Metal Fatigue

by Sean Williams

  Then the hands suddenly eased, allowing him a brief gasp of air. He struggled, kicking more by reflex than anything else. His body still fought desperately for life, despite its slim chance of survival. Whether any of his blows struck home, he couldn't tell. His eyes hadn't recovered from the lack of oxygen in his blood, and his limbs were little more than vague nerve-endings a long, long way away.

  Then he was in the air, flying across the room in slow motion. His eyes cleared enough for him to see the wall coming for him. There was little he could do to stop it. The pain was like a bomb going off in his head as he hit.

  He slumped face-forward onto the bare floorboards, retching for breath. Outrage burned everywhere in his battered body, and the taste of blood was stronger than ever: like failure, sharp and bitter. But he had to move. His life depended on it.

  With an effort so draining that he thought it might burst his heart, he managed to roll over and look up.

  Frustration cut deep the lines of Cati's face; despair lay in the bottomless black pools of his eyes. But he wasn't coming for Roads. He stood exactly where he had been moments ago, frozen in place as though by some terrible internal struggle.

  As Roads watched, the killer shook his head once, raised his clenched fists to the ceiling. His mouth formed an O, and he screamed silently. Every muscle in his body quivered in rebellion.

  Barely had Roads registered this impression than Cati sagged. Every muscle went limp, and the killer looked down at the floor. Any thoughts Roads might have entertained of taking advantage of Cati's distraction vanished. The killer already looked beaten, doomed.

  Then Cati moved. So quickly that Roads could barely follow, the killer ran from the lounge and into the bedroom. The crunch of footsteps traced his path to the window and beyond.

  Roads twitched, wanting desperately to set off in pursuit: Cati was slipping through his fingers for the second time that night, and unlike before he had no idea where the killer might be going. But there was nothing he could do in time; he could hardly even keep his head up to listen.

  A gentle thump from the roof above followed, then a thud on the building across the lane. Footsteps led into the distance, gradually fading even to Roads' sensitive ears. Finally, only Katiya's voice remained, calling the killer back, sobbing helplessly for him to return.

  Cati was gone. Apart from the voices calling both inside and outside Roads' head, the night was silent again ...

  * * *

  "Phil? Will you talk to me, for God's sake?"

  "Take it easy, Barney." Martin O'Dell leaned over the seat she occupied. "He's probably busy, and you're annoying the hell out of him."

  "For ten minutes? He can't be that busy."

  O'Dell shrugged and moved away. In the dim light glowing from the screens and control panels of the RUSAMC control van, his face looked different. More serious; in a strange way, more at home.

  Barney wasn't sure she liked the change, even if he was helping her. For the first time, she felt like an Outsider.

  "Phil, this is an emergency. I need to talk to you now!"

  Nothing.

  She closed her eyes and rested her head in her hands. The last sighting of Roads had occurred almost three-quarters of an hour ago, when he had stolen a patrol car from the back of Mayor's House. Nothing had been seen or heard of him since. She was beginning to suspect the worst.

  Behind her, O'Dell oversaw the rest of the operation. RUSAMC technicians had isolated the frequency of Roads' cyberlink, and were using the control van's transmitters to boost Barney's signal. Also, the information from the old CATI files retrieved from her laptop had enabled them to search for any illicit transmissions through the radio-silence still blanketing the city's official airwaves. They had already detected one such transmission, and were working hard to decode it.

  Barney sighed. If the cipher proved to be impenetrable they were wasting valuable time.

  Outside the control van, chaos reigned. Visible through a monitor was the ring of MSA officers surrounding Mayor's House, each armed with a rifle and under strict orders to keep everyone out — RSD and RUSAMC included. Search parties had found no sign of Cati, and the city's communication network was still effectively down, despite the mysterious substitute that had appeared to take PolNet's place. Communication was limited to the few intercoms the RUSAMC had loaned to the RSD squads during their retreat from the area.

  Yet she refused to give up. The long-run was more important than the short: neither Cati nor the Mole had been captured; both had disappeared along with Roads. She needed him to help them resume the search, before the Mole or Cati went to ground again.

  She kept trying, sending her voice echoing across the city, boosted by the RUSAMC transmitters.

  Finally, after another five minutes of calling, a weak signal returned:

  "Barney, be quiet. I'm here." Roads' voice issued from the speakers in the console in front of her as well as in her ear. He sounded terrible, even over the cyberlink, but Barney was too relieved to notice at first.

  "Phil!" Her cry brought O'Dell instantly from the far side of the control van. "Is that really you?"

  "Don't start that again. I'm not up to it."

  "We've been looking for you everywhere. Where the hell have you been?"

  "Hunting," he said, "and being hunted. I saw Cati escape from Mayor's House and guessed he was heading back to Old North Street. The Mole must have guessed as well, or followed me part of the way, because it beat me here. By the time I arrived, the place was a mess and the Mole had gone. Then Cati arrived, thought I'd done it, and — " He stopped.

  "And?" she prompted uneasily.

  "Let's just say I'll live, and leave it at that. I've no idea where he is now. Katiya's still here. She's been knocked around too, but she'll be okay."

  "Cati hit her?"

  "No, the Mole did. Why, though, I'm not sure."

  "Maybe to enrage Cati," said O'Dell, leaning across the console to talk into a microphone.

  "Is that you, Martin?" Roads asked, surprised to hear the extra voice through the cyberlink.

  "Yes."

  "I guess you'd know better than any of us what the Mole really wants. It's your toy, after all."

  "Perhaps." O'Dell glanced at Barney. "But we'll talk about that later. For now, we're in the control van listening in on the old military frequencies. There was an unauthorised transmission about fifteen minutes ago that we think came from Cati's controller — "

  "It did," Roads interrupted. "If not, I wouldn't be talking to you now. Have you translated it?"

  "Not yet. We're doing our best. Do you have any ideas?"

  "No. As I told Barney, I'd only heard of the CATI project by name — no details. You've tried all the standard encryption keys?"

  "Everything in the old files. None of them match."

  "Then it must be something unique to the project, and could take hours to crack. Although ..." Roads thought for a moment. "PolNet's back on the air. Does that mean RSD is up and running again?"

  "No," Barney answered. "PolNet just started working again. No-one knows why. We thought you might have had something to do with it."

  "Me? No — in fact, it damn near killed me. But I have an idea who is behind it." Again Roads hesitated. "And I think I know him well enough to guess that he's listening in right now. If he'll hear us out, I'd like to ask him for help again. And to be given the chance to apologise."

  Barney opened her mouth to ask Roads what the hell he was talking about, but a new voice over the cyberlink cut her off:

  "Apologise?" The voice spoke from the console's speakers with an amused — and familiar — air. "My dear boy, what on earth is there to apologise for?"

  "For thinking that you were Cati's controller, of course."

  Laughter filled the line. "Really? If you believed that even for a second, then you don't know me as well as you think."

  "No?" responded Roads. "You're here now, aren't you?"

  "Too true ..." The chuckle tai
led off into silence.

  Barney stared at the console. "Phil, is that who I think it is?"

  "Probably. You tell her, Keith."

  "Keith Morrow at your service again, my dear."

  Barney wasn't quite sure what to say. She and O'Dell exchanged quick, disbelieving glances.

  The RUSAMC captain cleared his throat. "I'd always imagined our first meeting to be on somewhat less cordial grounds," he said.

  Again the Head chuckled. "I'll bet you did, Captain O'Dell. And don't bother trying to trace this transmission."

  "Why would we do that?"

  "You know very well why," returned the Head. "For someone so cruelly maligned by both RSD and the Reunited States, I have certainly gone out of my way to help you all in the last week. I hope you appreciate that."

  "We do, Keith," said Roads. "We do. And if your face hadn't appeared in Cati's diary, I wouldn't have suspected you at all. It took me far too long to work out the real reason behind that."

  "Wait — let me get this straight." Barney rubbed a hand across her forehead, trying to retie the threads of the conversation. "You resurrected PolNet?"

  "Of course," replied the Head. "Do you think Phil is the only person in Kennedy with a working copy? Or that my motives are necessarily malign?" The Head tsked impatiently.

  "Did you pick up the CATI command?" Roads asked.

  "If you mean the most recent, from nineteen minutes ago, then yes."

  "Can you decipher it for us?"

  "Decipher, yes; I already have. For you, though, I don't know. Should I?"

  "That's entirely up to you. Just remember, we only want the controller. Cati's as innocent as I am, despite all he's been made to do. He had no choice in the matter, and shouldn't be punished."

  Barney opened her mouth to protest, but O'Dell touched her on the shoulder and shook his head.

  "My thoughts exactly," said Morrow. "The controller ordered Cati to rendezvous with him at Patriot Bridge in forty-five minutes. Twenty-six minutes from now."

  "Did he say why?" Roads asked.

  "No."

  "Then that probably means he suspects we're listening, and doesn't want to broadcast too much."

  "I'd say so. All previous transmissions were quite explicit."

  "You mean — ?" she began, but again the hand on her arm silenced her.

  "What about the control code?" asked O'Dell before she could push him away.

  "No," said Morrow. "One person has it already, which is bad enough."

  "But having it would save us a lot of trouble. We could just order him to — "

  "My point exactly." Morrow's voice was regretful but firm. "Humans don't know when to stop. How you ever reached the point where you were able to create an intelligence as sublime as mine is quite beyond me, to be frank."

  "We've had this conversation before, Keith," interrupted Roads. "And now isn't the time. You've given us what we need and, for that, I'm grateful. The rest can wait until later. Did you catch all of that, Barney?"

  "Clear as a bell."

  "Okay, tell Margaret to send reinforcements ASAP. Keith said 'he' every time he mentioned the controller, so she's in the clear. But be careful who else you talk to. We don't want to scare Cati's controller away."

  "Understood, but — " She paused. "It may not be as easy as that."

  "What do you mean?"

  "There've been some problems at this end. The MSA has assumed control of Mayor's House, sealed it tight. All RSD personnel not inside have been ordered off the grounds, along with Stedman's troops. Martin and I barely made it to the control van before it got ugly."

  "How ugly, exactly?"

  "The Mayor issued a statement half an hour ago announcing an assassination attempt on him, not General Stedman. Margaret has been arrested on charges of conspiracy, along with David Goss. A warrant for you has been issued as well."

  Roads grunted. "The Mayor said this? Are you sure?"

  "Positive: he's in there, running things. It's not a coup, if that's what you're thinking."

  "A gross over-reaction, then."

  "It seems that way. DeKurzak's obviously been giving him ideas."

  "Have you tried talking to him?"

  "No chance. Until the phone network is running again, we don't really have a way to contact them."

  "There are signals coming out of the building along one of the landlines," put in O'Dell, "but they're also coded. Given their frequency, we're assuming them to be official, some sort of emergency system we can't tap into."

  "And how's your boss taking this, Martin?"

  "In his stride, for now," the RUSAMC captain replied. "He understands how the assassination attempt looks, and how you feel about the Mole. But it's still a stand-off. There are Reunited States personnel inside the building, too, and we haven't heard from them for almost an hour."

  "Shit," Roads said. "This could mean the end of the Reassimilation."

  "Or worse," Barney added. "But there's not much we can do until the Mayor decides to talk."

  "No, not really." Barney heard the frustration in his voice as clearly as she felt her own. "Our only option is to keep after Cati," he went on. "I'll head straight to the bridge. It shouldn't take too long by car."

  "If you leave now," said O'Dell, studying a map of the city on a screen. "We'll do what we can from this end — maybe rustle up reinforcements from somewhere. Whatever we do, you'll beat us there by at least fifteen minutes. You won't have backup for that long. Do you think you can handle him?"

  "Do I have a choice?" asked Roads. Barney thought she heard an echo of a sigh through the cyberlink. "Anyway, I need to get moving if I'm going to make it in time. I'll call when I'm on the way. You can fill me in on the Mole then, Martin."

  "Will do," said O'Dell. "I think it's time you all knew the truth."

  "Agreed. See you at the bridge," said Roads, and killed the line.

  * * *

  Roads let his head fall back onto the floor. The pain had ebbed slightly during the conversation as endorphins rushed through his body, but he still felt terrible. He rubbed the tight skin of his cheek, felt the roughness of dried blood, and willed himself to move. He didn't have time for self-pity.

  The apartment had fallen strangely silent while he talked with O'Dell and Barney; the background weeping had stopped. Opening his eyes, he looked upward.

  Katiya was standing over him with a knife in one hand. She stared fixedly at him with her one good eye narrowed. The other had closed entirely, pinched shut by the vivid bruise on her temple.

  "I was listening to you," she said softly. "You were talking to yourself, you said that Cati was innocent, and ..." Her hands were trembling. "And you're bleeding."

  "Yes." He leaned on the nearest wall for balance and struggled to his feet. She backed away automatically. "What does that tell you?"

  "That you're not the same one who was here earlier."

  "That's right." He straightened his clothing and brushed off the dust.

  Katiya lowered the knife to her side, where it dangled uncertainly.

  Roads wished there was something he could do to ease the woman's obvious pain, but time was too short. "I can't stay here. Will you be okay?"

  "Where are you going?"

  "To find Cati."

  "You know where he is?"

  "Yes. Or at least where he'll be very soon."

  "Then I want to come with you."

  "It'll probably be dangerous — "

  "I know." She glanced down at her shaking hands, then back at him. Her eyes blazed in the darkness. "But what else can I do? He needs me. He doesn't want to hurt people. Maybe ... maybe I can even help him free himself — "

  "Okay, okay," he relented. "But I'm leaving now. If you're coming, we have to hurry."

  "Yes." She nodded. "Yes, I understand." She looked around the room, at the devastation of her home, and straightened her shoulders.

  As soon as they were on the way, Roads reopened the cyberlink and whispered across th
e city:

  "Okay, Martin," he said. "Tell me everything."

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  11:55 p.m.

  "The device you call the Mole is known under another name in the Reunited States," said O'Dell, "and even then only by a few. We call it Project Cherubim — after the word's original meaning: a creature that is half-human, half-animal and full of eyes."

  "So it is a spy," said Barney. "But — "

  "Let me finish." O'Dell's tone was brisk, almost terse — as though delivering a lecture to hostile students. "I'm probably going to get my ass kicked for talking about this, so at least give me the chance to get it right.

  "By experimenting with field-effects and making a few improvements on the old designs, and by using camouflage techniques we developed ourselves — not stolen from the bunker files, as you thought, Phil — we've built a robot capable of changing shape at will. Holograms give it appearance, while the fields make it solid when it needs to be. Given enough data, it can assume the appearance of anyone it chooses — right down to the smallest visual detail. It can even simulate body heat and voice patterns, which enables it to pass identity tests that many other methods of impersonation do not.

  "This makes it perfect for internal security, as you now know, but it can also be used for espionage. It can imitate and replace anyone in a rival government sufficiently well to fool all but their closest companions."

  "It's not perfect, then?" Roads asked.

  "The less frequently it comes into contact with people the better, obviously, for not even we can design a machine that will completely recreate a person. The perfect subject is someone who lives alone, and whose job allows them to be fairly independent."

  "Someone like me, in other words."

  "Exactly." O'Dell's voice displayed discomfort. "You were chosen from a group of ten candidates as having the best lifestyle for the Mole to imitate. Usually the target would be someone fairly high up in a local defence force or government, but not too high; the original has to be disposed of, of course, and we don't want to be accused of disrupting the target government if found out. Our information suggested that you lived alone and were high enough in RSD to give you access to sensitive information. You were an ideal target for Project Cherubim."