Braben slid himself next to Kodiak; Kodiak glanced at his partner, but his face was unreadable in the shadow of the gallery.
The stations around the two curving consoles were occupied by JMC servitors, a mix of male and female human facsimiles, all of whom appeared to be busy at work. The phalanx of black Bureau servitors had spread out around the chamber, their formidable weaponry aimed at the technicians, but that seemed unnecessary as the JMC robots continued calmly about their tasks. Cait had been pulled to one side, still held by her two guards, while Flood stood next to another servitor clad in the purple of the JMC. Rather than the high-collared uniforms of the servitors, this one was wearing a suit. He looked older, with dark gray hair brushed back into a pompadour and bushy dark eyebrows. The moving light in the room made it hard to see, but his face was jowly and deeply lined. He had his arms folded, a slight smile on his face; that, and the way he and Flood seemed to be talking, suggested, if Kodiak didn’t know any better, that he was a real person, rather than a servitor facsimile.
Kodiak frowned. He couldn’t hear what the pair were saying. The man rocked on his heels and nodded as he listened to Flood. If anything, he looked very relaxed.
“The refinery manager, I guess,” whispered Kodiak. “The one we never met.”
“Oh, he’s more than that, brother,” said Braben. “That’s not just a company executive. That’s Mr. Caviezel himself.”
Kodiak turned to his partner and found himself nose-to-barrel with Braben’s staser. Kodiak felt his blood turn to ice as Braben grinned, then pulled himself to his feet. He gestured with the staser that Kodiak should do the same.
Kodiak stood and held his hands up in surrender. He glanced down over his shoulder, into the control room, and saw the JMC executive and Flood staring up at him.
The executive—Caviezel? It couldn’t be, surely, Caviezel had been dead for years—laughed and called out, “Good work, Agent.”
Kodiak turned to Braben.
“Always a pleasure, Mr. Caviezel,” said Braben, his eyes fixed on Kodiak’s. Then he said, “Sorry, man,” and pulled the trigger.
34
Kodiak flexed his fingers and rolled his neck. He’d been dumped against a wall, and when he opened his eyes, he saw one of Flood’s black-clad soldiers standing over him.
Slowly, gently, Kodiak pulled his legs up and rubbed his thighs. His body ached, the muscles alternating between a heavy numbness and hammer-blow pins and needles. He winced at the sensation and looked back up at his guard. The man’s eyes were hidden behind the goggles of his black facemask as he watched his prisoner.
Fucking stasers. That was the third time he’d been shot—that he remembered, anyway. Being stunned by staser sucked. But at least, Kodiak thought, he was alive.
Kodiak looked around, getting his bearings. He was down in the control room. In front of him was one of the console rows, the servitors working hard with the Jupiter projection in front of them. On his right stood Flood, Mr. Caviezel, and Special Agent Michael Braben. They were all looking at him.
Kodiak shook his head, sighed. “Oh, Mikey, Mikey, Mikey. What happened? The Bureau didn’t give you a raise? Coffee not good enough for your refined palate? Actually, maybe I don’t blame you on that one.”
Braben hissed. “Just shut up, will you?”
“Hey, at least I found the bad guy, right? The chief is going to be pleased. I’m looking right at him.”
Braben placed his hands on his own chest, his face twisted in mock surprise. “I’m the bad guy? You must have missed the memo, brother. I’m here to save the Fleet and everyone in it. I think that makes me one of the good guys, doesn’t it?”
Mr. Caviezel had his arms folded, his eyes narrow as he watched Kodiak. Flood, standing on the other side of Braben, seemed to find the whole encounter amusing, her expression slightly glazed. Kodiak nodded at her.
“I can see why you’re happy,” he said. “Your organization is pretty good at brainwashing its members.”
Flood’s smile grew even wider. “You really aren’t a very good agent, are you? Your friend doesn’t work for me.”
Kodiak raised an eyebrow.
Now it was Mr. Caviezel’s turn to look amused. “No, my dear agent. He works for me. They both do.”
Kodiak glanced up at his guard, then looked for the other members of Flood’s gang. Apart from the one standing over him, they didn’t seem to be in the control room. There was no sign of Cait either.
“Figured you were pretty well equipped for what’s supposed to be a group of so-called pilgrims,” he said as he shifted on the floor, trying to get more comfortable, trying to assess his level of fitness. He counted himself lucky he was big and reasonably fit—he had six months of moderate manual labor on Helprin’s Gambit to thank for that. He’d also been shot by a staser multiple times now and was used to what it felt like. “So the JMC didn’t just hire you, they equipped you.”
Flood nodded. “Arms. Ships. Everything we need to shine our light, to find the golden child and bring her to the Fallen One’s embrace. Caviezel has seen the same glorious vision as I have.”
With that she turned to the JMC executive. Caviezel closed his eyes and nodded at Flood, pursing his lips. To Kodiak it was so blatantly fake he wanted to laugh, but Flood didn’t seem to notice anything was wrong. She was too far gone.
“Where’s Cait?” asked Kodiak.
Mr. Caviezel unfolded his arms and made a show of checking his wrist computer.
“Our friend has a point, Your Holiness. I think it’s time we got this show on the road.” He turned and walked over to one of the servitors at the console. He leaned on the back of the station’s chair and squinted up into the planetary projection. “Report please, Mr. Klaus.”
The servitor acknowledged, its hands moving over the controls. The Jupiter projection rotated until a different side of the planet was facing them. Then the image zoomed in until it showed just an immense, flat view of the banded clouds. A series of indicators appeared, forming a circle with a vector from each icon crossing the center. There, at the point where the vectors converged, another icon appeared, pulsing red.
“Sigmas fully converged. Final stage of mine reconfiguration under way.”
Kodiak frowned as he peered at the projection. Mine reconfiguration? Glass had said the JMC used autonomous robot mines to extract the gas, each able to rebuild themselves to optimize extraction. If the Sigmas were some kind of mine, it looked like they were all virtually on top of each other.
Reconfiguring.
Kodiak blinked. Not reconfiguring. Building something. A new machine, crafted out of their own combined structures. Something big. Something, perhaps, that needed … a Pilot?
Kodiak tried to push himself up, but his arms felt like they were on fire as he strained, so he sat back against the wall.
So, there was Caviezel’s part of the bargain. He promised the Morning Star he could give them Lucifer. And he was. His JMC mines were building it out of themselves.
Flood moved closer to the projection. As Kodiak watched, she stepped through the gap that separated the two curving console rows. She looked mesmerized by the projection, and with a rapt look on her face, she reached toward it.
Mr. Caviezel looked up. “Soon, Ms. Flood. Very soon.”
Her trance-like state disturbed, Flood snapped her hand back and turned to face Caviezel. She looked angry, her brows knitted together as she stared at her employer. “Do not dare to command the Fallen One,” she said. “Lucifer shall rise at our call, not yours.”
Mr. Caviezel spread his hands in another mock expression of apology. “Then let’s bring in the Pilot,” he said.
At this, Flood’s creepy smile reappeared. She touched her collar, clearly signaling someone.
A door at the side of the control room slid open. A facsimile servitor appeared, followed by the other two of Flood’s foot soldiers, dragging Cait in by the arms.
Kodiak swore. He glanced at Braben, but Braben’s expre
ssion was set as he watched the group walk in.
The bastards.
They’d stripped Cait of her Bureau armor, leaving her in just a tight black bodysuit. More shocking to Kodiak was the fact that they had shaved her head. She looked uninjured, but only semi-conscious, clearly stunned again to stop her from using her unique psi-abilities on them.
She also looked afraid. Very, very afraid. As she was led in, she caught sight of Kodiak. The two of them looked into each other’s eyes for a moment, Cait’s expression pleading, begging, but all Kodiak could do was give a small shake of his head.
He had to get her out of here, had to. But how? The task seemed impossible. The room was full of the Bureau servitors, now under the control of the JMC. Kodiak probably couldn’t even have stood on his own, not until the tight pins-and-needles ache of the staser stun faded. And it was fading, fast.
Little comfort. All he could do for now was watch.
The group stopped in front of Flood. The leader of the terrorist cell walked up to Cait. “You are blessed, Caitlin Smith, golden child. Truly blessed. I wish you well on your glorious journey.” Then she took a step back and waved at her acolytes. “Prepare her,” she said, and then she turned to Caviezel, who stood by the console. She didn’t speak, but Kodiak could see her face was wet from tears.
Caviezel smiled, then gave a small bow. “Your Holiness,” he said. Then he tapped the back of the servitor’s chair. “Mr. Klaus, take the refinery systems offline and reboot the computer for administrator access.”
The servitor acknowledged. A moment later he looked up at the executive. “Sir, would you please enter the system manager ID?”
“But of course,” said Caviezel. He adjusted his cuffs, then leaned over the console to punch in the access code.
“Systems reboot in five,” said Klaus, looking up at the projection of Jupiter in the center of the control room. “Four … three … two … one…”
The close-up view of the Jovian clouds and the cluster of reconfiguring Sigmas zoomed out and once again the giant image of the whole planet dominated the control room. Then it faded and vanished. There was a beat as the light in the control room shifted, the white uplights and spots no longer washed out by the oily, earthen colors of the projection. Then the light changed again as the open space where the projection had floated was filled with a purple and blue JMC company logo. The logo revolved for a few seconds, and was then replaced by scrolling text and symbols as the station’s main computer rebooted for administrator access.
The text disappeared and was replaced by a second logo as the refinery’s operating system came back online.
From his position sitting against the wall, Kodiak read the words floating in the air with a now familiar sinking feeling.
GEOTECHNIC LOGISTICAL AUTONOMOUS SYSTEMS SUPERVISOR.
G-L-A-S-S.
Glass.
Kodiak willed the strength to return to his body, wondering how the hell he was going to get himself and Cait out of there alive.
35
The GLASS logo faded, replaced with the live projection of Jupiter. There were no computer overlays or text now, just the hologram of the planet, the bands of clouds slowly rotating, the edges shearing, creating eddies and whirlpools. To Kodiak it looked quite beautiful. He idly wondered where the JMC refinery was positioned in relation to the gathering of the Sigma mines, but without a computer overlay, he didn’t have a clue. The planet was so large it was impossible to judge distances.
Flood turned to Caviezel. “Is it ready?”
The executive peered down at the console in front of him. At the other stations, the servitors sat still, awaiting new instructions as their tasks were temporarily suspended by the systems reboot.
“Almost,” said Caviezel.
Flood frowned and moved to the executive’s side. Kodiak could see her gaze move over the console readings, but the look on her face told him all he needed to know. She had no clue how the systems worked. Whatever she was expecting to happen, she needed the JMC to run the operation.
It also occurred to Kodiak that whatever Caviezel had promised her, whatever hardware was being built in the cloud deck of Jupiter, it couldn’t have been Lucifer. Lucifer, the Fallen One, the mythical god the Morning Star devoted themselves to pursuing, was just a myth. At least, Kodiak thought so. But even if it wasn’t, the machine Caviezel was building was just that. A machine, made out of the robot gas mines. Kodiak doubted that that qualified as the glorious return of the Morning Star’s god.
Which meant Caviezel didn’t need Flood, or her group. He had the hardware, and now Flood had brought him the software. Cait, the Pilot … the Pilot not for Lucifer, but for Caviezel’s machine.
And Kodiak was pretty sure that that had never even crossed Flood’s mind. As far as the zealot was concerned, this whole thing was being done for her benefit.
That still left the assassinations. Kodiak hadn’t worked those out yet. Glass had said the Morning Star hadn’t been responsible, which just left the JMC. There was a connection—something linked to the company’s contract to repatriate the Fleet’s war dead, one of whom was, officially anyway, Tyler Smith.
And what did Caviezel plan to do with “Lucifer,” anyway? Kodiak’s mind raced. It was a ship, it had to be, one that required a psi-abled Pilot to be directly wired into the computer.
“What’s wrong?” asked Flood. There was a note of impatience in her voice, Kodiak mused. Well, he could understand that. It wasn’t every day your god decided to make his glorious return, right?
“Nothing,” said Caviezel. “With the main systems rebooted we have temporarily lost contact with the Sigma platforms.”
“Lost contact?” Flood sounded very, very alarmed.
Caviezel smiled. “Oh, no need to worry. This is standard operating procedure. The Sigma platforms are quite capable of carrying on their work without us. Communications will be re-established automatically in a few moments.” He nodded at Cait. “Just in time for the Pilot to take over.”
Flood hesitated. Caviezel smiled at her and gestured to the planetary projection. “Trust me, Your Holiness. The Jovian Mining Corporation is at your disposal.”
Flood, apparently satisfied, nodded, then turned to her men. “Install the Pilot.”
Kodiak pushed himself to his feet, using the wall behind for balance. He couldn’t just watch them do this. He had to do something. Anything. He’d brought her here himself. He was responsible for her safety. For her life. “No, don’t do it,” he said. “It’ll kill her.”
His guard raised his weapon. Kodiak looked down the barrel, wondering if this was it. He was going to get shot and then nothing would matter.
Kodiak counted his heartbeats, a measure of time that he was sure was about to run out.
Then Braben said, “Leave him. I can guard him. He won’t do anything, trust me.”
Kodiak’s former partner walked over to him, staser aimed from the hip. Flood’s foot soldier lowered his weapon.
Kodiak sighed and shook his head. “Look at what they’re doing, Mike. You can’t want this. They’ll kill her. And us.”
Braben shook his head. “You just don’t have a clue, do you?”
“Mike, listen—”
“Just shut the hell up.” Braben lifted his gun.
Kodiak sighed again, but complied. His partner was long gone, suckered into whatever crazy hell Caviezel and Flood had constructed.
The two men holding Cait had dragged her over to the far wall, which was studded with control panels around a tall, blank rectangular panel. One of the JMC servitors moved over to the station and punched a sequence. The blank panel slid up, revealing a mass of cabling and circuitry with myriad colored lights winking in the tangle. The servitor moved to the exposed systems and began pulling and reconnecting cables, finally taking one out, reconnecting it, then holding the end up on its hand. The connector at the end of this cable was a long silver spike.
The guards dragged Cait forward.
“Holy shit,” whispered Kodiak. Braben’s mouth twitched as he watched, but he remained silent, impassive.
That was why Glass had operated on Cait on Earth: they were going to plug her directly into the computer, and the Fleet manifest tag would have interfered. Linking minds with AIs was nothing out of the ordinary—that was what the psi-marines did when they disrupted the SpiderWeb, after all. But that was a psychic connection. This was different. This was a hack, a direct, physical connection between the computer and Cait’s brain.
Flood was deranged, fanatical. Kodiak started to suspect that Caviezel was too.
Kodiak remembered what Glass had said. He needed Cait’s mind to burn out the Spider AI from the systems. Did Caviezel even know the JMC computer had been compromised? Glass—the station’s operating system—had been fighting the infection on its own. Caviezel’s machine, Flood’s god—Kodiak realized they were irrelevant. Glass was going to use Cait to clean the system. Whether she actually became the Pilot or not was irrelevant to the computer.
He had to act. He had to do something. He was a Special Agent of the Fleet Bureau of Investigation. He was in the middle of enemy territory, hardly able to act for himself. But he had to try. It was his duty.
Kodiak turned to his former partner. “Mike, listen to me. We can’t just stand here and watch this. We’re with the Bureau, remember? We serve and protect the Fleet. Mike, come on!”
Braben snickered. “Yeah. Like the Fleet serves and protects its people, right?”
Kodiak shook his head. Whatever line Braben had been fed by Caviezel, it had been a good one.
His thoughts were shattered as Cait called out for help. Kodiak shifted on his feet, bracing himself for action. He was feeling much better, the aftereffects of the staser now nothing more than a dull ache in his muscles. But as he moved, he was met by the barrel of Braben’s staser.
The Machine Awakes Page 25
