Redemption Protocol (Contact)
Page 38
Jafari frowned for a moment, before he nodded and moved away.
Stephanie stepped out of the cabin.
“What's happening?”
Havoc omitted the gory details as he swung into the vehicle.
“It's Novosa; she’s badly hurt. We're going to get her.”
Stephanie ran forward.
“I'll come.”
Havoc looked at Stephanie, surprised.
“You sure?”
Stephanie swung into the front seat beside him.
“Dead sure.”
116.
United Systems: Top Secret, Compartmentalized 5
Coding Frame: XWTHVQ TransSlipkey: 311-JWPWY
[Full key omitted]
Timestamp: #661-439-297-013# (Recent-1)
Origin: Scarlet Barracuda
Status: Assumed Secure, Agent Intact
[no deception flags raised]
Coded transcript: Complete, follows
[streaming authentication omitted]
Scarlet Barracuda> Compromise imminent I need immediate lift out. Please supply coordinates.
US handler> Compromise occurred?
Scarlet Barracuda> Imminent.
US handler> Is Resident still at home?
Scarlet Barracuda> Yes.
US handler> Request denied. You are too valuable in place. Carry on, you will find a way through.
Scarlet Barracuda> Negative, I need lift out now.
US handler> Request denied. We believe in you.
Scarlet Barracuda> No you bastards! I've done so much for you. Lift me out.
US handler> Request denied.
Scarlet Barracuda> You promised me.
US handler> We believe in you. When you're compromised, we'll lift you out. Good luck.
Scarlet Barracuda> I'll be dead by then!
US handler> Use your initiative. We believe in you.
Scarlet Barracuda> You can't do this. You promised.
US handler> Good luck.
Handler Observations
1. Marginal agent value remains if compromise genuinely imminent.
2. Cost/ benefit of extraction remains positive for background intelligence once Resident secured.
117.
Weaver's senses strained at their limit.
The brightness of the symbols receded as the sequences flowed. Weaver was suffused with relief. Then disbelief. Then curiosity. What was happening? How the hell was Fournier doing this? The difficulty level was incomprehensible.
The image of the coherent cloud continuously evolved, adding layers of complexity. The cloud appeared next to Plash with equations streaming past. But Weaver couldn’t focus on the content. She was drawn to the most impressive intellectual feat she'd ever witnessed. The rush from the sequences was extraordinary and exhilarating. How the hell was Fournier manipulating them successfully? How, exactly, were they still alive?
Standing with Fournier, somehow chained to him, she could witness his actual thought process in solving the sequences. She tried to get some insight into his approach.
She saw multiple potential solutions grabbed and discarded, lots of options scanned and briefly considered. It was like watching a master painter visualize a thousand possible brush strokes at the level of his subconscious, then consciously pick one. Weaver was struck by how Fournier seemed to intuit a sequence that he felt had potential then commit to it. Fournier made it work. She was surprised to see that not every solution was perfect. Fournier made a surprising – alarming even – number of mistakes and adjustments. He stumbled, fumbled and forced through unnecessary terms but he didn’t slow, he kept moving and it seemed to work. Goodness, it was working. Fournier was confident enough that he kept going. Equations, manipulations, transformations – he was doing brilliantly. He was utterly committing to fragments of sequences in a way that Weaver never did. And, she sensed, somehow Fournier was approaching the sequences as an integrated whole – there was a meta-level approach to his manipulation that she hadn’t seen before, if she could just––
“Are you ok?” Fournier said.
“Damn!” Weaver cried.
“What’s wrong?”
“Damn and damn and damn!”
“What?”
“I was so close!”
“What?”
“When you pulled out, I was so damn close!”
Weaver became aware of Darkwood holding her arm. She looked at him. Darkwood blinked and let go of her arm.
“That was incredible,” Darkwood said.
Weaver stood shaking her head.
“Damn.”
“And excruciating,” Darkwood said.
Weaver looked at Darkwood, feeling confused.
“You felt pain?”
Darkwood nodded.
“Like something was pumping lightning into my mind.”
Weaver frowned. The sequence had felt unbearably intense but it hadn't actually hurt, not in the way that Darkwood was describing.
Fournier frowned at her.
“What were you close to?”
“I was close to...”
Weaver stopped dead. It was Fournier asking the question.
“Are you alright, Jed?”
“I seem to be. Though in review it appears my islands of sanity are perhaps shrinking somewhat.”
Everyone looked at Fournier sympathetically. Darkwood smiled.
“I think you've just shown us the art of the possible.”
Weaver nodded.
“Definitely.”
Kemensky grinned excitedly.
“We can access a much higher level than we thought.”
Weaver wasn’t convinced. Fournier was unique. She raised an eyebrow at Kemensky.
“We can?”
Darkwood marveled at Fournier.
“You were doing things beyond what I had conceived of as possible.”
Weaver nodded.
“I agree.”
Kemensky’s eyes were bright as he gestured at Fournier.
“If Fournier can, then we can too.”
Darkwood shook his head.
“That, unfortunately, is optimistic nonsense.”
Weaver nodded.
“Exactly. Rubbish. Took the words right out of my mouth.”
“He’s right,” Fournier said.
Weaver made a knowing face at Kemensky.
“See?”
“I meant Kemensky was right.”
“What?”
“Thank you,” Kemensky said.
Fournier looked between them.
“But I was talking about her, Kemensky, not you. And I can’t speak for you, Darkwood, I haven’t seen you work.”
Kemensky looked hurt.
“If someone shows it can be done then it can be done.”
Being Fournier’s passenger had obviously done wonders for Kemensky's self-confidence.
Fournier’s eyes narrowed.
“I admire your rejection of self-limiting beliefs, Kemensky, but be careful not to confuse them with self-limiting capabilities.”
Kemensky spread his hands.
“I’m as bright as Weaver. And easily as knowledgeable.”
Fournier grunted.
“The true sign of intelligence is not knowledge, Kemensky, it's imagination. Weaver has the imagination and you do not. I don't criticize you for it. You could no more imagine these possibilities than you could grow another leg.”
Weaver winced. Kemensky looked crushed as he stormed toward the ship hangar. Fournier walked away in the opposite direction. Weaver felt a deep twinge of sympathy for Kemensky and reached after him.
“Daniel.”
Kemensky threw up an arm, shrugging her off.
Weaver turned and hurried after Fournier.
“Can you show me?”
Fournier tutted.
“As much as I can show you how to ride a bike. You’ve just had the lesson. You can do it, just trust yourself.”
“You have an approach, some kind of a meta-level approach.”
>
He turned to her.
“What do we have billions of years experience in?”
She blinked.
“Er, evolving?”
He blew out his cheeks in disgust.
She tried again.
“Modeling?”
His eyes narrowed, interested. Close enough, they said. He looked at her.
“Metaphor.”
She didn’t get it.
“Metaphor?”
Fournier nodded.
“Human minds are metaphor machines.”
“That's it? You trust yourself to that?”
“That's my approach.”
“That's it?”
He watched her. He didn’t say anything.
She shook her head, scarcely able to believe it.
“But the consequences of failure?”
Fournier grunted in frustration.
“Do not matter if you will not fail.”
118.
Havoc sped through a gap in the wall with the vehicle kicking up a long plume of dust behind it that was scattered by the wind. He accelerated hard up the first dune then braked so they didn't catch too much height on the back side. He accelerated down the far slope and they were compressed as they took the dip before being lifted moments later as they crested the next rise. Stephanie seemed as lost in her thoughts as he was as the vehicle crashed into the ground repeatedly.
> Havoc, can you––
Stone was trying to communicate with him, but for some reason Stone’s signal wasn’t being relayed orbitally. Havoc assumed enemy subversion. In the meantime, Stone was relying on skywaves reflected off Plash’s ionosphere. Still, the signal was poor. Havoc cast back while steering around a crest as he monitored Novosa's position on their battlespace. Novosa was moving very slowly. Havoc grimaced. He couldn’t understand how they hadn’t detected her without deliberate countermeasures by another civilization.
> Havoc, can you hear me?
> I can hear you, Bob.
The vehicle bumped violently as he bounced over the dunes.
> Havoc, can––
Stone cut out again as their vehicle converged on Novosa's dot on the battlespace. The vehicle roared over the top of a rise with dust spuming around it. Novosa lay twenty meters away. It looked impossible for someone in her condition to be alive, never mind moving.
“Fucking hell,” Tomas said.
> Havoc, can you hear me?
> I can hear you, Bob.
> Havoc, something is definitely wr––
Havoc tried to reconnect with Stone as he swerved the vehicle to a halt.
Nothing.
He turned to Stephanie. She stared at him wide eyed. He could see why. Novosa had been savagely butchered. He pointed to his ear, then at Novosa.
“Take care of her.”
Stephanie's face lit up at his call to action. She leaped out and ran toward Novosa with Charles and Tomas hot on her heels.
Havoc deployed his jetpack and launched upward to get a better signal.
> Go ahead, Bob.
~ ~ ~
Novosa looked up at the sound of an approaching vehicle. Her hopes rose exponentially. It was a dream come true. She was going to make it. She was going to live.
She would have cried if she was capable.
She raised herself up on her elbows. The outline of an Alliance ground vehicle screeched to a halt. A figure jumped out and ran toward her. Two more followed close behind, carrying something.
Novosa felt elated. She’d taken the pain and won. The blurred image of the lead figure neared her.
Novosa felt emotion choke her. She might have doubted herself but she'd done it. She felt proud of herself. It was a test and she’d passed. God, she was a mess.
The blurred image of the lead figure came into focus. The wheezing sensation of her breathing stopped for the first time since she'd woken up.
Total horror gripped her. Inwardly, she crumbled. There were two people behind her nemesis but she was powerless to communicate with them.
She would have cried, if she could. Instead she tried to turn, flopping over the ground as she sought to escape. It was a nightmare, the cruelest twist.
The death of hope.
~ ~ ~
Havoc watched as Stephanie circled round and approached Novosa from the far side. Novosa scrabbled the wrong way – away from Stephanie – clearly disoriented. Stephanie knelt down and rolled Novosa onto her back. Novosa waved her stunted limbs and raised her terribly disfigured head, distressed and hysterical. No wonder, Havoc thought. He could see where Novosa’s comstrip had been brutally cut out. A filament blade injury, he assumed.
Stephanie put her right arm across Novosa to calm her thrashing and supported Novosa's head with her left hand. Stephanie cradled Novosa, who must be feeling unimaginable relief, as she issued instructions to the two princes. Charles knelt on the opposite side of Novosa as he broke into the medical pack.
Havoc hovered high above them as he communicated with Stone.
> Tyburn sent me down; Ekker escorted me to the slot and left me there.
> Where are you now?
> I'm on top of the reactor being lifted out. I clipped onto it.
> They don't know you're coming up?
> No.
> What's the problem, exactly?
> I think they've done a deal with the ORC.
> How do you know?
> I hid a relay transmitter in the cabin.
Oldest trick in the book, Havoc thought. Point to Stone.
> Anything else?
> I hate heights, I'm scared and I really need help.
Good summary, Havoc thought. Bad news all over. Especially for Stone.
~ ~ ~
Stephanie leaned over Novosa, the bitch who could blow her cover. Stephanie could scarcely believe her luck – she’d thought she was done for. But fate had given her a chance and she would grasp it with both hands. She doubted there would be another one.
She locked her right arm over Novosa’s body, trying to make it appear like a mixture of a comforting hug and the restraint of a distressed patient. She cupped Novosa’s head in her left hand and tilted Novosa’s neck forward so that the bitch couldn’t wriggle too much. Stephanie couldn't believe the bitch was still alive. Fortunately Novosa was exhausted and as weak as a kitten.
Charles knelt on the other side of Novosa's body with Tomas standing over him. Charles was a fucking poodle, he would do exactly what she wanted, and Tomas was even more predictable – he would consider administering first aid beneath him. Stephanie had panicked when she’d run back and slashed at Novosa’s arms and legs. She'd thought it was the kind of barbaric thing the Gathering might do. Thank God she had.
She smiled down at Novosa.
“It's ok, Saskia, I’ve got you. You don’t need to worry now.”
Stephanie could feel Charles gazing at her in admiration. It gave her a buzz of excitement. Novosa’s skin barely resisted as the slender needle protruding from her fourth finger pierced Novosa’s neck.
“Get me an airbag, Charles, we need to protect her from this atmosphere. She’s very weak. My God, who could have done this?”
Stephanie injected the sophisticated poison – in reality more of a nanoweapon in colloidal suspension – into Novosa. Frustratingly, Novosa’s body clotted around the thin needle, inhibiting the flow. Stephanie released a much wider needle from her middle finger and stabbed it into Novosa's neck. Novosa’s skin punctured under the pressure of the blunt feed as her mouth moved incoherently in protest.
Stephanie smiled at Novosa as she forced the hollow needle deep into Novosa's neck. Nanotubes emerged from the needle like tentacles from a sea anemone, penetrating Novosa’s body. Stephanie pumped in the nanoweapon that would seize Novosa's heart and lungs.
“She’s mouthing something,” Charles said.
Stephanie cuddled Novosa.
“Don’t worry, Saskia, I’ve got you.”
Stephanie felt a surge
of excitement. She leaned forward, looking into Novosa’s terribly damaged eyes. They stared at each other. It felt intimate and thrilling.
“We won't be long, Saskia.”
119.
Weaver glanced over as Darkwood projected up a large holo depicting the gravitational anomaly. Data streamed across the holo as Darkwood rotated it with a look of intense concentration. Weaver wandered closer. Darkwood peered into the holo as he manipulated the image.
“I want to understand how the beam is controlled.”
She smiled at Darkwood’s keen interest.
“You’re a physicist?”
Darkwood raised his hands in protest.
“I’m a dabbler, nothing more, but I think I’ve found something. I want to check it out.”
“On the surface?”
“No.”
“No?”
“I need to fly out there.”
“To the beam?”
Darkwood nodded excitedly.
“To the anomaly, actually.”
Weaver smiled at his enthusiasm.
“Can I suggest an automated drone?”
Darkwood chuckled.
“Now you know that no matter how well that would do the same job, if I’m about to make a major breakthrough, I want to be there.”
Weaver laughed.
“Very honest.”
Darkwood smiled.
“I confess I’ve already summoned the research shuttle. What are you working on?”
Weaver’s eyes glittered.
“Some hints that there are levels, or powers, of consciousness. There is an implication that everything we are studying in the library is at the base, or lowest, level of consciousness and that a 'stronger' consciousness would have other carousels revealed.”
Darkwood’s expression turned to astonishment.
“Independent of the sequence levels?”
She nodded.
“Independent of the sequence levels.”
Darkwood appeared captivated by this idea.
“A power of consciousness. Does it imply any capabilities?”
Weaver shook her head.
“Not that I’ve found.”
Darkwood’s face morphed through a variety of expressions as he considered the implications of Weaver’s possible discovery.