Eclipse Phase- After the Fall

by Jaym Gates

  The deceased courier, whomever he was, had been entrusted with information too sensitive to transmit. No one knew the true capabilities of the TITANs to intercept and decode, so the courier had been injected with nanobots that etched a nanoscopic encoded message directly onto one of his femur bones. However, he had never made it off the planet. His message had never been delivered.

  Pivo and Sava had no idea what the information was, but someone at Firewall obviously deemed it worthy of capture. Information on the TITANs perhaps. Or some CEO’s secret family recipe for pasta sauce.

  [This is the one.] Pivo held out the femur to Sava and tossed the others to the floor.

  [What does it say?]

  [I don’t know. Not sure I want to know.] Pivo continued to hold out the femur.

  [Enough with the drama Pivo. Just get your nanos to read it. We need a copy of the data. If you don’t want to carry, I will.]

  [I’d prefer that. Thank you.] Pivo set his nanobots to work on deciphering the inscription. When they were done, the intel was transmitted directly to Sava. Pivo wanted no part of it.

  [So, now what? How do we get out of here? The only way out is the way we came in, and that’s suicide.] Pivo’s complexion changed from a milky green to an almost royal blue. It always happened when helplessness began to settle in.

  Sava did not hesitate to answer, choosing to speak as opposed to transmit. “We’re not gonna leave, Pivo. Not even gonna try.” Sava raised the plasma rifle and aimed it directly at Pivo’s oblong head. “See you next time, calamari.” Sava pulled the trigger, and a fiery bolt of plasma reduced Pivo to a twitching mass of bloody scorched cartilage atop writhing arms. The arms continued to flop on the floor in a growing pool of blood as Sava sat down next to a pile of bones and leaned against the wall.

  Sava pulled out a cigarette and lit it. The first inhale was virtually orgasmic. Sava loved to smoke.

  Upon exhale, Careza pinged. [Shall I contact Project Ozma?]

  Yeah. Get our lady on the line.

  A woman’s voice, cold and harsh, entered Sava’s head, so different from the soothing tones Careza used. [Are you prepared to deliver, Agent Sava?]

  [That depends.] Sava took another drag.

  [Perhaps I did not make myself clear during our initial negotiations, Agent Sava. Your options are rather limited. You are unlikely to make it off the planet alive, and we cannot afford to lose this information, nor can we afford to have it fall into the hands of your organization. You are going to have to follow through, and trust that we will do the same.]

  [Either you give me her location right now, or I take your precious info with me.]

  There was a long pause before the woman transmitted again. [You realize there will be consequences, Agent Sava. For you and for Rati.]

  [Yeah. I suppose so.] The cigarette burned to the filter and Sava flicked it into a bone pile. [So what’s it gonna be?]

  [We do not bargain, Agent Sava, after a deal has been struck. Do as you will, and we will react accordingly.] The connection with the woman terminated. Sava stood up and walked over to where the courier’s femur lay and picked it up. Pivo’s gore coated the bone. Sava wiped it off and held it up to take a close look.

  Sorry, Careza. Info payload only. Leave the ego behind.

  [Understood.]

  With the flash of a thought, Sava instructed Careza to activate the cortical stack’s emergency farcaster—a one-shot neutrino transmitter, powered by the tiniest amount of antimatter. Sava’s head exploded all over the room, taking the courier’s femur with it. The information contained on the femur, however, found its way almost instantly through the blackest depths of space, landing safely onto a dedicated Firewall receiver elsewhere in the solar system.

  —

  “What’s the number?”

  The words dig their claws into my new vocal cords and yank themselves up and out of my parched throat. My diction is predictably poor, as it always is during the first few minutes following a resleeve. The pitch of the voice is apparent despite the mumbled, sandpaper slur of the words. Definitely a biomorph and my latest sex is female. This much I know in the first few seconds.

  Nostalgia

  Georgina Kamsika

  The mottled grey planet fills the window. So many miles of vacuum between the habitat and earth, yet the globe looks close enough for Charumati to pluck from the sky. The window frame is rough-sanded pale wood, grooved and full of knotholes, reflecting a softly lit room behind her. Tatami mats, paper walls and soft, expressive art are the only decorations in an otherwise restrained room.

  These contrast with the brightly coloured neon feeds that are scrolling on her HUD; information flying almost faster than she can process. She scans the metadata flicking past. Streams flash and beep, enticing her to pull some of the larger, compressed data feeds.

  Nothing on the mesh catches her eye, so she touches the antique crib set beside her. Twelve month-old baby Kiyoko breathes deeply whilst swaddled in natural cotton and hemp fabrics. A secret contact-feed initiates at her touch, the habitat bandwidth so powerful she gets an update in a split second. Her mesh insert ignores public databases like Solarchive, using a virtual private network to tunnel securely through to the Eye, Firewall’s hidden social network.

  Charumati speed-scrolls through the cached messages. Nothing from her router, codename Sapphire, to change her mission parameters. She bends over the crib, dropping her hand to her side to disengage from the feed.

  Her ayah biomod-enhanced smell implants kick in as the baby opens her eyes. A chubby hand reaches out, fingers opening and closing in the air. Charumati leans closer, but ignores the hand. She might be new to her ayah morph but she’s learned not to get caught in the baby’s pincer-like grip.

  “Shh, Kio,” she sings the words. “Sleepy time.”

  Kiyoko opens her mouth, burbling nonsense noises. She’s still not spoken her first word, but she’s never stopped smiling. A few minutes of Charumati rocking the crib, and her eyes drift closed. It hasn’t been long since Kiyoko’s last feeding, and now that she’s asleep, she’s likely to stay that way for at least two or three hours. Plenty of time for the mission.

  [Place is clear,] her muse, Penni, informs her. [Two valid exits, though the first is potentially hazardous, as it relies on no incoming ship. Condition Amber.]

  Charumati feels for her bioweave armor and implanted weapons, upgraded since she was recruited into Firewall. All good. She resists the urge to check on the baby again, nothing will have changed in two seconds, and heads down some shallow stairs to a seating area. Low cushions face a series of wall niches recessed into white plaster. Of differing height and width, each niche houses its own item—a tea set adorned with small nicks, a patinated vase; other items simple, plain, no decoration. A huge wall hanging commands the central spot.

  As soon as Kiyoko was born, the Wakahisa’s had handed her over to full-time care. The only time the parents had shown true animation was when they explained their aesthetic beliefs. “Wabi-sabi finds great beauty in the poetry of simple objects, and is an appreciation for the effects of time and nature on their beauty. We create an atmosphere of acceptance of the toll that life takes on us all.” Mrs. Wakahisa had smiled, holding up a simple teacup. Compared to the feed flashing past her left eye, Charumati was not impressed. Mrs. Wakahisa had continued. “If we love the things that already exist, the tactile evidence of being made by someone’s hands, we are storing tales for future generations.”

  This idea of celebrating imperfection had meant nothing to Charumati at the time; however its importance to the family had made an impression. So, since she is looking for their most precious possessions then, ah … yes. The vault interface is recessed behind a vase, barely visible. For all the talk of ancient beating modern, the panel has a number of up-to-date security measures.

  [It’s not too bad, an electronic lock, controlled by
biometrics, hmm, no physical token. I can do this in 60,] Penni says, confident that her hacking abilities easily bump Charumati’s own skills past the level needed. Forty-four seconds later and the tiny red light flips to green.

  [I’m too good,] Penni says, as the wall hanging rolls up into the ceiling. There’s no open door though, just another, bigger panel. [Damn.]

  The soft fabric had rolled up almost silently but Charumati waits and hopes the faint noise won’t be noticed. She’s disappointed.

  [Incoming. Hmm, height, weight, speed. It’s Saadaq.]

  Charumati hasn’t let Penni finish speaking before she’s back beside the crib, bending over the baby. She deliberately faces away from Saadaq, trying to show nonchalance.

  The open floor plan facilitates flow through the habitat, an expansive deck to one side, an indoor garden with a mature bamboo forest to the other. All have height and space, allowing Saadaq room to fly.

  [He’s here, quick you should attac—] Charumati filters out Penni, waiting for a noise before turning to face the raven.

  Saadaq circles the room, landing on an exposed wooden beam next to the crib. He’s about medium size for a neo-raven, with nanotat work spreading from his white crest plumage down to the black tips of his tail. In the dim light, the lines glow and shift.

  “So, what’s going on?” Saadaq tilts his head, his black and gold pupils blinking at her. “I heard a noise, are the Wakahisas back?” His accent is a soft rasp, but his words are interspersed with the odd corvid click.

  “They’re not due back for at least two months. You probably heard me talking to baby Kiyoko,” Charumati says as she fusses with the covers laid around the sleeping child. She keeps moving, trying to hold his attention on her.

  [We were supposed to get this done before he arrived. Plan B. Six pressure points for instantaneous death, three locations for paralysis. Two for an unconscious state. Tiny body, easily disposed.] Penni highlights the points via Charumati’s HUD.

  Saadaq flips his head, switching which eye peers at her. “I have a lead on a new 18th Century Yixing teapot. Excellent condition, with signs of moderate wear, minor chipping. Interesting provenance. They’ll love it.”

  “I know nothing about their art choices,” Charumati holds her eyes a touch wider than usual to give her an innocent expression. She takes a step closer to the bird.

  “Sound, sound, what did I hear then? Oh,” Saadaq twists his head, his gold-flecked eyes staring past her. “James.”

  [Where are they coming from?] Penni says. [He is never around at this time of day.]

  When she’d first been introduced to James, she’d shaken his hand and discretely pulled his digital fingerprint to check him out. A pre-Fall security pod who has served the family his whole life.

  “James,” she turns to face him, a smile on her face. She squirts a quick message to Sapphire. Firewall can decide how to handle this.

  [Multiple upgrades. Two pressure points for instantaneous death, one location for paralysis. Only one for an unconscious state. Very hard fight. Not recommended.]

  James towers over her, his mass-produced pod all taut muscles clad in polymer armor. He has the classic mercenary look—square jaw, shaved hair, narrowed eyes. He glances at Saadaq, then back to her, padding across the bare wooden floors to the raised nursery section.

  “Hello, Charumati. Saadaq, you need to log your visit.” His accent is old Earth; English and cold.

  “Gentlemen, please remember this is Kiyoko’s nap time.” Charumati bends at the waist, waving one hand to indicate they both leave.

  James nods at her, glancing once more at Saadaq before turning on his heel. Saadaq squawks out his assent, and leaps from his perch to buzz past the security pod’s head. Neither of them had glanced towards the art corner or seemed to notice the exposed vault controls.

  [I lifted his keys, private and public. Adding them to your HUD now.] Penni sounds smug, her voice practically glowing. Charumati skims the feed floating past, wanting to be sure neither male returns for any reason. She straightens the mobile hanging over the crib as a message arrives from her mission coordinator. [Saadaq is a problem, but proceed with mission. Have eyes on you. Erasure squads prepped if necessary. Make it not necessary.]

  Great, complete the mission or we send in the cleanup squad. Charumati looks at the baby sleeping below her, her ayah instincts kicking in. I can’t let them hurt her.

  [The raven is gone, can trace him over by the hanger.] Penni says. [Not sure where James is. He’s stealthy, but remember, he’s old school. Just nostalgic to have around. For real security they’re hooked up to Direct Action like every other hyper-rich a-hole. If someone like Direct Action does come, remember there are only two exits off this habitat. Plus the main landing pad has only got room for one vessel and Saadaq just took it. The only viable exit now is the emergency pod to the other side of the bamboo room.]

  Charumati nods and adds a note to her HUD. The area is still quiet, so she heads towards the art section. She waits for another 60 seconds.

  [Okay, let’s do this,] Penni assesses the panel. [I’ve got James’s keys, I’ll try them. We’ve, we …] Her voice fades out as a sharp pain pierces Charumati’s temples. The ayah drops to her knees with a gasp, hands to her forehead.

  “Now why would a nanny be playing around with the Wakahisa’s family vault?” Out of the corner of her watering eye, Charumati sees the tip of James’s gleaming boot. “Oh, sorry about the headache, but that muse of yours had to go.”

  “Penni?” Charumati tries to feel for her, but the mesh inserts are empty. Nothing. Panic flickers, her heart slams against her chest. The pain fades, but she feels so empty. Penni is gone.

  [What was that?] Sapphire messages her. Charumati blinks, dismissing it.

  “Come on, please stand up, Miss.” James’s voice is gentle. “The pain should be gone now.”

  The ice-pick-through-her-temples feeling has faded, but the hollowness of a dead muse is more debilitating. She can’t remember when she last backed up; a few months ago, maybe longer. Keeping her eyes lowered, Charumati checks her HUD for a backup. There—Penni v4.9 dated just over 5 months ago. If she can just get back to her contact-feed on the crib, she can get her re-installed.

  “Charumati.” James keeps his distance.

  “I’m okay. I’m just not used to having no muse.” She stands, rubbing a hand over her face. The gun in his hand puts paid to any resistance plans. If he was closer, she might have a chance, but not like this. She needs a new strategy.

  “Sorry.” He doesn’t look it. “I couldn’t leave you with her when you seemed determined to hack the vault. You understand, I’m sure.”

  She nods, glancing at the vault controls, her HUD glowing with information Penni had added before she’d been killed. She’s trying to think of next steps, but her empty mesh is so distracting.

  “Before I make up my mind what to do with you, tell me your plans. You’ve been with the family for nearly two years, since Mrs. Wakahisa got pregnant, and it’s only this last week your behavior has changed. What changed it?”

  Charumati starts, sneaking a look at James. She thought him merely decorative, an old relic like everything else, and yet he’d spotted when she’d been activated by Firewall. “How much do you know about the exsurgent virus?”

  His jaw tightens and he rolls his eyes. “Please. Do you think I’m an idiot? Pre-Fall so I’ll piss my pants at the thought?”

  Charumati shakes her head. “We don’t interact much, no, we’ve never needed to. But I have more respect for you than that.” With a wave of her hand she indicates centuries-old china, artwork, and woodwork. “Look around. Just about everything in this house is pre-Fall.”

  “So?” James shrugs. “We both know they love their wabi-sabi whatever thing. Old stuff. What’s that got to do with the virus?”

  “Information was leaked to
, ah, me, that there’s a datastore in this habitat. There’s concern that the data is potentially a virus-riddled time bomb. So I was tasked to monitor it.”

  “Tasked.” The muscles in his eyelid flicker, but he’s looking past her at the additional interface. “By who?”

  “That doesn’t matter. What does matter is that last week they found out Saadaq is planning a heist. I have intel that he’s got pirate contacts who are coming any day. They wanted me to investigate it before he does anything.”

  There’s a tiny niggle of worry in the way his jaw clenches, the flicker of a nervous muscle above his eye, but he doesn’t lower the gun.

  Charumati keeps trying. “Look at this place. If that vault is a datastore, it’s bound to be pre-Fall information in there. And yeah, maybe it’s safe, but there’s also a good chance it isn’t.”

  When he doesn’t answer for a beat, then two, she decides to push. “Let me grab my backup muse, I’ll open it up and we can see. If I’m wrong, you’ve caught me anyway. If I’m right, we clear out baby Kiyoko and get a cleanup crew in.”

  [Erasure squad is prepped and ready. On your word,] her router messages.

  With a tilt of her head, she dismisses it. “Please, James. You’ve got nothing to lose.”

  “Only my integrity.” His voice is gruff, but she sees the way he’s eyeing the vault keypad.

  A single message appeared in her feed. [He’s dealt with us in the past. He’ll trust us. Keep trying.] A message from Sapphire. She pushes down her annoyance that they kept it from her and thinks about how to capitalise on it.

  Charumati is used to Penni helping, but it still only takes a second or so to sort the evidence of the planned raid. She squirts the folder across to him, without filtering anything. Let him see the legwork they’ve done investigating this.

  James stills, his body unmoving apart from his eyes. They scan back and forth, sorting the information dump she’s just dropped. His eyes widen, just a fraction, before he turns his attention back to her.