by M. J. Locke
“Yes. And there’s more. Look.” Tania bounded over to one of the “points,” the binary module system, and her hands flew back and forth in a complex pattern: the rest of the construct vanished and the binary subsystem grew in size and complexity.
“This unit,” Tania told Jane with a gesture at the structure hanging before them, which caused the bigger of the two tightly bound modules to light up, “is at the very core of life support, and it was the first unit to go active. Look at the behavior of these two.” She lit up its sister module. “These flows”—she pointed at the green strands and streams, which brightened as she gestured, and the other strands faded—“are internal processes with the other nine modules. But we have no idea what that extra module hanging out there is doing”—she pointed at the distant extraneous module, the one also attached to the star’s center—“or why there’s so much activity between that one and these two. These three modules are behaving very differently from what you’d find in most star-structure sapients.
“And somehow, these unusual relationships and activities are critical to the sapient’s identity-formation. All its awareness, growth, and replication activities accelerated once that one became active and hooked up to these two.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means we have a very unusual sapient on our hands. It could have all kinds of unique properties. Now, look at all this other activity.” Hundreds of suddenly brilliant streams and packets darted to and from the three modules, in all directions. “We don’t even know what all these additional calls are—we can’t trace them; the sapient has masked the process. And it’s a huge transfer of information. This represents a good five percent or more of the entire cluster network activity—at least six kilo-turings’ worth of processing, maybe as much as ten.”
Jane whistled. “That’s got to be affecting our other systems.”
“It is. The city’s automated processes are all experiencing slowdowns of fifteen to twenty-five percent.”
“What are you doing about it?”
“I have Thondu investigating.”
Jane frowned. “Is he the best choice?”
“I wish I had a dozen of him! He’s caught tricks our sapient has pulled that I’ve missed. And I’m no slouch.”
Jane thought for a moment. “Are you sure all this activity isn’t a second attempt to replicate itself?”
“Oh, absolutely! Even if it weren’t a huge waste of resources to try to replicate itself twice at one time—remember, it’s just now learning how to do it—making two separate attempts from different centers would overtax it. Not a logical act. And artificial sapients are nothing if not logical. Also, there’s just not enough room on our systems for it to create a duplicate. It takes up a huge amount of space and processing time. That’s why we couldn’t just take a snapshot of the entire system and then do a purge and reboot. None of our recording and viewing methods can deal with that much information flowing in all those directions at once.”
“Hmmm.”
“And I also know that sapients are prone to going off on odd tangents that are of no importance to humans. They take contemplating their navels to a whole new level.
“Besides,” Tania said, “we have a fleet of people around the entire cluster watching for unexplained behavior across the network. Trust me—we’d know if it was making yet another replica.”
A call came in from Upside-Down. An older woman reported breathlessly, “You were right!”
“Report.”
“It’s got access to everything up here. And it’s definitely replicating itself. We’ve managed to slow it down by running as many extraneous communications and soaking up as much bandwidth as we can, but we’d better move our asses. Once it’s done creating a copy, it could hijack Upside-Down’s systems at any time and beam itself to heck and gone. We are so goddamn lucky Upside-Down had shut off their ‘Stroiders’ transmissions, or I doubt if we could have stopped it.”
Tania shared a look with Jane. The New Little Austin riot, for all its horrors, had been a blessing.
“How far along is it?” Tania demanded.
“Six modules appear to be complete up here, and the other six are well under way. And it’s putting some heavy processing into re-creating and tuning two tiny modules we originally thought were exterior interactions. We don’t know what they do yet.”
“Two new modules? Have you changed your assessment on its identity-formation, then?”
The woman paused, biting her lip. Then she nodded. “Yes. I think we should add those two. And we’re getting some useful information on the critical linkages between the modules. But the linkages are going up so fast right now that we’re having a hard time keeping up. We figure we have about forty minutes till its child is complete.”
“Forty minutes? Have you communicated all this to Damian and his team?”
“Yes. We’re in constant contact.”
“Damian, pick up!”
“Inwave.” A young man’s face appeared before them.
“Why aren’t these two new modules showing up on our map yet?”
“Already on it. They’ll be up in a minute.”
“Michaela, how precise is your estimate on the timing for completion of the copy?” Tania asked the older woman.
“Its replication rate has some built-in hardware constraints, and transmittal to the surface is down to a crawl right now. There’s no way it can finish the job sooner than thirty-eight minutes, on my mark.” She set a timer. “And, mark.”
Jane held on to her own desire to jump in with an opinion, while Tania pondered her programmer’s question. “The longer we wait, the better our information on the linkages—”
“And thus the better able we’ll be to capture the sapient live,” Jane finished for her.
“Yeah, but then the greater the danger that it could escape.” Tania drew a breath. “This is a terrific opportunity to make headway on the linkages, which is our weakest area. I’m inclined to say give them all but ten of those minutes to analyze the sapient’s behavior before we shut down the gateway and trigger the trap.”
Jane shook her head. “Too risky. Give yourself a bigger margin of error.”
“Very well.” Tania sighed, with a nod. “Fifteen more minutes. Michael, Damian, get your teams ready. Folks,” she announced to the room at large, “give me your attention!” A field of heads popped up, prairie dog–like, both in the physical space and the virtual. “In fifteen minutes we’re springing our trap. That’ll alert the sapient, so we’ll be going to Phase Three at the same time. Get what information you can, then wrap up, and get ready to do your part on the purge. Just like the drills. I’ll give the signal.”
Thondu broke into their interface. Peals of Tonal_Z swelled around him. He was sweating heavily despite the temperature, and his fingers were tripping across his harp.
“Reporting,” he said.
“Any clues?”
“Still analyzing,” he panted. “Not sure—yet. How—much—time left?”
“Fourteen-point-five minutes at my mark. And, mark.”
“OK.” Then he stilled his strings, studying some readout they couldn’t see. “What’s that? Sweet Jesus!” A look of horror bloomed on his face. “No! Stop!” He repeated it in Tonal_Z. His fingers danced across the strings again.
“It knows,” he said. “Robotics. New tactic. Block it!”
“What?”
“It’s—launching—attack.” Drops of sweat flew from his face as music streamed from his fingertips. “Interior—robotic systems. Can’t stop it. Shut down automation. Shut it down!” His image vanished.
“Jesus Christ!” Jane gasped. She turned to Tania, whose gaze had drawn inward. Jane recognized the look. She was marshaling her thoughts, weighing data, mapping out a course of action. “Damian.”
“Here.”
Tania gave Jane a look so intense and remote it made the hairs rise on her neck and arms. “Our only shot to contain this thing is to take
down the data line up to the surface. Now. Everything else is secondary.”
Quarantine. Jane had read the case studies. The others infected by a feral had tried it, too. “Do it.”
“Damian, blow the trunk line.”
“Now?” He sounded hesitant, incredulous.
“Now!”
They waited. Jane asked, “Should we hear something? How did you rig it?”
“A small explosive. We should have heard it. Damian?”
His voice was grim. “The feral must have found the device and hacked it. The data line is still up.”
Tania gave Jane a wild look. “We have got to shut down that data transmission line!”
“I’ll deal with it,” Jane said. “Trigger the extraction. Move up the time table.”
“Right.” Tania shouted, “Phase Three now! Move your asses!”
Jane grabbed Tania as the other woman started to bound away. “What are its weaknesses? How can I contain it? How much time do I have?”
“It can’t get off 25 Phocaea without breaking through Upside-Down’s barriers,” Tania said. “But those are software barriers. It can hack them.” She grabbed Jane. “It hasn’t finished replicating. I can slow it down some. But you have to disrupt transmissions at the main demarcation point up to the surface before it finishes. The demarc is in the Hub, near the lifts. Say, fifteen minutes. After that, there’s no point.”
“I’m on it,” Jane said. Tania leapt to another platform to where her team leaders were assembled.
Xuan, Jane thought. The rest of the clan. Her heart slammed against her ribs like an angry fist. She couldn’t warn them—there wasn’t time. She had to trust that they were doing what they needed.
Sean came to mind. He was ex-military with combat experience: shrewd, resourceful, decisive. If anyone could mount a counterattack, it would be him. She should also warn him to protect his people up on the surface. She put in a call, and briefed him quickly on what was happening.
“Get that demarc point, or if you have to, disable the gaser-xaser itself. It’s at the base of the buckyball conduit that carries the city signals up to the surface. Hurry!”
“Confirmed,” he said, and signed off.
Jane turned back to Aaron. Marty had alighted next to him.
“Sean will take down the data line,” Jane told them. “Now let’s talk about internal defenses. Does the emergency plan include a feral sapient attack?”
“No,” Aaron replied, “but we have one for hackers, and we can use those protocols. I’ll talk to Hiro, and I’ll also alert Cervantes and Gregoire.” The other towns’ resource allocation chiefs. Like Hiro, they were responsible for their towns’ disaster recovery. “So they’re forewarned, in case…”
“Very good.”
He departed.
“Marty,” Jane said, “activate the emergency call tree, then alert Benavidez and give him a full briefing. And the mayors. Hurry!”
He said, “I’m on it,” and winked out.
16
As they were clearing their table, Sean got a call. It was Commissioner Navio. “Sean, heads-up,” she told him. “We’ve got another damn crisis. A feral sapient is loose in our systems.”
Sean’s breath froze in his throat. “Good God.”
“Communications are in jeopardy. All radio-operated equipment is at risk of being hijacked. Tania is taking it down, but it’s found a way off Zekeston, and I need your help to stop it.”
“Where?”
“There’s a transmission line that runs next to the main lift cables. Xaser transmission through a buckyball conduit. Meanwhile, the feral is mounting a full-scale attack—all our resources are on defending the city.”
“What do you need me to do?”
“Take out the main point of entry located in the Hub. Shut it down. We have to keep the feral contained in the city systems. You have twelve minutes, no more than fifteen.”
“Where is it?”
“It’s supposed to be somewhere near the lifts. If I transmit a location, the feral will likely guess what you’re up to.”
“All right. I’ll figure it out. Who’s covering the city interior?”
“Others are on it. Get that demarcation point, or if you have to, disable the xaser itself. It’s at the base of the buckyball conduit that carries the city signals up to the surface. Hurry!”
“Confirmed.”
He hung up. The police officers had stiffened and were staring at each other in horror. They wore police radios; they must be receiving similar information to what Sean had just gotten. They both stood, knocking their chairs back.
“We’ve got to get back to our precinct,” one said.
“Wait!” Sean said. “I need you. I’ve got orders to take out transmissions in the Hub.”
“Sorry, sir, but our chief’s orders take precedence,” the other officer replied, “and we’ve been ordered to hightail it back to the station.”
Sean swore. “Give me your radios, then.” Communications—even the high-priority access Jane’s team had—might fail any minute. Police radios were powerful transmitters, and were a local system, not centralized. They would be harder for a sapient to hack. “You can pick up spares at the precinct.”
The two officers looked at each other. Sean had been deputized at a high rank. And he wasn’t the kind of man you said no to, not without a really good reason. They handed their radios over, and then bolted.
Sean put in a call to Shelley. As it went through, the city’s alarm system sounded. A calm voice on the loudspeakers started repeating a short message, directing people to the life shelters. People at the other tables looked around with confused expressions. The server behind the counter, a tall woman with big earrings and neon tattoos, took off her apron, folded it, and walked out the door. That started a stampede of customers pushing their way out.
Sean waved his young companions to stay, put in a call to Shelley, and stuck a finger in his unbudded ear. Shelley came on. Her image wavered and the signal crackled.
“Shelley, we’ve got a feral sapient in our computer systems, and it’s attacking the robotics.”
“I know. We’re under attack up here. I can’t stay on.”
“Understood. But I need warm bodies. Send me a six-member team. Right away. They should meet me in the Hub. I’ll be on a police headset—six-point-five nanometers.” As he was speaking, though, Shelley’s face faded and the crackling ebbed. SIGNAL LOST appeared in big red letters in his waveface.
“Shelley? Shelley? Goddammit!”
He put the police radio headset on, and set it to 36.
“Shelley, do you copy?”
He tried several times. Nothing. He turned. Geoff and his friends were staring at him, wide-eyed. Everyone else had already cleared out. In the street, people were running. The alarm still sounded.
“What do we do?” Geoff asked.
Sean glanced out through the windows. He could grab a couple of adults off the street, but it was very unlikely they would cooperate with his order. And even if they did, how could he count on them having a clue as to how to act in an emergency? Whereas he had seen these four in action. They were young, and had never fought before, but they were smart, fast, and strong. They worked well together. They kept their wits about them. And they were used to taking risks, operating in space.
He looked at their young, scared faces. There would be hell to pay later, even if he managed to get them all through in one piece.
Do what you have to, he thought. For the sake of the cluster. He had thought—prayed—that he was done with making those choices.
“The city is under attack from a feral artificial life form,” he told them. “I’ve been given a mission to stop it from escaping. I need help to do that. It’ll be dangerous, but we are all in grave danger while it’s in our systems. Will you help me?”
Geoff spoke up. “Count me in.”
“I’m in,” Amaya said, and Kamal replied, “Of course.”
“Hell, yes!�
�� Ian said.
“Good. Follow me.”
* * *
They were less than a block from the Nee Spokeway. They headed there at a run, jostling through the crowds. Geoff decided Moriarty had ESP—telekinesis or something. He parted the crowds like Moses parting the Red Sea. More likely he just scared the shit out of everyone.
At the spokeway, Moriarty pulled his revolver, chased people out and commandeered a lift, using his Resource Commission badge and a code on the keypad.
The lifts had been swamped for days. “I want to get me one of those,” Amaya said.
They accelerated up the spoke. Meanwhile, the old man briefed them. “Listen up! The feral artificial sapient is in our computer systems, and right now it’s creating a copy of itself in Upside-Down’s computer systems, up top. From there, it can beam itself anywhere in the solar system. We have to stop it before it finishes that copy.
“Somewhere in the Hub,” Moriarty went on, “is the main point of entry that transmits signals up to the surface. Any of you know where it is, or what it looks like?”
Kam raised his hand. “I do, sir. Or at least, I know what a demarc looks like. My dad does hardware support for computer networks, and I’ve helped him out once or twice.”
“All right. I’m told it’s near the pharmaceutical plant, but that may be bad intel. Soon as we reach the Hub, you take a good, hard look around and tell me which way we need to go.”
Through the lift windows, the Hub opened out before them. They reached the Hub’s center. The lift doors opened and Moriarty kicked out, gun drawn. Geoff and the others exchanged nervous glances. They lofted out behind the old man, looking around.
Emergency lighting beams crisscrossed the open space, casting long, stark shadows. Klaxons sounded. A calm voice urged people to hurry to the nearest life station. Small clots of people scrambled toward life stations amid the ropeworks strung through the Hub. Geoff wished he had a weapon. His mouth was dry.
Moriarty spoke. “All right, Kamal, give us a vector. Which way?”
They looked around. A short distance away were the surface lifts, larger than those of the spokeway they had just exited, and perpendicular to them. In the distance against the bulkheads were the assemblyworks, the pharmaceuticals manufacturing plant, YuanBioPharma, and Yamashiro Memorial Hospital.
