Asterion Noir: The Complete Collection (Amaranthe Collections Book 4)

by G. S. Jennsen

  When we reached the ridge and the land sloped downward to reveal the harbor in full, Maris stopped, crossed her arms flamboyantly over her chest—a gesture only she managed to pull off without appearing comical—and nodded matter-of-factly. “Ah! Yes. Quite lovely.”

  The waters stretched in a glittering blue-green palette to the horizon. I knew they belonged to a lake almost forty kilometers wide, but from here it was indistinguishable from a true ocean. I smiled, but stayed a step behind Maris so she couldn’t see it. The longer I played coy, the more lavish the performance became. “I bet the water is freezing.”

  A luxurious sigh fell from Maris’ lips. “I do hope so. I have been sweating on Synra for…” she gazed back at me “…how many millennia?”

  “One hundred twenty-two.”

  “Right. One hundred twenty-two millennia. I’ve contemplated giving up on this whole ‘physical body’ nonsense and climbing back into a SAI box every single day for at least the last thirty-four.”

  “You overly grandiose drama queen, you are not going to stop being a proper Asterion simply because you don’t like what the Synra humidity does to your hair, when you can change your hair with barely more effort than the decision to do it.”

  “Nika Kirumase! I should denounce you, but I’m too impressed by your ability to successfully insult me thrice over in a single sentence. I will concede the first, but I must take issue with the second and third. My reasons for retreating into hardware, were I to do so, would be only…thirty-one percent related to the meter-wide explosion of frizz that is my hair when on Synra. Also, my hair is who I am, and to change it would be tantamount to undergoing an R&R.

  “Finally, time was, being an Asterion consisted of a worldview, not a defined state of existence. Physical, digital, quantum? A single state or all at once? Those distinctions were minor window dressing. They didn’t matter a whit.”

  “I remember. I was there, too. But that was a different time and a different galaxy, and we were fighting to become something greater—better—than simply Anaden. Now, being an Asterion means this. Us. Organic and synthetic fused together as one. Physical, but never-ending, for so long as one wishes. Then, to begin again. To learn, experience and grow, within oneself and through the world around us.”

  Maris stared at me for several seconds, and I began to entertain the possibility that I had actually rendered her speechless. If so, I deserved an award.

  Finally her focus drifted to the cerulean waters. “Want to go for a swim?”

  “We didn’t bring swimwear.”

  “Not an impediment.” Maris pulled her flowing tank top up over her head and used it to tie her wild hair back as she strode toward the shore.

  “But…” I glanced toward the bustling camp in the distance “…there are….”

  “Machines. There are machines watching.”

  I rolled my eyes and made a dramatic act out of relenting. “Fine, but only for a minute. We have work to do.”

  “Do we ever.” Maris paused a few steps from the lapping water, as if she were waiting for the next wave to grasp for her toes and reel her in. “This isn’t Asterion Prime. But with some time and the judicious application of a sense of style and panache, I think it can be home.”

  Nika opened her eyes, but took care not to bolt upright in the bed. She didn’t want to wake Dashiel, who slept beside her. Far too peacefully, given what they’d seen today.

  She carefully laid his hand that she’d borrowed over his chest, then sank back into her pillow. She was half-convinced this ‘memory’ was nothing more than a dream, because how could it be real?

  It violated half a dozen Dominion laws for her recently former self to have claimed the name of one of her progenitors, but despite how intensely personal the memory had felt, this was the only explanation.

  But weren’t there records? Wouldn’t the Guides have discovered the violation and never named her an Advisor? And what were the odds of that progenitor being friends with an ancestor of Maris Debray five hundred thousand years ago?

  She appreciated that her former selves had held onto the memory of the founding of Mirai across those many millennia—it was a treasure, truly—but the oddities of it frankly soured the experience a bit.

  She sighed quietly. Sometimes these recovered memories made less sense than the Rasu simex did…gods, the Rasu. Confounding as it was, at least the memory had allowed her to forget about the aliens for a few precious minutes.

  But now it all came rushing back. What in all the worlds could she do to protect her people from such an enemy?

  35

  * * *

  NAMINO

  GRANT STROLLED THE AISLES of the Namino Two Makers Market with a casual gait and a practiced eye. While he built most of his tools and equipment himself, thousands of hours of frustration over the years had driven him to the conclusion that it was way more practical to buy rather than build the base components that went into them.

  But only because he didn’t yet have a chemical lab in his factory.

  In truth, he owed this particular trip to the Makers Market to the hour spent talking Ridani through rigging the Taiyok stealth module into the ship—an hour which he had to admit had gone better than expected. Ridani was a smart man, and he knew materials and networking hardware nearly as well as Grant did. But the ad hoc installation had highlighted several weaknesses in his standard design approach for onboard ship components, and in the quest for constant, iterative improvement, he wanted to address them.

  As he stepped into a shop on the left, he sensed more than saw his shadow pause.

  He’d picked up the tail not long after arriving in Namino Two. As far as he could determine, it was a single man, likely a low- or mid-level Justice officer. The surveillance cams must have alerted the local Justice office when he dared to leave home.

  Oh, well. He was happy to waste an officer’s afternoon. And while the part of him that lived for his craft itched to get back to the factory and get some work done, he did enjoy perusing the latest offerings at the Makers Market. So he’d take his time, perhaps a bit more leisurely than he otherwise would have. He might even go so far as to stop for dinner at a decent restaurant before returning home.

  The shop didn’t have quite what he was looking for, so after browsing for a minute he exited and continued on. So did his shadow.

  Ahead, the wide hallway split into two directions. Previous visits had taught him that the shops along the left path focused on consumer-oriented products, so he started to take the right split—then realized his shadow had vanished. Of course, he didn’t actually have visual sensors in the back of his head, so it was possible the man had gotten caught up in the shopper traffic and lost Grant for a few seconds. But as the crowd thinned at the split, his shadow didn’t reappear.

  Maybe the man’s superiors had concluded the tail was pointless and called him off to go investigate something legitimately important.

  Grant hadn’t been doing anything illegal or even unsavory, but he nevertheless relaxed in the absence of watching eyes. Days of constant surveillance had been wearing on him more than he cared to admit. He was a private man, and he preferred to choose when, with whom and how much of himself he revealed.

  Which got him mulling over what Ridani had said about Nika. Psyche-wiped, truly? This changed everything he’d believed about her. If only she’d told him, he could have helped—

  Intrusion attempt via exposed pathways detected. Defensive blocks initiated.

  He pulled up short, and the person behind him bumped into him. He gestured a distracted apology.

  Ηq(def) | report.dt(6 seconds)

  Nanobot-infused particles detected in the environment. Defensive blocks successfully activated to prevent physical intrusion. Blocks will remain in place until nanobot saturation drops below 0.01 ppm.

  The air looked no different than it had a minute ago, but everyone here was breathing its newly invasive contents into their lungs and their bodies.

&nb
sp; Since Nika went on the run, and especially since the friendly visit from Justice, he’d begun paying closer attention to NOIR’s actions and broadcasts. He’d monitored the off-grid nex hubs, and given what he didn’t know as much as what he did, he’d quietly upgraded and fortified his personal defensive measures. Weirdness was abounding of late, and he didn’t intend to get caught unawares.

  He stumbled forward as someone bumped into him from behind again. He didn’t think it was his mistake this time, but he gestured another apology in case—

  “You think you’re special? You think you own the whole damn hallway?” A skinny man with straw-colored hair and cheap clothes leered menacingly at him.

  “Not at all. I apologize if—”

  Grant ducked a microsecond before the swing arrived in a whoosh of air above his head. He stayed low and grappled the man around the waist, then shoved the man backward into several other people. Then he released his grip, danced away and blended into the crowd heading to the right.

  The piercing shatter of glass breaking rang out above the normal conversational din, and Grant spun toward the sound. A little way down the left split, a brawl of some kind had broken out among…everyone in the area? What the hells was going on?

  The Justice officer tailing him disappeared.

  Seconds later, nanobots flooded the air.

  Ordinary shoppers suddenly started freaking out, beating up whomever happened to be within reach.

  He scanned around for an area devoid of insane people. Eight meters ahead, a man charged out of a shop on the right and dove into the increasingly agitated crowd. Grant ducked inside the shop the man had abandoned, hurried around the counter and slipped through the open doorway into the storeroom.

  Thankfully, it was deserted. He sank against the wall and took a deep breath, confident in his internal defenses’ ability to keep the nanobots out of his system.

  He’d tried so hard to stay clear of NOIR’s cause, even when he’d been sleeping with its leader. It wasn’t that he disagreed with their aims; he simply didn’t want to get involved. He’d checked out of the game, with its grandiose schemings and petty manipulations, a long, long time ago. In this respect, he hadn’t lied to the Justice officers—he just wanted to be left alone to make his modules and build his ships and earn enough credits to keep doing it.

  But now the cause, or its target, had found him anyway, and his own healthy self-preservation instinct required that he join the fight until he saw an opportunity to fade into the woodwork once again.

  Nika was currently many parsecs away sneaking into gods knew what and where, so he sent a ping to Perrin.

  I’m at the Makers Market in Namino Two, and something strange is going on. The air got flooded with nanobots, and now people are losing their minds. Fighting, smashing things. I’m guessing the nanobots dosed them with something nasty.

  What? Are you okay?

  I’m fine for now. I’ve blocked the nanobots. But it sounds similar to what NOIR’s been saying that virutox does to people, although this is happening a lot faster. Regardless, someone is deliberately messing with people’s programming here.

  It sounds like they are. I’m going to…um, I’m not sure. We’ll figure something out. Can you get yourself to a safe location? Or even better, out?

  I intend to try.

  Okay, good. Focus on your own safety, but keep me updated. I’ll be in touch soon.

  He searched the storeroom until he found a rear door. As he’d expected, it led to a service hallway. He headed down it to the left, which should be toward one of the building’s exits.

  After about fifty meters, the hallway turned left then quickly ended at a door. It slid open when he approached, and he found himself back in the right branch of the main thoroughfare. Sure enough, the building exit was located off to his right, on the other side of a cluster of eight or nine people. They banged violently on the closed doors, to no avail. Almost as if the doors were…locked.

  36

  * * *

  MIRAI

  PERRIN WAITED until the dyne attendant had deposited their plates on the table in front of them and departed to continue updating Adlai on NOIR’s progress with the vaccine.

  “We’ve met with scattered resistance, but honestly less than I expected. People are scared, and they’re eager to latch onto any hope we can give them. It makes me wish I had more hope I could hand out. But…anyway, as of this morning we’ve distributed around eight thousand copies of the vaccine. We estimate about seventy percent of those have been installed by the recipients.”

  Adlai shook his head in nothing but respect. “I’m beyond impressed. We’ve moved a little over twice that number, but I fear our adoption rate is far lower. Except for Maris—she has people showing up at her office and her loft at all hours of the night asking for this vaccine they heard about. You’re both great salespeople. Justice, not so much.”

  Perrin shrugged vaguely as she took an enormous bite from her sandwich, and he didn’t doubt for an instant that she did so to avoid responding. He didn’t blame her. Nor did he blame her for her choice of meeting location, a deli a few blocks from Hataori Harbor; he didn’t much enjoy going to the Justice Center these days, either. Unfortunately, the constant possibility of him being denied entry at any time, not to mention all the work that could only be accomplished inside its walls, meant he was basically living at his office.

  Once she’d chased the bite with a gulp of lemonade, he continued. “So what are your thoughts on next moves?”

  “You’re the Justice Advisor. I was betting on you having some ideas.”

  He chuckled. “No, you weren’t. NOIR doesn’t follow Justice’s playbook.”

  “True. But we need all the playbooks right now. Any information on Joaquim?”

  “A little. I learned that Satair requisitioned—”

  “Hang on for a second.” Her gaze unfocused, the hallmark of a personal conversation in progress.

  He waited patiently for her to finish. The only hard part was not staring inappropriately at her. Emotions constantly passed like a spring breeze across her lovely features, flowing from one to the next without guile or pretense, which meant he could tell the instant the conversation took a dire turn by the way her lips puckered in displeasure and the skin around her eyes creased from tension.

  She pushed her plate to the side. “There’s a problem at the Makers Market in Namino Two. I have a friend who’s there right now, and he believes someone has pumped nanobots into the air inside. People are acting crazy—beating each other up, trashing the shops. It almost sounds like they got dosed with a high-potency version of the virutox, don’t you think?”

  The probable scenario wrote its own script in his mind. NERE dust was a perfect vehicle for the virutox. A better one than the limb augment in many ways. Dammit! The instant they’d begun making progress on containing the virutox’s spread, the Guides had simply changed tactics.

  “Adlai, can you do anything to fix this?”

  The unabashed optimism with which she gazed at him hinted at the depths of her pureness of spirit. Was it possible she actually believed in his ability to fix anything?

  He sat up straighter, overcome by the desire to be worthy of the look in her eyes. “No promises, but if nanobots were spread using the ventilation system, as seems likely, it’s possible we can neutralize the effect. If we can modify the vaccine’s delivery mechanism, and if we can get it to Namino Two fast enough.”

  She nodded in understanding. “Go.”

  He smiled in under-expressed thanks and hurried out of the deli.

  Erik, if you’re not in the lab, get to it now. I’ll be there in eight minutes.

  “It sounds as though it’s faster-acting than the version we’ve been dealing with, which means the window to reverse the effects directly has already passed.”

  Erik paced rapidly around the lab, and Adlai tried to stay out of his way. “Oh! But, most people’s core operating systems keep backups of deleted fi
les and routines for a period of time, just like machines do. If we can intervene before those files are erased or overwritten, we might be able to effectively rewind the clock. Assuming I can adapt the vaccine in such a way that will prompt the victims’ OS to revert to an earlier state.”

  “Can you?”

  Erik looked up in surprise, as if he’d forgotten Adlai was there. “I think…yes. But how are we going to get the vaccine to the people who are infected?”

  “You work on modifying the vaccine. I’ll work on a plan for what to do with it.”

  Erik gestured absently in Adlai’s direction and hurried over to his work bench, then spun back around. “The ventilation system. We can use the dispersal mechanism to our own advantage.”

  “How?”

  “I’ll…get back to you on that.”

  Adlai nodded, then stepped into the hall and pinged Perrin.

  We may have an idea. How’s your friend at the Makers Market doing?

  37

  * * *

  NAMINO

  GRANT STOPPED THREE METERS from the end of the hallway so the door wouldn’t slide open and expose him to any nearby out-of-their-minds rioters. He focused his aural receptors and listened.

  The receptors returned the tell-tale thuds and bangs of a crowd physically berating locked doors.

  This was the fourth service hallway branch he’d investigated; two had ended in dead ends, two in adjacent exits he couldn’t reach.

  Was there not a single service exit directly onto the street? No, there had to be one; delivery of large items wouldn’t occur through the public thoroughfares. He simply had to find it. Even if the service exit was locked as well, if left alone and unmolested for a few minutes, he was confident in his ability to bypass the locking mechanism and get it open.