Polity 1 - Prador Moon by Asher Neal

always armed, always sharp-eyed and never drank. Auging in to the newsnets Moria had learned about a missile being fired at a military AGC and a bomb exploding in a bar like this one. She had seen a four-man team of soldiers—two of them Golem—marching away at gunpoint someone in civilian dress. Separatists. They were always present on Trajeen, and soon captured or killed the moment they acted, but now it seemed they had become more active.
    “This place is doing a good trade,” said Carolan. “The economic benefits of war.”
    “Well the troops need to be fed and watered, then you get the herd instinct operating for the civilians. They don't want to be alone when stuff like this is happening.” Daven Xing glanced at Moria and winked.
    Ellen—Carolan's companion—gazed at Daven over her beer as if he had just issued a wet fart. Moria couldn't decide if Ellen disliked him intensely, or the opposite and was trying hard to conceal it. At one time Moria would have been fascinated by the interplay and perhaps considered how best to defend her territory—just on principle since after being her lover for two weeks Daven no longer really interested her. But her last shift at the gate project changed her entire outlook. She possessed no patience for such games, or the interest in such petty concerns.
    After another sip of wine, Moria considered her last three-month shift. She thought her first session with George might be her last, but he recalled her time and again, and after each session her job description changed. He kept promoting her, yet she no longer felt the same about that anymore as she explored the realms of her mind in conjunction with the Sylac aug. Some called her “aug happy” but it seemed so much more than that.
    “I hear you've been wowing them in the Control Centre?” said Carolan. “In fact you've been the talk of the project for some time now.” She glanced at Daven. “And that George has taken a very special interest in you.”
    “Who's this George?” asked Daven with mock jealousy.
    Moria grinned at him. Yes, she was really no longer interested in him now. “George is the AI up there.”
    “But not just that,” Carolan added sneakily. “He runs a submind in a tank-grown human body. A male human body.”
    “Ah, I see,” said Daven.
    Moria supposed it was time now for a little fencing—for her to defend her position. She could not be bothered. Shrugging, she said, “I never knew they could do that, nor that it is allowed.” Seeing that Moria did not intend to take the bait, Carolan gave up on that line and the conversation turned to the moral implications of AIs using human bodies. Moria let it drift away from her and continued with her introspection. She had learnt more and encompassed more while working from the Control Centre, yet George, though no longer testing her and her aug, or promoting her, for there was no higher she could go, kept stopping by and increasing her workload, and she kept on managing to sustain each increase. A peevish annoyance at her presence was the first reaction from the others in the Centre, then growing respect and a kind of awe. Out of the eight individuals there, none was really in charge since they all worked a specific area of competence under George. However, Moria's area of competence just kept expanding and she realised that the others had come to defer to her. But obviously, elsewhere, gossip-mongers like Carolan were traducing her.
    At the month end, George entered the Control Centre. “We are nearly ready now,” he said. “We don't need the buffers at this end as the test will be a one-way transference to the Boh cargo runcible in two weeks' time.” He looked around at them all. “You will monitor the automatics, gather data throughout the test at this end. I'll want the data built into logic trees in order of importance and with relevancy connections, even though they might be assigned outside the present field of study.” He now turned