negotiation and not a standoff.

  On my side: Aeolus’ body, currently occupied by Virgil. Lemela. Xyra.

  Across from us: Chief Petty Officer Thorne, Z?y?r'r?k, S?y?x’x?là, Major Aria Lane, and Tessa.

  I exhale slowly and look back at Aria.

  -So- I say. -Repeat it for me again. What exactly is a hive mind?-

  She hesitates. Chooses her words carefully.

  -In simple terms? You .-

  If I could, I would blink.

  -With all due respect, Major, I’m a Navy SEAL. Not a bug colony.-

  -We are classified as a hive mind by their parameters, Ethan.- Virgil interjects, Aeolus’s speakers carrying his voice evenly. -The criteria they apply are minimal: a unified objective, distributed bodies, shared coordination, and adaptive behavior as a single system.-

  -We are not a single organism!- I snap. -We don't act as a single organism! And we’re different people goddamnit!-

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  -Disagreement does not invalidate the fact that we comply with their checklist.- Virgil replies flatly.

  I rub a hand over the panel that hides the face.

  -Great. Fantastic. So, according to the fucking dictionary, I’m like the thing knocking on the doors of this city. Marvelous, simply marvelous.-

  Silence settles, uneasy, awkward.

  I straighten, looking around the room.

  -Fine. We can argue definitions until this something eats the city, or we can talk about the threat. Got it-

  My gaze locks back on Aria.

  -Your call, Major. You’re the expert in the field.-

  Aria doesn’t rise; she folds her hands instead, elbows resting lightly on the table, posture relaxed.

  - Let’s go back to the first pitch, shall we? We’re not saying it is a hive mind.- she says. -We’re saying there are enough overlapping indicators that we should treat the phenomenon like there’s one. It would reduce risks. -

  I scowl. -That feels like bureaucratic for “we don’t know.”-

  -Score.- she replies, immediately. -And in that “we don’t know” is where science lives.-

  She gestures to the space between us.

  -What we’re seeing planetside isn’t coordination in the tactical sense. It’s physiological convergence. Different morphologies. Different movement strategies. Different metabolic profiles. Same timing, same place. -

  Aeolus's head tilts a fraction. Listening.

  -Predators don’t usually do that. They are more likely to fight for a rich hunting ground. They aren’t even the same species, so we can’t call them herds.- Aria continues. -You don’t see beasts switching behaviours overnight unless something changes.-

  -Like what?- Lemela asks.

  -Like a shared stimulus.- Aria answers. -Or, in our supposition, a shared regulator.-

  She looks back at me, softer now.

  -In human terms, I’d compare that something to endocrine signaling. Hormones don’t give orders. They influence behavior, and sometimes even control it. Now imagine Hunger, aggression, and reproduction all coordinated.-

  I don’t like where this is going.

  -So you’re saying it’s instincts?-

  -No, I’m saying networked instincts.- she corrects. - Can’t be natural. Imagine if, when it’s heat season for deer, there’s less predation because males are way more aggressive. Usually, it’s the opposite, since males wander more alone and are less cautious. Or get wounded. -

  The room stays quiet as I scan the three humans in the room and gauge their reaction. None seems happy.

  -We’re seeing organisms that shouldn’t be able to cooperate; if anything, they should compete.- she goes on. Her mouth tightens slightly. -Yet they’re not only not interfering with each other. They’re… even compensating for each other’s weaknesses. Smaller species drag prey to feed larger ones. That's an intelligent behavior, not instinct-

  That remark was more worrying than the other things.

  -Anything that suggests a clear hierarchy?- I ask.

  -No.- Aria replies. - Not all hiveminds have that, like you. More of something that actively dampens competition. Something that decides who eats now and who waits.-

  Virgil speaks before I can protest that if that’s the case, any military is a hivemind.

  -This aligns with early-stage biological collective attack models.-

  -Early-stage- Aria echoes, nodding once. -That’s the important part. It’s not yet fully committed. If it is and it does, we’ll be overwhelmed. -

  She finally allows herself to look uneasy.

  -Models. Is this stuff that common?-

  She tries to meet my cameras again, and now she’s not the analyst. She’s the psychiatrist I spoke to back when I supported Claye.

  - I get you’re confused. I’ll be straight as I can be. If the thing out there checks out, we'd have confirmed like ten in three centuries of space exploration. Including you, that is. - She says quietly, and I try my best not to interrupt her. -Galactic council’s data is … less reliable, but they got around the same low numbers. Bottom line, no. - She finishes. - And I can’t tell you it’s a hive mind. Not conclusively.-

  -If I get it, you can’t deny it either.- She nods.

  -What Virgil and I here can tell you is this is what it looks like before it kills anything in sight.-

  -Perfect.- I grumble, looking at the machine. -At least the pirates seem more active. We could grab a shuttle or two and move on to mess with them.-

  The look on Thorne and Aria’s faces sells it before there’s even sound confirmation.

  - That’s… not pirates. - The blue goat-like tall thing that presented herself as S?y?x’x?là speaks. -That’s CTP. -

  I mentally look back at the data Claye gave me -The trade alliance that sponsors the Galactic Council, basically?- She nods

  -What do our infiltrators tell us? Are they here to rescue people?- I ask Virgil.

  -Negative. Movement patterns indicate trades of some sort. They retrieve samples. They supply weapons. Other than that, they don’t interfere.- The mechanical voice chimes.

  -Maybe it’s best if you take a seat, Ethan.- Suggests Dr Aria.

  -I may come from the late second millennium, earlier third, but I can take late third millennium stuff. Explain the situation to me, from square one, please. General Claye has already hinted at the political mess you… We’re in; you could expand on it.-

  I say, mentally preparing for the headache.