by V Guy
“This is the partition in your memory designated as a base template when your mission memories are excised,” said Malik. “The foundational memories, meaning your twenty years of development, would be unaffected.”
A smaller section of the partition lit in a second color. “This is your access code. It has been altered to something more complex, but the original was this.”
Helen watched as the marked sequence turned to a series of numbers and letters. “Alpha numeric, just like the commandos. Someone could have guessed this and caused a fresh wipe.”
“Now they would need to speak in harmony, sing the sequence, and use the necessary notes, rhythm, and undertones,” said Malik. “You don’t need to worry about accidents.”
“Then why leave it?”
“That’s where the entirety of your old past will be stored. I will use a second partition to preserve the things you’ve learned and experienced since capture. In the event you’re wiped, I could bring you back.”
She pondered the view. “A concealed mental backup. What of my mission?”
A view of a smaller, integrated set of data flashed. After a brief demonstration of its removal, the previous display returned.
“Did the others keep their reset archives?”
Malik shook his head. “I used their areas as a compressed backup of their new experiences, just in case they got captured and erased. I’ll need to make a new partition for you, but handling it might require adjustment and training.”
Helen studied the view, crossing her arms and pacing. “Where would it be placed?”
A real-time view of her mind appeared, and Malik examined the potential attachment sites. “I would say along this perimeter of…”
He stopped and frowned. “Would you mind if I viewed this privately? You might not wish to see this.”
Her eyes widened in query.
“Something doesn’t belong.” Malik mentally stroked a section of the mysterious region. “Did you notice or feel anything?”
She shook her head and hugged herself.
“You will temporarily go unawares,” he said. “Now.”
The virtual form of the agent disappeared, but the revelation of her mind remained. Malik outlined and defined the new partition then searched the surface for a data or memory junction. A one-directional access point applicable only for write processes was found, as it was most recently used moments earlier in the sim. He continued his search until he located another interface point.
This portal was restricted. Malik concluded it was for read access.
Many of his prisoners had levels of protection to secure their most valuable mental assets. The commandos had a mechanical type of security, Dibbin contained a mixture of programmed and organic elements, Norris demonstrated a clever level of deception and traps, and the rooks exhibited the most potent barriers. This region in the woman’s mind showed a level of encryption that matched the best he had ever seen, and that complexity was present only within Xist.
This chamber was patterned on the virtual network and shared that capacity.
Malik carefully examined the restricted structure in search of key fingerprints and lock foundations and found flexible barriers near the entry point. From there he discerned the fingerprints of a key. A mapping of a multidimensional lock revealed the need for a complex structure to release it, and the required solution looked familiar; markers in Helen’s mind exactly matched the lock’s contact points.
The agent’s mind was the key. Now Malik needed the trigger.
After considering the mystery, he decided to play a hunch. If he were wrong, something less direct could be tried.
Malik constructed a memory sphere to capture and secure anything that might be revealed, transferred the device to his Xist Nations account, raised Helen to awareness, and brought her along with him into the network.
She appeared at a meadow within Cheonia inside Xist. Helen initially seemed lost, but after several moments of orientation her eyes closed, and a plethora of memories poured forth. A new memory sphere automatically formed to capture and contain the dispensed information.
Helen’s mental regurgitation of six days of sensory memories required less than a minute; once they were liberated, a notice of their arrival was transmitted to a separate account. The memory sphere compressed to an innocuous rock and fell to the ground.
Helen was oblivious to the transmission. She straightened and looked around. “What did you discover?”
6: Catricel
Day 664: Pathfinder, Marson Substrate
Helen was immediately disconnected and returned to the mind chamber. She looked around in concern. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m uncertain,” he replied, activating the surrounding display of her mind.
“That’s strange, especially since you kicked me out of the program.”
“I’ve discovered something that’s potentially troubling. Were you aware of what just occurred?”
Her eyes widened. “What do you mean?”
Malik cocked his head. “I discovered a second partition within your mind that was very different from the first. Except for securing tethers, there were no actual links to your mental processes. You logged into Xist a few moments ago, and every bit of the contained information was transmitted and purged. That partition is now empty.”
“What was in it?”
“Everything you saw and heard within the last six days. This may be how Kroes was so knowledgeable.”
Her complexion paled. “What about now?”
“This is mental. You aren’t physically seeing or hearing this, and none of it is preserved.”
“May I see what it was?”
“You’ve already seen it. You lived it,” replied Malik. “Every sensory input was recorded.”
She gave him a questioning look. Suspicion followed on its heels.
He paused. “Our last conversation in the simulator was among the information sent.”
“I’ve been used,” said Helen, realizing the truth. “Even when free.”
“You were created to be used,” said Malik, shrugging. “We both were. According to what I determined, from the moment you were given liberty, you unconsciously reported your observations every standard week.”
“Hold on. I thought you didn’t know?”
“I keep logs of all network activity,” said Malik. He accessed the ship’s files. “You only connected to Xist once a week and that for brief periods. While not proof, it seems a reasonable conclusion.”
She glared angrily at the second partition. “Remove all my past. I want no part of it. Nothing.”
He understood her disgust and motioned for caution. “Do you mind if we wait a week or so? I can easily eliminate both partitions, but retrieving the information we need from Bedele and rescuing those women will take every available resource. I need you alert and capable.”
Helen crossed her arms and scowled. “Then you can put me in the differentiation program immediately afterward?”
“I thought you didn’t like it.”
“I want to try something new.”
Malik made a smile, cocked his head, then tightened his lips when he observed the partition. “I think you are Kroes’s spy. One of my minions is observing the site to observe the information’s retrieval.”
“You’re Kilam?”
He nodded.
She smiled in return. “Will you let them have it?”
“I left the memory avatar behind.”
Helen pondered the problem. “Lieutenant Brest was my superior, but he was on Catricel. He’s dead. Who will retrieve it now?”
“Maybe no one. Maybe Kroes.” Malik looked deeper into the programming and smiled. “Let me check a second location within Xist.”
He was working on a sequence to excise the second partition when his expression soured; the chamber responded accordingly. “Either I’m wrong, or last week is missing. The deposit sequence looked like it should follow a pattern. Let me try
back another week.”
A copy of the partition programming was set aside and stored. An eye ridge rose. “This last one should have been on World Twelve. I’ll travel farther back.”
More of these multitasking “trips” were taken, and he slid free the surveillance partition and set it aside after the ninth search. “That mystery has been explained. All of the supposed deposits are missing.”
Twenty-two searches passed before he relaxed. “That’s all of the supposed information drops, and also the end of your partitions. Your free, at least of them anyway. There were instructions for you to return to Catricel after killing Evelyn and James. Why was that?”
“Surely you already know.”
He shrugged. “I know part of it. Only the portions related to your mission were touched. Do you know why?”
“He had something for me to find.”
“Well, we’ll be on Catricel shortly and you can look for it,” said Malik, studying her mental picture. “I’m guessing this item was important, because the CSA very definitely sent people to the planet. Britton was unaware of them.”
“That planet isn’t safe.”
“It’s safe enough.” He disabled the interface to her mind. “I’ll need to prepare a custom differentiation program for you. If I’m to reinvigorate your existence, I want to do it right.”
***
Two hours brought them to Catricel’s system boundary, and a skate brought them to the skies of the planet. Arturo eased the ship into the atmosphere.
“Mission number one,” said Evelyn. “Any other goals?”
“Get supplies,” replied Malik. He pointed to a surface map. “Arturo, land near the utility taps.”
“Utility taps?”
“Yes. We’ll need additional resources to support our upcoming guests.”
“Along with the upgraded facilities,” said Evelyn, frowning.
“Which require the acquisition of unclaimed, abandoned raw materials,” said Malik. “Helen, get your stealth gear ready and prep a bike. You’re going to look for that mystery item. Arturo, have your gear prepped. You will take my bike and its trailer to find extra ammo for your weapons, heavier gear for the assault on Bedele, and any specialized hardware you wish.”
“And me?” asked Evelyn.
“You will help me gather scrap. Don’t worry about the decoy, because I’ll remotely monitor it. Everyone, get prepared and be efficient. We’ll leave four hours after touchdown.”
Evelyn watched Arturo and Helen depart. “What item?”
“Her handler was on Catricel,” replied Malik. “He was looking for something.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
They exited to see the Dart emerge from the garage under Arturo’s guidance. One of the stealth bikes followed soon after, led by Helen. Malik and Evelyn watched as checkout procedures began.
He gestured to Evelyn. “Your turn. The rear seats will be removed from the Rumbler.”
“Where are you going?”
“To retrieve the water hoses.”
“There’s a bright morning sun outside,” she said, moving toward the garage. “You’ll be obvious.”
“And a patchy layer of clouds. They’ll never see me.”
She gave him warning glance before entering the garage.
Helen watched for Malik’s return. I don’t know what I’m looking for.”
“Then find a souvenir or two that your CSA comrades failed to pilfer.”
“I’m serious. They believed this was important, and I have no clue what to look for.”
Malik laid the hose in the forward passage and paused. “This isn’t a graded task. For all we know, they may have already found it.”
“I don’t like ambiguity.”
“Then you decide. When you’re reformed, no one will be making choices for you. Maybe something you see will strike a chord.”
Helen glanced at Arturo when Malik entered the garage. “Assume it’s there and compose your own mission,” said Arturo. “You’ve probably done this numerous times. Do it again.”
She briefly pondered the rebuke, her expression unchanged. “My craft is ready. Do you need assistance?”
Arturo shook his head. “I’ve got this. Get suited, because you’ll need all your time. I know exactly the things I want and exactly where to find them. You’ll be contacted when I’m done.”
She stepped away, befuddled by the strangeness of her relationship to the commandos. Accommodating or demanding attitudes were normally absent from them. She returned after confirming her stealth suit’s capacity to see Arturo waiting.
“We’re on the ground,” he said. “You’ll need a weapon. There are dangerous creatures here, but don’t shoot the jumpers.” He showed her an image of the spider. “They’re friendly. You should consider the grundluns free game, because they’ll eat you.”
She raised her eyebrows. “Grundluns?”
He grinned. “Yeah. They’re even bigger than the jumpers.”
***
They were gone when the Rumbler emerged from the garage.
“Think we’ll get to see Lallis?” asked Evelyn, latching the clasps on her stealth suit. “That would be fun.”
Malik let his mind stretch outward. “She’s several hours away, but the indicated operatives are here. Proceed to the depot and begin gathering the supplies. I’ll join you shortly.”
“They survived?”
“Three did, but they are extremely ill.”
He connected the hoses, started the water transfer to the spare tanks, and moved toward the barracks. Another mental probe narrowed all three mental contacts to a single berthing area. Even when he was thirty meters from their bunks, he could smell and hear their distress. A quick mental touch eased their audible presence, but nothing could quench the odor.
“We’ll be here longer than expected,” transmitted Malik. “The CSA abandoned people here who are critically ill. Evelyn, Arturo. Return to the ship, prep our portable infirmary tables, and get them here. We’ll also need medical bots ready for containment. They are probably contagious.”
His crew transmitted acknowledgements. Helen responded. “How many?
“Three. No one else lives within fifty kilometers.”
“Then two are dead. Do you need assistance?”
“No. Do not approach.”
Malik’s keen sense of smell pinpointed the locations of a dead man and woman piled against a nearby wall. One died a week before the other, and both of the bodies had been scavenged. He surveyed the surrounding barracks for anything of value and returned to the afflicted people’s residence when his crew arrived.
They were invisible and nearly silent on their approach. The Rumbler stopped, and light distortions were visible as Arturo and Evelyn stepped free of the craft. Moments later, an infirmary table appeared from the cloaked craft, flanked by two morgue bots, two medical bots, and guided by a maintenance bot.
“That’s horrific,” said Evelyn through her head piece. “How can you stand it?”
“Some of Asile’s early victims smelled this bad,” said Malik, directing the bots toward the closed door and wrinkling his nostrils. “Well, maybe not this bad.”
He opened the door and mentally guided the bots toward the first patient. A little later, they emerged. A forensics bot with a sniffer advanced to check the table and the attending bots. “We’re clean,” said Malik.
Arturo directed the occupied table to the Rumbler while Evelyn brought the second table. A second patient was extracted and after decontamination, was installed behind the first one.
“We’re getting three more patients when we are already expecting twenty-three,” said Evelyn. “What are we supposed to do with them?”
Malik frowned, pondering the bigger problem of these people talking and compromising his plans. “Secure them in my old quarters and ensure there are no power interruptions. After ensuring you’re not contaminated, return with my pack and a box of secure sample contain
ers.”
His crew returned soon after with the last table.
“What are your plans?” asked Evelyn, watching the bed advance. “This is the biggest secret ever, and it’s their job to talk.”
“Make them forget or never let them know in the first place.”
“Why were they here?” she asked, her voice revealing her frustration. “What if they discovered information about us?”
“They’d need to forget that, too. Still, some knowledge might be beneficial.”
“Or kill us,” said Arturo, shaking his head. “They weren’t programmed—they took vows. This was their choice.”
“I’m sure dying on Catricel wasn’t.” Malik glanced at the barracks. He retrieved his pack and placed the requested items within it. “After you secure the last one in my quarters, decon the Rumbler and return to your previous tasks.”
She gave him a warning look. “We’re already over booked.”
He made a snort. “I’m curious.”
The last bed emerged from the barracks, and, after a check for contamination, it was secured in the hovercraft.
“I hope you know what you’re doing,” said Evelyn. “This is risky.”
“Everything is risky.” Malik assembled some of the items he found. “Get back, get checked, and get to that depot. I will join you if possible.”
Morning advanced and afternoon rolled into view. Evelyn finished her trips to the depots and dumps and entered quietly into Serena’s old quarters. He was examining the new patients.
Malik worked steadily, keeping his attention on the job. “When the bots are finished checking our salvage, give the fates a checkup. Take a break, if you wish.”
She smirked. “Thanks. I have a feeling breaks will soon become extinct. How are they?”
“They are critical but should survive. Three days will be spent eliminating the infections. Their bodies are starved, dehydrated, weak, and worn, and I expect a week of recovery to reach nominal health and strength. Perhaps an additional week will be necessary to restore them to their original condition.”
“Our supplies will be stressed.”
“They will,” said Malik. “We’ll increase our inventory. After Arturo stocked us with enough ammo and gear to fight a war, I sent him to the base mess to recover anything left in the coolers.”
