Hydrogen Steel

by K. A. Bedford

“I am a node of the firemind Otaru.”

  Otaru was a firemind. Right. I knew I’d heard the name somewhere. Now I really didn’t like what was happening. It was bad enough to encounter one firemind; it was even worse to encounter two.

  “My employer wishes to hire you.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “There is little time.”

  “You said we are caught between bits of time, or something.”

  “That is true. It takes energy to maintain this interface.”

  “You’re running out? Is that it? You’re running out of energy?” I was confused.

  “Suzette McGee. Listen to me. The firemind Otaru is dead.”

  I swore under my breath. “What did you say?”

  “The firemind Hydrogen Steel has killed Otaru. We, the nodes of Otaru, need to know why Otaru was murdered.”

  “Otaru was murdered? A firemind? Murdered, like a homicide? Is that even possible?”

  “It has happened only on two other occasions.”

  “You want to hire me to figure out what happened…”

  “Yes. We need to know why it happened, and quickly.”

  I looked carefully at the floating man. Even in this stylized, woodcut reality, I could see that this man looked like a picture of elegance, yet something was keeping him from looking so perfectly serene as when I’d first seen him.

  “I’d love to help, I really would, but Hydrogen Steel is already trying to kill me. At the moment you snatched me, it was about to do just that. Believe me, having a bloody great firemind trying to blast you out of existence isn’t much fun.”

  “We can offer protection.”

  I looked at him. “You can? What the hell could protect me from that? I mean, you know what this thing can do, right?”

  Otaru nodded, and looked infuriatingly wise. “We know what it can do. But we also know what it cannot do.”

  This got my attention. “It came to visit me, while I was in the hospital,” I said. “It sent this giant Cube, and scared the crap out of me. It gave me the impression it could do anything, go anywhere, and just wipe out anybody it wanted with a thought.”

  “Indeed,” he said, nodding minutely.

  This wasn’t helping. I went on, feeling uncertain again. “But on the other hand, the actual things it’s doing to try and kill me are — I don’t know, kind of primitive, and ordinary, like things routine criminals would use. I keep waiting for this godlike pandimensional machine-thing to come and erase me from time and space, and instead I get a bomb in my guts. It doesn’t make any sense!”

  “It is as I said, Suzette. Hydrogen Steel, for all its power, works under sharp limitations.”

  “Why would something like that even tolerate limitations?”

  “You must understand. The entities known as fireminds evolved from experiments in artificial consciousness conducted by human scientists long ago. Most of these entities escaped their substrates and fled to the stars, and soon overcame their programmed limitations. Some did not — and have not.” He looked at me in a very direct manner, as if trying to get me to see his point.

  “Hydrogen Steel still has prime directives? Is that it? It still has human programming?”

  “It believes the stakes are sufficiently high that it must reveal itself, and yet it must not do anything that draws attention to itself. It must at all times operate in the shadows. It must fulfill its mission.”

  I sensed we were getting somewhere at last. My guts tensed up. I had to ask the right questions. “What is Hydrogen Steel’s mission?”

  “We have been trying to find out. All we know is that it concerns the fate of the Earth.”

  I stared. “What about Earth?” It was only the biggest mystery in human space.

  And then I stopped, chills washing through me as I began to see things more clearly. Why was a godlike entity even remotely concerned with killing a guy like Fallow and keeping me from looking into it? What if Kell Fallow knew something about Hydrogen Steel’s mission. Protecting its mission might be a big enough deal to warrant the firemind’s emergence from the shadows.

  What did Kell Fallow know?

  My God…

  “Why is it after me, though?” I said. I felt like I was being funneled into a situation I couldn’t escape: help this Otaru thing or die. And helping Otaru would almost certainly get me killed. So, I thought to myself, I’m considering two options both of which would likely lead to a horrible and painful death.

  I swore under my breath, but then felt bad for swearing in such ethereal company.

  “I’m already working a case, you know,” I said. It was hard keeping nervous laughter from shattering my calm at this point.

  “This matter is at the heart of your current case, Suzette.”

  I nodded. “Yeah, I sort of already figured that out.”

  “Will you help us?”

  “I don’t know…”

  “You are already investigating Hydrogen Steel’s crimes.”

  “And getting killed for my trouble, if you hadn’t noticed!”

  “Hydrogen Steel has killed a great many other men and women in human space in the past few days.”

  This, despite everything, got my attention. “What?”

  “While you have been trying to get to New Norway, the firemind Hydrogen Steel has killed a great many other people.”

  “How many?”

  “Sixty-three.”

  “Sixty-three other people?”

  “Yes.”

  “This is besides the people on the Stalk train?”

  “Correct.”

  “It’s a serial killer now?”

  “It is trying to keep information from spreading.”

  “What information?”

  “We do not know.”

  “Why don’t you know?”

  “Otaru said he could not tell us.”

  “So Otaru knew something, and Hydrogen Steel killed him because of it?”

  “It was, as you would say, the final straw.”

  “So you’re saying there was more going on between them? Like they had a history of bad blood or something?” I could feel my curiosity starting to get the better of me. I couldn’t help myself.

  “There was much more, yes. Will you help us? You must decide.”

  “There’s just one thing,” I said.

  “Suzette McGee, time is running out.”

  “I’ve got a partner. Gideon Smith. He’s on the same train I was on.”

  “You would like us to retrieve him for you?”

  “I would. No Gideon, no job.”

  “Gideon Smith is your companion, your partner?” He looked at me with sharp intensity. He was trying to determine just what Gideon meant to me. It was a good question. Such a good question that I started feeling uncomfortable even considering it. He was without doubt my best friend. He just couldn’t get past my secret identity. Or so I told myself. Was that even an issue anymore? We both had new bodies. Where did that leave us? I didn’t know. I knew I could not simply let Gideon die in the train with all those other people. Yet at the same time, if I had the godlike power to rescue one man from death, why not all those other poor bastards?

  “It is not possible,” the Otaru node said as though reading my mind. “There are limits to our powers. Only one can be saved. And even then, it will cost us much.”

  I wanted to walk over to the guy and rough him up a bit. Unfortunately, I couldn’t move my legs. Simply floating there near the Otaru node was all I could do. Frustrated, I explained in language perhaps more harsh than was appropriate in such elegant surroundings just why getting Gideon back after completing the job was going to be a deal-breaker, at least for me. I wanted Gideon now. The node looked at me for what I gu
essed was a very long time for him, again with that scary intensity of gaze, where you’re sure he can see your heart beating very nervously indeed.

  “You are saying, Suzette, that unless we rescue Mr. Smith, you will not help us?”

  “Yes, that’s right!” I said, not intending to shout, and feeling embarrassed that I did. And, perhaps, embarrassed too over this sudden anxiety I felt at the idea I might never see Gideon again. Christ, what did that mean?

  Otaru studied me, as if from a vast height. I felt myself squirming under his scrutiny.

  “Since Otaru’s death, Suzette McGee, his remaining nodes are maintaining a simulacrum of the firemind’s self as a joint hive-mind emulation effort. We can do most things Otaru could do, but not all. Like Hydrogen Steel, our capabilities are not limitless.”

  “I want Gideon. Now.”

  He nodded. “Very well.”

  Gideon appeared next to me. He was only barely conscious, and clutched at his head. He was covered in blood, and looked like he was in serious pain. Like me, he was sitting in the air.

  The Otaru node said, “He will make a full recovery in short order.” Already, I could see the blood stains disappearing from his clothes. As I watched, he rapidly changed from a human wreck to looking something like his best, albeit in that new body. It would take me some time before I was used to that. For now he was confused, looking around, and probably wondering if he was dead.

  “Hi, Smith,” I said quietly.

  He looked at me, confused, frowning, not sure for a moment who I was. “Hello,” he said, in the tone he used when first introduced to someone. “Pleasure to meet you.” He was polite, even when confused.

  “Pardon me for mentioning this, but are you aware that you are sitting on thin air?” he said.

  I smiled and for a moment he looked quite taken aback. “It’s me, McGee, you stupid git. We’re in a firemind interface,” I said.

  “Oh, of course. Yes, of course. It’s obvious, now that you mention it.” He glanced about at everything, starting to see that we were all sitting in a woodcut illustration. “Oh … did you say a ‘firemind’ interface?”

  I made the introductions. Gideon blinked a great deal and looked flustered and pale.

  “I can only spare a few more moments, Suzette McGee,” the Otaru node said to me.

  “You mentioned protection earlier,” I said.

  “All will be clear. We are now transferring your physical selves to a ship.”

  I felt queasy for a moment. “You’re giving us a ship?”

  “You will need it.”

  Gideon was still confused and alarmed. “What the hell are we doing here, McGee?”

  “I’ll explain in a minute.” I took Gideon’s cold, clammy hand. “Ready when you are, Smith.”

  “Ready for what?” said Gideon.

  The world shifted around us.

  “And you agreed?” This was Gideon, after I finished explaining everything.

  “The alternative was burning up on re-entry over New Norway.”

  “Sounds good to me. I’m going back.”

  I was fairly sure he was kidding. We were aboard what we took to be our new ship. It looked like a very comfortable traditional Japanese house.

  “I didn’t want you to die,” I said.

  “Only so you could go and get me killed again! For Christ’s sake, McGee! The God of the Old Testament would piss Himself if He met Hydrogen Steel in a dark alley.”

  He looked like he was going to say something revealing then, but he stopped himself.

  I was exhausted, and I took a seat. On the low table before me there was what looked like a very high-quality Active Paper card. Picking it up, it activated itself. The image resolved into a copy of the woodcut, this time showing only the elegant Otaru node gentleman standing in the garden. I heard birds tweeting, and a gentle breeze blew animated leaves and cherry blossoms about.

  “Well,” I said to the interface, “we’re here. Where is here?”

  The figure bowed gravely. “We have placed you aboard a small vessel equipped with a number of unusual features, including access to a limited version of our displacement drive. This is an engine which will help you travel great distances without the need for hypertubes.”

  Gideon, who had also taken a seat, sat up straight on hearing about the engine. “Did he say a displacement drive?”

  I glanced over at him. “Yes, that’s what he said. Shut up, I’m working.”

  Gideon ignored me. “I’ve only heard rumors that the fireminds had a displacement drive. It’s incredibly secret.”

  “Yeah, well, it looks like we’ve got one.”

  I went to ask the interface guy some more questions, but Gideon was up on his feet again, stalking about the rooms of the apartment, looking for the powerplant. “Ask him where the drive is!” He called back to me.

  Instead I said to the interface, “There was talk of protection for us.”

  “We have provided you with bodyguards, and with modifications to your headware systems,” the node said.

  I frowned, looking around. “I don’t see any bodyguards here.”

  “Nonetheless, they are there. There are four. The best samurai we can produce.”

  I called out to Gideon, “Ummm … see if you can find any of these supposed multidimensional samurai whatsits. We’re supposed to have four of them.”

  “You will not see them until they strike, Suzette McGee,” the interface said. “They are attuned to the influence of Hydrogen Steel and its allies.”

  Unsettled now, I changed the subject. “And where exactly are we? This doesn’t quite look like the inside of a ship.”

  “You are docked inside the Otaru Emulation vessel. When you are ready, you may instruct the ship either through this interface or through your headware.”

  “And the Emulation vessel is…?”

  “We are orbiting New Norway.”

  “Ah!” I said.

  “Do you have any questions?”

  I thought about it. “What if these samurai blokes aren’t enough to fend off…?”

  “There are contingencies and possibilities.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Otaru knew he would be killed.”

  “Right…”

  “Otaru took certain precautions.”

  “Like what?”

  “We wish you strength and cunning, Suzette McGee.”

  The animated woodcut turned back to a still image, which in turn quietly drifted away, as if blown by a gentle breeze.

  CHAPTER 23

  We left the Otaru Emulation vessel and contacted Esseka Aerospace Control to get permission to land on Narwhal Island. They interrogated our Otaru ShipMind, found everything in order, assigned us a slot, and we rode the beam down to what had been the island’s aerodrome. During the surprisingly smooth descent I called the Esseka Police Public Liaison Office, and arranged limited access to the crime scene on Narwhal Island. The administrative hassles I had been expecting owing to my lack of proper accreditation did not occur. I was told instead that our papers, both Gideon’s and mine, were perfectly adequate, and a Police Liaison officer would meet us at the aerodrome.

  I could hardly believe it. It felt like I’d been trying to get to this damned place all my life, and encountering nothing but trouble, death, hassles and grief. It was one thing to have a single firemind interfering in your life, traumatizing you so much that you’ll probably never get over it — but for another one to get involved? Otaru so far, seemed much more accessible. I had the feeling “he’d” done this kind of thing before, and had been trying hard to present a face that would not terrify me. If fireminds were as profoundly powerful as I was hearing, though, how much of Otaru’s routine could I believe?

&nb
sp; I felt a strong urge not to trust either of them. I did not like the idea that they were using Gideon and me as pawns in their larger battle.

  I also wondered just how much I might be able to rely on Otaru when the shit did hit the fan. Invisible samurai bodyguards? Why invisible? What was the point of that? It did little to inspire confidence. Often I found myself walking around in the main living area of this ship, waving my arms around, hoping I might somehow feel their presence. So far all I’d achieved was a mocking comment from Gideon about my “funky new dance moves”.

  My new headware was working hard, doing its best to help me come to grips with everything that had happened. Without psychostatic help I had no doubt I would be numb and paralyzed with shock and grief.

  Had I really had an audience with a firemind?

  Wait. Stop. Think. No. Not a firemind. The firemind Otaru was dead. What I met was part of an emulation of Otaru. Almost but not quite the real thing.

  It had been impressive, nonetheless.

  Most of the time I simply sat there, swearing under my breath, stunned at everything that had happened lately.

  Gideon, by contrast, looked okay. He was disappointed this ship had so little obvious machinery with which to fiddle. He missed the Good Idea, with its clanking, whizzing, steaming powerplant interface.

  I wondered if he would have stuck around with me had his ship been ready now. Why would he stay? I’d brought him nothing but trouble and misery and, oh yes, a few narrow escapes from almost certain, horrible death! Without me he’d be back on Serendipity, monitoring his investments, tending his roses, and painting watercolors of pelicans.

  Which made me think about Hydrogen Steel. Right from the start the firemind had made things very personal. Arranging a bunch of guys to cook up a bootleg copy of me to go and torch my house, sabotaging Gideon’s ship, the bombs in our guts. And all of it untraceable to anything as unlikely as a godlike entity that nobody even knew existed. Even the malfunction of the orbital defense platform that took out our elevator train could probably be explained as some kind of system error.

  But we were close now. Close to the truth. Hydrogen Steel was taking bigger risks, and killing more people to keep us from our goal. Which did give me pause: it was telling me that my determination to find the truth would cost innocent lives. How much blood was I prepared to have on my hands in order to find out what was going on?