Neurolink

by M M Buckner

  Power, that was the ultimate key to everything. Power grew the food, ran the water plant, purified the air. The combined Pressure and Jedes power plants were operating at maximum output, and divers had scoured the other wrecks for working fuel cells—to no avail. Ane Zaki had implemented rolling blackouts, and her technicians were building more gas turbines to boost cell efficiency. But that wouldn’t be enough. Her group had been experimenting with ocean thermal energy conversion when she fell ill. Now progress was slow. The blackouts were getting longer and more frequent—which didn’t bode well for air production, or food, or water or anything else.

  As an emergency measure, they’d improvised primitive floating windmills to generate extra power. But they hadn’t deployed them yet because satellites would spot the mills the instant they surfaced. As long as the NP was scanning for their location, deploying the mills meant giving up their dream.

  “So we need a loan,” Tooksook said, as if that were simplicity itself.

  “In two days, or maybe less, we’ll be forced to float the windmills,” said Millard.

  “Two days. Splendid.”

  “Or maybe less,” said Millard.

  Dominic tried to scratch the skin under his bandage. He didn’t know whether to laugh or bash his head against the wall. Maybe he should bash the council’s heads together to knock sense into them. Two days? Negotiate with the world’s mightiest financial institution, without a single point in their favor, when the only thing the NP wanted was to destroy them? And do it all in two days? He almost hooted like Major Qi.

  Then he felt ashamed. These people had been working themselves to exhaustion. His mistake, he realized, was not in freeing the miner but in undervaluing them. He had discounted their ingenuity at every turn. He’d called them fools and fanatics, and he’d accused them of luring people to a death trap. Now he realized that in their naïve good faith, they intended to save everyone.

  Dominic puffed his cheeks and calculated. “Your Net link is still functional?”

  “Yes,” Gervasia answered, narrowing her blue eyes. “But if we go onwave, that bit-brain will trace us.”

  “Can we browse passively? I need information. Market reports. News.”

  Gervasia frowned. Her suspicions were obvious.

  “I won’t give you away,” Dominic said, “but I can’t operate in the dark. You have to let me gather data.”

  Around the table, all eyes turned to Tooksook. Dominic wondered why. The old man was rearranging the cookies on the plate for the umpteenth time, and he didn’t even seem to be listening. After a moment, he glanced up with his gummy, toothless smile and winked at Dominic. His long eyebrows moved up and down.

  He said, “Time for your decision, Nick. You gave us liberty. Will you help us keep it?”

  “Tooksook, I—” Dominic was about to fall back on disclaimers. He couldn’t promise anything. He wanted to help, but the miners had no bargaining position. Every point was against them. Yet as he looked into the man’s cloudy, trusting eyes, his excuses failed. He understood the full weight of Tooksook’s question: Will you break faith with your father’s bank to help protes?

  That’s what his decision would mean. If he spoke for the miners, he would abandon his father’s values. The directors would fire him, that was a given. Newscasters would brand him a prote sympathizer. His colleagues would call him a traitor—or an idiot. He could never hold his head up in executive society. Even his vast Jedes wealth would not save him. He would become a pariah. Worse, the Orgs might use his action finally to break ZahlenBank apart. Divestiture, the hated word. The only thing his father truly feared.

  Could he, Dominic Jedes, live out the rest of his life with that kind of betrayal? Compared to that, drowning would have been easy. He could almost hear his father beseeching him. “ZahlenBank is our sacred trust.”

  Dominic bowed his head and sighed, because there wasn’t any decision to make. Hadn’t he already offered his own death? He would not cast these people adrift again. He knew them.

  Tooksook patted his arm. “The coin giver will not betray us.”

  I’ll betray my father instead, Dominic subvocalized—as if someone in his head were still listening.

  Gervasia gave a brisk nod. “Nick, you heard what the president said. You may use the Net link.”

  President? Gervasia’s eyes were aimed at Tooksook. This was so unexpected, Dominic did a double take. Tooksook scraped at one of the cookies with his fingernail. Then he bent over the plate and snuffled loud enough to stir up crumbs. Dominic turned back to Gervasia. “Tooksook’s your president? I thought you were in charge.”

  “You were wrong.” With one quick motion, Gervasia slid a small gray notebook down the table, and Dominic caught it against his chest. It was a Net node, the old-fashioned kind with a keyboard interface. She rapped her gavel. “Meeting adjourned. We’ll recess for one hour while Nick browses the news.”

  As the councilors dispersed, Dominic sat still in his chair, shaking his head at this latest revelation. Old Tooksook was the council president? What next? He grabbed Qi’s arm when she tried to slip away. “You can’t desert me now.”

  “I’m tired,” she said, and her head hung like a heavy dark blossom on a stem.

  “Sleep when this is over.” He pointed to the chair beside him. “Major, no joke, I need you.”

  When they were alone in the officers’ mess, she drained his water glass and licked her lips. “Do you realize it’s two hours after midnight?”

  Dominic noticed a large round analog clock on the wall. He’d been out of touch with local time for so long, he’d almost forgotten how to measure it. “What day is this?” he said.

  “June 30th.” Qi found the water jug and drank some more. “You’ve been here eleven days, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

  “Eleven days!” Dominic whistled. He flipped open Gervasia’s gray notebook and absentmindedly tapped the control key. The node powered up and fired a tiny collimated beam to the ship’s Net link, which relayed it straight up into the articulated chaos of microwaves propagating through the Earth’s aura.

  After half an hour on the Net, he didn’t want to see any more. Qi sat beside him, fuming and spitting. Earlier in the week, the Euro Bourse sank to historic lows, the Nikkei dropped 44 percent, and the American Stock Exchange halted trading. Numerous factories reported work stoppages, and an estimated 2 million employees were fined for absence without leave. In isolated areas, a few thousand workers were shot trying to escape, and riots ended brutally. But the markets hadn’t crashed, and there was no evidence of chaos or looting, not a hint of cannibalism.

  Last night after the miners shut down their broadcast, all northern markets came roaring back to new highs, and Chairman Richter Jedes of ZahlenBank was named the man of the hour. Features about his bold market rescue blazoned every news site. Odd, the newscasters spoke of this so-called Chairman as a real man. Dominic browsed video and realized the NP was using a holographic projection for public appearances. Did anyone believe this? Had they forgotten the report of Richter’s death?

  “That blasted genie runs the bank,” said Dominic. “You know this loan scheme is pointless.”

  Qi chewed her thumb and spat out a piece of nail. “Your Da’s vulnerable. He—” She was about to say something more, but an alarm tone sounded, and a plain-text box popped open on the screen.

  “DETECTION IMMINENT. TERMINATE SESSION NOW.”

  “Where’d that come from?” said Dominic.

  “Who cares! Turn the thing off!” Qi punched the escape key, but nothing happened.

  Dominic clicked End Session, but the little notebook kept beaming an active signal through the Net link. The connection seemed frozen in a live position. “This is bizarre,” he said.

  Qi lifted the notebook and rapped it hard against the edge of the table. It splintered to pieces, and plastic shards flew in all directions. But the alarm tone was still ringing.

  “That did a lot of good.” Dominic wa
s already sprinting for the door.

  The officers’ mess adjoined the bridge, and when he burst in, Gervasia spun in her chair. “What happened?”

  He didn’t pause to speak. He bounded up the winding stairs toward the Net link. Penderowski was bending over the fragile receiver dish, soldering the rip Dominic had made earlier. Juanita was handing him tools. Sure enough, all indicators showed the Net link was actively transmitting. The NP was sucking data!

  Dominic didn’t hesitate. He yanked the soldering tool out of Penderowski’s hand and stabbed it into the vulnerable electronics in the base. Over and over, he gouged the delicate works, mutilating the connections, shouldering Penderowski out of the way and ignoring Gervasia’s commands to stop. Sparks shot out, and when the fine silver mesh of the receiver dish caught fire, it went up in a whoof of black smoke. This time the Net link went dead for good. Broadcast and reception both terminated. Flakes of ash filtered softly through the air like snow.

  CHAPTER 18

  * * *

  RATE MOVEMENT

  THEY waited on the bridge, all of them together. Dominic still gripped the soldering tool in his fist. The air smelled of metallic ash from the burnt-out Net link. Had the NP traced their location? Hunkered on the floor, they drew their heads between their shoulders and whispered and tried not to move, as if that would protect them from the NP’s deadly blast. Minutes ticked by. There wasn’t enough time to evacuate the tunnels, and they had no defense against weapons from space. So they waited.

  “What kind of guns does yer bank have?” Djuju whispered.

  Dominic adjusted his eye bandage and frowned. He’d never thought to inquire. Satellite armament was part of the bank’s security system, an operational detail.

  “Laser cannons,” said Massoud. The wiry little bursar yanked at his mustache as if he meant to eradicate it, one hair at a time.

  “You think we’ll hear thunder?” Penderowski asked, “Or maybe see a bright light?”

  Gervasia pounded her fist against her thigh. “How could they lock on to a passive browsing session? I should never have turned on the link. Why didn’t I think it through?”

  Dominic touched her shoulder. “Gervasia, don’t blame yourself.”

  “Maybe the bit-brain didn’t get our coordinates,” Sereb said. “It hasn’t fired yet.”

  “That probability increases every minute,” said Millard.

  “Or maybe the bank’ll send a rescue team for its president.” Qi arched her eyebrows at Dominic.

  “Well, they’re late,” said Naomi.

  Dominic kept his one good eye trained on the hands of the analog wall clock. Sereb rolled onto his stomach and did push-ups. Millard wrote figures in the palm of his hand.

  With a growl of impatience, Gervasia jumped to her feet. She woke up her computers, tapped a few keys and frowned. “Okay, I’ve got the transmission log. Let’s see what data that bit-brain hacked out of our system.”

  Dominic was beside her in an instant, looking over her shoulder, but the file on her screen was garbled and crazy.

  “It almost looks like encryption,” he said.

  “That doesn’t make sense.” Qi elbowed him out of the way.

  “Yeah,” Gervasia said. “Why would the bit-brain encrypt our data before sucking it out?”

  As the first hour passed, they grew more restless. Penderowski kept rewinding his turban, and Dominic prodded the numb flesh under his eye bandage. Djuju read her book. Massoud furtively loaded his pipe, then put it away, and Tooksook wanted to know if anyone was hungry.

  At the end of the second hour, Qi said, “This is nuts. I’m going topside to look around. Estaban, can I borrow your shuttle?”

  Gervasia said, “Nobody’s going anywhere till we figure things out.” She jabbed her computer keys with punishing force. Dominic noticed her jaw muscle quiver as she scrolled data. She was taking all the responsibility on her own shoulders, and he knew what that felt like.

  Before he could speak, she announced to the group, “Both bathyspheres are en route to the surface. Looks like about eight hundred newcomers are waiting up top. We can’t bring them down here, not now. I vote we radio the shuttle pilots to evacuate.”

  Everyone spoke at once. “I oppose that!” “You wanna turn people away?” “The bit-brain’s gonna fry us any second.” “Where would they go?” “I don’t think the bit-brain spotted us.” “They risked their lives to get here.” “We need more information.” “Let’s take a vote.”

  About then, Juanita stood up and yelled louder than anyone, “Where’s Tooky?”

  The council looked at each other and realized Tooksook wasn’t among them. “Tooky! When did he slip off?” They scrambled around, searching the bridge.

  “He’s in the galley fixin’ sandwiches,” Penderowski called.

  The old man emerged from a small doorway bearing a plate of dark brown buns slathered with yellow goo. People parted to make a path as he blinked and smiled, showing off his tooth. When Djuju started to explain the vote, his bald head bobbed. “I heard you. Yes, yes, I heard. Nick will tell us what to do.”

  There was a collective pause. Then, all eyes turned to Dominic. He could read mistrust in several faces, but the council was giving him full attention. He thought carefully before he spoke.

  “It’s fair to say I know the NP better than anyone,” he began.

  Several people nodded, and Sereb said, “Qi told us.”

  Dominic caught the sympathy in their faces and flushed. He drew up to his full height and went on quickly. “I think the NP would have acted by now. I don’t think it knows where we are.”

  “I agree,” said Qi. Dominic hadn’t noticed her standing by his side. The eye patch limited his view. She leaned toward him and added in a lower tone, “There’s something about that encryption. It reminds me of Gig.”

  Dominic nodded. It corresponded with his earlier suspicions. The Orgs were certainly stirring this pot, but why? The implications were baffling. He said, “Let’s assume we killed the Net link in time.”

  “Okay, so we can still go for the bank loan,” said Sereb.

  Dominic pointed at the soot-blackened Net link. “How am I supposed to contact the lending department?”

  Qi punched his shoulder and pointed at Gervasia. “Charm your girlfriend into giving us a shuttle. I know where to find a phone.”

  Less than an hour later, Dominic sat on a hard metal bench, trying to squeeze himself into a rubber suit that was rank and clammy and about three sizes too small. The inner lining stuck to his hairy legs and wouldn’t slide up. He cursed and yanked the suit on by main force, but when his chest hairs caught in the zipper, blood rushed to his face. Gervasia! She decided both bathyspheres were needed for passengers. She wouldn’t take one out of service, so she allocated Dominic a SCUBA rig!

  “Trouble with your zipper?” Qi was already suited up, with her tanks and buoyancy compensator strapped into position. The gear looked heavy, but she moved with her usual ease and freed his zipper with one swift jerk. “Aw, is that suit gonna be too rough on your tender nipples?”

  Dominic shot her a frown and examined the pile of scuba gear lying at his feet. His assistant, Karel Folger, had gone scuba diving a few times. Karel told Dominic some hairy stories about ruptured eardrums and burst sinuses.

  “This is serious, Major. Please explain again what happens if we surface too fast.”

  Qi mock-punched him in the chest. “Nitrogen boils out of your blood, your lungs explode, the vessels in your eyeballs pop—oh, and you may develop a brain embolism.”

  “Ah yes.”

  She shoved him playfully. “Just follow the tiny bubbles, Nick. And don’t hold your breath.”

  The tanks were old and dented, relics from the twenty-first century. Dominic eyed the inspection stickers, dated March 2004. He swallowed hard and strapped on his fins. They looked like huge flat clown shoes. He recalled the silky Kevlax surface suit he’d worn at the start of this mission—the same suit his fath
er wore to climb mountains in Asia. It offered full hermetic protection against the environment, whereas this rubber diving suit didn’t even have a hood. The silicon mask covered his nose and eyes and left his skin exposed to the ocean. Nasty hot sea fluid might leak into his mouth. It would certainly soak through his eye bandage.

  Qi harnessed him into the heavy gear and helped him step backward into the airlock. The inner door closed. Then he heard a metallic screech, spun around and nearly toppled over in the unwieldy gear. She had wrenched a valve open. As the warm yellow ocean flooded into the airlock, he recalled the offer he’d made only a few hours ago, to stand in this lock without any gear at all.

  With that vivid image in mind, he bit down hard on his mouthpiece and watched the fluid creep up over his mask. As it sluiced through his hair, he could taste it seeping past his lips. Once outside, he would probably pop to the surface and burst into a million bloody fragments. Well, at least he would see the sky again.

  When the outer hatch grated open, he stepped out, drifted in slow motion and fell against the hull. The weights Qi had strapped around his waist were dragging him down, and he sucked hard for air. With every breath, a stream of bubbles rushed by his ears like an eruption. He hadn’t expected the noise to be so loud. Qi gripped his shoulder strap and gave him the okay sign. The ocean was so murky, he could barely make out her face, but he nodded. He was breathing way too fast, gulping in short, shallow pants, and he half expected to hear the NP scold him. Focus, Dominic! He drew a deep, calming breath through his nose—and got a snootful of bitter fluid. Then he choked and coughed and would have panicked if Qi hadn’t gripped him tight and held his mouthpiece in place.

  They tumbled softly into a rubble pile, and their fins stirred up denser clouds of sediment. Then Qi switched on a laser torch strapped to her wrist, and Dominic remembered he’d stuck Penderowski’s torch in a pocket somewhere. He’d sealed the old torch in a plastic ziplock bag, and sure enough, when he clicked the switch, it came on. The first thing its beam revealed was a vending machine, upended, smashed and rusty, spilling loose change on the seafloor.