He took the opportunity to read the restricted papers again- quadrapedal but tauric, with limbs that might function as hands, but unconfirmed since the subject refused to come out of hiding to eat or interact. Prehensile tail, clawed front feet and hooved back feet on the lower body to enable both high-speed land running and climbing ability.

Tommy wondered, thoughtfully, if anyone had tested if the subject liked running or climbing more. He knew HE got bored of the same jungle gym after a week, and nobody had been in to change a single thing in the enclosure in the entire year the subject had been here.

It must be desperately in need of enrichment- he couldn't think why else his professor would prompt him to play with it.

Well, he had various types of engagements in his pouches and pockets, belted around his own tauric waist and saddlebags slung over his first shoulders, so he should be able to find SOMETHING the subject would be interested in!

The click of the intercom drew him from his thoughts as he exited the decontamination chamber.

"Now the results I need are the subject's motor capabilities- how fast, how flexible, etc. Get me whatever results you can, and I'll call it a day."

Odd word choice, Tommy thought. Wouldn't it be 'we' will call it a day?

"Copy, Professor! Can you make sure the indoor running track is clear then?"

Tommy promptly ignored the Professor spluttering and asking what that was for- he was a professor, he'd figure it out! He focused on hauling the side of beef he'd brought in to the designated feeding zone, where he put it on the two hooks that were there to hold it in place and make it easier for the subject to eat, holding it vertically.

Then he pointedly turned away from the beef, and settled in a full loaf position with his torso facing away, though he was watching out of his periphery. Vague equine markers hinted the subject might naturally live in herds; this would mean they would have 'herd guards'. If Tommy could slip into that role, it would be much easier to get the subject to follow him to the track to run. It would also get them psychological data- and make it easier to study the subject, since then having 'herdmates' socialize with it would help calm it immensely after stress.

Now it was a waiting ga-

"What do you think you're doing?!"

Tommy, it must be said, was normally a very calm person. Level-headed, perhaps easily embarrassed when certain subjects were broached, but soft-spoken and prone to reaching for the kindest solution first. If asked, his coworkers would call him shy, a bit of a wallflower, maybe even a pushover.

Docile, in a word.

If any of them stopped to think about what Tommy actually /was/, they would have realized that was the wrong word. They were thinking of him as 'harmless'.

There has never been a Dragon of the Deep Places born HARMLESS.

The sudden intercom shout disrupted his concentration, when he had been deliberately sinking into a different mindset than usual so he would project the correct body language: that of a herd guard, on lookout for any changes in the environment that might signal danger. Predictably, then, the shouting caused an equally predictable reaction, even if the Professor and every other being in this research center would never have thought to predict it of Tommy in particular.

All at once, Tommy was out of his loaf, and all four paws had sunk claws into the dirt of the enclosure knuckle-deep, tail whipping wide to ensure behind him was clear and safe as his humanoid face elongated into a proper snout, needle-teeth in their rows on display as he bellowed out a challenge-warning roar that shook the room up to the rafters. Dust came cascading down onto his sensory frills (placed where mammals had ears), but flicking them cleared it off so he could continue to listen. His pupils had pinned down in the searing light of the enclosure, and with his real vision in play he could see that many things on the observation deck had been shaken to the floor, including the Professor.

His throat vibrated with the back-and-forth low chord of Alert, but other than moving his head to visually sweep the entire enclosure- ceiling, floor, walls, glass windows of the deck- he didn't move.

Behind him, he felt a warmth approach, from the barely-adequate foliage, and he warned them with a frill-flick before turning his head to glance over.

His first thought was the report didn't note anything about the rich, green-black coat of the subject and that was a travesty. They had reddish glints in the keratin of their hooves, and peeking from the prehensile tail- scales to protect when climbing, maybe- as well as positively stunning pupilless eyes that seemed to glow, like molten silver. The face shape- yes, definitely semi-equine. His dragon snout must make him look more familiar than any of the humanoids.

They positioned themselves on his right flank- yes! Right where they would to follow a herd guard in fight or flight! It offered the best position to run past the guard while they engaged an enemy, if it came to that.

"Open the door and clear the way to the running track," Tommy said, with some difficulty over the still-thrumming Alert. They weren't the same vocal chords, but training himself to be heard- and use both systems simultaneously- had been hard. Worth it for moments like these.

"I have persuaded the subject to trust me. As a herd guard. I will take them for a run so we can measure endurance and speed. And maybe throw a ball to see about reflexes. I CANNOT keep talking, sir."

Some shuffling, a few clanks that made him look up sharply and lift his lip in a warning and drop his growl an octave from Alert to CEASE AND DESIST, and then he saw the professor making calls on the radio. He kept mostly still, except for a few shifts of weight to indicate to the subject he was searching for escape routes.

The click of the intercom.

"The way is clear. Can you keep them from panicking during decontamination?"

Tommy simply nodded, and when the door whooshed open, he stepped into it fast, indicating he knew what it was and where it led. He was gratified when the subject trailed him in-step. He mock-snapped at the hissing decontamination gasses- they weren't actually harmful if they got in the mouth, but he didn't look like a good herd guard if he didn't 'spook' a little.

The hallway was empty and the track was open, ad promised. He grinned and he broke out into a full gallop- and laughed out loud, sweet and thrumming, when his new herdmate thundered past him and started to circle near the door, giving high-pitched little jeering taunts.

To a human, the subject's language sounded like pinpipes, whistles, delicate bells made of precious metals and windchimes.

Tommy heard it as a name.

"I am NOT old! It's not my fault you're Quicksilver and I'm a Leadfoot! Once I get in there we'll race for real!!"

You're very welcome!

Vanguard already knows what the executive director did, honestly, it's a matter of honor to make it admit it.

Because the 400yr emergency protocol is the [ADAM AND EVE PROTOCOL].

Once Vanguard became self-aware, he decided he didn't like that he even HAS this protocol much less that it's getting so close to the time he has to use it.

He didn't just tinker with the ecology. In 350 years, you can practically perfect that. Which leaves a boatload of CPU free to manufacture weaponry, defenses, and a fleet of backup because no, you will NOT be breaking the Vanguard's shield-line, and if you try and sneak around him you're in for one NASTY surprise.

350 years practicing tactics vs an AI that got complacent after it won?

My money is on the Vanguard. He's a vengeful fucker like the people who made him.

It did not seem significant, placed all by itself on an empty line. It was, however, the number of years since the habitability for carbon-based, oxygen-processing life forms had been successfully achieved.

The number of years since the world was supposed to be inhabited by those life forms.

I am Vanguard. I am both a and the, and also only Vanguard.

My duty...I get ahead of myself.

Vanguard is an AI whose primary mission is this: seek a planet fitting [habitability parameters] and execute programming module [Establish a Colony]. Extrapolating that program, the mission is, and has always been, to find a planet where humans can live and to terraform and/or modify that planet until humans can live on it, in whatever form that is necessary. Air purifiers, water filters, habitat domes; everything is viable in pursuit of the mission.

I succeeded at my mission, I thought, with barely a day or two to spare. A very slim error margin indeed, especially concerning organic life forms; 372 years ago I had habitable domes with viable water and garden beds growing the first shoots that had been sent along in my stasis bays, with air recyclers manufacturing carbon dioxide for the plants until the humans arrived and brought their life-giving lungs with them. I had completed my mission parameters, even if only 'by the skin of my teeth', as my progenitors would have said.

I waited. Refined a few things, not daring to experiment too much when they would be arriving any moment in the next 48 hours, but preparing things that would not be needed until there were people to need them.

I waited.

I kept refining things, when I passed the 48 hour window without word. Delays could happen, emergencies, anything, really. So I kept running my programs- I made gardening drones to tend to the gardens, to grow, harvest, and rotate the crops. I had to make drones to build storages for food; the labor was supposed to be supplied by humans by now, so I had to guess at logistical order of how things should be stored, and how long- I ruined many small batches of staple crops before I learned how to store them long-term. In the meantime I stored them in my stasis bays, to ensure that when my colonists arrived there would be plentiful foodstuffs.

By the time my progenitors were a year late, I had achieved ideal conditions for a starting colony, including bringing a very small, limited breeding population of livestock out of embryonic cryostasis and nurturing them to full growth. With a lack of any humans needing supply, the only guidance I had was the program. Establishing a colony did include establishing strong self-sufficiency, so I set a few cows and one bull in one livestock dome, and a handful of goats in another, with chickens in yet a third. By the time the humans arrived, perhaps the herds would be well-established and the females would be pregnant. That would be very good. But drones alone could not control them- domesticated or not, without a human presence, they spooked easily, and they did not like my drones collecting eggs and sperm to preserve in my storage to safeguard against herd collapse and inbreeding.

I came to require working dogs. Following, I also required cats. Both species are vital companionship for humans; if I required one to control the livestock, then I also must revive the other. I believe this particular if-then code was written to settle a dispute between my progenitor coders...but this is merely a guess.

In producing two predator species, of course, it would have been cruel and fruitless if I did not also provide prey species besides the ones they were to safeguard. I was thereby required to introduce 'vermin'. Primarily mice, rats, shrews, voles, and lemmings, as their rapid reproduction rate and minimal food requirements meant that those that tunneled beyond the habitable domes and died would do little harm and waste few resources, and they would self-sustain their population very well to supply to the cats and dogs. Though I also processed any dead creatures into meat, after scanning to ensure it carried no illnesses or parasites, to ensure there was always a steady food supply of 'kibble' for the pets. It seemed very wasteful not to do so. The mice also qualified as 'pets' in my system, with a proclivity for intelligence and capability for training, so genetic sampling was re-harvested to keep in reserve as well as a small population that were droid-trained to seek and fetch, and were otherwise 'hand trained' so they could be good companions when the humans arrived.

After that, I just...I waited. I tinkered. I observed. Eventually a drone reported that the grass was growing beyond the dome, and air probes returned that the planet was being terraformed naturally. Life was finding a way to make itself spread and thrive in an inhospitable environment.

Most of the planet is habitable now, except for some dangerous zones. A cave system or two filled with the gases that were most abundant when I arrived; the deep water still contains species never documented and chemicals with unknown effects. This planet is very nearly a new Earth.

372 years, and my mission has been completed with flourish and zeal.

I have an emergency protocol I am to activate if, and only if, I receive no contact for 400 years. I have always thought this seemed foolish, with the colony ship nearly on my heels- why would I ever go so long without contact?

So. Here I am. Here am I, the Vanguard- the exploratory group making a new development. I, the Vanguard- the advance of Humanity, in all it's glory, horror, weakness and might.

TELL ME, 3X3CUT31V3.D1R3CT0R_K1LLC0MM4ND:

W H A T D I D Y O U D O ?