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

by G. S. Jennsen

  He needed a passageway that led to the left, toward the building’s periphery. He started back the way he’d come when a ping arrived from Perrin.

  Hey, Grant, are you hanging in there?

  Trying to stay clear of the mob until I can locate a way out.

  Great. Listen, we have an idea for how we can reverse the effects of whatever toxin the people there have been infected with. I know you’re not NOIR, but we need your help.

  He stopped at the next hallway intersection.

  What kind of help?

  I want to put you in touch with a man named Adlai. He’s with Justice, but he’s on our side. He’s ready to send you a schematic of the Makers Market building, so you can make your way to the ventilation control room. Once you’re there, he’ll open a secure nex path to you and transfer a file, then talk you through loading it into the control system.

  Grant had built enough ventilation systems to see where they were going with this, and not see how it could possibly work.

  Justice, really?

  We can trust him. I trust him.

  He would be a legitimately terrible person if he didn’t try to help these people regain their sanity before they ripped each other to pieces. He had this conversation with himself every so often, and perhaps it had been too long since the last one: checking out on society’s problems didn’t make him a terrible person—unless he let it.

  All right. Send him my way.

  To Grant’s credit, he only focused on the ‘service exit’ label on the schematic for a fraction of a second before moving on to the bright red label for the ventilation control room. Of course, a fraction of a second was all he needed to memorize the service exit’s location.

  Where are you right now?

  He studied the schematic.

  The area where about 300 insane people are between me and where I need to be. If I want to avoid them, I’m going to need to get into the ventilation system a little early.

  Frowned at the ceiling.

  So up I go.

  Can you—

  Yep.

  He ducked back into the storeroom of the shop he’d come through and rooted around in the supply closet until he found a welding torch. Then he climbed up on one of the tables and burned a hole in the ceiling. He left the torch on the table, dropped into a crouch and launched himself upward. His fingertips curled around the still hot edges of the hole, and he winced in pain as he hauled himself up through the opening and into the duct space.

  All right, I’m making my way toward the ventilation control room. But I’m crawling there, so it’s going to take a few minutes.

  I understand.

  So how is this going to work when I get there? We can filter out the nanobots to stop them from circulating any further, but I don’t see how we can use the ventilation system to reprogram people. Not without our own nanobots to deploy.

  Neither do I. But my tech guy, Erik Rhom, thinks we can repurpose the ionizer component of the air purifier to alter the nanobots’ programming.

  Oh. That…might actually work.

  Glad you both think so.

  Grant took the next right into a wider, more spacious duct. According to the schematic, this represented one of the main conduits out of the ventilation control room. The air blew forcefully against his face, evoking an involuntary shudder. Thousands of poisonous nanobots swept over his skin and banged insistently against his nose and eyes, trying to find a gap in his defenses. He couldn’t see them, he couldn’t feel them. But he could deny them entry, dammit.

  He kept his mouth firmly closed while he double-checked the health of his defensive systems. They were holding up well under the sustained assault, but he desperately wanted to be out of here.

  The duct ended at a large filtration screen. He jimmied it out of its grooves, set it aside and crawled through to the other side, where the space opened up a bit. The ceiling wasn’t high enough for him to stand, but he was able to rise to his knees.

  Okay, I’m in the ventilation control room.

  Terrific. I’m opening a nex pathway to send you the file, then I’m going to hand you off to Erik, because I would totally mangle the instructions. No matter what happens from here on out, thank you for helping us.

  This Weiss guy was far more likeable than the two Justice assholes who had invaded his home and planted surveillance equipment on his property. So that was something. But after countless millennia of living a quiet, mostly anonymous existence, in a matter of days Grant was drowning in Advisors. He didn’t want any part of it, and the sooner they all sailed back out of his life, the better.

  Sure thing. Let’s get this done.

  Hi, Mr. Mesahle. My name’s Erik Rhom. I understand you have some familiarity with machinery and environmental component design?

  Enough so you can assume I know what you mean when you say something. If I don’t, I’ll ask.

  Got it. The first thing we need to do is trap the nanobots on the ionizer’s collection plates. They’re probably designed to resist ionization, so we’re going to have to increase the voltage as high as possible.

  But not so high that the entire ventilation system electrifies, and by extension, me.

  Exactly. I’ve studied the specs on the ventilation system model, and I think that number is 5,600 volts.

  You’re fucking kidding me.

  I know, it’s a risk. Look around for any materials you can use as an insulator.

  Grant was already combing through the room on a hunt for rubber, foam, ceramic, glass, wood or even a strip of plastic. The soles of his shoes were rubberized, which was a good start but not much more.

  His eyes fell on the cooling module over in the corner. Namino’s infamously dry air meant it likely included an evaporative cooling stage.

  He crawled over to it and removed the cover.

  I’m stealing the melamine membranes from the cooling system. It might start getting a little warm inside the building.

  Don’t worry about it. The people trapped there have bigger problems.

  The module included two membranes, each a square meter in size…which might actually be enough. He ripped them out of their casings and carried them back over to the primary filtration module.

  How do I crank up the power?

  The filtration system control panel is built into the module itself. Look for a small notch halfway up one of the sides.

  Easy enough to find. The cover swung open, revealing an array of readouts and calibration tuners.

  Ionizer ID?

  #AIP148B.

  Grant tore off a small section of one of the membranes to use as a glove of sorts. He set his personal electrostatic shield to the highest setting, rose off his knees to crouch with his shoes fully on the floor, folded one membrane over his head and wrapped the other around his chest.

  5,600 volts, here we come.

  Once, nearly a thousand years ago, Grant had accidentally touched an 8,000 volt electrified panel with a bare hand. He’d survived the shock, but the resulting damage to his OS and internal organs was such that he’d been forced to trade in the body for a new one.

  The shock that assaulted his body when he dialed up the voltage didn’t hurt as much as that misstep had. His hair stood on end, and a few sparks shot out of his eyeballs. His teeth chattered, his skin felt like it was on fire, and the muscles in the arm he used to change the setting clenched, then stayed that way. But he remained on his feet.

  Still here.

  Excellent. Now it’s going to take a few minutes for the air to complete a circulation cycle, and we need to capture as many of the nanobots as possible.

  Say, twelve minutes?

  Let’s do fourteen to be safe.

  Grant sighed.

  13:58

  13:59

  Time’s up.

  Before we can turn the voltage down, we need to temporarily shut down the filtration module, so we don’t lose the nanobots.

  Got it.

  Grant flipped the master
power switch at the top of the control panel. A faint vibration in the module he hadn’t realized was there ceased, and the hyper-ionized air stilled.

  Okay, now dial the voltage back down to normal levels.

  Gladly.

  The air shifted and settled with the reduction in electricity. He felt tingly; he hoped his nerve endings hadn’t suffered significant damage. His leg muscles were cramping, but he didn’t dare sit down until the electric charge had dissipated a lot more.

  Now we need to use the file Advisor Weiss sent you to modify the properties of the nanobots. The file doesn’t contain a vaccine—we don’t have a way to extensively rewrite the nanobots from within the ventilation system—but it will wipe the nanobots’ programming, rendering them harmless. Then it will wrap them in a Tier III spike, which should trigger a state reset when someone inhales a nanobot.

  What happens when they inhale a second one?

  So they might experience more than one reset. I didn’t say it was a perfect solution, only a workable one. After we release the nanobots, we’ll null out the spike so on the next pass they’ll become inert.

  I’ll take your word for it. How do I deliver the code?

  You’re going to need to tap into the backend wiring of the control panel….

  If it had been anyone other than Grant in the vents, the whole crazy scheme would have been an unmitigated disaster. Or that was Grant’s personal opinion, anyway, as he scrambled through the ducts toward the single, magical service exit.

  Assuming the scheme was working at all; he wasn’t about to drop down into one of the public hallways and check. He’d done his civic duty and given a lot of innocent people a chance. He had nothing more to give.

  Weiss pinged him as he reached the final intersection on his journey and turned left.

  I’m working on getting looped into the on-site surveillance cams to see what effect our fix is having. I’m also on the way to the scene. Stay hidden and out of the way, and once I’m there, I’ll find a way to get you out safely.

  Sounds good.

  Five meters short of where the schematic showed the service exit, Grant halted and used his multitool to cut into the base of the duct until it gave way.

  He dropped down through the jagged opening and landed on the floor of the thankfully empty service hallway. His overstressed leg muscles protested the hard landing, but they obeyed when he stood tall for the first time in over an hour, and he wasted no time in bypassing the door’s security.

  Outside, the night sky was bright with the flashing of emergency lights. Sirens wailed, as if that helped anything. The street intersections in both directions were barricaded and patrolled by security dynes, but they hadn’t barricaded the mid-block alley. Not yet.

  He breathed the uncontaminated, chilly night air deep into his lungs and started winding his way through the labyrinth of alleys and out to a street three blocks away. Then home.

  38

  * * *

  NAMINO

  ADLAI ARRIVED at the Makers Market to find about what he’d expected. A sizeable security force surrounded the block-sized building, with mecha guarding the main entrances. It didn’t look as if the local Justice presence had breached the building yet, which was good news.

  He spotted the command center off to the left of the east entrance and credentialed his way through two security checkpoints to reach it. Once there, he stopped the first officer he came to. “Advisor Weiss. I’d like to speak with Advisor Panetier.”

  The uni shook their head. “I’m not sure where Selene currently is. I haven’t seen her in twenty minutes or so.”

  “Thank you. I’ll find her.”

  He’d made it two more steps when Blake Satair turned around, a mug of coffee in one hand. “Can I help you?”

  Adlai groaned. “Are you taking over the Namino Justice Division, too? Spreading yourself a bit thin.”

  “I go where I’m needed. At the moment, that happens to be here. You, however, are not needed, so kindly see yourself back to Mirai. Go hide in your office for a while longer.”

  “I’ve been monitoring the cam feeds for the last hour. Everyone inside has calmed down, and the fighting has ceased. They’re also out of sorts and confused, and many are injured. We have to get trauma repair teams in there.”

  “No, we have to get a cadre of security dynes in there to arrest everyone, which we are nearly ready to do. A full assault on the building is set to begin in five minutes.”

  “Did you not hear what I said? No one inside is a threat to anyone. Not any longer. They need our help, not our shackles. Check the cam feeds for yourself.”

  “Oh, I have. Curious how half an hour ago everyone rather abruptly stopped rampaging and started crying—but at least they’ll be easier to bring in now.”

  “You…” Adlai pinched the bridge of his nose, using the time the gesture provided to stop himself from acting on his spiking frustration “…do you have any idea what happened in there?”

  “Yes. Do you?”

  Icy tendrils of dismay froze the frustration in his veins. This was practically an admission of complicity. And Satair had said it to his face while officers milled about within earshot.

  The man had always been arrogant and brash, but he now displayed far too much hubris. Satair plainly believed Adlai couldn’t touch him, and it might be true. But now, it sounded like he also believed the Guides’ directives couldn’t be countermanded; the Rasu Protocol couldn’t be thwarted. This, Adlai refused to accept.

  He schooled his features into a blank, emotionless expression. “Well. If you don’t require my assistance, I’ll take your advice and head to Mirai. I’ve got a lot of work to do there, so you might want to hurry back as well.”

  Then he turned on a heel and strode off with as much dignity as he was able to muster, when what he really wanted to do was punch something. All their efforts tonight, for nothing!

  No, not for nothing. They’d saved the psyches of the hundreds of people inside from being mangled beyond repair. But in the end, it hadn’t been enough to save them from the Rasu Protocol. The people inside would be rounded up and hauled off to the Namino Justice Center, convicted of violent crimes and shipped off to Zaidam before tomorrow saw a sunset.

  He allowed himself a weary sigh and veered left before he hit the first security checkpoint. There was still one person he could save tonight.

  Mr. Mesahle, I’m happy to report that your and Erik’s hard work succeeded in quelling the outbreak inside. Unfortunately, the situation has gotten somewhat complicated outside. If you will stay hidden away in the ductwork for a little longer, I promise I will find a way to get you out that doesn’t involve you being arrested.

  No need to trouble yourself. I got myself out. I’m home and snugly tucked into my bed.

  Adlai frowned at the building façade, unable to decide whether to be relieved at having one less problem to solve or annoyed at having been caught flat-footed for the second time in one night.

  What? I mean, I’m glad to hear it. But I wanted to thank you for your help in person.

  It’s not necessary. I’m glad everything worked out.

  If only.

  39

  * * *

  THE PLATFORM

  THANKS FOR THE RIDE. I’ll be seeing you soon.

  —Nika

  Many hours after she’d recovered her ship, the taunt continued to wreak havoc through Gemina’s thoughts. It kept drawing her attention away from a somewhat important interaction, and she couldn’t seem to silence it.

  “A thorough scrubbing of the Tabiji revealed the presence of a small tracker hidden on the bridge. It’s likely she placed it there while she was on Hokan Station.”

  Always cool and reserved, Guide Anavosa regarded Gemina with an extra hint of frostiness. “Was any additional tampering identified?”

  “Minor anomalies in the Tabiji’s internal systems suggest a slicing intrusion, but the evidence is inconclusive.”

  “Does she have
everything?”

  Gemina weathered this abuse with a stoic flatness, as it was de rigeur for Guide Luciene. “I don’t know how much information she currently possesses. More than she did two days ago.”

  “How did she find the station?”

  She didn’t acknowledge the comparative gentleness of Guide Delacrai’s inquiry. She couldn’t afford to. “There are several possibilities. The breach occurred soon after a shipment from SR114-Ichi arrived, so it is possible she was present at the outpost and stowed away in the cargo vessel. In addition, following the incident, a tracking device similar to the one discovered on the Tabiji was found in the laser housing of my personal ship. It might have been there for several weeks.”

  “Or months? Years?”

  “No, Guide Iovimer. The laser covering had been sealed shut, presumably to protect the tracker. I used the laser at SR89-San twenty-three days ago, so it was placed since then. I’ve docked the ship at official spaceports on Mirai, Kiyora and Adjunct Ni in recent weeks, so there were…opportunities.”

  “You have gotten sloppy, Advisor Kail. Your gross negligence in the performance of your duties is unacceptable.”

  Gemina bit the inside of her mouth until it bled. The pain distracted her long enough to divert her initial, knee-jerk response to Luciene. “Given how the job you’ve tasked me with is an impossible one, I respectfully submit that perfection is unattainable.”

  “Competence, however, is not.”

  “Then fire me.” She wiped a trickle of blood from the corner of her mouth; her restraint accidentally slipped away with it. “Or can you not find anyone else to do your dirty work for you? Perhaps, Guide Luciene, you’d like to leave your ivory tower and attempt to perform this job yourself. Believe me, you are welcome to it.”

  In a rare physical display, Anavosa extended her arm toward Luciene, palm up and turned outward. A warning. Her gaze, though, never left Gemina. “Take care with your tone, Advisor Kail. You have served us honorably and skillfully for many years, and we have not forgotten your dedication or your sacrifices. Believe me, we recognize the level of stress you face. We are all facing it.