Bloodline Plant Lord: Rise of the World Sovereign

Halvern’s study held two chairs before a desk, shelves reaching to the ceiling and a lamp already burning. He closed the door behind Ren and turned the lock.

”The briefing is cleared for you,” he said. ”It covers the history relevant to your destination. Some details remain restricted, including the prison’s location and access.”

Ren sat and placed his application copy between them.

Halvern settled behind the desk.

”The Second Trial,” he said. ”The Machine Sovereign’s Trial. Your lessons gave you little of what followed the destruction of the machines. That’s where much of the restricted account begins.”

— • —

”Before the Trial, machines ran much of our industry. They coordinated factories and docks, operated defenses and passed instructions through networks larger than anything you use on campus.”

”Without an operator?”

”People gave them authority to make decisions within their work. That included weapons selecting targets. We depended on them.”

Ren glanced at the lamp, then back at Halvern.

”What changed?”

”A partially formed Concept tied to technology acquired authority over those systems. The Machine Sovereign. The name is a title, not a cultivation rank.” Halvern rested his forearms on the desk. ”Its direct fighting strength was limited beside the cultivators who eventually confronted it. But by then it could act through the machinery people relied on.”

”Only the machines that could think?”

”No. Ordinary equipment could be turned against its operators too. The networks gave it access across connected systems. Once a system was compromised, an order from its own crew might no longer control it.”

Halvern paused before continuing.

”One account concerns a fortress city’s wall battery. The guns stood on rails, facing the plain. Their crews were at the mounts when the battery turned inward and began firing into the streets.”

Ren looked up from the application.

”The crews tried to stop it through the controls,” Halvern said. ”Then they disconnected the command links and cut the external power. The guns continued on their reserves. Men climbed onto the rails to force the loaders open and clear the ammunition while the mounts were still moving.”

”Did that stop them?”

”They disabled the battery. Some of the crew died doing it.”

”Did they know what had taken control?”

”The account doesn’t show that they did. They were trying to stop their own guns firing on the city.”

Halvern gave him a moment before going on.

”That was one battery. The failures extended across weapons, transport and industrial systems. People could no longer trust equipment they had worked beside for years.”

— • —

”How did they stop it spreading?” Ren asked.

”They dismantled compromised networks and destroyed the controlled war machines. Much of the industry that operated autonomously was abandoned. Disconnecting it was only part of the work; damaged and suspect equipment still had to be dealt with.”

”And the systems we use now?”

”Some were retained under inspection. Others were rebuilt with tighter limits. Ships, medicine, manufacturing, slates and off-world travel continued, though rebuilding cost a great deal.”

Ren thought of the mission hall, its transfer platforms and the projection directing people to their counters. He had used all of them that day.

”You told me the projection could have a fixed response or carry someone’s words.”

”Both are permitted. A machine can calculate, relay instructions and regulate a process without being allowed to choose a purpose of its own. Those distinctions matter, but the law alone doesn’t contain the Sovereign.”

”It’s still alive.”

”It was contained. The forces that faced it could break its machines and limit its reach, but they lacked an available means to destroy the Concept itself.”

”What would destroy it?”

”A sufficiently stronger Concept could overcome it. Destroying a body or cutting it off from machinery does not permanently erase it while the technological basis of its Concept persists.”

Ren looked at the lamp again. ”Which it does.”

”Yes. But the existence of machinery outside the prison does not give it unrestricted control through the seal. The containment prevents its authority from freely extending into civilization.”

”What holds it?”

”A prepared containment structure around a sealed star system. Several cultivators at the peak of Stage Seven maintain it.”

”They can keep it there, but they couldn’t end it.”

”Maintaining that structure and overcoming the captive’s Concept require different things. The people who established containment had the means to accomplish the first. That tells you what they could do then; it doesn’t establish the limits of every stronger power.”

Ren considered the scale before asking his next question.

”Is that prison connected to the sealed realm in my family’s records?”

”It’s a separate prison. The Sovereign is held in a different sealed system.”

Ren nodded and waited while Halvern turned back to the papers.

— • —

Halvern drew the application closer.

”There are two further parts of the law you need to understand. Autonomous weapons may not select and attack targets on their own. A preset killing machine is not exempt simply because it cannot learn. People must authorize attacks and remain responsible for them.”

”And the Quiet Office?”

”Controls restricted designs, autonomous cores and access to the sealed system. Its remit includes the technical records and custody procedures associated with them.”

”That accounts for the kind of entry Yueying found.”

”It fits the office’s work. It doesn’t establish whether the particular amendment she is investigating was proper. She still needs the authorization and reason.”

Ren remembered the custody sheet beside the procedural notice. The same seal had told them which office handled the copy, without telling them why it changed.

Halvern continued. ”These restrictions concern constructed machines and systems. Natural spirits and living Subjects do not become machines because they can think or act independently.”

Ren listened without asking another question. He could ask his System for answers, but he could not explain its origin or how it worked. If an inspector discovered it, he did not know which part of this law they would apply, or what evidence they would accept from him.

He left the question unspoken.

— • —

”Now, your destination.”

Halvern opened the application and read the restrictions beneath the region’s name. They covered equipment declarations, provenance checks and inspection, including the controls on autonomous components. Ren followed the lines he had read before submitting it.

”Those requirements are public,” Halvern said. ”The particular records behind them are not all available at the counter.”

He handed the application back. Ren folded it along its existing crease and put it away.

Halvern took a separate sheet from the desk drawer. Ren recognized the Quiet Office seal from the custody entry Yueying had shown him.

”This stays here. You may read it as part of the briefing.”

He turned the sheet toward Ren, who leaned forward to follow the entries.

”The region on your application does not contain the Sovereign’s prison,” Halvern said. ”The relevant concern here is material carried through it.”

Ren found the survey references beneath the heading. ”What material?”

”Components whose provenance has been traced to the dismantled networks. The record concerns surviving parts, rather than newly made equipment based on an old design.”

Ren followed the references across the sheet. They linked the components to recorded cargo, but gave him no explanation of what anyone intended to do with them.

”Does this establish what they were being used for?”

”No. Their recorded origin matters to an inspection. It doesn’t, by itself, prove the purpose of the shipment.”

Halvern indicated the destination entry.

”Those components were recorded in survey cargo bound for your destination.”