Heaven’s Fall

by David S. Goyer

  Her formation was ordered to its overdue thirty-minute downtime.

  Carbon-143’s eleven colleagues wheeled and departed for their normal recharge stations.

  She went in search of Whit Murray.

  ACTION: Even though there were 1,724 individual humans within the Ring facility’s boundaries (down four in the last two hours), locating an individual was not difficult, not for an Aggregate with access to the locator.

  Whit was one of thirty-nine human operators working in Ring control who had been sequestered as part of the investigation. Because he had no operational role or access to go/no-go functions, he had been released early (though with a flag: Examination of his data indicated excessive interest in events and information beyond his assigned function).

  He was in the cafeteria with a handful of other humans. Aggregate Carbon-143 did not consider herself an expert on human emotional states, but it was obvious from the shuffling walks and lack of chat that the mood was subdued.

  Whit was emerging from a food line with a tray. “Hello,” he said. He waited for her to speak; Carbon-143 did not feel this was the appropriate venue for her proposed conversation.

  Whit must have realized this. “Let’s go over here,” he said, leading her to an empty table in the far corner.

  As they reached it and Whit set down his tray, Carbon-143 announced, “Randall Dehm is dead.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  She explained. As she did, she noted changes in Whit’s physical state. His eyes began to water and his lower lip trembled. He seemed to have lost functional use of his hands.

  Finally he sat down. “I can’t believe they killed him.” He stared at the floor for a moment. “And he didn’t do anything wrong!”

  “We don’t know that.” In fact, the failure analysis had indicated some sloppiness on the part of human operators in Dehm’s section.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Carbon-143 regretted her statement. “Please accept my apologies. This is a time of great stress.

  “New humans will be inserted into the command system. One will almost certainly be given final go/no-go power for the next light.”

  “Why?”

  “Because Aggregate decision making is flawed.” She was stating a simple fact, the result of careful analysis as evident on all decision trees. But further consideration added weight and even horror to that statement.

  Aggregate decision making is flawed! Which led to the conclusion that Aggregate actions were incorrect. The destruction of Randall Dehm was wrong.

  The inevitable conclusion was that Carbon-143 was now free to make individual decisions. They couldn’t possibly be more wrong.

  She uttered these words: “Would you be willing to accept this assignment?”

  “There’s a risk.”

  “Correct. Failure could result in termination.”

  Whit smiled coldly. “From what I’ve learned, around here, success could result in termination. For humans.” He stood. “Where and when do I start?”

  Day Ten

  SUNDAY, APRIL 22, 2040

  Fiat justitia, ruat coelum.

  (“Let justice be done, though the heavens may fall!”)

  LUCIUS CALPURNIUS PISO CAESONINUS

  RACHEL

  It was still early morning, perhaps an hour after dawn, when Rachel Stewart-Radhakrishnan emerged, blinking, from the helicopter landing on a pad atop a giant, square building—and gasped.

  She had seen many amazing sights in her life, from her father’s launch on the Destiny-7 mission to the terrifying descent of the Houston Object and the looming planetscape of Keanu, but none struck her as perfectly blending impressive, frightening, and awe-inspiring as her first sight of the Ring.

  Part of the awe was due to the desert itself, so stark in its early-morning beauty. Then there was her appreciation of the ingenuity required to alter that landscape, not only building a small city where none had existed, but carving out what appeared to be a particle collider more than ten kilometers in diameter.

  Then to surround it all with collections of military vehicles so large they probably equaled the entire U.S. Army of Rachel’s youth.

  Keanu was bigger, but more remote. The Ring was right here in front of her.

  “And we thought we were going to take this out all by ourselves,” Rachel said, speaking just loudly enough for her husband to hear her. This was how you invaded another planet, not with a ragtag band of six in a used spacecraft . . . even if you had a secret backup vehicle.

  “We still do, don’t we?” Pav said. “Even though they did some of the work for us.” He nodded to the north, where a cluster of orange-and-yellow vehicles suggested repairs in progress. Residual smoke or steam supported that conclusion.

  Rachel favored Pav with half a smile.

  Because one thing had finally gone right, after the horror of the past two days, with the shootdown, the death of Edgar Chang, and the interrogation by the Reivers at Edwards.

  Yahvi had come through.

  Rachel had accepted her daughter’s radical idea of giving the Aggregates what they wanted, and that was proving to be a turning point in their relationship. Sasha Blaine and others had warned her about it over the years, because she’d never experienced it herself—nor had Pav. “It’s when the child takes over,” Sasha had said. “Where the adult realizes that the kid has a better idea. It’s one of the toughest things a parent learns.”

  “Why?” Rachel had said.

  “Because it means you, the parent, are one step closer to obsolescence.”

  Rachel still wasn’t sure she would have truly embraced Yahvi’s idea except for what happened a few moments later.

  They had been collected from the relatively private lunch area by THE officers and taken to another building, where Xavier and Tea, Zeds, and Edgely were being held. Rachel desperately wanted more privacy, more ability to talk with a bit of freedom (always assuming that someone could be aiming a directional microphone at them). She and Pav and Yahvi had agreed to pitch the idea of the proteus to THE but wanted Xavier and Zeds to hear it from them first.

  The building was a kind of lab, which made sense; their human captors and Aggregate allies were surely setting up Xavier’s printer and tearing through the Substance K.

  Rachel, Pav, and Yahvi were kept in the entryway as most of the gang from THE tried to go through a serious set of security doors. Rachel wondered just what kind of nasty chemicals or devices were normally found here.

  The coming and going allowed Rachel and Yahvi a moment of privacy.

  Rachel had noted her daughter’s pained expression of the last few minutes. “How are you feeling?”

  To her surprise, it wasn’t the stress of her recent experiences that was causing Yahvi pain. She was actually angry, saying, “I hear voices!”

  Rachel had swiftly taken them both into the nearest bathroom. There she told Yahvi that she had a transmitter implanted in her head, and instructed her in its use.

  “It sounds like Sasha talking,” Yahvi said. “Why is it taking so long? Oh.” She remembered the lag.

  She was a fast operator. Within moments she had relayed more vital information than Rachel and Pav had gathered in all their prior contacts.

  The biggest news . . . the Beehive had come to life and disgorged its first Revenant in twenty years: Sanjay Bhat.

  Rachel had had to fight the conflicting urges to scoff in disbelief and shout with excitement. Yes, it was unbelievable. But . . . yes, and double yes, it was wonderful!

  “He’s fine, though shaky.”

  And then the next large item. “He’s coming here with the vesicle,” Yahvi said. “What vesicle is that?”

  “Tell you later.”

  “Well, they’re saying ‘coming here,’ so I can get the idea. You and Dad didn’t
tell me much, did you?” She listened again, touching the back right of her head and nodding. In spite of the terrible situation they were in, Rachel felt serene and parental. . . . You wanted your child to grow up in safety, of course, but that was never likely to be possible on Keanu. The next best thing was having her grow up and be useful, no matter how dangerous the situation.

  Hearing someone entering the bathroom, Rachel pulled Yahvi into a stall. “Why—?” She put her hand on Yahvi’s mouth, shushing her.

  They both waited, wide-eyed, hearts pounding. A female voice: “You can’t stay in here.”

  “One more minute,” Rachel said.

  That seemed to satisfy the female THE counselor, since footsteps and a door closing indicated a departure.

  Yahvi whispered, “They want to know if we plan to destroy the Ring.”

  There was the question of the moment. “Hoping to!”

  “Is that the thing in northern Arizona?” Yahvi said.

  “Yes.”

  “Someone might have beaten us to it.” Yahvi quickly explained about the ominous pillar in the sky, and Counselor Nigel’s confirmation of an “event.” “Sasha says Sanjay wants us to take control of it instead.”

  Control? Of the Ring? What the hell—? “What does that mean?”

  Yahvi quickly vocalized the question, and Rachel had to wait through the double torture of the lag.

  “Don’t destroy the Ring until the last possible minute. They want us to find some way to hack into its controls or something. And maybe steer it.”

  “Oh, is that all?”

  The door opened again. Before Rachel could offer another excuse, Yahvi called, “We’re done!” Then, in a lower voice to Rachel, “And we are done. Lost the link.”

  As they washed up, Yahvi said, “When did you put that thing in my head?”

  “One night when you were asleep, maybe three weeks ago.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “You can’t tell what you don’t know.”

  “I am so sick of that.”

  Rachel agreed. She was very sick of trying to accomplish the impossible. Destroy the Ring? Damage it further? Take control of it?

  Right now all of those were fantasy.

  Next Rachel had had to endure the demonstration of the proteus, a process that surely shortened her life—not that she expected to die of old age as a captive of the Reivers.

  Everyone had been gathered in a two-story workspace, where, Pav suggested, aircraft engines might be suspended for repairs. “Look at those rigs hanging from the ceiling.”

  Half a dozen THE counselors were present, as were several other humans—the ones who had let Chang be killed, notably de la Vega.

  And, naturally, a dozen Aggregates, some of them swarming all over Adventure’s cargo and the proteus like ants on a spilled Popsicle.

  The only good thing about that moment had been seeing Tea and Edgely alive and in good health—neither seemed to have been abused.

  Xavier stood with Zeds. Both had obviously been wrung out about the printer and its uses. Xavier looked shaken and subdued. Zeds was stolid and serene, and still in his suit.

  “How are you doing?” she asked Xavier, once they had all established that they were largely in one piece.

  “Been better.”

  “And you, Zeds?” she said.

  “I share Xavier’s state.”

  That was a surprise; Sentries were usually quite reticent when it came to emotional responses, especially expressions of weakness. Rachel assumed that the de la Vega and THE interrogations produced results from humans . . . what had they gotten from the Sentry?

  Then the fun began.

  For some reason the Aggregates seemed to think that the Sentry knew more about the Keanu assembler than the humans. Zeds was a capable operator, as was Pav, but neither was at Xavier’s level.

  Xavier had to talk Zeds through the demo.

  Before it really got started, there was a heated discussion about what the proteus could do—and should do. Xavier was clearly trying to be cagey. “It’s only as good as its input,” he kept saying.

  “What kind of input?” de la Vega said. “Electronic? Paper? A model?”

  And there Xavier was stuck.

  Rachel had to save her friend. “Most of the inputs are preloaded on Keanu,” she said. “Without access to its data banks, we are limited to producing only a handful of items.”

  From behind her came the voice of an Aggregate: “What handful of items did you have preloaded?”

  “Weapons,” she announced. She didn’t bother to address the Reiver that had spoken; she knew that to talk to one was to talk to all of them.

  And she didn’t have to force herself to smile when she added, “Devices that will kill Aggregates.”

  Xavier just stared at Rachel. Even Pav looked shocked. “Yay, Mom,” Yahvi said.

  A murmur passed through all nine humans, too. “Don’t worry,” Xavier said, picking up on Rachel’s lead. “The weapons aren’t active.”

  And then Zeds said, “Yet.”

  “Then,” a different Aggregate said, “we will destroy these devices and the materials they use, for our own safety.”

  “Let’s not be hasty,” Rachel said. “Just because the proteus was preloaded with weapons doesn’t mean that’s the only thing it can produce.”

  “But anything that might be useful requires input from Keanu,” de la Vega said. He gave off an air of smug superiority mixed with hostility. Even if she didn’t blame him for Chang’s death, Rachel would have enjoying punching the man in the face.

  “Yes,” Rachel said. “I believe I said that.”

  “But . . . we don’t have those inputs.”

  He talked to her as if she were in grade school. Rachel took a breath. When she lived in Houston, her mother had insisted she learn not only to swim, but to dive. There she had been . . . eight years old on the low board at the Clear Lake YWCA pool, trying not to scream at Megan Stewart for making her feel afraid. She had closed her eyes and dived, smacking her belly and filling her nose with water.

  That was how she felt at this moment. “We can get a huge variety of downloads when we regain communication with Keanu.” She addressed de la Vega. “You removed transmitters from our skulls.”

  For a moment she thought the man was going to lie or evade. But then: “Yes. Are you telling us to put them back in?” His tone made it clear that wasn’t going to happen.

  “Unnecessary. You have systems that can easily communicate with Keanu. You could put us on the line and monitor everything we say.”

  “Conceded. But you haven’t convinced me that we should.”

  Rachel glanced at Pav. She took another breath, hoping she could make this convincing, when her husband said, “Look, you just had a major failure of some kind. You have undoubtedly lost unique equipment and devices that can’t easily be reproduced, or certainly not quickly.” He pointed at the proteus. “That’s what our machine can do.”

  “Why do you think we’ve had a failure?”

  The trio of THE officers that had dealt with Yahvi displayed their first touches of human vulnerability. They actually got uncomfortable; one of the two men blushed and cleared his throat, a clear sign of nervousness.

  “We can see the evidence in the sky,” Yahvi said. “And everyone on this base seems to be freaked out. They wouldn’t be doing that unless something just went wrong.”

  De la Vega wasn’t giving anything away. But the blushing THE counselor said, in the quietest possible voice, “We confirmed an event.”

  De la Vega turned to the young man with genuine surprise. “Well, then,” he said. “Let’s stipulate that we could use some assistance—”

  “Take us to the facility,” Rachel said. “Let us see the damaged equipment, get its specs and all available
data, and feed that to Keanu. They will process it and download instructions to the printer.” She nodded toward the towering piles of Substance K. “We can’t replicate something the size of a rocket, but we can make several modest-sized electronic components and a whole lot of small ones.” She smiled again. “If that would be of use.”

  “Wait here,” de la Vega said, turning and walking out. His two deputies followed, one of them shooting a look at the guilty THE counselor that expressed a remarkable amount of scorn and pity.

  Pav, Tea, and Xavier couldn’t help jumping up and down like schoolchildren. “Hold on,” Rachel said. “I’m not sure we ought to be celebrating.” Especially, she thought, with half a dozen THE goons and double that number of Reiver Aggregates watching.

  “This is true,” Zeds said. “We may only be helping the Reivers complete their weapon while merely postponing our own destruction.”

  Tea slapped the Sentry on the chest. “Oh, come on, haven’t you heard the saying, ‘Live to fight another day’?”

  “No.”

  “Well, now you have!”

  Rachel glanced at Yahvi. Her daughter had refrained from celebrating but was nodding her approval. Which filled Rachel with good feelings the way praise from her parents used to.

  God, our roles are truly reversed—

  More quickly than Rachel would have believed, de la Vega and his scornful assistant were back. “We will be leaving within the hour,” he said.

  This statement kicked the Aggregates into motion. They gathered up the 3-D printer and the boxes of Substance K. “Hey,” Xavier said, regaining his sense of humor, “careful with that shit! You need it more than we do!”

  As the aliens carried the equipment and cargo away, Xavier said to Rachel, “I sure hope you know what you’re doing.”

  He and Edgely, Pav, and Yahvi headed outside. Tea took Rachel’s arm. “That was really, really—”

  “Stupid? Fatal?”

  Tea smiled. “I was going to say brave or possibly even cunning.”