The crack of a projectile breaking the sound barrier snapped her out of her introspection. Emi turned to face the adversary. A second projectile bored into her shoulder, tearing through the synthetic skin before shattering against her steel tendons. Her body recognized the pain, but her mind rejected it. A drop of blood leaked from the wound.

Less than a hundred milliseconds had passed.

Her vision was filled with information, piped directly into her mind. Targets, firing solutions, usable cover, ammunition count, and even the weather forecast flooded her senses. It annoyed her.

Two hundred milliseconds.

Her Rhea Armory Model 808 submachine-gun lined up against her assailant effortlessly. Squeeze. Hiss. Three 5.7mm subsonic rounds ripped through the dense, artificial atmosphere. She shifted down slightly and tapped the trigger once more. The rest of her attacker's shots went wide as three rounds slammed into his plate carrier. One more round hit home into his leg.

He fell backwards with a thud. A muffled scream echoed out behind his armored mask. The cries of pain turned into heavy breathing and groaning as his combat stimulants numbed the pain. He reached for his sidearm. She leveled her gun against him. He hesitated.

“Damn,” he muttered through gritted teeth. A deep red liquid pooled beneath his leg, staining his uniform.

“Registering surrender,” a childlike voice piped up. His SOS beacon activated. Emi exhaled and approached the dying man. He barely turned his head to look at her as she stood over him. He coughed and groaned but didn't protest, resigned to his fate. Emi reached down and retrieved one of two cylindrical containers from her belt. A silver needle shot out of the bottom as she twisted the top. With a quick motion, she knelt down and plunged the syringe just above his wounded leg. He grunted but then exhaled slowly.

He reached out and grabbed her arm. There was no hostile intent behind it. His breathing shallowed as the sedatives entered his system. A small dose of nanites acted as a coagulant, slowing the bleeding. His grip eased. She took his hand and laid it down across his stomach as he passed out. She stood up.

“Knock it off,” Emi announced out loud.

“Hmm?” the machine inside her mind inquiried.

“You're wondering why I would save him.”

“Yes, we have limited medical re-”

“He's just doing his job.”

“Huh? But…”

Emi sighed and placed her hand against her forehead. It was throbbing in pain, a feeling unfamiliar to her.

“Alice,” she started, “I don't need your help.”

“Your accuracy has increased by 12% since I installed the targeting solution finder. You don't find useful?” the voice in her mind inquired softly.

“No,” Emi replied bluntly.

The intellect inside her was like a curious animal, analyzing everything in sight. It felt like her brain was constantly under pressure. She had worked with previous AIs before, but they were at most O2. They were professional and stayed in their lane. Alice, on the other hand, was not a combat oriented intellect. Her childlike innocence prompted her to inspect everything she could see, hear, and feel through Emi's senses. The client had not specified it, but Emi was more than certain it was an O3.

“Okay,” Alice replied dejectedly in a quiet voice.

The pressure on the front of her head eased as Alice slowed down her processing speed. Emi's vision returned to normal as the extraneous data projected into her mind began to fade away. Her usual user interface remained, showing just the date, time, and distance to the next objective.

The combat high began to wear off as the feeling of the cool perma-night air against her skin slowly returned. She took in the surroundings. Starshine City was a dying beast. There were more than ten million starving souls crammed together in permanent darkness miles underneath the surface. The grandiose skyscrapers and titanic monuments were the only proof that this was a once thriving utopia.

“Emi, status,” inquired another voice. It was a husky, masculine tone.

“Boss. A DECA enforcer ambushed me,” she replied. Her pale green eyes looked down to her shoulder wound. “I took a hit but it's not bad.”

“Tendons A5, A6, and A11 are damaged and will need downtime to fix,” Alice interjected.

“I'm still operational,” Emi continued.

“Good, reach topside as soon as you can. I'll arrange for a transport.”

“Acknowledged.”

“You didn't kill that enforcer, right?”

“He'll live.”

“Good, your ride is from DECA. I'd hate to piss them off more than we already have.”

Emi nodded. Alice silently observed.

—