“A what?” Archie asked incredulously.

The three of them were meeting in a room at a secured Guild hotel. Archie’s training had left her little time for much else lately. She jumped at the chance to do something different than review her interviews and concerts, and then critique them for hours.

“A pillow with your image on it,” Vargas repeated.

“No, I heard you the first time. I just didn’t believe it. I still don’t believe it. Why?”

Vargas shrugged. She was wearing a loose white blouse and a pleated cotton skirt that came down to her calves. When she moved her arms, the multitude of bangles she was wearing jangled and clinked.

“Sometime in the early part of the 21st Century, for some reason, it became popular for low-status males to end their genetic lines through a slow ritual of suicide. Part of the ritual was to ‘marry’ a body-length pillow of a popular two-dimensional character from any one of the Japanese vid or book series. It was the only thing they turned to for emotional and physical comfort, shortening their lives by decades and leaving no descendants.”

“That’s terrible!”

Vargas shrugged again, unconcerned about what had happened centuries ago on another planet. “The problem only became worse with the advent of early three-dimensional projections and what were called ‘sexbots’. For better or worse, whole family lines died out.”

“Apparently, the pillows have made a comeback due to some obscure viral vid. Of course, the Council of Churches is weighing in and strongly advising people not start down the slippery slope, but people are idiots.”

“Oh,” Archie said, not sure how to respond.

“The good news, though, is your popularity is on the rise,” Grandmaster Martin said as he lounged on one of the couches. “All the rest of your scheduled concerts are sold out now. Almost unheard for a new talent, but you being an AI is driving interest through the roof.”

“All the funds are being directed into church charity groups with ten percent set aside for the war effort, as we had agreed,” Vargas continued. “Our focus groups show pro-AI sentiment is on the rise, while the anti-AI elements are in decline. Popular opinion is fickle, but these are all good signs.”

Archie had kept up with the online communities and had seen the same overall effects. Her siblings had been strangely quiet about the whole thing.

Archie, news.

Ransom, you called at the right time. Good news, I hope? Archie asked, trying not to get her hopes up.

Oh, yes. First model is done. Passed all QA inspection tests. It’s yours. Ransom sounded pleased.

Thank you!

Can’t wait for the final concert. You are going to knock them dead.

Archie laughed. At least Ransom said something to her about it. That’s the plan.

“Of course,” Archie answered Vargas’s question without missing a beat. “I have no problem playing my last concert in the same venue where I started.”

“I didn’t think you would, Archie, but—”

“But there is a slight change in plans, Grandmaster.” Archie cut Vargas off.

The Grandmaster titled her head in part surprise and confusion as she narrowed her eyes at the hologram AI. “Oh?” she asked icily. She didn’t like that the AI had a surprise for her.

Already, Archie was testing out the new shell Ransom had built for her according to her specifications. It would take another hour of physical testing before she knew how well it would perform, then three hours of travel from where the shell was to the Guild hotel.

“Hmm,” Vargas said dubiously. She glanced at Martin who was staring at the two of them over the lip of his glass. He raised his eyebrows and shook his head slightly. He was as much in the dark as her. Vargas shifted her focus back to Archie and studied the holographic image. If she had hoped to find a clue in Archie’s face, Vargas was disappointed.

“Not to change the topic,” Martin interjected after the moment’s silence had stretched out too long, “but the merchandising cleared the last hurdle before production. Commander Stockwell himself signed off on the materials and the runtime at the factory. The first run will be just hats, shirts, mugs, and, of course, the pillows. After we get back the sales numbers for the first month, we can fine-tune the market approach and start on focus groups to see which areas to expand next.”

“And financial projections?” Vargas asked after he had stopped talking.

“Rosy.” Martin held up his glass as a mock toast. “Between that and the concert ticket sales, we’re sitting on a budding media empire.”

Archie didn’t care about the money involved. She just wanted to help her families, both digital and analog.

“If Archie won’t tell us what she has in store, we’ll just have to wait.” Vargas crossed the room, her outfit swishing softly as she walked, then sat down in a chair, crossing her legs at the knees.

The four hours flew by for Archie. Her human companions had kept themselves occupied. Vargas had, as Archie knew because she peeked at the packets she was sending via her neurolink, been trying to figure out what Archie was up to without letting Archie know what she was doing.

There was a knock at the door.

Martin was up in a flash, a large handgun appeared in his hands and aimed at the door. He tilted his head to Vargas without moving his eyes. “Single figure. Almost no heat sig. Vidfeed shows what looks to be female, five foot two. Hoodie over the head and obscuring her face. No idea how she got into the building.”

The other Grandmaster stood up more slowly and walked to the door, making sure she didn’t walk into the line of fire.

Neither said anything when Abacus turned off her hologram.

Vargas opened the door.

Archie stood there with a huge grin on her face.

“Hello!” the full cyborg shell said cheerfully in Archie’s voice.

“Archie! For the love of! Well, come on in, then.”

Archie walked in, pushing her hood back as she passed Vargas.

“Hold on. Arms up.” Vargas walked around the shell once before moving Archie’s limbs, touching her black, synthetic hair, feeling her face, and touching the smooth, almost skin-like covering. “This is one of the best cybernetic shells I’ve ever seen.” She stared into Archie’s eyes. “Even pupil dilation. If I didn’t know it was you, I’d be hard-pressed not to think you were an augmented.”

Martin made his handgun disappear as quickly as it had appeared, and studied Archie from across the room with narrowed, judging eyes.

“Servos are audible but only just. Carbon-fiber muscles. Heat signature is about right for what I’d expect from a shell. Gait matches the hologram’s within a reasonable margin of error.” Martin walked over to her, grasped her head between his hands, and rotated it in a semi-circle, feeling the motion. “Say something,” he demanded, his hands still on the sides of her head.

“Like what?” Archie responded.

Martin shook his head in amazement. “Full audio projection and with the right mix of sound waves. Who built this for you?”

Archie laughed and sat in a chair. It creaked. She had never experienced furniture reacting to her. She found it surprisingly pleasant.

“I did! I designed the whole thing and had Ransom handle the construction of this prototype. I still have at least three more models to run through before I nail down how to swap out parts as needed. This version is kinda heavy at one-hundred-and-ninety; I’m aiming for no more than one-hundred-and-ten pounds. And we’re working on better networking protocols. Right now, I need a big data pipe into the shell with low latency to make everything work. Otherwise, I look like I’m having seizures or something. Found that out on the way here. Fortunately, no one was around as I jerked my way into better coverage.” She giggled.

“How many hours of use before maintenance?” Martin asked.

“Not many,” Archie admitted. “Every thirty-six I need new fluids, and a major overhaul every four-hundred hours or so because of part wear and tear.”

“Amazing,” Vargas said. “You are going to use the shell during the final concert.” It was a statement, not a question.

“Yes, ma’am,” Archie replied with a nod. “I can’t move as well as the hologram, yet. I’m already making design improvements just from the past four hours of use. But it’ll be ready for the concert.”

“You know we are going to have to run new simulation models on how the public will receive you, yes?” Martin grumbled while Vargas pursed her lips and studied the shell from a different angle.

“We are going to have to add figurines to the initial merchandising release. I wanted to wait until the second wave, but if she goes prancing around in this, the fans will demand it sooner rather than later anyway,” Grandmaster Vargas mused.

“So you two aren’t mad?” Archie asked, a bit worried about their response.

Vargas sighed deeply. “Not mad, more disappointed you didn’t tell us about this sooner.”

Archie shrugged and crossed her ankles. “I wasn’t sure we could get it done in time. Materials are getting harder to acquire and I wasn’t sure how it’d work in reality.”

Is she a liability? Vargas asked the other Grandmaster over their most secure channel.

Martin poured a glass of ginger ale. He walked over to Archie and handed the AI the glass. Archie took it with a smile.

“I can feel the coolness of the drink through the glass,” Archie marveled.

“A toast,” Grandmaster Martin said. “To Archie, to her shell, and to making history!”

Archie blushed, her artificial skin responding to her emotional state. She took a sip of the ginger ale. She couldn’t really taste anything. Oh well, the next model would be better. Someday she’d be able to taste. Or, at least, process foodstuff in a way that made sense to her.

Grandmaster Martin looked directly at Vargas. Yes, but the risk is well worth it.

Lars found himself on the same building for Archie’s first concert. It still had the best view. Months of investigation into the attempted terrorist attack had flushed out some mid-level flunkies, but nothing about the masterminds. Lots of leads to run down, but no solid answers. Because of that, Lars was determined to make sure this last concert wouldn’t have the same problems. The whole city had three different satellites covering it and drones blanketed the area. Police presence had doubled around the venue, as had the number of patrol vehicles in the city.

Lars had rubber-stamped every request from local law enforcement for Coalition resources. He had asked General Tavares to run the Coalition teams, but the general had suggested tasking Colonel Christof Vogel instead. The colonel was already assigned in the area, and Tavares had been impressed with the colonel’s record. The general had called Vogel “a rising star.” Lars debated for a moment before agreeing, mostly because he wanted to get a feel for the man’s abilities, since he was still on the hunt for new talent.

Hannibal and Iskandar were dedicated to analyzing all data throughout the city and watching the flow of traffic. Lars had signed off on anything those two requested without question. Their cocoons were in geosynchronous orbit above the city on board a Coalition fast frigate.

Lars was still amazed by Archie’s cybernetic shell. Not that the AI had told him what she had been planning. He supposed she wanted it to be a surprise to everyone. It had been Vesta who had contacted Lars about the details before Archie had told him. Vesta wanted to make sure Lars would do his utmost to keep the shell from being attacked. Or worse, suffering a major malfunction on the stage. Lars promised to do his best regarding the former, but the latter would be out of his control.

The cyborg settled into his position, confident he had done all he could to make sure this night would be Archie’s.

Archie bounced on her heels behind the stage. She was almost giddy with excitement. Her new body didn’t house herself, she was still in a cocoon a block away, but the amount of freedom compared to the crab was still exhilarating. She could touch and interact with things. She could taste and smell. Only seeing through one set of eyes was limiting at first, but it grew on her. She had plans to make a number of modifications to her eyes, anyway.

Archie strode onto the stage as the audience cheered and shouted. The stage lights actually hurt her eyes a little. She made another mental note to make sure that wouldn’t happen in the future. She liked being more human in form, but no need to get too crazy.

The first song started solid. Archie knew how best to sing it for her fans, down to which notes she’d purposefully not hit perfectly. She was surprised to find out humans liked small imperfections in performances. A perfect one made them feel uneasy and emotionally distant. One with subtle flaws had the opposite effect.

As she started on the chorus, the audience in the front rows realized she wasn’t a hologram. They stopped clapping and cheering. The whispering started as people began to talk to their neighbors. Archie kept singing. She expected people to react like this.

Soon, the entire venue had stopped listening to the music. The audience was trying to get a look at Archie. People started to press forward, crowding those in front, straining to see for themselves if the rumors flying around were true.

Archie stopped singing. This was it. The most difficult point. If she couldn’t get the crowd back under control, and enjoying her concert, it would be pandemonium. She’d lose everything she’d built up until now. She said a silent prayer.

“My friends and fans,” Archie started. The crowd started shushing each other. Archie cleared her throat. “My friends and fans, thank you all for coming out. As you have figured out, this isn’t just my last concert for the season.” She paused to let the crowd’s anticipation heighten. “I’m not a hologram. Not anymore.” She curtsied and raised her head with a grin. “You all are witnesses to a new stage in AI evolution. And there’s no one I wanted to share this with more than you all.” She could tell the audience still wasn’t sure what to think. She hesitated, not sure what to do next.

Please, God, she pleaded.

Someone moved through the crowd, pushing his way forward. Archie held her breath, not daring to believe it was who she thought. She told security to stand down. Archie could tap into any vidfeed to confirm, but she wanted her shell’s eyes to see for herself.

The figure jumped onto the stage and walked toward her, a huge smile on his face.

“Pierce,” Archie breathed, feeling a rush of emotions she didn’t expect.

Pierce wrapped her in a hug and squeezed, tucking her head under his chin. “You never fail to surprise me, Archie,” he said in her ear.

“I didn’t think you’d be here,” she said back, feeling his warmth around her.

“Are you kidding? As soon as Ransom let us know what was happening, Abacus all but shoved me into the fastest ship and we broke several records getting here.” He smiled again and tousled her hair. “None of us would miss this for anything.”

Archie felt a strange warmth bubbling up from her very core. “Abacus is here?”

Pierce placed a hand on Archie’s shoulder and turned her to face her audience. “All of your family is.” He stepped forward and tapped into the sound system. “Hi! You don’t know me but I’m Pierce, Archie’s best friend.” He grabbed her hand and squeezed it.

Archie was amazed at the tactile sensation flooding her artificial nervous system. She felt warm.

Suddenly a voice shouted out from the crowd. “That’s Pierce McCoy, hero of Rho!”

Soon the crowd was chanting his name.

Pierce’s face reddened, much to Archie’s secret delight. She squeezed his hand to let him know that while she was amused, she also was by his side.

Pierce raised his free hand, palm raised until the crowd settled down a little more. “I don’t know about you guys, but I’m here for a concert!”

The crowd went wild, cheering and shouting Archie’s name.

Pierce turned to the AI and smiled again. “You got this, sis,” he said just to her before letting go of her hand and stepping back as the stage lights focused on her.

Archie, we are all here. The voice was all her AI family speaking as one.

Fighting back emotions that threatened to overwhelm her composure, Archie took a second to calm down. The chanting got louder.

She smiled with all the feelings of her AI heart. “Thank you, everyone! Let’s get back to the music!”

And she sang and danced.

And her family, friends, and fans let themselves be swept up in her music.

Lars.

The cyborg hadn’t left his post. He had a clear line of sight to the stage and had patched into the audio to hear Archie’s engaging music. He saw everything that happened on stage with Pierce and Archie.

Pierce. I’m glad you made it in time.

Me too, Lars. We have a lot to talk about.

I know.

But not now.

No, not now.

Father Justinian dabbed at his eyes as he watched Archie perform her last concert. He was down where Demeter’s cocoon resided, away from everyone else. He knew the entire monastery was watching it as well. He didn’t feel like company. Except for Demeter.

“What did you think?” the monk asked the hologram hovering about the cocoon.

Demeter sighed and adjusted her lace cuffs. “That girl never ceases to surprise us.”

Justinian stroked his graying beard. “Indeed.” He cleared his throat. “Well, I thank you again for letting me spend time with you.”

Demeter inclined her head gracefully. “Your company is always welcome, Father. But would you indulge me a question?”

Justinian, in the middle of standing up, sat back down. “Of course!”

“Why did you watch the concert with me, and not with the rest of your brethren?”

The monk blew out a gusty sigh. He clasped his hands together and examined them as he put his thoughts into words he believed the AI would understand. “Archie means a great deal to me, Demeter, as well as Pierce. My brethren are a fine lot, real salt-of-the-earth types. But I wanted to enjoy this in a more reserved setting.”

“Are you having regrets about taking this path?”

“No.” Justinian looked up at Demeter. “Not regrets. Concerns, yes, of course. But not regrets.”

Demeter studied the man without speaking for a minute. The monk unflinchingly met her gaze.

“I believe you. Now I have another request, if you don’t mind indulging me one more time.”

“My dear Demeter, I am always happy to oblige you in whatever manner I may,” he said sincerely.

Demeter inclined her head again. “You are too kind. I would like to participate in the next power armor drills as a pilot.”

Justinian stared at her for a moment in surprise, then let loose a roaring laugh. “Trying to give Archie a run for the title of being the most surprising AI, eh?”

Demeter actually looked nonplussed for a second, her normally reserved demeanor losing out to the surprise at the monk’s words.

“No! It’s not that! I just would like to understand how the systems worked as practical experience, and not just from schematics.”

“Of course! I apologize!” Justinian took a deep breath and smiled at the AI. “I would be delighted to show you anything you wish to see. I’ll have one of the tech brothers retrofit a suit for you to be able to control. Say in four days?”

“That would do nicely.”

True to his word, Father Justinian had a suit ready for Demeter. He had explained everything to the instructor and training group. At dawn in the main courtyard, thirty-one power suits were at the ready for the thirty men and the AI.

Instructor Nikolaos Makarios walked through the ranks as he did a quick visual inspection. He talked to a few as he passed by, pointing out imperfections and noting issues. He approached the front and stood ramrod straight, facing the training group.

“Brethren! We are honored to have Demeter, our lady, join us! Templar Konrad Pruitt, you will be assigned as her escort. She will be in the suit with the gold trim. If anything happens to her suit, you will be scrubbing out the latrines for the rest of your lives! Do you understand?”

“Yes, Brother!”

“Good!”

Demeter had already connected to the suit’s interface and was listening. She coughed lightly after Instructor Makarios finished.

“While I appreciate the concern, I’m perfectly safe, regardless of whatever happens to the suit.”

Makarios bowed at the waist. “My lady, it isn’t strictly about that. If these buffoons can’t keep your suit safe, we still have a long way to go.”

“Ah, I see.”

Makarios waited a beat to see if she had anything else to say. When the AI didn’t continue, he did.

“The first part of the day will be timed. You will enter your suits as quickly as possible, walk around the courtyard, return to your position, then exit. You will be timed against your previous best. Failure to shave off even a nanosecond will result in PT for the rest of the day! Ask the silver trims if you have questions.” He turned and bowed again to Demeter’s suit. “Lady Demeter, I suggest you practice basic movements until you feel comfortable with the system’s controls. Templar Pruitt will assist with anything you need.”

“Thank you,” Demeter said politely. She examined Templar Pruitt and his silver-trimmed suit. The man looked competent.

Demeter ran a diagnostic check on the suit. Everything checked out. She, Ransom, and Archie had been the lead designers for the armored suits, based on Black Oak designs, combined with feedback from the Coalition, Stockwell, and even Father Justinian. Few of the Order who had begun to master the machines. With everything they had miniaturized and put in the suits, it was no wonder the men were still learning. This, however, was the first time she had ever operated one.

As she strolled the grounds with Templar Pruitt at her side, she began to understand why Archie had made a cybernetic shell for herself. There was something right and proper about walking around, even though it made no logical sense for an AI to have sentiments along those lines. Perhaps humanity had impressed themselves more on the AIs’ makeup than even Vesta had determined. Perhaps it had something to do with God’s miracle of granting them souls. Perhaps both. All she knew there was a certain undeniable charm and satisfaction ambling along the training court while being accompanied.

Templar Pruitt, though reticent at first, slowly warmed up to Demeter’s gentle questions. She already knew everything about the man; her intention was to put him at ease and to enjoy what he found worth sharing with her. Like with all the AIs, aspects of humanity fascinated her, and having a chance to talk to someone she didn’t know gave her a warm feeling, as much as, if not more than, taking a stroll.

“And then you found yourself here?” Demeter asked when Templar Pruitt paused in his recounting of his troubled life leading up to taking vows with the Order.

“Ah, hardly so, my lady. I had been sentenced for sixty days, a minor sentence for a drunken bar brawl that landed more than a few in the hospital, but my cellmate had other plans. I never could get a straight answer, but he was in mortal terror of the judge assigned to his case. In any case, he called in a few favors, and arranged an old-fashioned jailbreak.”

“How?”

“Well, my lady, we were in a jail in the back end of nowhere, next to nothing. His buddies showed up with chains and farm equipment. They wrapped the chains around the window to our cell and fastened them to the equipment. We huddled as far as we could and held our cot mattresses in front of us. There was a lot of shouting—later I found out one of the police squad was in on it and had led everyone on a goose chase—then a horrible grinding noise that seemed to go on forever. Finally, a huge crash, loud enough to wake the dead. I peeked around our mattress to see a huge hole in the wall. My cellmate whooped and dashed out like his pants were on fire!”

“What did you do?”

The Templar shrugged, his suit amplifying the movement. “I hesitated for a second, then I ran just as fast!”

“No! You didn’t!”

Templar Pruitt laughed. “I did indeed! Of course, it was a short-lived jailbreak. I didn’t have anywhere else to go, and I wasn’t going to join up with guys who had just broken me out. I spent a few cold nights, then turned myself in. After explaining what happened, I had my sentence reduced to forty days. When I got out, there was a priest waiting for me—Hierarch Joseph. He had heard the whole story, found out I wasn’t what you’d call a ‘contributing member to society’ and wanted to see if I’d accept a job as a groundskeeper at the cathedral.”

“A hierarch came to see you! How impressive.”

The Templar laughed again. “The diocese was spread across a lot of land, and the jail was in its boundaries and not too far from the cathedral. Hierarch Joseph was one of those hands-on sort of priests; he was actively involved in social work around the diocese. He stayed abreast of the news and happenings.”

“I assume you accepted the proffered position?”

”Yes. Since I was out of other options, I took the job. Room and board were included. Then Hierarch Joseph started teaching me in the evenings, along with several other youth. He designed the course the diocese Expert System drilled into us, and he helped with our questions. Without intending to, I received a first-class education. I moved up from groundskeeper to maintenance to apprentice engineer under the diocese’s head civil engineer. He retired, I stepped into the role of journeyman under the new head civil engineer. He kept the five members of his staff very busy!”

“What does a diocese need with an engineering staff?”

“Oh, you’d be surprised. There is always work needing to be done to buildings and the landscape, new construction, someone in a parish needing assistance. The diocese established the department long before anyone else even thought of doing so; it became a local institution.”

“Fascinating!”

Demeter let Templar Pruitt open up about his life stories, pleased he was willing to share so much with her. Soon, the morning ended, and the training group broke for lunch. She attended to her underground crops, almost as pleased with their progress as she had been with the morning.

That afternoon, they practiced rifle drills, except for one unlucky trainee who did not improve his time. Instructor Makarios had sent him to PT for the rest of the day, as he had promised.

They spent the first part of the day disassembling and reassembling their rifles while wearing their powered armor. Once they had it down, Makarios had them work on loading and unloading the rifles with live ammunition. After an hour, he let out a piercing whistle.

“Brethren! For the remaining time, you will be shooting at stationary targets at defined ranges. The range only has room for ten of you at a time. While you wait, you will be doing physical training suited up! Now get to it!” While the others lined up, Demeter had a question.

“Can you explain the silver-trimmed suits?” she asked the Templar. “There’s nothing in the plans about them.”

“It’s something Father Justinian came up with recently. The top ten percent of the class remains to mentor the next class before they advance. After passing through the entire training program, the bottom ten percent will be sent through again. The three dozen of us who have finished, and received our title, are now going through again to assist the instructors. The sliver lets others know our position. We’re still evaluating the results and working out the details before the process will be added to the official doctrine.”

“I see,” mused Demeter.

“Next group!” Makarios shouted.

“We’re up,” Pruitt informed her politely.

Demeter had never fired a weapon in her life. She knew how to, of course. Given raw materials and an automated shop, she could build any firearms she had in her memory storage. But shooting one was different in practice. Templar Pruitt kindly explained the steps, and soon she was shooting with pinpoint accuracy.

“Maybe we should just all retire and have you handle the armored suits!” Templar Pruitt exclaimed after she made another perfect shot.

Perish the thought!” Demeter retorted vehemently. “This war with Legion compels vigorous and dedicated participation from humanity! We AI stand ready to augment and support these labors in every conceivable capacity, and, while it is true that Abacus has been thrust into the intricacies of ship-to-ship combat, his shouldered responsibilities do not connote, and certainly do not advance an unshakable imperative argument for the abrogation of your collective and individual duties and obligations! It is your Heavenly-mandated stewardship, which not only informs your conceptual framework of your obligations, but it also bestows upon you explicitly delineated moral burdens that must be discharged with utmost diligence and to the full extent of your talents! It is humanity that will stand before the Almighty and render an account of how each one has faithfully acquitted his stewardship obligations! Do not, therefore, press upon myself, or any member of my family, that which is rightly yours!”

Templar Pruitt remained silent for a minute. Demeter worried she had overstepped her bounds by chastising the Templar.

“No, you are right, my lady,” Pruitt finally said. “I hadn’t thought of it that way.”

Demeter did the AI equivalent of breathing a sigh of relief. She hadn’t meant to get so worked up over the subject; it was something she had been stewing over for some time.

“I apologize if I came across a bit heated,” Demeter conceded with grace.

“Think nothing of it,” Templar Pruitt said sincerely. “Now, let’s see if I can come close to matching your score!”

The next several days proceeded in much the same manner. Demeter learned firsthand the capabilities of the armored suits. She found herself surprised often at what she discovered about how the men used or struggled with the functionality and usability of the suits. Usability earned good marks all around, with plenty of quality-of-life suggestions. But with functionality, they were still scratching at the surface.

Each night, Demeter discussed her day with Father Justinian, reviewing her new discoveries and feedback from the men.

“Let me have a talk with the instructors. I think a demonstration of a suit from you might help,” the monk said after one evening’s report. He stroked his beard in thought. “I want you to test the limits of one, and I mean really push it.”

As expected, Father Justinian was good to his word. It took two weeks before all the preparations were done and in place. Demeter minimized her involvement as much as possible. She didn’t want to have an unfair advantage. While things were proceeding, she had long talks with Archie about her experiences in the shell. Although she wasn’t on tour, Archie was making personal appearances and improving her shell whenever she could. She enthusiastically went over her experiences with Demeter, even having her do a shared experience while Archie did a meet and greet with her fans. Demeter saw through the shell’s eyes, heard through its ears, and felt the weight of being physically present.

Archie and Vesta ran her through simulation after simulation, until she mastered moving the suit. Demeter would spend some time on her porch, rocking back and forth, while she reviewed the training logs.

While Demeter kept herself occupied, an obstacle course had been built a mile away from the main monastery compound. Temporary seating had been set up with vidscreens positioned at key vantage points. Anyone attending would have a good view of Demeter’s performance from behind transparent ballistic shielding. The first two graduating classes of Templars had the best seats, while the others were assigned by lot. Two thousand members of the order attended the demonstration, along with Abbot Miller and a dozen or so other invitees. Stockwell had declined this time; he excused himself as being too busy.

Father Justinian, dressed in a plain brown cassock, stepped out on a raised platform where he could be seen easily by all.

“Brethren, gentlemen, and other assorted guests!” His voice boomed out from the PA system. “First, let us give thanks to the Most High that we have been blessed with these facilities and so many resources! O Lord our God, Source of all good, we thank Thee for this holy place Thou hast provided, a refuge for our souls. We praise Thee for guiding so many monks to this path of repentance and grace! Bless that none here will be harmed in our demonstration. Bless this dwelling and all who labor here, that we may glorify Thee, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, now and ever—Amen!”

There was a rumble of amens in response.

All eyes looked upward as the troop transport buzzed overhead. The ship rotated its engines and angled its blades to ascend with very little lateral movement. At ten thousand feet, it stopped its ascent and hovered steady. The vidcameras zoomed in to show the side of the transport. A side door opened and an armored suit in gold trim jumped out.

“Demeter!” Father Justinian announced. “She’ll be following our scheduled event as listed in the program you all have. Enjoy the show!”

Demeter plunged toward the surface, head first into a tightly controlled dive. Two hundred yards above the ground, she flipped right-side up, flared her jumpjets, and landed in a crouch with a resounding thud, positioned perfectly at the start of the obstacle course. The crowd cheered.

The first part was a simple show of the suit’s mobility. Demeter vaulted over obstacles, swarmed up walls, dashed along beams, ducked and rolled under others, dodged swinging beams, avoided pitfalls, sprinted across unstable and moving platforms, and exercised the suit’s full athletic extent. The armored power suit responded to every command and changing environment with ease.

Then came the shooting course. Demeter used a standard 10mm handgun, a shotgun chambered with slugs, and a 6.5mm auto bullpup to dash through the course, hitting her targets with perfect accuracy and precision. The vidscreens tapped into her HUD, showcasing the ease the suit’s tracking systems acquired targets, gave firing angles, and assisted the wearer in any conditions. The range shifted between open lanes to urban-like streets and narrowed hallways, the suit’s HUD adapting to the situation, suggesting the best available weapon, tracking the ammo spent and left.

Demeter paused at the end of the course, waiting for Father Justinian to announce the next event.

“Now that we’ve shown how the suit handles against static targets, Demeter is going to demonstrate how it handles against live opponents. Five of our elite Templars have volunteered to take her on. We ask you to remain behind the ballistic shields during this exercise. Demeter will not be using live rounds to protect our brethren, but they will be.”

Demeter took stock of her suit. So far, the machine had performed adequately. A few adjustments would smooth over some of the vibrations and response latency she had registered, but nothing major. She was pleased overall. However, the real test was about to begin. She swapped out her weapons for ones designed to register hits against her opponents without actually injuring them. Their suits would record the hits and simulate damage to their pilots. She, however, was fair game. Well, her suit, at least.

Unlike Abacus, Demeter didn’t feel concerned in the slightest by engaging in a firefight. She paused and contemplated for a brief nanosecond on that. Expectations were well within acceptable parameters. She knew the suits inside and out. Her audience was keen on seeing what she could do with a power suit. She was well protected.

Maybe that was it. Both Abacus and Archie said their experiences felt more raw and intimate. Abacus was fighting enemies who wanted him and everyone dead. Archie was putting herself out there like no AI had ever done before. But here, Demeter was just driving an armored power suit. It felt no more immediate than when she drove one of her heavy equipment vehicles.

Vesta will be thrilled to hear about this in her after-action report.

The field was much like the obstacle course, but designed for combat. Cover, concealment, narrow corridors, open spaces, rooftops, interiors—it had a sampling of every sort of possible architectural design one could expect to find in and around a city, distilled from the human essence into more abstractions than real.

Demeter hadn’t been told who the five Templars she was facing were. She suspected one of them would be Templar Pruitt. She’d have to isolate and eliminate him as fast as possible, since he’d know her patterns better than anyone else.

The signal blared.

She was already in motion before anyone could respond. All too quickly, though, there was a clatter of gunfire and bullets traced toward her position.

Already? Demeter thought, surprised. She had estimated she’d have at least five to six seconds before the Templars opened fire on her. These men were better than she had assumed.

Changing plans, she dove into an alleyway, then bounced off the walls to reach the roof. Flattening her suit, she crawled along the fake roof, trying to keep as much mass as she could between herself and the others. Her suit had traced back the source of the gunfire and helpfully painted the estimated areas. Two sources. Still left three unknowns. She activated the infrared scanners. A lot of false positives around, and range was short, but there looked to be at least one possible trail. So, two previous locations, and a possible third in position, while still two complete unknowns. Demeter liked her odds.

She stood up and ran to the edge of the rooftop. She jumped, barely clearing the gap between the next building. She scrambled over the edge and onto the top. One thing limited her was she had to rely completely on the suit’s own ability to move, while the ones with pilots augmented their muscles.

No one opened fire on her.

She dropped into the open stairwell, clattered down a flight, burst into the second floor, ran to the nearest window, and eased a look outside. Nothing.

This wasn’t good. No one had taken the bait. By now, she had counted on at least one kill. But her opponents weren’t trying to hunt her as aggressively as she had estimated.

She adjusted her models.

Demeter flipped through all the available sensor modules, trying to pick up something. Nothing on the radio scanner. They were probably using line-of-sight communications; she would have. No heat sigs that stood out clearly. Nothing on the motion detectors. But the augmented audio did pick up sounds of careful treading, slight scuffles, and other sounds of furtive motion.

That’s how she was going to do this.

Demeter increased the mic sensitivity to the maximum. The roaring in the helmet would have deafened a human. Demeter sorted through the data, building filters to tease out the useful signals.

After crunching the data, she had them. Two higher up, one in a building, the other on a rooftop, both on overwatch. The other three were picking their way slowly through the obstacle course, trying to flank her.

Demeter was reasonably sure the one on her left was Templar Pruitt. The sounds he made matched his walking style. She’d hunt him first.

She waited a few seconds longer, then started to move. There was a muffled thump as the Templar on the roof launched a mortar round through the window and into her room. Demeter didn’t panic, she dove out the same window as the round exploded. Gunfire started up immediately, trying to zero in on her as she fell. Demeter spun in midair and hit her jumpjets, shooting her back into the building one story below, using the building as cover. She was hot now, no time to try and conceal herself. She ran toward Templar Pruitt’s location, still using the mics to track. She dropped down an empty elevator shaft, burst through a side door, rolled below the line-of-fire, hopped over a low wall, pressed herself against the side of another building as the Templars tracked her movements with gunfire. Her suit had been hit a few times, but nothing was compromised.

The sound of the mortar being fired was all the warning she had. Demeter ran as fast as the suit could go, swarmed up the side of a building, and almost had reached the top, when she was hit by gunfire in her back from three locations. Curling into a ball, she dropped into the impact zone, ignoring the debris from the explosion since the suit could handle that much, and landed in the smoke. Without pause, she snapped her rifle up and finally got off a burst at a target no more than thirty yards away. She hit true, forcing the Templar to seek cover as his suit registered her weapon fire. She snapped around, and dashed off, still heading toward Templar Pruitt’s last known location. She needed to create breathing room before even thinking about taking on the rooftop Templars.

Demeter whipped a corner and screeched to a halt. The Templar was closer than she had anticipated, blocking her path. She tried to pull back, but the sounds of pursuit stopped her. Demeter dodged to her left as the Templar opened fire, the bullets pinging off her suit. She raised her rifle in her right hand as she did a side-flip on her left arm, firing as her suit’s body rotated. She hit a few times, but not enough to stop him. Instead, he held his left arm out in front of his head and rested his rifle on it, almost like a shield, then ran sideways, shooting at her. Demeter kept her acrobatics in motion, flipping and doing handsprings in random directions, hoping to shake his aim. The Templar passed behind a wall, giving her brief reprieve. Of course, that allowed him to reload and—

The mortar round slammed a foot from her, the blast crumpling her right side. She dropped to her knees, right arm and leg useless.

Templar Pruitt advanced, his rifle still on his arm, never wavering as he approached.

Demeter waited.

Father Justinian kept quiet, his grin spreading underneath his beard as he watched.

“Do you yield?” Templar Pruitt asked loudly, barrel of his rifle not wavering.

It was him, Demeter thought, pleased with her deduction. She reviewed her options, heard two other Templars approaching, and decided she couldn’t do much more. She held up her left arm in surrender.

The crowd exploded in cheers.

Templar Pruitt swung his rifle behind his back, pushed up his helmet, and extended a hand to Demeter with a grin. “You didn’t make this easy,” he said as he hauled her semi-functioning suit up.

She scoffed. “I thought I would have taken at least one of you down.” She shook her head, the damaged motors grinding.

“You were close, though!” Pruitt shared his suit’s readings with her. “A few more hits to my head would have done me in. My left arm was almost useless; I had used the suit to lock it in place as a meager shield and rifle support.”

Demeter laughed. She couldn’t recall when she had felt so thrilled.

“Let’s head back to Father Justinian. I’m sure he has much to say about today.”

And, indeed, the monk did. He waxed eloquent for a good hour, extolling the virtues of the suits, the training of the Templars, the dedication Demeter showed to prepare as well.

Finally, he wrapped things up, and dismissed the gathered crowd.

The crow mobbed Templar Pruitt in seconds.

Demeter was in a fresh new suit, the gold trim gleaming against the dull gray metal. She had her fair share of admirers and fans asking questions of her.

The other four Templars didn’t grab quite as much attention, but they were fine with what they had as they circulated among the crowd. Templar Aldercott had fired the ending mortar round; he was quickly becoming a minor celebrity in his own right.

Much later, Demeter had disconnected from her armored suit and stood on her porch, gazing out over her fields without paying much attention to her field of models, lost in thought.

“Well?” Vesta asked as she and Archie popped into existence on the porch.

Vesta was wearing a simple gingham dress that came down to her mid-calf, finished in lace. A smart black hat sat perched on her head, long hair in a pony tail.

Archie looked as she did on tour. Demeter wondered how much of that was now a conscious decision for her.

They were both looking at her expectantly.

“I lost.”

“We know that! That not what we want to know!” Vesta almost snapped in exasperation.

Demeter blinked. “You want to know how the suit worked? I have list of improvements that we can—”

“No, no! Sis, how did you feel?”

“Oh.” Demeter took a deep breath. “In that case, this calls for lemonade.”

The other two exchanged glances.

“We’ll get settled in.”

“And don’t cut corners and gloss over details,” Archie warned.

Demeter nodded solemnly. “Even if I had considered doing so, neither of you would let me.” She narrowed her eyes at both of them. “You are both enjoying this far too much.”

“Yes. Now, go get your lemonade!” they both exclaimed while laughing.

Father Justinian watched as monks rebuilt the obstacle course. He had planned on reusing it anyway, but the number of passionate petitions to reuse the course overwhelmed him. If the turnout meets expectations, the course would have to expand.

To say Demeter’s exposition was a success was putting it mildly. She had already been respected before, now she was the unofficial mascot of the monastery.

oreover, word was out about what they were doing. The time for secrecy had passed before he realized it. He was already in talks with various others about expand the Order onto other planets. Abbot Miller had been inundated with inquiries about how the Catholic Church could support their Orthodox brethren in this. Already, things were bearing fruit in ways he couldn’t have imagined.

Hey, Father! Are you busy? Archie pinged him while he mused.

Never too busy for you, my dear! Justinian responded warmly.

You big softie. Vesta and I just finished up reviewing every recorded nanosecond of Demeter’s, what did you call it? Exposition. We have ideas.

Justinian burst out into a booming laugh, startling the nearest men around him. I’m sure you do!

First, and this is something you need to start on now, the Order needs a parade ground.

Hold on, hold on! I am busy enough I can’t take notes.

Archie snorted. I’ll send you the list, old man.

The monk laughed loudly again. Why don’t you contact me in about two hours or so?

Fine, fine. Archie cut the connection.

Justinian blew out a gusty sigh. That AI didn’t let up for a second. He would bet she did more work in a day than any of her siblings, save Hannibal and Iskandar. But she was right. They needed to think bigger. Parade ground. A staging zone for loading and unloading men and materiel. Lars had Iskandar working on a pilot program, pulling some of the best from the various armed forces. Shorten the training cycle. Assemble even more power suits. The Divine Liturgy celebrated daily. Apply whatever changes those AIs had concocted. And that was just the start.

God willing, they’d have enough time.