Chapter 7: Loyalty

“The details are, of course, classified,” Dr. tot nametul explained patiently from the other side of the comm screen. “I can only give you a general overview of the process we use when we design a new line of Special Agents.”

“I’m sure that will be enough,” Colonel Reynolds replied, trying to sound as pleasant and friendly as possible. “I’m not a computer scientist. I probably wouldn’t be able to make heads or tails of the details anyway.”

“Well, in that case, let me explain what I can,” said the technician at the Sunguard Research and Development Division on Mars.

“First of all, I need to dispel you of the notion that we program the biotic cells of the Special Agents. We don’t. The genetic code is much too complicated for a human to write. If we were to try to modify it by hand, we’d make too many mistakes, and the result would be catastrophic mutations. No, we only give general, high-level instructions to our intelligent computers, and they translate our designs into actual biotic genetic code.”

“Machines making machines,” Colonel Reynolds muttered. “I don’t mean to criticize your work, Doctor, but that sounds almost… ominous.”

The Etarian chuckled softly.

“You have no idea how many times I’ve heard that,” he said. “But there’s really nothing nefarious going on here. Computer-aided design has always been part of the development process. I don’t just mean for biots. We’ve used computers to design computers all the way back to the early integrated circuits. There’s really no other way to do it. These kinds of systems are simply too large and too complex for a human mind to grasp on its own.”

“I’ll trust you on that, then, Doctor. What more can you tell me?”

The technician continued his explanation.

“Second, genetic code isn’t really like computer programs. It doesn’t just run from start to finish with well-defined branches and loops and variables. It’s not an algorithm, per se. Genetic code is all executed at once, in a sense, depending on inhibiting and activating genes rather than on branches.

“Now, the software inside the biotic cells is still classic Turing-complete code, of course. But in order to facilitate the translation process from Terran DNA to biotic code, the software we run in the biotic chips emulates the inhibition and activation behavior of biological genetic code. Effectively, the biotic cells do much the same job the biological cells in your own body do, even though the mechanism behind them is very different.”

Colonel Reynolds didn’t understand everything in Dr. tot nametul’s explanation, but that wasn’t the point. He hadn’t called the technician to learn about biot architecture. This was just the friendly preamble, meant to make him open up and allow Colonel Reynolds to ask his real question.

“No, I get that,” he lied. “I’m quite familiar with the system. What I’m interested in is the actual modifications you make, the differences from the original donor DNA that you introduce in the translation process. Specifically, I’m curious about the loyalty genes.”

“Of course, sir!” the Etarian technician replied, the wrinkles on his triangular head stretching and contracting as he smiled. “Again, the details are secret. If you want, I could ask the Special Agent in charge for permission to give you access to the classified portions?”

He felt his throat constrict.

“Oh, no, that won’t be necessary,” he replied, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. “I’m sure your general overview will be quite satisfactory.”

“I take pride in being thorough, sir,” the doctor said. “I’m glad Sunguard Headquarters is taking an active interest in my work. I’d be more than happy to tell you everything I can, sir. What specifically is it that you want to know?”

“How strong is the genetic loyalty? And exactly what are the instructions encoded within it? What would it take for someone to break that loyalty?”

“Ah,” Dr. tot nametul said smugly, realization dawning on his pink face. “The NL-27 case. I should have known.”

The man was already aware of Lami’s defection? So much for compartmentalization, Colonel Reynolds thought.

“You’re familiar with the case, Doctor?”

“Yes, of course. It’s my job.”

Of course it was. He should have realized that. Still, this provided him with an opportunity. If the R&D technician thought his call was part of the official Sunguard debriefing, he would probably be more inclined to provide Colonel Reynolds with what he needed. Perhaps even to the extent of skirting the classification line, if he could smooth-talk the man enough.

“And how does it work?”

“Yes, yes,” the technician replied somewhat absentmindedly. “The strength. It’s both absolute, and it isn’t. The genetic loyalty is encoded as an instinct. Our Special Agents aren’t aware of it in terms of words. It’s more of a feeling that permeates them deeply and affects everything they do. Imagine your own instinct to eat when you’re hungry, or to back away from the edge of a high cliff. You don’t have to follow that instinct. You still have free will. But even though you can go against it, you won’t.”

“People jump, Dr. tot nametul. Tragically, it happens.”

“Indeed. Which is why I said the loyalty both is and isn’t absolute. Healthy, stable, and mentally well people don’t jump off cliffs just because they want to. Those cases are aberrations. And our Special Agents are not. Their genes have been screened for centuries for any code that could trigger such episodes. Every biot we’ve made since NA-01 has been completely stable. For six centuries, there has not been a single aberration.”

“I’m aware of that, Doctor. Everyone is, I think. I’m not questioning your work.”

“Thank you. What I’m trying to say is that while a Special Agent could, in theory, go against their loyalty instinct, in practice, those we create have been made from templates we’ve selected that are stable enough that we know they will not do so.”

“They can, but they won’t?”

“Exactly.”

That was interesting. He might have to inquire more about that later.

“So, in your professional opinion, did NL-27 violate his genetic loyalty?”

Dr. tot nametul paused for a few seconds before replying. “No. No, I can’t see that happening.”

Very interesting indeed, Colonel Reynolds thought. That was consistent with what the Special Agents themselves had told him previously. Myan Lami could not have violated his loyalty. Reynolds didn’t trust the Special Agents anymore, but he had no reason to believe the Sunguard technician would lie about the matter. That didn’t necessarily mean he was right, but the man was a professional, he knew what he was talking about, and he believed Lami had somehow managed to defect without violating his loyalty genes.

And yet the former Special Agent had condemned an entire Terran colony to oblivion. How was that not a betrayal of the trust the Terran Federation had placed in him?

“My second question was about the actual instructions encoded in the loyalty genes. What are the specifications?”

“That’s a bit complicated,” Dr. tot nametul explained. “The instructions have changed over time. The Terran Federation of today isn’t the same as it was when it was first founded. The loyalty genes are continuously updated to reflect those changes.

“The first biot we made was based on the genetic template of a biological Special Agent, one Elizabeth Mbenge. The loyalty genes for NA-01 were mostly based on Special Agent Mbenge’s own sense of duty and loyalty, with some corrections. They were quite broad. Not very detailed. Just a very strong drive to enforce the major policies championed by the Terran Federation at the time: adherence to the law, respect for human rights and everyone’s equality, and to democratic principles. She was the most advanced weapon ever created in the history of the four races, and we needed that kind of genetic oversight to rein her in.

“In fact, you could talk to NA-01 herself about the details, if you want. I think I heard she’s stationed on Aphrodite at the moment. That’s Special Agent Ameir, to be clear. She never changed her given name, like most Special Agents do. Funny thing, Special Agent Lami never did either. That’s a strange coincidence. I guess those two have more in common than you’d think, despite being separated by thirteen generations.”

Although the idea of talking to a six centuries old biot held immense appeal for him, he felt it would only get him sidetracked. Maybe later, when this was all over, he’d look her up. Instead, he continued to press Dr. tot nametul on the details.

“How have they been changed, Doctor?”

“Well, for example, when the decision was made to limit voting rights for non-Terrans, we couldn’t have the Special Agents go around championing universal suffrage anymore. That would have torn the Terran Federation apart. The exact wording of the design documents are classified, though.”

“So their loyalty genes were updated to reflect current policies? I assume we’re only talking about the new models? How did you handle the old ones?”

“Yes and no. The new models, like NL-27, were manufactured with the latest version of the loyalty genes wired directly into them, of course. But the older models were updated too, to make sure they all run on current code.”

“How did you do that?”

“They periodically come in for maintenance. Their genes are updated wirelessly. It’s just software. It can be changed.”

“So you’re saying that when there’s a disagreement about policy between what is encoded within the Special Agents and what is put in place by the Solar Council, the Sunguard just… forces the new opinions into their genes? That seems almost like a violation.”

He couldn’t believe he was defending those monstrous machines. Then again, he was just playing devil’s advocate here.

The technician laughed a little. “It would be, if it worked like that. But their genes are protected by a digital certificate. Half of the encryption key for that certificate is memorized by the Special Agent in question. They need to provide it voluntarily, or the update process will fail. The Sunguard provides the other half, of course. The R&D Division’s intelligent computers keep our segment in their secure memories. Together, the two parts form a key that unlock the Special Agent’s genes and allow them to be updated.”

Again, a digital certificate held in a biotic mind. There seemed to be a pattern there, but he couldn’t quite see what it was.

“All right. I assume that means the old Special Agents have refused the updates, then? I can’t imagine they’d consent to have their most deep-seated opinions forcefully overwritten every other year.”

“Not quite that often,” Dr. tot nametul replied. “But no, they never refuse.”

“Never? It’s never happened?”

“Never. Remember, they’re genetically loyal to the Terran Federation. Why would they refuse an update that would align them better with the current policies?”

To Colonel Reynolds, that seemed to be something of a circular argument, but he didn’t press the issue.

But speaking of updates… There was one thing that had bothered him for the past few days. He didn’t know if it was relevant to his current investigation—if it was, he didn’t quite see how. But since he already had the doctor on the line, he thought he’d ask, just to be safe.

“The loyalty genes are not the only thing that’s different between today’s models and the early ones, correct? Take telepathy, for example.”

Something about the topic seemed to make Dr. tot nametul uncomfortable, though Colonel Reynolds couldn’t understand why.

“Yes. Between 2298 and 2694 AD, we manufactured Special Agents with telepathy cortices. The practice was abandoned, eventually.”

“Why?”

“Sunguard policy. It’s not exactly my field of expertise, but the Solar Command eventually decided Special Agents shouldn’t have that power. I assume it was for privacy reasons.”

“You’re certain it was removed from the specification on a directive from the Sunguard? Not from the Solar Council?”

The technician squirmed a bit. So this was the source of his discomfort with the topic, Colonel Reynolds thought. It was indeed a bit odd. Privacy policies affected civilians, and thus they were regulated by the civilian government. It shouldn’t be up to the military to decide on policies that were under the purview of the Solar Council.

“Quite certain, yes.”

It seemed strange that the Sunguard had chosen to remove telepathic abilities from their guardians on their own initiative. Almost as if they didn’t want their own best operatives to know what they were thinking. He couldn’t help but remember the absence of a telepathic Special Agent in that meeting with High Admiral Okamoto.

Was there a second conspiracy going on here, independent of what the Special Agents were doing? Not just the biots against the biologicals, but also the Solar Command against… whom?

That was one more data point to file under the label of things Colonel Reynolds found interesting, but didn’t fully understand the significance of.

Author's Note

The story you're reading is one of many set in the Lords of the Stars universe I've been creating over the past 30 years, where familiar characters and places reappear, and new favorites await discovery. Check out my profile to explore more stories from this universe.

While Guardian of the Wolf is entirely standalone and can be read without any prior knowledge, I think you’ll particularly enjoy Soldiers of Heart and Steel and Choices of Steel, both which are prequels to this story, as well as Conscience of Steel and From My Point of View, which are sequels.

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