The two men holding Cait manhandled her toward the computer alcove. Cait struggled, but was held firm. The servitor holding the spiked cable stepped behind Cait, out of Kodiak’s line of sight.
Kodiak’s heart raced. This was it. Do or die.
“No, you don’t, you motherfucker!” he yelled as he pushed past Braben and ran toward the group. He was brought to a spinning stop as one of the servitors at the main console stood and grabbed his arm as he passed, pulling him sharply back. Kodiak tripped as he was yanked backwards and cried out in pain as he felt his shoulder nearly dislocate. Momentarily disoriented, he let himself be thrown against the floor by the servitor, which then stood over him, pulling its own staser from a holster and pointing it at his head as he lay on the ground.
And then Cait screamed.
“You fucking bastards!” yelled Kodiak. He craned his neck up from the floor, his view of the control room sideways as he saw Cait’s body go rigid, her face flushed bright red. Her body was thrown into a spasm as every muscle tensed with the power running through her, the men holding her hanging on tightly as they pressed her against the open computer panel, the spiked cable hanging from the back of her neck.
The white lighting that ringed the control room dimmed, and the ever-present hum that filled the whole facility both lowered in tone and increased in volume, like the system was straining against an unexpected power loss.
Cait screamed again and was then still as she lay back against the panel. Her eyes were open and scanned back and forth like she was watching something fast moving; her jaw worked up and down, and she began to mouth something Kodiak couldn’t hear. He couldn’t tell whether she was still alive or whether her corpse was merely being animated by the JMC AI.
Kodiak pushed himself to his feet, ignoring the gun being leveled at him by the servitor. He glanced at the robot, then blinked in surprise. The servitor, a female facsimile, gave a tiny, almost imperceptible nod.
And then there was something else in the room. Kodiak looked over his other shoulder, thinking Braben had come up behind him, but there was nobody there. Braben was still standing by the wall, but whatever it was, he had clearly sensed it too. The former agent looked around, a confused expression on his face, before seeing that Kodiak was looking at him. He raised the staser again.
Kodiak turned back to the servitor guarding him. He could see the pulse throb in her neck, and the pupils in her artificial eyes change size in the tiniest of fractions as the robot looked him in the eye. The detail was incredible.
The servitor gave the slight nod at him again. Kodiak indicated, as subtly as he could, that he understood.
The servitor was Glass. Had to be. But what was Glass doing? He’d won, hadn’t he? Cait had interfaced with the system. She was dead, her mind locked in the JMC computer. Kodiak felt the strength fade from his body at the thought. She was dead. He only hoped that Glass had been right, that now she could assist the computer with burning the Spider infection out. The Fleet would be saved.
Kodiak tried to take comfort in that fact, but it just left him with a hollow feeling.
The sensation of presence swelled again, enough to make Kodiak flinch. Braben moved up to Flood and Caviezel, who were by the main console, Caviezel studying a readout while Flood waited impatiently, her attention torn between the control panel and the Jupiter projection.
“What the hell is that?” asked Braben.
Caviezel leaned over the servitor seated in front of him and tapped the panel.
“The communications net is coming back online. We should be re-establishing contact with the Sigma platforms in just a few moments.” He turned to Flood, his arms held open, his grin wide. “And then, my dear, Lucifer will rise!”
Flood nodded slowly, a smile spreading across her face. “Yes,” she said. “Yes, yes, yes. Lucifer shall rise. The golden child shall lead the Fallen One back to us, and we shall all enjoy his cold embrace—”
“Stop!”
Kodiak turned with everyone else to Cait. Her eyes were still moving and still she stared into the middle distance, her head raised, as she continued to mumble. Blood was trickling from her ears.
Then her head snapped down, and she looked across the control room at Caviezel and Flood.
“This facility is now under my control,” she said, her voice a monotone.
The Jupiter projection flickered, the overlay reappearing and redrawing the position and status of not just the cluster of Sigma mines, but of all the JMC assets in the planet’s atmosphere and higher orbit. The spinning hexagon that was the Sigmas began to rotate faster, and as Kodiak watched, every other icon across the planet changed their color from blues, greens, and yellows to bright, bright red, matching the Sigmas—including a large square labeled as the refinery.
They were almost on top of the Sigmas—or what used to be the Sigmas. As Kodiak watched, their icons melded into a single unit, becoming something new. Something huge.
Caviezel’s machine.
Lucifer.
Flood shook her head as she stared at the projection. “What’s happening?”
Caviezel laughed. “Isn’t this what you wanted? For your beloved, mythical god to rise out of the depths and save you all?” He threw his head back and let out a peal of laughter. “Lucifer rises, my dear!”
Flood spun around to face the executive, but he continued to laugh. Furious, she ran across the control room to the computer alcove. She looked into Cait’s eyes, but from what Kodiak could see, it didn’t look like Cait even knew she was there.
“Hear me, Pilot!” Flood yelled. “Hear me! You control Lucifer! You must lead Him, make Him yield to your will. Do you hear me?”
Cait continued to mouth an endless string of words that Kodiak couldn’t hear. The low hum in the control room intensified and the lights dimmed further, the power being drained elsewhere.
Kodiak looked at Caviezel. The executive had composed himself and stood with his arms folded, glancing around the room, apparently satisfied at the progress.
“And what are you going to do with your machine?” Kodiak asked. “I get the feeling you don’t plan on handing it over to her.”
Flood shot Kodiak a look. Caviezel glanced briefly at both of them, then returned his attention to the console. “The Fleet has done some bad, bad things. It lacks leadership, direction, strength. And sooner or later the Spiders are going to win, and there isn’t a thing we can do about that.”
“It lacks leadership now that you’ve assassinated two Fleet Admirals,” said Kodiak.
“Ah, yes,” said Caviezel. “A necessary task, I’m afraid. I had to decapitate the command echelon to ensure the Fleet would be in disarray, ready for new leadership. And to temporarily render the Fleet incapable of mounting an adequate defense against my machine.” He glanced at Flood. “Let’s call it ‘Lucifer,’ shall we?”
Flood returned to the group. She stared at Caviezel. “Guard your tongue. You blaspheme the Fallen One!”
Caviezel merely turned a condescending smile on the High Priestess. Kodiak ignored her completely, his focus still on the JMC boss. “The Morning Star was going to use Cait to kill the first Fleet Admiral. What made you change your mind?”
Flood’s eyes widened. She clearly thought Cait had been the shooter. She turned on Caviezel.
“You dare interfere? The golden child was to be cleansed with death. She was to kill one god for another to rise.”
“Yes, my dear,” said Caviezel. He adjusted the cuff of his shirt under his jacket, like the High Priestess was a mild irritant at a dinner party. “I am sorry I spoiled it for you, but my own operation was more advanced than I had anticipated, so I decided to carry out a little field test of my own.” He patted Braben’s shoulder. “You can bring him out, Agent.”
Kodiak closed his eyes. He knew what was coming next, no matter how badly he wanted to be wrong. The final piece of the puzzle, connecting the assassinations with the Caviezel Corporation’s contract to bring the Fleet’s wa
r dead home.
Kodiak opened his eyes, saw Braben take a small device from his pocket, a black, glassy oblong about the size of a phone. His thumb slid over the smooth, featureless surface. Then he turned to face the gallery.
Kodiak looked up. So did Caviezel, Flood.
A man stepped out from the shadows above them. He was clad in the combat armor of a Fleet marine, complete with elliptical helmet, which reflected the swirling lights from the Jupiter projection. He carried a long-barreled gun, which he lifted up and rested on the gallery railing. Then he bent over to look down the sights. A red light appeared on the end of the gun.
Kodiak ground his back teeth. The marine’s face was hidden behind the dark, opaque visor, but he knew exactly who it was. He watched, his heart in his throat, as Tyler Smith covered them with his sniper rifle.
One of the servitors called out a report. “Sigmas at six-zero-seven percent. Uplink re-established.”
There was a click, and the control room echoed with what sounded like rushing water. Kodiak winced at the volume, then realized it was the white noise of an open comms channel, amplifying the magnetic interference from the storm on Jupiter.
No, not the storm. From whatever was at the center of the storm. He looked up at the planetary projection, at the Sigma mining platforms, all joined into a single geometric shape that spun around the curling white storm cloud. Already some of the other nearby mines had reached the cluster, fixing themselves to the edges of the new construction.
And then, over the top of the noise, there was a tick. And then another. And then another. Slowly at first, building in frequency, until it became a staccato death rattle Kodiak had heard many times.
He looked at Braben, who had his shoulders hunched, neck turtled against the ear-splitting sound. When their eyes met, Kodiak could see the same recognition there, but something else too. The same feeling he now felt in his own chest.
Fear. Pure, simple fear.
Flood turned on Caviezel. “What is that?” she yelled over the noise. But the executive was looking around the room, like he was trying to find the source of the noise. He looked as confused as Flood did.
Then Cait called out from the alcove, her voice carrying over the noise as it was amplified by the refinery’s comm system and broadcast out of every speaker in the facility.
“Security breach. Override systems alpha, bravo, delta. GLASS security countermeasures, cache purge failed. Retrying, attempt one of twenty, two of twenty, three of twenty, four of—”
Then Cait screamed, and the clicking sound grew louder. “They’re here,” she said, her voice a ragged sob. “They’re here.”
Kodiak spun on his heel, looking around the room. His eyes eventually met Caviezel’s, Flood’s, Braben’s. They were all staring at him, like he was suddenly the one with all the answers.
“It’s the Spiders,” he said. “The Spiders are here.”
And then Cait screamed again.
36
It wasn’t darkness. It was simply an absence. A true void, a nothing. She looked up and down, all around her. Her head spun as vertigo slammed into her, and she closed her eyes. It didn’t make any difference. She lifted her hands up to her face, but she couldn’t feel anything, couldn’t see anything.
Then, in the nothing, a familiar voice. Polite, calm, formal.
Hello, Ms. Smith.
I can’t do this.
Yes, you can. You have to believe me. You have to trust me.
Trust you? I can’t trust you. You lied to me. You used me. You operated on me. You said you could help, but you lied. You said you had my brother and that you’d bring us together again and you lied.
No. I meant every word. Your brother is here.
Liar.
I need your help, Ms. Smith. We don’t have long.
Answer me, dammit. Tell me the truth. Who are you? Where is Tyler?
I am the Geotechnic Logistical Autonomous Systems Supervisor.
The JMC computer?
The Jovian Mining Corporation central AI, yes.
But you were a person. A man. On Earth, you were a man, you were helping the Morning Star. You wore glasses, a long coat. You were dead. I killed you.
Your abilities pack quite a punch, Ms. Smith, I’ll grant you that. You disabled that servitor admirably. It was collected and dismantled by your friends.
And then I heard you. In my head, I heard you. I even saw you.
With no other servitors available, I had to quickly transfer this AI into the nearest suitable psionic system.
You mean … do you mean me?
You are a psi-marine, remember.
I’m not. Tyler is, but not me.
Perhaps, Ms. Smith. But even without having completed your training, you were more powerful than any the Academy had ever seen. Your abilities are unique—telekinesis has never been recorded before in humans, but that’s just a small fraction of the potential locked away in your mind. They recognized that at the Academy. Your records make for fascinating reading.
Is that how you found me?
The Academy’s records and enrollment system are contracted to the Caviezel Corporation. Any students of interest are flagged and monitored, to see if they are useful later. They had great things planned for you.
Like they had for Tyler? They would have used me like they used him. Like they use everyone. Fighting a war without end. A war without purpose. They were right, weren’t they? The Morning Star. They said they had secrets about the Fleet. About what they were doing. Tyler is proof, isn’t he? He isn’t dead. What else is the Fleet hiding?
Ms. Smith, we don’t have time for this.
I’m dead now. What do I care? All I want are the answers I was promised.
You are most certainly not dead yet, but you may be soon. You and all your friends. I need your help, quickly.
Is that why you hitched a ride? To keep an eye on me?
That, and the fact that the main systems here in the refinery became cut off as the Sigmas began their reconfiguration. With no servitors, you were my only way back. As the Fleet’s primary contractor, the Caviezel computer systems are linked directly to the Fleet’s—everything is interconnected, Ms. Smith. Which is precisely the problem now.
You were cut off by the magnetic storm?
That’s no storm, Ms. Smith.
Then what is it?
A side effect.
Of what?
Please, Ms. Smith. Seventy-eight picoseconds have already passed since the beginning of this conversation, and I fear my systems will become irrevocably corrupted if we do not take action now. The last remaining security silos are about to fail, and when they do—
Tell me!
It’s a Spider. The Sigma mining platforms were infected first with the Spider operating system. Just a fragment, but the Sigmas are AIs themselves. They’re designed to reconfigure themselves to chase storms, even rebuild themselves. The Spider OS took hold somehow. A survival mechanism, perhaps.
The Spiders are here?
Not quite. Only a piece of the gestalt, an isolated splinter of the machine consciousness. But it is enough.
The storm is a Spider?
No, the storm is a side effect. The Sigmas are building a new machine. A vehicle for the Spider OS. Flood calls it Lucifer. To Caviezel, it is a weapon.
That’s the danger you told me about. If Caviezel knows the mines are building a machine, he must know about the Spider infection? The mines are autonomous, aren’t they?
I agree, he knows something, but his data core is also siloed. I cannot access the information.
His data core?
Caviezel is a servitor. The first, in fact—it was his desire for his consciousness to survive physical death that drove him to develop the transference technology.
How do we stop the Spider machine?
The machine itself is just a part of it, Ms. Smith. As dangerous as it will be when fully operational, it pales in comparison to the danger posed by the Spider OS its
elf. It managed to infect the JMC systems somehow, but it’s trapped here by the interference generated by the activity of the Sigma mines as they reconfigure themselves.
But once the new machine is complete and the interference clears, the Spider AI will be able to access the Fleet network. It will infect every computer system in Fleetspace, Ms. Smith. Every system will become part of the Spider gestalt.
But where did it come from? How did it infect the JMC?
I haven’t been able to locate the source of the infection, but Mr. Kodiak had a theory, one that is probably quite correct. There is another JMC facility nearby, hidden in the Jovian system. I’ve been broadcasting the coordinates.
Eight-seven-nine-one-two-two-Juno-Juno.
The source.
What’s there?
I don’t know that either, Ms. Smith. That part of my system was the first to be siloed, so I can’t access the data. All I can tell you is that it’s part of another contract Caviezel has with the Fleet, to repatriate war dead back to Earth.
Tyler! He’s there, isn’t he? Tell me!
You brother is here, in this room.
What? Why can’t I feel his mind? Why won’t he speak to me?
The Machine Awakes Page 26
