Supplejack

by Les Petersen

  Bleeder was the first to comment. “You are over-reacting, Jack.”

  I dropped the speed back to ten knots, counted to twenty. “All right. Other comments?”

  Medusa voiced her scorn. “I have us sealed tight, Jack. They cannot get past my warriors. Even if they can trespass through a maze with the speed in, which they appear to have, I do not believe they can get to us for at least an hour. We have time to sort all this out. You are panicking and weakening the team.”

  “Enough of the negative. What’s positive?” I ground my teeth, flicked off the HUD and watched the river race under us. I hate it when they get critical.

  “Sixty minutes and counting,” Sansan added.

  It was time to take this head on. “All right, Sansan. Give me a summary of likely causes, even if GaZe and HaRf disagree. It’s not a time to negotiate.”

  GaZe and Medusa kept quiet while Sansan mapped out the connections as she saw them. Four avenues, of course: Steel Hand, Gilamens, Big Boys, or Luddite sympathisers., but the Steel Hand she saw as the primary, not the Big Boys as I would have suspected. It all made sense, in her eyes. The Steel Hand was eliminating risks, preparing for a big push and needed both a scapegoat and a distraction. And somehow, I was in the way. They themselves had suggested I was their leader, she thought. By setting the Big Boys on me they had risk-elimination and distraction in one. This meant they had already started whatever they were going to do and the Big Boys would be very active at the moment.

  While I was closed down, sealed behind Medusa’s army, the Big Boys could not get to me through the Net, though I needed alternative access, something to ride the waves. I needed a new harbour to ship from to deal with the trouble makers. I spun the wheel, heeled The Sea Mistress about and headed back toward Walkers Flat.

  “GaZe, run diagnostics for me, will you? And check all systems for limpet, logic bombs and internal riddles. Double check for nanos and triple check new systems installed over the last three weeks. Medusa, give him a hand.” They didn’t acknowledge, just got down to business.

  “Sansan, memory only. Local nodes and Net ports. World Wide. Military or commercial avoided. Private or communal. Multiple level access, full media, security level as high as possible.”

  She knuckled down to finding me a gangway. The river was liquid fire as the sun came up. I could see Francis Ford Cappola’s helicopters riding in like Valkyries and the smell of napalm, the challenge of hard access. Rambo.

  It was just like this when I designed Sansan and the others. The crystal and the light. Let me take you back while they work.

  I chose a departure date from Bell, prepped the system to cover me. All I needed was to put the PAN together. It was easy to set up a serious problem with the spindle’s router in bay six at Bell and of course, I volunteered to fix it. I spent four weeks patched into the helix; working on the design—almost dehydrated, eating little, sleeping less. The Mainframe was my womb. I began by designing a maintenance programme that manifest as an oil tanker on the Net. (Of course, I called it Harry.) I downloaded the design specifics for the JON and began customising it with a schematic for my person JON, which I called a PAN. I dropped the specs via Harry’s cargo hold. Then I’d slip back into security to check their activity made sure they weren’t following my moves. If they were looking elsewhere, I’d back step into the helix, run another schematic—but this time on a possible answer to the flaws with the router—and do this little tango again between my customising of my PAN and the router problem. I was on fire, felt like I was burning in a searing wall of inspiration. I plunged into it, warped the schematics with laser light, cut through crystal layers, crunched through levels of blue light and switches. Hair thin, atomic scale, molecule by molecule, 8 thou MHz I used military programming, injected a new protocol for my PAN, fell asleep, dreamed of open ocean and an island of fire, lava walkers, thundering volcanic soil, rolling waves hissing against hot shore, steaming skies. Woke to a red light holo of the PAN, a satanic world of fiery line larger than life, twisted it, pulled at the weaving strands, plucked the sounds from them.

  Once I had created Sansan I began on GaZe. He was—

  “Jack?”

  “Yes, Sansan.”

  “Last trade route update. Walkers Flat local library has a Dansen400. Full media access. Holoberth, sensorial simulation, security level alpha.”

  “Alpha?” That was military level.

  “A new training base is planned for this region later this year.”

  “Medusa?”

  “Confirmed, Jack. Adelaide sprawl is reducing squad training efficiency in outback situations. Walkers Flat and Nildottie hold numerous Feral populations ripe for seeding and training.”

  Jackpot or jumbuck? Watch out, Matilda. “When was alpha implemented?”

  “Eight months ago, Jack.”

  It seemed okay. Too far ahead to plan something like that just to capture me. Play it safe though, stay away from the military. “Other gangplanks?”

  “No other communal on record. Local users group have a self-funding ZEN Playmaker, full media access, holoberth, security level Delta.”

  “High enough. Number of users?”

  “Five-oh-six.”

  “Too tight. Check Commercial.”

  “Nothing I would recommend,” Sansan said. She knows how to save me time. Commercial ice is easy to chip through, but I don’t like people reading over my shoulders. Commercial ports tend to be saturated in probes from taxation and the Big Boys’ snoops, and you never know when one might latch on.

  The sun was burning off the mist and Walkers Flat emerged out of the greasy sky. I cut the engines and toggled off manual, let autopilot bring us on-line for docking. “Medusa, we’ll go with the Library in say eight minutes. Do what you must. Sansan, memory only. Staff checks. Bleeder, how much time would you need for a circuit of Press action?”

  “Twelve minutes for full global. Three for Southern Hemisphere. One for nationwide.”

  “We’ll go southern with the scanner. Run all waves.”

  Gaze hummed. “Pardon me, Jack. System check completed. All clear.”

  “Good. Help Medusa if she needs it.”

  The Sea Mistress knocked against the dock and the magnetic clamps clanged like a bell. I could smell diesel, creosote and petrol. The water lapping against the hull was louder than roaring surf and the lights from the rising sun drenched the landscape like searchlights. For a second I thought I had walked into a trap, but the HUD showed I hadn’t turned down my sense enhancers. I remembered pushing it up when I sat in the chair sipping coffee, trying to make sense of the fog.

  “Dampen sensory augment please, Sansan.”

  “Confirmed, Jack. Four minutes to Library access.”

  “Thank you, Sansan.” I went to the stateroom, grabbed a wallet and some ID. As I dressed in boots, jeans and a grey shirt, red tie, which was almost an official uniform to a Shiner, I consider going in loaded with ordnance. The jacket was lined with batteries: it could stop a round or two if they chose to throw lead my way. And it could conceal two or more handguns., but why draw them too quickly, especially if the security was as tight as it should be? I set up an escape route, scanned the layout into memory. If things moved while I was away, I’d know before I got back. I checked out my appearance, snapped up the holoface and went out onto the deck.

  “Confirmed Tactical,” Sansan updated. “Forty-eight minutes to wall down; three minutes to Library access.”

  The sun was rising over the hills. I’ve heard it described as a brass plate so often that I always expect to see it like that, but it looked more like an eyeball. A fiery red eyeball. I let it look at what it wanted to, jumped onto the wharf and marched up the jetty. Red sky in the morning, Shiner’s warning.

  The car came out to meet me, engines running, door hissing open like a military salute. Mr Frennet was down by the bait fridge. He raised a lazy hand, then returned to packing the ice back in. As we drove to the Library, Bleeder gave me a run dow
n on media activity he had picked up on the scanner. Nothing of note. Even the Squads were quiet.

  I made the Library with two seconds to spare. Two seconds? The BB squad had been the same time in advance. Coincidence? “Sansan, recalibrate clock for two second advance.”

  “Confirmed, Jack.”

  “GaZe, get Charlie to do a time check and run calibrations on Sansan’s clock. Chaos check.”

  “Confirmed, Jack.”

  I sat in the car and waited patiently while Medusa finished her preparations. The Library was already open and a line of students stood by the ATM, down-loading lessons into their data cards. Most looked as bored with school as I had been and the only thing that gave them any difference from the children from larger cities was their uniform—bronze jacket, grey trousers and shirts, blue striped ties. In the city, uniform colours were brighter. Made the students stand out from all the concrete, I suppose.

  “Access time, Jack.”

  I shifted from the car to the Library with the minimum of fuss. GaZe morphed my holoface for a blend between the car salesman and the cop we had seen last night. I used part of Frennet’s stroll, part of Shahn’s swagger and walked into the Library. I ignored the school kids and they ignored me.

  Chapter 5

  Glass doors hissed open and I stepped through an air-conditioning lock, into a foyer where potted plants jarred nastily with light blue walls. The Library was a converted bank—not surprising really—and a row of desks mounted with swivel VDUs guarded further entry. Security cameras and a mesh of steel bars made the interior look more like a prison than the container of a universe. I walked over to the desk, stood and waited for the librarian to notice me. She didn’t look up from her console, just raised a hand to acknowledge my existence and finished tapping in numbers. They looked like coordinates. Her nametag said “Lucy Clarke”. Sansan remained quiet, but the Heads-up gave me a feed of information about the woman.

  Lucy Reanna Clarke. 170 cms. 65 kg. Age: twenty-six. Hair: Honey blonde. Eyes: Brown. IQ 128. Sturt University (Wagga Wagga Campus) MA Bioelectrical physics, Physiology; PhD Computer Programming, MA Hardware design (Ceramic/Laser Systems). Last known gender: female. Marital status: single, no known contracts. And the list went on: star sign, aura levels, colour preferences, physical training deviations, node use, vacation destinations, latent nationality, last video viewing, vaccination certificates. I shut down the feed when it reached food choices for weekend company. I waited.

  The Library was fairly empty this early in the morning. Beside the cyborgs standing guard around the reference section, a couple of older patrons over by the stacks still used books as entry into the world of information. A young woman tapped away on a console. She wore a floral dress and a hand-knitted shawl; bare feet, red hair shaven down the sides, the back dreadlocked. I put her down as a Gofer for the Ferals—one of their converts able to use a basic keyboard. A pretty one for a change. I liked the colour of her hair. She wasn’t someone to worry about, I decided. GaZe patched through a zoom of the screen and I saw she was searching for new information on natural fertilisers for outdoor plants. Definitely a Gofer.

  I tapped GaZe twice. It was our signal that he should do a run down on local security and give me feed on the HUD. He had the information ready and it rippled across my screen. “Security: alpha-4 level. Do you want Invasion?”

  Four levels above what I was expecting. Seemed like they must had upgraded Library security around the country since finding Harry on the Ryde Library. I thought through the risks, but you don’t mess with the military unless you’ve time on your hands and diplomatic immunity. I tapped him twice for the negative, rubbed my thumb against my ring finger and Sansan gave me a schematic of the area, taken from the satellite deep scan the day before and cross matched with county building records. The Dansen400 was in a room at the back of the Library, shielded by lead-lined walls and double card swipe. The security scanners and monitors were backed up by dual redundant systems, one of, which was duplicated and fed to the local police station. This was worse than Fort Knox. You wouldn’t want to be overdue with your books here, or consider stealing anything. It piqued my interest, but I had other things to do.

  The librarian finished what she had been doing and looked up at me and I was lost for just a second when I realised she wasn’t using a holoface. She didn’t even have a chin mount. Her eyes were blue all right: the kind of blue that brandy get when it’s set on fire set off nicely by the fringe of her red tinted hair. And lines on her face, like the crinkles in folded paper and lips as red as berry juice. And freckles. Freckles under pale cream skin.

  I realised she was wearing makeup, including rouge on her face and lipstick – and that I was staring. Seeing makeup on bare skin might unnerve some people, but I smiled and nodded.

  She frowned, wondering why I had chosen that particular holoface, I suppose, and then smiled in return. “How may I help you?”

  I played it casual, kept the holoface up. “Hi. I was wondering if you have public holo access to the HoloCloud.”

  She waited for me to elaborate, to give some reason like most people would, but I just held my smile. After all, libraries always have public access. The question would warrant special security. When I didn’t volunteer any more information, she brushed a finger across her forehead, parting the fringe a little and nodded. “Yes, sir. We have full access to the Net, including HDVD and holographic. Were you wishing to hire time?”

  I drew a card from my wallet and handed it to her, introducing myself at the same time. “Harold Earner. Special Investigations Officer, Flintlock Bureau.”

  She hardly looked at the card. “Yes, sir. Did you wish to hire time?” She wasn’t to be phased by a law enforcement lackey. The girl working on the console looked my way and nudged her carryall under the desk. She continued to type, but she also looked out of the corner of her eye at me.

  I nodded to the librarian. “Please. For an hour.”

  She hesitated for a second, sighed slightly as if it was the most boring thing she had done in a long time and brushed at the lock of hair again. “I’ll have a look at our booking schedule,” she said and she tapped at the keyboard. “An hour? There is a booth free in three minutes. Do you want it?”

  What did I have to do? Write it in blood? “Yes, thank you.”

  She tapped in my name. “Do you have an access code?”

  “I’d like anonymous access, please.”

  She looked at me and shook her head. “We would prefer private users to register.” So they could keep track of them, no doubt. The Ferals’ Gofer had stopped typing.

  I pulled rank. “Flintlock will verify my right to anonymous entry.”

  Lucy Clarke replied to my smash with a line drive. “Of course, sir. Perhaps you would like to provide me with proof of identification.”

  I volleyed it back at her by producing a security badge with Flintlock’s seal. “I believe this will be sufficient.”

  She wasn’t to be pushed about. She took the badge and scanned it in, did an elaborate security check and then held the badge up so the nearest Tinman could see and zoom in on it, replicate it for their records in 3D. I started having second thoughts and Sansan made it worse by updating the HUD readout: “Forty-five minutes to wall down.”

  “Do you wish for visual confirmation of identity?” I asked. It meant I would have to lower my holoface and I didn’t need things to get any more complicated than it already was, but things were getting tight anyway.

  “The badge is sufficient.” The librarian handed me back the badge. “Everything appears to be in order”. She brushed at the lock of hair. “The booth will be ready when the user is finished. Do you want to wait, or will you return?”

  I wanted to rip the wall down. I thought about pushing my weight around, but instead said, “I’ll wait, thank you.”

  “By all means. The Library is at your disposal. If there is anything I can help you with, do not hesitate to ask.” She used a polished smile and
I expected her to ask if I wanted ‘fries with that’. I turned and walked away, selected a chair near the window so I could watch the street, sat and crossed my legs. One of the Tinmen moved across the room so I was in its field of vision, but I ignored it. A few cars rolled through the town, then a horse-drawn buggy, a couple of pedestrians. Across the street, the Town Hall had been attacked by Luddite graffiti that demanded the return of the Monarchy and beneath the brightly coloured scrawl, a pizza delivery vehicle sat propped on its side while a mechanic worked on it. Sansan ticked his face through known channels, matching and cross matching. He was local. A graduate from the TAFE, employed by a service department and therefore safe.

  GaZe was running dual with Charlie, preparing a new Harry in case I wanted to deal with local militia. The HUD asked for confirmation of certain attributes and I single tapped through them, using the chair’s arm to press the finger mouse against. Having the security cameras sweeping me was unnerving, but behind the wall I had no way of steering them elsewhere. I might not be able to see the infrared scanners the Tinmen would be tuning on my face as they scanned the bone structure beneath the holoface, but I could feel it. I concentrated on the HUD and ignored him. They only ever achieved 70 percent accuracy with their skull scans anyway because the holoface blocked the signal.

  When GaZe had finished with me I tried to stare outside, to look relaxed and patient while Bleeder and Sansan worked away on subversion programmes. The HUD readout clicked through the seconds and minutes until I could stand it no longer. I toggled the chin mount, watched everything without enhancement, began thinking of Shahn and her happy laugh, the way she’d cover her front teeth with her tongue when she was playing with me, teasing me with a joke.

  You know, she used to call me after we split. I might have walked out on her, but I still needed to work and had stayed at Bell. I don’t think it was a mistake. She couldn’t drive me away just because we weren’t living together any more. I tried to keep my life in order, but my new apartment was empty without her music and her perfumes. The car became mere padding around me when I drove to work, the gymnasium echoed, the food tasted like plastic. I kept telling myself ‘at least you escaped’.