Prodigal by Marc D. Giller

What the Inru had cobbled together here was impressive, especially for a group barely hanging on to survival. She pointed out the glowing cables that ran between their feet. “That’s quantum fiber—used for faster-than-light data transmission. And there,” she said, motioning toward a nearby computer stack. “That’s a domain cluster—and I’ve already counted at least a dozen more in this basement. They’ve got enough hardware here to bend the Axis.”
    “So what are they doing?”
    “Let’s find out,” Lea said, and sat down at one of the displays. She jacked the interface, bypassing the industrial-grade biometric security the mercs had tailored for their own use, shaking her head at their utter lack of originality. That’s what you get for using hired guns, she thought, her eyes narrowing as she studied the various coding patterns. They peeled away to reveal even deeper routines that went back several generations—each revision building on another, like modern architecture on top of ancient ruins. “I’ve seen protocols like this used to emulate erratic behavior in living systems. Deriving probability from chaotic elements—it’s what corporate domains use to keep crawlers stable.”
    “You think the Inru have been building one?”
    “Not likely,” Lea decided. “You can’t just dump one of those things into the Axis without causing a severe disturbance. It would be like sending up a signal flare telling us where they are. Besides, this is all a closed system—no ports in or out. I don’t see any evidence this was ever designed to interface with any outside networks.” The construct beeped at her, which caused Lea to slow down and retreat a little. “Wait a second,” she began—then watched as the construct started breaking down into component elements.
    Tiernan leaned in toward the display. “What the hell ?”
    Lea felt the blood drain from her face. A galaxy of code fell apart within seconds, free-floating strands combining and recombining to generate an entirely new matrix. The sheer rapidity of the process made it clear that this was not the first iteration. This was a learning system, refortifying itself against a series of attacks.
    Then she remembered what the mercs had said.
    We’re losing control of the process.
    “Son of a bitch, ” Lea seethed, diving back into the re-formed construct. Waves of code wrapped themselves around her signature the moment she immersed—a scattershot defense that didn’t target Lea specifically but instead expanded to include the entire system. “The damn thing just opened fire,” she explained in a frantic stream, going evasive to keep herself from drowning. “It’s in full panic mode. I don’t know how long before the domain collapses.”
    “What happened?” Tiernan asked.
    “I was wrong, ” Lea snapped. “This isn’t about control at all—it’s containment. These subroutines are getting pulverized by some kind of incursion.”
    “Where’s it coming from?”
    “Somewhere close.” She grabbed her integrator, ramming a hard link between the small device and the node she worked on. Lea then opened a directory where she stored a salvo of flex viruses, which she injected into the construct. “If I can keep the CMs busy long enough, I might be able to triangulate the exact source—”
    Lea stopped when she sensed an abrupt change: a logical redshift that set the construct awry, which translated into a physical manifestation of the virtual attack on her display. It began as a tremor—a deep disturbance, almost tectonic, that raised the dust on all the untouched surfaces in the ancient chamber. Moments later the entire building trembled, capturing matter and energy in a liquid sway.
    Tiernan grabbed the edge of a desk to steady himself. Flakes of plaster rained down from the ceiling in a powdery drizzle, while the rest of the team made a run for the outer walls. Equipment racks began to slide across the floor, infusing a metallic