May 17, 2065, 09:20
Alex Mitchell (Volkov)
Work on the exosuits was in full swing. After creating four advanced scouts, I immediately asked Vega to start working on Kiwi's armor. Since her suit was smaller and far less functional than the others, the production time was significantly shorter.
I wasn't idle. While my synthetic assistant tackled the heavy lifting, I wrote the firmware for all the armor using my neural network. This didn't take long, thanks to the old source data from the first scout. The armor itself hadn't changed conceptually, so the final calibration went smoothly. Of course, there were problems — there always are — but I quickly resolved them with Vincent's help. The kid didn't know much about netrunning, but he was a good technician. John and Susan had taught him well, and at fifteen, he was confidently at a fifth knowledge level. Not comparable to my almost eighth, but impressive for his age and abilities.
Working with an extra pair of hands made things much easier. I even had time to make additional modifications to the boots, improving their grip. I also introduced the team to my main assistant. She would be our coordinator on the mission, while Rach was busy hacking the entire complex. With an AI in the lab, sneaking into the systems unnoticed was impossible. Bartmoss would launch a cyber attack, and at that moment, our gang would storm the lab's approaches. The entrance was in a scrapyard, which was already odd. According to our teacher, all Arasaka Corporation labs were in the underground levels of the old megatower, inaccessible to outsiders. Now, they suddenly decided to place a complex in a much less secure location. This seemed strange, but maybe the reason behind this decision was less mundane than I imagined.
"When installing the helmet, first check its programs to ensure proper integration with the overall system. Sometimes the programs interfere with each other, and you have to redo the entire firmware to make everything work in tandem and without noticeable delays," I interrupted the boy, who was just about to finish the helmet installation.
"Do you often encounter such problems?" O'Brian's voice came from the other side of the workshop.
"Mostly after major upgrades. It's easier to tweak the existing code than to write it from scratch. A few hours of debugging, and the problem resolves itself," I shrugged, finishing the installation of the synaptic accelerator into the helmet.
"What are you working on now?"
"Most likely, we'll encounter users of Sandevistans, and I've recently started thinking about a fully technological alternative. The concept is fairly simple. I based it on some elements of the Kereznikov implant, which helped me understand how to accelerate a human beyond their limits. As you know, humans are quite limited in movement due to their design and other factors, including the well-known force of friction. My idea is to create a special field around the body, with control units located on the back, directly opposite the user's spinal cord. Additionally, there's a cyberdeck embedded in the helmet that speeds up your overall perception. What's the point of acceleration if you can't properly orient yourself in space, right?"
"Now I understand why the armor on the back is so reinforced," Vincent chuckled.
"Yeah. It would be unfortunate if someone managed to damage the control unit during acceleration. Best case, you end up with broken bones; worst case, if you have to make an emergency stop, your bones could pierce through your muscles. Because of this issue, I had to install an additional segmented shield on the back, with another battery attached."
"And the tubes are the cooling system for all that mess you managed to fit into a square centimeter?"
"You can't do without extra cooling nowadays. But if you want, I can exclusively remove it just for you," I turned to him, playfully raising my eyebrows.
"Thanks, but I'll pass on such a generous offer," Vi grinned sarcastically, dusting himself off and walking over to me. "Hey, what's the approximate protection class of these exosuits?" He patted the metal chestplate, hearing its dull clang.
"If we consider the bare technical specifications, it's equivalent to the second tank class. With my shields added, it's fifth class."
"Aren't you afraid the corporation will start hunting for your technology?" Vi asked, a logical question.
"I'm cautious, of course, but I have a few small surprises planned for that. Vega also added some of her own touches, so I'm relatively calm," I shrugged, glancing at the slowly metal-covered exoskeleton. "My assistant will explain some of the suit's functions to you during the trial run. Before diving into places like these, we need to practice. Agreed?"
"Probably," O'Brian nodded.
"Looks like you're gearing up for a war?" Susan suddenly approached us from behind and put her hands on our shoulders. "Care to explain where you plan to go in all that armor?"
***
"Hey, what are you doing here?" I asked, putting on a casual smile, trying to come up with the most truthful excuse in my head.
"Cut the solo act," the brunette rolled her eyes and stepped back a few paces, crossing her arms over her chest. "Spill it. And no lies!"
"And what exactly bothers you about my behavior? I'm just doing my usual stuff, or are you suspecting me of some conspiracy again?" I smoothly shifted the topic, taking the offensive in the conversation.
"And that's exactly why you've been holed up in the workshop for days, not talking to anyone, and for some reason, hiding an AI of unknown origin from everyone," Sue began counting off on her fingers, with each point shrinking my room for maneuver.
"The first two points are a stretch," I rolled my eyes, giving myself a mental smack at the last moment.
"Ohhhh," she drew out, "so you can't explain having a powerful AI?" The brunette raised an eyebrow dramatically, stepping almost nose-to-nose with me. "Alex, where are you planning to go?" she enunciated slowly, syllable by syllable, poking her finger into my chest with each word.
"I want to test the new exosuit," I shrugged, taking a cautious step back.
"Vega, can you hear me?" Susan asked unexpectedly.
"Affirmative," a synthesized female voice responded.
"How do you know her name?" I glanced suspiciously at the black cube set near my work computer.
"She told me herself, about two days ago. I got curious why you started making large orders, and the contents of those orders looked like my ward was gearing up for war with an army of heavily armed people," Sue jabbed her finger into my chest again. "If you want to do something discreetly, don't use industrial drones for deliveries — they can be seen from a mile away."
"Idiot," Vi muttered, facepalming with a nervous chuckle.
"Quiet, you. I have a few questions for you too," Mitchell said in a grave voice, turning her head halfway toward the suddenly silent boy.
"I'm asking one more time, where are you two planning to go?"
"That's my personal business," I took a few steps back, crossing my arms over my chest.
"Alex, don't you trust me?" Her tone turned pleading and hurt, but I wasn't moved.
"It's more that I don't want you to get involved in my problems," I shook my head firmly.
"Creator Alex, should I continue assembling Icarus?" the AI asked, briefly displaying its face on my monitor.
"Continue, Vega."
"Cease, Vega," Susan immediately countered.
"Attention, priority conflict detected. Please repeat command."
"Lower Susan's access rights to guest level. Continue suit assembly."
"What have you gotten yourself into, Alex?" Sue asked with concern, scrutinizing my slightly irritated face after our long and unpleasant conversation.
"These are my problems, mentor."
"And that's why you decided to drag a group of teenagers into it?" the brunette asked sarcastically. "We're family. If you have problems, we can help." She must have embraced the nomad spirit, using common arguments from their community.
"Even if I tell you everything, it won't make it easier for anyone — not for me, not for you," I said, taking a few smooth steps towards her and pulling her into a somewhat rough hug.
"I want to know," Mitchell insisted stubbornly, stamping her foot for emphasis.