by Paul Anlee
“The conspirator had accomplices,” Trillian explained. “We captured a number of them. Sadly, they knew very little about the organization as a whole and were of little help. They have been wiped, and new personalities have been installed.”
Alum brushed his chin as he thought, an unconscious tendency carried forward from the earliest times. “In ancient days, such complex, covert organization was common among so-called terrorist cells. Nobody alive today would remember methods from that epoch, though. Such tactics would have to be conceived anew, reinvented.”
Not expecting a response, Alum changed topics. “You have heard of the new inworld entertainment that is exceedingly popular right now in the recharge and recreation stations around the array?”
“It is an unfathomable affront to the purpose of the inworlds,” replied Trillian.
“Quite. But it is a fascinatingly accurate portrayal of ancient Earth at the time.”
Trillian was astonished to hear that. “How could that be? No archives with sufficient accuracy survived that period.”
“Outside of my own memories,” Alum corrected.
“Of course.”
“But you are right. It is more likely that the designer made a great deal of very lucky guesses. The alternative is remarkably unlikely.”
“Why have we not shut down this abomination, My Lord?” demanded Lord Mika, before remembering his place.
“The answer to that is perhaps even more interesting,” Alum said, disregarding the Angel’s tone. He straightened and smoothed the weave of the fabric covering His forearm, leaving Trillian and Mika to their imaginations.
“I do not recognize the technology on which the inworld is run,” He finished.
Mika stared at Alum in amazement. Trillian appeared equally stunned. “How is that possible?”
“Exactly. How is that possible? Even gods have limitations, but I would not expect to find any of My limitations exceeded by someone within The Realm.
“Sometimes the quickest way to develop a technology is to work within the physical laws of the universe, rather than around them. This inworld sim uses a new approach to hardware within the existing laws of nature. It is high technology, not magic. Nevertheless, it is a technology I do not recognize. Is it possible we are looking at an external threat?”
“The Aelu?”
“No, nothing we ever found among the Aelu would suggest that. Unless there’s a sophisticated rogue group still in operation.”
Mika fielded the implicit question. “They’d have to be extraordinarily advanced. Could they have eluded our searches over the eons since their conquest? I doubt they could have conducted advanced research under such difficult circumstances, not without the support of their former civilization, and not without us discovering them.”
“I agree,” said Alum. “That leaves us with two explanations. Either a singular genius has spontaneously arisen among the People and somehow remained in secret, or we are being probed by an unknown outside force. Neither is particularly pleasing to contemplate.”
He came to a decision. “The Alternus inworld permits anyone with a Standard interface to join the game. Trillian, I want you to enter the sim and see what intelligence you can collect from inside. Be careful. Exercise more caution than we did in Lysrandia. There are some indications that the system may be designed to influence mental states directly.”
“A concepta virus, my Lord?”
“Possibly, though its effects are subtle and difficult to assess. I am certain your own belief structures will be immune to its influence.”
“The level of programming needed for a concepta virus would require the technological sophistication of a Shard,” Trillian observed. “Is it possible one of our own is involved?”
“Unlikely. No Shards have been active among the Cybrid construction stations near Sagittarius A*. Still, it’s something to be aware of. I have full confidence in your ability to resist any subversion attempts while extracting valuable information from within the system.”
“My Lord.”
“What about the deplosion array, My Lord?” asked Mika. “Don’t we need to protect what’s left against future attacks?” He flexed his muscles impatiently. Angels preferred direct action over sneaking about.
“I don’t think that will be necessary. This inworld has been up and running for over a Standard decade. If it took them this long to find sufficient recruits, I think we have some time before their next action. No, this was just a warning shot, a test of our capabilities. We have some time to learn what’s going on there, and to figure out the instigator’s purpose. We need to take our time and be smart about this. At any rate, I have a different assignment for you.”
“Whatever assignment my Lord wishes for me, I am ready.”
“I have reviewed your memories of your encounter with the imposter Shard on the outpost Gargus 718.5. It was most revealing.”
This time, it was Trillian’s turn to suppress a smirk, something he accomplished with such skill that Mika perceived no change in the Shard’s expression. Nevertheless, the Angel knew the smirk was there.
“No more than a sophisticated trickster, my Lord.”
“Oh? I’m not so sure about that. Had he been fooling a few simpletons with his lattice projection tricks, it would've been one thing. But unless you think this Darak Legsu also subverted your own systems during your attempt to dispatch him, there must be more to him than meets the eye, and the sensor array, for that matter.”
Anger flared briefly in Mika’s eyes but he beat it down. “And yet he was eliminated without too much effort or collateral damage.”
Alum looked at Shard Trillian. “What did you think of the encounter?”
Mika turned his head toward Trillian, surprised that Alum had shared the Angel’s report of his scuffle with the false Shard.
“Most informative, my Lord,” Trillian replied. “A Shard impersonator with capabilities that match those of both Shard and Angel, if not Yourself.”
Mika winced. From under his brows, he watched to see if Alum had taken offense, but the Living God revealed no outward sign of feeling perturbed.
“Yes indeed,” Alum replied. “Darak Legsu’s response time, his strength, the rapid shifting, the collapse of the microverse power supplies in Lord Mika’s Securitors, these abilities are at least equivalent to an Angel’s capabilities, coupled with those of a Shard. His claims that he’s visited the Da’arkness and beyond the Edge of the universe are obviously untrue. But was he an advanced construct sent by this unknown external force we were contemplating earlier, or some kind of internal manifestation? I can’t tell.”
The Almighty hesitated. “His name is… somehow familiar,” he said. “No,” he said, more to himself than the two men, and he waved his hands as if dismissing some smoke or a distressing thought. “That would be impossible,” he muttered with a sour scowl.
Alum turned back to Mika. “I found it interesting that, within a few minutes of your dispensing this pest, some ancient reporting mechanisms detected an unusual presence on two of the Cybrid service asteroids of the same system. Don’t you find that interesting?”
This time, Trillian looked surprised. “Ancient reporting systems, my Lord?”
Alum smiled mischievously. “We employ many overlapping systems of varying complexity to monitor our security within the Realm. Less complex autonomous systems occasionally have some utility. Their simplicity leads those planning unpleasant actions to ignore them. From time to time this blind spot among those who oppose the People has been helpful. So, I leave the systems in place. These systems detected certain unauthorized and unexpected movements on two of the asteroids within the system at precisely the time that Legsu was supposedly dispatched.”
“Were there no challenges?” asked Mika.
“None whatsoever. An examination of the more complex systems including the station Supervisors shows no memories of encounters with anything unusual. Yet,
the simpler systems detail movements that could not have gone unnoticed by several Cybrids on the stations.
“There is a recording of an introductory lecture in genetic engineering being delivered—according to all other accounts—to absolutely no one. The Cybrid tech in question has no memory of the lecture or of the audience, nor do the chamber monitors. Only the simpler, ancient systems detected entry into the chamber by someone or something that, subsequently, doesn’t appear to be there. Sounds similar to certain mind control tricks of an imposter Shard, does it not?”
Mika agreed the similarity seemed suspicious, but Trillian wasn’t giving in to the possibility easily. “Is it possible the older systems are unreliable, or that someone erased them?”
Alum scoffed. “Their design is ancient, true. But they are regularly maintained and tested; they were all functioning fine. No, I’m sure their reports are correct, and that the Cybrid memories have been tampered with.”
“I do not see how the Shard and monk could have escaped me,” said Mika. “The blast covered a radius larger than the Angel displacement range by a factor of four.”
“It seems that someone or something has improved upon Angel shifting,” suggested Trillian.
“Or perhaps there were others working with those two,” Alum proposed. “Subsequent intrusions into the asteroids may have been made by an accomplice or accomplices. At this point, we can’t really tell.”
He cocked his head slightly as if listening to music carried on a gentle breeze. “However, it appears the interlopers are moving inward, toward the Center. Similar intrusions have been detected on several Cybrid stations along a broad arc leading to our galaxy. Leading here.”
Alum waved his hand and a map of the Realm appeared over the coffee table between them. “Home Galaxy is here in gold,” He thrust His hand into the central region of the display, “and Gargus 718.5 is in this small globular galaxy along this string leading out from the Virgo supercluster.”
His hand moved to indicate an area near the edge of the display, then traced the arc toward the middle. “Detectors have been set off in fourteen systems within the galaxy designated Rafael, on the far edge of the Virgo supercluster. They seem to be making their way toward the Center, though not in a direct line.”
Turning to the Angel, He said, “I want you to take a Wing of Angels and spread them out along this path.”
A greenish cloud, encompassing thousands of star systems appeared inside the area where the intrusions had been detected. “You will take up positions within the Cybrid stations and be prepared to starstep at a moment’s notice. The instant we locate these intruders, I want to bring as many Angels as possible to bear upon their capture or destruction.”
Mika started to interrupt, but Alum disarmed his objections with a benevolent smile. “Yes, I’m aware that Cybrid stations within the system are likely to take some heavy damage in any engagement. I hope you accept that as an indication of how serious I consider the situation.
“I also deeply respect and appreciate your concern for the Realm and its People. It saddens Me to lose even one grain of sand on the worlds We have brought into our Glory. So I will trust your discretion in this task. If you believe the intruders can be immobilized, neutralized, and captured, you have My approval to attempt this. But they must not be permitted free travel within the Realm any longer. If necessary, destroy them. If this requires the collateral destruction of Cybrid stations, worlds containing Humans, or entire systems, so be it. We have a new enemy in our Realm and it must be defeated.”
The fire in Alum’s eyes filled Trillian and Mika with dread. They rose and bowed deeply before their Lord, saying, “Thy will be done!”
Alum stood and embraced them. “You are My most trusted servants and my most ancient friends. I thank you, and the People thank you, for your sacrifices to the Realm. Go now, with My blessing.”
The audience with Alum was concluded, and they had their assignments. No further discussion was required. Suddenly, without ceremony or transport shuttle, Trillian and Mika found themselves back at Starstep One. Mika was returned to his Angelic magnificence.
Lord Mika’s lips parted but, before he could speak, Trillian placed a finger to his lips. “Would you dilute our Lord’s Word with your own?” he asked. The Angel held his thoughts for another time and place. Together, they stepped onto the transfer disc and were sent their separate ways.
42
The first official live test of the RAF generator took place on an unusually cold December day. Like many scientific experiments, it didn’t go exactly as planned.
Burnaby Mountain pierced the clouds, steadfast and solitary except for the distant snow-capped peak of Mount Baker, a hundred klicks southeast: two ancient sentinels guarding a mystical land. Bright sunshine bathed the former’s peak and bounced off the frozen rain that glazed every outdoor surface, causing staff and students to squint and slip.
Below the campus, falling away like a regal cape, thick clouds adorned the base of the mountain and blanketed the surrounding city. The clouds extended from the Pacific shoreline some twenty kilometers west, and all the way past Langley, an hour’s drive to the east.
Darian loved the way winter days on the mountain sometimes started out like sunny California and ended up like dreary London, as the mist rose from the city below and engulfed them in sound-muffling, uniform grey.
He was happy to be easing back into work. He’d popped into the lab for a few short visits during the week. His doctor was adamant that he not overdo it. “Define overdo,” he’d replied, with good humored defiance.
Darian’s work and the fresh mountain air took his mind off the pain, and off the events surrounding the shooting. The would-be assassin had been arrested but wasn’t giving up any information about his motive or possible associates. It was possible Darian wasn’t out of danger yet. The guy may have been painted as a fanatical loner by the press, but Darian doubted he was acting on his own initiative. He had no proof of this, but he’d noted too many surreptitious glances and other oddities in the audience to be convinced otherwise.
Following a restless night, Darian had overslept. The throbbing pain in his rebuilt clavicle and surrounding soft tissue nagged at him day and night, making it difficult to sleep or concentrate. When he finally woke up, he called ahead to his group to let them know he’d be arriving an hour late. That was a rare event and especially surprising today, given the excitement in the lab. His colleagues were anxious to get started. They were already there, waiting on his arrival to begin.
Darian got dressed and hurried along the short distance from his UniverCity apartment. As he crossed the walkway, he gently tossed a handful of sunflower seeds to the chickadees scrabbling between the conifers for seeds and bugs. Sorry, guys, no time to visit today. Before entering the parking area, he took a quick look along the fringe of the wilderness park surrounding campus in the hopes of catching a glimpse of feeding deer. Not today.
He bypassed his regular java stop and went straight to the Physics wing to collect Dr. Wong for the demonstration. As Department Head, William Wong was well aware of the gravitas of Darian’s research. He’d tried to talk Darian into displaying the work before a larger audience than would normally be welcome in the lab. Wong had all but pleaded, but the young scientist would not capitulate.
Darian eschewed any form of publicity around the live test, and would permit Dr. Wong, and nobody else, to attend the team’s test. “This is science, not theater,” he said, brushing off other university dignitaries equally brusquely.
In truth, he wished he felt half as confident as others portrayed him. Despite all of his team’s meticulous theoretical calculations, he was still concerned about what might happen during this first test. After all, it wasn’t every day one created an entirely new universe, however tiny. He and Greg were fairly sure there would be no leakage of altered physical laws into the universe outside their generated field. Still, there was some residual uncerta
inty in the equations. Kathy and Larry both expressed complete confidence in the readiness of the RAF generator.
Darian entered the hallway leading to his basement lab and saw a small group of grad students and postdoctoral fellows gathered at the observation window. He frowned but decided their presence would be a tolerable addition. A small audience could come in handy as objective witnesses to the lab’s success.
The group broke into applause as they saw him approaching. These were the best of the best in Pacifica, perhaps on the continent, and their acknowledgment of their intellectual hero made even the likes of Darian Leigh feel honored.
Greg, Kathy and Larry watched from inside the lab. The vacuum chamber was already evacuated, the RAF hardware was powered up, and the control software was loaded. “Everything’s ready!” Kathy mouthed as she signed an eager thumbs-up.
Darian noticed that Larry avoided eye contact. Is he ashamed at being relegated to a lesser role on the team, or angry?—Darian wondered. Either way, it can’t be helped. He chose his path. I offered him the dendy lattice virus and he refused. For crying out loud, his name will get equal billing on the first few papers that came out of the research. What more does he want?
In truth, it didn’t matter. Today, Darian refused to get involved in office politics and co-workers’ hurt feelings.
“Thank you,” Darian said to the small gathering. He couldn’t resist feeling the importance of the moment. “Thanks for coming to witness the first live test of the RAF generator. You all know our Department Chair, Dr. Wong.”
“Don’t worry—I’m not speaking today,” the Chair assured them. “I’m just here to watch, like the rest of you. Dr. Leigh, please continue.”
