Page 90 of Brass
“He was on the development team,” she answers. “Started having ethical concerns when the system began evolving beyond its parameters.”
“Smart man.” Stitch connects a device to the computer resembling a cross between a router and something from a sci-fi film. “Shame it got him killed.”
“It’s going to get a lot more people killed if we don’t stop it,” Ghost interjects. “What are we looking at?”
Celeste takes the lead, walking everyone through what we’ve discovered—Phoenix’s evolution, its access to surveillance networks, its autonomous kill authority. Her explanation is concise, factual, and journalist-trained. When she finishes, the bunker falls quiet.
“Holy shit,” Jeb finally says. “They actually did it. They built Skynet.”
“Not quite self-aware,” Stitch corrects, already typing furiously on the keyboard. “But definitely evolved beyondits initial programming parameters. The autonomous decision matrix is impressive.” She sounds almost admiring.
“Can you find vulnerabilities?” Ghost asks, leaning over Stitch’s shoulder.
“Give me time.” Stitch’s fingers fly across the keyboard. “I need to understand its architecture first.”
While Stitch works, Mitzy unpacks more equipment—communication gear, surveillance tools, compact weapons I don’t recognize. Ghost pulls me aside for a private debrief, and I fill him in on everything we’ve encountered since D.C.
“The fact that it accessed Cerberus protocols is what concerns me most,” he says, voice low. “Those systems aren’t connected to anything.”
“Had to be human intervention,” I agree. “Someone inside Cerberus or connected to it.”
His expression darkens. “I’ve had the same thought. Already implementing countermeasures.”
“The team?”
“Secure. Whisper’s running interference with three decoy patterns. Fuse’s gone to ground in Montana. Halo’s in the wind, but sending hourly confirmation pings through the backup system.” He meets my eyes directly. “All accounted for except Torque.”
I nod, relief mixing with renewed concern for Torque. “And Phoenix’s reach? How far does it extend?”
“Based on what you’ve found, further than we thought. But not unlimited.” Ghost’s gaze shifts to Celeste, who’s deep in conversation with Jeb across the bunker. “She’s the primary target. You’re secondary now that they’ve connected you to Cerberus.”
“So we need to get both of us off their radar,” I conclude. “Permanent or temporary?”
“That depends on what Stitch finds.” Ghost’s attention returns to me. “But I’m planning for worst-case.”
“Which is?”
“You and Hart disappearing completely. New identities, no contact with previous lives, relocation to a secure location.” His tone is matter-of-fact, but I hear the concern beneath it. “At least until we can completely neutralize the system.”
The prospect should bother me more than it does. A year ago, I would have balked at abandoning Cerberus, my career, everything I’ve built. Now, looking across the room at Celeste, I’m surprised to find I could accept it—a new life, somewhere else, with her. The realization is both enlightening and unsettling.
Before I can respond, Stitch calls us over. “Found something,” she announces, eyes never leaving the screen. “It’s beautiful. Nasty, but beautiful.”
We gather around as she points to lines of code scrolling across the monitor.
“The system has two major vulnerabilities,” she explains, highlighting sections. “First, its predictive algorithm requires consistent data flow. It constantly scans for patterns, feeding them into its threat assessment matrix. Interrupt that flow in a significant way, and it has to recalibrate.”
“How significant?” Mitzy asks.
“Death-level significant.” Stitch grins, the expression making her look almost feral. “It needs to confirm target elimination before it can close a threat profile. Without confirmation, it keeps allocating resources.”
“And the second vulnerability?” Ghost presses.
“It’s learning, but it still thinks like a machine.” Stitch highlights another code section. “It prioritizes threats based on probability calculations. The higher the probability a target threatens Phoenix directly, the more resources it dedicates.”
“So we need to convince it we’re dead,” I say slowly, “while simultaneously becoming less of a direct threat.”
“Exactly.” Stitch’s fingers resume their dance across the keyboard. “And I think I know how.”
