This Virtual Night

by C. S. Friedman

  “Heads up!” came Bakshi’s voice. “My last message did not bounce. I repeat, DID NOT BOUNCE. If outgoing channels aren’t fully open yet, they will be soon.”

  Micah asked, “Have you got any photonics?”

  Startled, she looked at him. “What?”

  “You said the ship was armed.”

  “I said I had nothing that could take out the Hydran fast enough.”

  “Humor me.”

  She sighed. “I have a Samson 410 pulse laser. But that’s won’t help.” She pointed at the display. “See how streamlined those ships are? That’s to cut down on air resistance. They were designed to function inside a planet’s atmosphere, within a solar system. Which means they have radiation shielding. A laser would just reflect off its hull.”

  “In a coherent beam?” he pressed.

  She considered the question. “Figure ten percent loss from absorption. Maybe another thirty percent lost to diffusion.”

  “And the rest would be reflected as a coherent beam, maybe half the power of the original. Virtually invisible to anyone but its target. Right?”

  She nodded.

  “Next question: can you choose a secondary target? Strike the Hydran in just the right spot to send that reflected beam where we need it to go?”

  Her eyes widened. “You want to . . . hit one of the porters with it?”

  His eyes were gleaming. “They’ll read it as an attack and calculate where the beam came from—”

  “And the Hydran will have a hotspot on its hull from the initial strike, just like there would be if a laser had been fired from there.” She drew in a sharp breath. “Micah, that is so damn crazy it might just work.”

  She opened the weapons bay on the hull so that the Samson 410 could emerge while Micah called up a targeting graphic that would let her see how a strike on any part of the Hydran would ricochet. “Done,” he announced, as the completed graphic appeared onscreen.

  She aimed the laser at the Hydran ship, then began to move her target point across the hull, watching as the computer calculated angles. Several times the reflected beam almost connected with a porter ship, but then when she adjusted it a bit more, the curve of the Hydran’s hull sent it off in another direction. Ru swore under her breath as she tried to find the exact location she needed, that perfect sweet spot that would fend off a burning beam of light and send it where they wanted—

  And then, there it was. She fired.

  There was no sound. There was no light. As the Samson fired, there was only a rumbling inside the Artemis, more felt than heard. A few seconds later a red glow appeared on the Hydran’s hull. Then a similar glow appeared on the one of the porters. The latter shuddered for a moment, then a door in its belly slid open and a short-barreled cannon emerged. Other porter ships were likewise arming, their weapons all pointed at the Hydran ship. Then they began to fire, one after the other, a merciless barrage. Explosions that would have set a mountain to vibrating were swallowed by the silence of deep space; flashes of fire were extinguished seconds after they appeared. The Hydran fired back, and managed to blow chunks out of two of the nearest porters, but it was too little too late. Fragments blown from its hull went spinning out into the darkness. One of them smashed into a cambot, obliterating it. Another headed straight toward a luxury cruiser, whose pilot tried vainly to get out of its path. But there was no way a ship with that much mass could change direction quickly enough, and the fragment hit a window on the observation deck, fracturing it. Ru could only imagine the stampede that was taking place as the impact reverberated throughout the ship, terrified passengers stampeding to reach a place of safety before the window gave way.

  Suddenly a sphere of fire erupted from the Hydran ship, so bright it was painful to look at. It was gone a moment later, replaced by an outpouring of white-hot debris. There were large fragments, small fragments, fragments so tiny that the Artemis could barely detect them—all of them molten, shooting out into the darkness like fireworks. Even a pebble could do considerable damage at that speed, so Ru moved quickly to draw in her laser and shut the bay. Just in time. A chunk of debris struck her bow and glanced off. Then another. She was confident her bow cap was strong enough to stand up to the barrage, but it was still unnerving to watch the molten fragments strike her hull, and from the look on Micah’s face, he wasn’t as confident as she was that the Artemis could take it. Then the barrage lightened, as the edge of the debris cloud moved past them into the line of tourist ships. Somewhere in that molten chaos were fragments of Icelus’ transmitter and the digital corpses of its children, now seared and melted past hope of resurrection. Raw mass, and nothing more. Probably some scavenger would come by to scoop it all up, once the tourists were gone. And Harmony’s security ships would try to drive them away. And they would fight, and more ships would be damaged, and more debris would shoot out into the darkness, drawing yet more scavengers. A perverse cycle of life.

  You wanted a spectacle, Dresden. Well, here it is. She watched as the leading edge of the debris wave struck the station, raising sparks along its outer ring. Then its core. The rest of the fragments would continue outward, racing through the darkness without slowing, without turning, until such time as they either hit an obstacle, or gravity from a nearby celestial body swallowed them.

  They all stood there silently and watched the spectacle, until the last of the debris had passed them by and the surviving porters had resumed their formation. It’s over, Ru thought. She felt exhausted, in the way one was exhausted after good sex. The visceral satisfaction of completion. Yes, Icelus was still out there, and people were going to have to deal with it . . . but her part in this was over.

  “Well,” Hellbane said, breaking the silence. “That was fun.”

  Sisi laughed. “Glad I’m not on the cleanup crew.”

  “Hey!” Bakshi yelled from the speaker. “Fill me in, will you?”

  Ru said nothing as they laughed and chatted and exulted in the success of their blockade; quietly she set a course back to Harmony. Their laser attack had been all but invisible. With luck—and perhaps a bit of help from powerful friends—they might walk away from this without any major complications. Except for Micah, of course. His life had become a study in complications.

  She glanced over at him. He looked exhausted, but not so much so that he didn’t manage a weak smile. It surprised her how much that warmed her spirit.

  “Game over,” he announced. Then the smile faded a bit. “This module, at least.”

  ALLIED NEWS RELEASE

  A category 2 debris storm in Harmony Node has resulted in a travel advisory being declared. Inhabitants of the node are strongly advised to avoid outside activities until the storm surge has moved past them, and to continue to act with reasonable caution until the advisory is lifted. The storm will automatically be downgraded to a category 1 when it reaches Zone 5, however, please note this reflects decreasing density of the debris field, and does not mean that individual projectiles are expected to become less dangerous.

  The advisory is expected to continue until 8:43 A.M. Tuesday, at which point 99.4% of the debris field will have passed beyond the border of inhabited space. For more information about the storm’s composition, speed, and schedule, please visit Harmony Station’s official data site.Outspace services will resume as soon as the main debris field has passed the ainniq.

  The Guild has announced an immediate investigation into the events leading up to the storm. Guild Director Tye Jericho has been appointed to oversee this effort, and is to be given full cooperation by all station authorities. Anyone with information pertaining to the event is asked to contact him immediately.

  Harmony Node renders its sincere apologies to both residents and guests for the recent issue with its communication channels, and offers its assurance that the problem has been permanently resolved. A team of data acquisition specialists headed by Guildmistress Raija Vi
enna will be overseeing an investigation into the cause of the malfunction.

  GUERAN NODE

  GUILD DRYDOCK

  THE CARGO hold was nearly full.

  Ru watched as bots fitted the last few boxes into place with mathematical precision, sliding them into spaces so small that for a moment it seemed unlikely they would fit. But fit they did, and to perfection, leaving not a single inch wasted. When you were packing for a decades-long journey, precision mattered.

  She climbed down from the loading ramp, only to find an unexpected visitor standing in the drydock. “Jericho?”

  He handed her a large envelope. “I came to deliver your mission assignment, Outrider Gaya.”

  “I didn’t know that was part of your job description.”

  “It isn’t. I requested it.”

  She smiled slightly. “Wanted to see me off for old time’s sake? Or to make sure I actually left, before I destroyed some more Guild property?”

  He chuckled softly. “I doubt you’ll be hassled by the Guild, now that the right people understand what the stakes were. The civilian companies that suffered losses during Harmony’s com blackout will be harder to control. But of course, you had nothing to do with that.”

  She peered into the envelope.

  “It’s for Ceres III, one of Earth’s oldest colonies. Well established by the time Isolation hit, so the odds are good they still have spacefaring technology. There were three waves of settlers, so there may be multiple Hausman Variations. I understand that’s rare.”

  She nodded. “Very rare.”

  “It’s a thirty-five-year turnaround. That’s long even by outrider standards. Other teams have passed on it. Are you sure you want to do this?”

  She smiled slightly. “Downtime wasn’t quite as relaxing as expected. I could use a vacation from my vacation.”

  The bots were shutting the hold now, and she glanced their way to make sure seals were being set properly. At the far side of the ship she could see inspectors in no-G coveralls checking the newly repaired hull for any sign of weakness. Almost ready for launch. Soon she could be where no scavenger, guilder, or malevolent computer virus could bother her. Three whole decades of not being bothered. Even though she would be sleeping through most of it, the thought was pleasing. “I’m guessing First Contact will be required.”

  “Unless you deem it too dangerous, yes. With that long a turnaround, we need to minimize the number of trips we make.”

  “Understood.”

  “I understand high-tech colonies are more resistant than most to the thought of mass relocation.”

  “If you mean, they’re reluctant to give up their beautiful planet, with its sunsets and snow-capped mountains and shimmering oceans, for an artificial universe that someone else rules . . . yes, they’re sometimes reluctant.”

  “There’s beauty in deep space, albeit of a different kind.”

  She smiled. “Don’t worry, Jericho. I know how to sell it. So. Are you going to give me an update before I go? I assume that’s what you came here for.”

  He nodded. “Dresden’s going down, of course. He’s already been removed from power, though he’ll serve as a nominal figurehead until his replacement is chosen. Can’t let the public guess how badly Guild leadership was corrupted. I suspect in the end he’ll be treated as a victim rather than a perpetrator, and not held responsible for all the damage he caused, but he’ll never be in charge of anything bigger than a transport pod again. His people have all been suspended, pending brainware reviews. A few are squawking, but most are too shaken by the incident to complain.”

  She nodded. “Not unexpected, but I’m glad to see it being handled so efficiently. Who’s being considered to replace him?”

  “They offered it to me.”

  An eyebrow rose. “And?”

  “Not being masochistically inclined, I respectfully declined the honor.”

  She chuckled.

  “Taste of Kawaii is facing bankruptcy. No avoiding that, I suppose. The communications blockade devastated local businesses, and they’re looking for someone to foot the bill. Some channels that had their feed cut are talking about suing the Guild, the station, Kawaii, various hackers, and probably God himself for their losses. I expect it’ll be raining lawsuits for a while. Most of them will probably be dismissed, in light of the fact that not cutting the feed would have caused even more damage, but that’ll take a while to sort out.”

  “And the hackers responsible?”

  “Apparently there’s only one. He was believed dead for a while, but Vienna’s team has been analyzing the software attack, and they believe he was the one who masterminded the assault. Micah Bello.”

  “The one behind the Dragonslayer attack.”

  “That charge won’t stick. There’s more than enough evidence that Icelus was behind it. It may take a while to get the charges officially dismissed—justice is slow sometimes—but I have no doubt they will be. I’ll make sure of it. Unfortunately, there’s no way to get the other charges dismissed, since they involve crimes he actually committed. When the Guild finally gets hold of him, he’ll have to answer for them.”

  “The fact that he was acting to protect humanity won’t make a difference?”

  “It’ll keep him from facing terrorism charges and probably impact his sentencing. But the law can’t afford to overlook crimes on this scale, even if the motive was good. Too dangerous as a precedent.” He paused. “Of course, to do that, first they have to find him.”

  “I’m surprised they haven’t yet.”

  “The prevailing rumor is that he sought asylum on one of Harmony’s independent stations. After working for Tridac for so long, he probably has a lot of information on its inner workings; I’m sure there are some megacorps who would risk the Guild’s wrath to get hold of that. Whether they’ll turn him in when his usefulness is exhausted is the question. That said, most of the independents don’t have extradition treaties with the Guild, so for as long as he remains useful, he should be safe enough.”

  “Well. That’s good to hear.”

  “He deserves better for what he did. I wish I could share enough of the real story for people to understand that.”

  “Anything that’s public knowledge will become Icelus’ knowledge, and the less the virus knows about us, the better. I’m sure Micah would agree.” She raised an eyebrow. “What about you? You broke quite few rules yourself. Your superiors appear to have rewarded you for it.”

  “Oh, they’re not pleased at all. But once the Guild’s Primus was fully briefed, he felt no one else could handle the investigation, and that overrode all lesser concerns. Once that’s concluded . . .” He shrugged. “I was planning to retire in ten years or so, anyway. If it looks like things might get ugly, I can move that date up. My only offenses were against Guild protocol, and once I’m no longer a member there’s not much they can do to me. Hopefully, the fact that I acted to protect humanity will inspire them to let a few improprieties slide. But with the Guild, you never know.” He paused, then said softly, “The world owes you a greater debt than it can imagine, Ru.”

  “And if the details of that are publicized, Icelus will learn more about me than I care for. So let’s keep it that way.”

  “Hopefully that will be dealt with by the time you get back. We’ve managed to restrict Icelus to a single node, thanks to you, and as long as that remains the case we’ve got a fighting chance. Our best antibody designers are already working on a battle plan. The sticking point will be Hydra, since they’re not likely to trust us to muck around in their network, but once we’ve cleansed Icelus out of every other station we can deal with them.”

  She remembered what Micah had told her on the way back to Harmony. We’ll never destroy Icelus, just like we never destroyed Lucifer. This isn’t just a virus run amok; it’s the birth of a new species, as tenacious and adaptable as an
y creature of flesh and blood. Humanity has an enemy in cyberspace, and we’re going to have to accept that and deal with it.

  “The scav I gave you contact info for, Ivar . . . he’s no less paranoid, mercenary, or backstabbing than the rest of them, but he’s seen what Icelus can do, and I think if you approach him right he may be willing to help.”

  “For the right price.”

  She smiled. “There’s nothing wrong with being mercenary.”

  “Speaking of which, I still owe you—”

  She waved broadly. “Invest it for me somewhere. Thirty-five years of interest will be a nice thing to come home to.”

  “Very well.” He bowed his head slightly. “And now, Outrider Gaya, if you will excuse me, I have other business to attend to. I apologize for not having the time to meet your new partner, but duty calls. I’m sure you chose a well-qualified Gueran, and I’m confident you will train him properly.” He held out his hand. “Good luck.”

  She shook his hand. “To you also.” I wonder which of us will need it more?

  She watched as he walked across the drydock and exited. Not until he was gone from sight did she shake her head and re-enter the mothership, this time through the rear entry hatch. Beyond that was the chamber where Micah was waiting, arms folded, leaning against a control panel. “What was all that about?” he asked.

  “Delivery of data and establishment of plausible deniability. A combination that appears to be his specialty.” She held up the envelope. “We have our info on the colony. It’s a thirty-five-year turnaround, plus mission time.” She hesitated. “You sure you want to spend so much time away from your beloved networks?”

  “That depends. Did he give you the information I asked for?”

  She looked into the envelope. In addition to three data chips there was a printout. She withdrew it, looked it over, and handed it to him. “That’s quite a list of crimes.”

  “Everything I might conceivably be charged with. Given that my compatriots are under orders to lay every conceivable offense at my feet, I’d expect the list to be long. And the penalties.” His lips pursed as he read it. “Okay . . . okay . . . that’s not too bad . . . hey, that one’s a bit harsh.” He was silent for a moment as he scanned the rest. “Looks like the longest statute of limitations for any crime I’m accused of is twenty standard years. That’s assuming the Dragonslayer incident gets resolved in my favor.” He looked up at her. “So, since I would sooner walk into a pit of molten lava than entrust my life to another Terran megacorp . . .” He grinned. “Yeah, leaving town for thirty-five years sounds just about right.”