Darcy walked through the control room on her way to the Poyekhali. Michael Stuart-Test was sitting as his console, looked up, and saw her. He took his headphones off.
"Darcy, you're not heading out to Farside, are you?"
"What? No. Why would I be heading to Farside?"
Michael looked at her oddly. "Uh - did you not get the message?"
"What message?"
"John called here looking for you. He wanted a delivery, and I said I'd send one of the automated hoppers out, but he said he wanted you to come out personally. I assumed after that that he left a message for you."
Darcy shook her head, confused. "No." She pulled out her phone and double checked. No, no message from John.
She looked at Doug. "Did he say why he wanted me to go out personally?"
"No. I thought it was sort of weird, actually."
Darcy pursed her lips. Darn it. Something wasn't right, but she didn't know what.
"OK, I'm going out there. Are any of the hoppers free?"
Dough shook his head. "They're all free - because Mr. Lai has the place on a total lockdown."
"Lockdown? Why?"
"Did you not hear that Gamma's sats are getting burned again?"
"What? No. When?"
"Ten minutes ago."
For the first time Darcy looked up at the big board and saw that all of the outgoing flights were cancelled. Her face paled.
Chapter 92
2064: Icarcus Crater, Lunar Farside
John walked past Duncan, who was rolling up the tent's sun shield, on his way to the solar panels. The panels finished folding themselves into a bundle just as he got to them and John immediately lifted it and carried it toward the mules. As he passed Duncan a second time, the Dog looked up.
"I don't see what the big deal is. The peakers burned Gamma's satellites before and nothing happened. So they burned them again. So what? Why the big hurry?"
Max turned away from the lubrication maintenance he was doing on the mules and growled. "Didn't you hear what Gamma said about the satellites over Farside, Duncan?"
"Yeah. So?"
"Something is going on. Something big,” Max said.
Behind them the deflated tent gave three beeps as the electrostatic cleaning sequence finished and the memory wire poles started to fold the thing into a tight package.
"Yeah, but - we were just about to have dinner. And tonight we've got apple pie for desert. Can't we just eat and sleep first, then in the morning -"
Max barked at the younger Dog. "Gamma didn't say 'go about your business, everything's great, I'll have the sats back in a week.'" He slapped the ground in front of him with one fore paw. "He told us to get to Zhukovskiy."
Duncan shrugged. "OK, fine. We'll go to Zhukovskiy. But I still don't see what the rush is."
John shook his head. The Dogs didn't get the seriousness of their situation - the fact that there might be PK ships overhead right now. Oh, sure, he understood it, but he didn't feel fear - real fear - in his gut. He was second generation, which meant that he'd been a pup, just a few months old, when The Team had saved them from the labs and smuggled them here. The second generation had heard the stories, but they didn't remember them.
Not like Blue and Rex. They remembered. The BuSuR investigation, the politicians visiting the lab, the leaked plan, the lab techs going through their days helpless, and with tears in their eyes.
John slid the solar panel bundle into the mule and closed the hatch, and then turned back to where Max and Duncan were arguing over a PK invasion on the one hand, and apple pie on the other.
Duncan handed the rolled-up sun shield to Max. "My point is that we've got four mules and tons of supplies. There's no rush. Besides, Darcy knows where we are."
"That's irrelevant, Duncan."
"What? Why?"
"I told you already."
"Huh? When?"
Max turned away without answering.
"Hey! That was a serious question!" Duncan called after him.
Max ignored him.
John sighed. Max could be a dick, and Duncan deserved better. "Duncan, hey."
"What?" He could hear the hurt in Duncan's voice.
"The first time the satellites got burned they were hit when they were over nearside. That implies earth-orbiting weapons - or, heck, maybe just ground based lasers somewhere. But this time Gamma told us just before we lost contact that the satellites were getting burned over Farside!"
"So?"
"If the satellites got hit when they weren't in line of sight from Earth, then where are the weapons that they're using?"
Duncan shrugged. "I dunno...Where?"
John closed his eyes for a second. God help him, he was feeling a bit of sympathy for Max right now. Duncan was a literal genius, but sometimes it seemed like his brain just wasn't in gear. He was probably still thinking about his idiotic game or something.
"I don't know, Duncan - and that's the point! Doesn't it concern you that not only are Earth governments attacking lunar assets for a second time, but now they're doing it via satellites or ships that either are in orbit around the moon or are somewhere further out and can look down at us?"
Duncan looked at him blankly.
John said, "Imagine that you're playing chess and when it's your opponent's turn, suddenly one of your pieces gets toppled...but you don't know how he did it."
He seemed to have Duncan's attention now, so he pressed on. "You figure out that your opponent has somehow changed the rules and has invisible pieces -"
"Oh, cool idea! Have you ever played fairy chess? I mean, not like just skinning the UI of pieces with fairies and trolls and stuff, but those other weird chess pieces like 'riders'? Although, actually, it is cooler when your do it in AR and you have the skins! I downloaded this one skin from the archive once that was based on the Dragon Cycle universe and it was really cool."
John closed his eyes. Jesus.
He turned down the volume and scanned the rest of the campsite. Blue and Rex had packed up the last of the equipment and were standing near the mules, ready to leave. Max was a dozen meters in front the mules, looking over his shoulder, waiting for the rest of them. Duncan was bent over, looking at a rock.
John caught Max's eye and tilted his head toward the horizon. Max nodded and started walking. Blue and Rex followed. The mules stood from their crouches and pranced in place, waiting until the entire party was underway. John followed the Dogs and the mule clambered after him. Behind them Duncan looked up from his rock, saw that they were leaving, and hurried to catch up.
John adjusted the volume on Duncan's channel.
"... so if you ask me, all of the Night Riders are pretty cool, but the Ork King is the best. But here's my new idea - putting in the cannon piece from Xiangqi - that's Chinese Chess. That would be awesome. And maybe mix in some Battle Arena. You know Battle Arena? It's a FPS with puzzles to unlock gun features. Have you ever played it?"
John blinked. "Ah, no, I haven't played that. You know what, Duncan? Let me bow out of this conversation for a bit, OK?"
He'd had more than enough talk about games over the last few months. But more than that, he felt a weird jumped-up energy he hadn't felt in years. He was restless and edgy, and talking about silly games was intolerable.
He wanted to take some action. But what? It was impossible to know what to do when they had no idea what was going on.
Hopefully when they reached Zhukovskiy - where, presumably, Gamma had yet another secret installation - they'd learn more.
John put one foot ahead of the other, staring at the ground as he walked.
Things were getting weird. Weird and scary.
Chapter 93
2064: militia training facility, Tunnel 969, Aristillus, Lunar Nearside
Olusegeun sat in the delivery skid and watched the Morlock Volunteers practice. He shook his head. The men of Third Company weren't ready. Not remotely. Half of them had little or no experience with firearms. The other half had
experience - or claimed to - but their ability to hit the targets with the awkward oversized Gargoyle rifles that Mike had equipped them with didn't support their earlier boasts.
On the surface range they'd been so bad that Olusegeun had stopped the drill and brought them down to this tunnel. He couldn't run the risk of their stray shots flying over the berm and striking solar panels or surface factories a kilometer or more away.
He'd also thought that getting the men out of their bulky spacesuits might help.
It hadn't.
On the firing line a lieutenant yelled a command and the men stopped shooting, one by one. The final shot rang out and the officer gave another command. The men of the company picked up their weapons and equipment and filtered back to the prep area.
"So that's Third Company." Olusegeun left his evaluation unsaid. He looked at Patrick. "How's your First Company?"
"We've been practicing..." He let the sentence trail off.
"And?"
Patrick sighed. "And it's a start."
Olusegeun looked at the firing line. Patrick's men were in position. The range master gave a command and rifle blasts drowned echoed through the tunnel.
Olusegeun picked up a pair of binoculars and zoomed in until he could make out the white-painted steel targets three hundred meters further down. The good news was that each had a dozen or so massive bullet holes. The bad news was that five times that many rounds had been fired in each lane over the last hour and a half. Olusegeun put the binoculars down and waited for the string of fire to die down. There was no way he could speak over the massive blasts and the surflike roar of echoes that bounced up and down the tunnel.
A minute later the firing slowed. Olusegeun opened his mouth to speak to Patrick, and then a final shot rang out from the firing line and one of the ceiling-mounted light-panels over the range exploded in a spray of glass and sparks.
Olusegeun turned to Patrick.
Patrick exhaled. "The good news is that most of my men can hit the side of a barn. The bad news is that there's not much call to shoot barns." A look of embarrassment washed over his face. "I shouldn't be joking. This is my fault. I should train them more, I should - I should do something."
Olusegeun sighed. "No. Well, yes. But your men are no worse than the other companies. The problem is that we need NCOs to work with the men. We need instructors who know how to train troops."
"For that matter, we need decent rifles. Mike's insane shoulder cannons -"
Olusegeun shook his head. "I've tried that fight." He paused. "You haven't worked with Mike much, have you?"
"I've met him a few times, but no, not really."
"Have you heard the joke about the difference between Mike and a mushroom farmer?"
Patrick shook his head. "No."
"A mushroom farmer keeps the lights off and shovels bullshit at all his problems."
"And?"
Olusegeun let one corner of his mouth curl up in wry amusement. "Mike doesn't mind if the lights stay on."
"So we're stuck with these giant guns?"
Olusegeun nodded his head. "Afraid so."
"I was having beers with captains in Mark Soldner's and Rob Wehrmann's units. Those guys are using AR-style designs in .308. It's not exactly a formal standard, but if we adopted that, the field logistics -"
Olusegeun cut him off. "Mike makes things happen. Sometimes they're the right thing, sometimes they're the wrong thing, but they're always the Mike thing. You and your men can carry smaller rifles if you want, but Mike's not going to pay for that, or allow it. If you have the funds to equip two hundred men with spacesuits, rifles, vehicles -"
Up at the firing line a command was given and the roar washed over them again.
There was another explosion from the tunnel ceiling. Olusegeun looked and saw that a second light panel had been hit by a stray bullet. One end of the light fixture broke free of the ceiling and swung, shooting sparks.
And then the entire unit tore loose and fell slowly toward the tunnel floor.
Jesus.
They had a lot of work to do.
Chapter 94
2064: 20km west of Zhukovskiy Crater, Lunar Nearside
They'd been walking for hours when John caught a hint of movement in the distance. He stopped and looked closely. Nothing. He zoomed his screen and looked again.
It could be one of Gamma's rovers, but they were still far from Zhukovskiy.
If it wasn't Gamma, then it must be the PKs. If they could burn satellites over farside, could they have also landed?
He'd taught the Dogs basic infantry hand signs. He hoped like hell they remembered them. John raised one hand and made a fist, and then gestured downward.
He looked over his shoulder. All of the Dogs had frozen and crouched.
Even Duncan. Good.
There, behind the Dogs, the four mules were still walking. Shit! He quickly used his interface to order them to stop and crouch. The mules squatted and John turned back to the front and resumed his scan of the horizon. Where had the movement been? Had he imagined it?
A calm voice came over the radio. "John, if you're concerned that the -"
"Gamma!?!"
"Yes, it's me, John. One of me. Do you see this rover?" The small object that he'd seen before now moved again. It was a kilometer away, maybe two. "Please switch from radio to laser coms, aimed at this target."
The Dogs looked at John inquisitively, but he repeated his hand gestures. He'd talk to them when he was done. He switched to laser and used the overlay's crosshairs to select the small rover on the horizon. A ping of contact.
"Gamma, what are you doing here? We're only halfway to the Zhukovskiy."
"As soon as contact was lost I sent out a column of rovers in line-of-sight relay formation so as to intercept you as soon as possible. You're talking to the foremost rover in the column."
"Clever."
"Line of sight stations relaying data with light have been used since March 2, 1791."
"Gamma, we can talk about that some other time. Why are we on laser coms? Are the PKs here?"
"The PKs destroyed satellites - including ones that were occluded from Earth view."
"Yes, we know. You told us as your satellites were going down."
"I do not have that fact in this consistency sequence."
"What are you -"
"John, I must interrupt. Have you seen any evidence of PK forces since we lost contact?"
"No, nothing. What's going on? Tell me what you know."
"I will, but first, please gather your companions and resume your hike to Zhukovskiy Crater as we talk. Time is of the essence. And please stay on laser and off of radio. I don't know who may be listening."
"Give me a minute." The laser coms were a backup system, and the button-sized unit on the top of each backpack's mast wasn't capable of aiming at multiple targets at once. John selected one Dog, connected with laser, explained the situation, then moved on to the second, the third, and the fourth.
Duncan complained that he was tired. Reasonably so. They'd hiked for eight hours, and then started to make camp just before the replacement sats were burned - at which point they'd immediately torn down the tent and started walking again. "Climb onto one of the mules if you need to. It'll go slower, but we're all dragging anyway."
Duncan did, and then, either because he shared the idea with the others or they saw his example, Blue and Rex climbed on other mules.
Max stayed on the ground. John nodded in acknowledgement and Max nodded back.
John started walking again. Behind him Max and the mules followed.
John located Gamma's rover again and targeted it with the coms laser. "OK, we're moving. Now tell me what's going on, and what your plan is."
"I have a long-duration biosphere shelter at my Zhukovskiy crater facility. You and your companions can stay there while we wait to reestablish connection with Aristillus."
"How long will that take?"
"Based on capabilities at Si
nus Lunicus, I presume that new satellites could be launched within four days."
John breathed deeply. Four days. That wasn't too bad. Just four days and he could send a message to Darcy, asking for pickup at Zhukovskiy, and then he and the Dogs could get back to Aristillus. And then - free of Gamma listening in to his conversations - he could tell to Mike and the others about Gamma's secret facilities and potential for run-away growth.
Gamma continued, "However, given the destruction of even the new armored satellites several hours ago, I am not optimistic that the replacements will survive."
Shit. Of course.
"To go into more detail: I don't know the enemy force structure or location. I do know that all of my satellites were destroyed within a span of 12 minutes and 38 seconds - including ones that were not visible from low Earth orbit. I don't know beyond a 95% confidence interval, but my best theory is that there are Earth government forces in lunar orbit. Other instances of me may have more data, but I do not know if they do."
John paused. "Other instances of you?"
"Yes, I've explained this - most recently thirty one days and twelve hours ago. Let me quote."
Gamma played back audio of a conversation from weeks ago:
"No, that's incorrect. Most algorithms aren't decomposable across trillions of independent processors. Consciousness can not be implemented with map-reduce. Different tasks need to be delegated to different processors, to different clusters of processors, and to different meta-clusters. As more processors are recruited the overhead of monitoring performance and allocating resources requires introspecting into the separate centers of processing -"
"You're losing me. What does this have to do with run-away intelligence ?"
"My point is this: as I grow larger I run into the problem that parts of me start becoming conscious on their own - as if parts of my mind are defecting. I can usually reintegrate stray chunks of consciousness, but I'm always working against fundamental principles of information theory. For a given quantity of computational power, the distribution, in size and frequency, of partition spasms follow a power law, of course, but the total number of spasms ramps up hard after - ”
The Powers of the Earth (Aristillus Book 1) Page 39
