Fall of the Core: Netcast 02 (The Frontiers Saga Book 3)

by Ryk Brown

  “What about you?” Graham asked the driver. “Why aren’t you trying to get on board?”

  “And go to God knows where?” The driver shook his head. “No, thanks. I’ll take my chances here on Earth. The way I see it, once this Klaria thing dies out, there will be a lot more of everything left for those of us who survive. Could even be a good thing, you know?”

  Hanna lowered her VR glasses for a moment, staring at the driver.

  “This isn’t the only place this kind of thing is happening,” the driver continued. “I heard there are riots all over the place. Anywhere people are trying to get onto one of these emergency colonization missions, this kind of thing is happening. Maybe not as bad as this, but pretty bad. People are selling everything. Homes, cars, themselves… You name it. Guards are taking all kinds of bribes, letting people in, then killing them as soon as they get them out of the view of others.”

  “You’re kidding!” Hanna exclaimed. “And no one does anything about it?”

  “We don’t have any more police around here,” the driver reminded her. “Who are they going to report it to?”

  More gunshots rang out, and the video feed from the orb they were viewing in their VR glasses suddenly went black. “What the hell?” Hanna exclaimed, taking her glasses off.

  “The fuckers just shot down one of my orbs!” Graham declared.

  “Uh-oh,” the driver said, noticing a vehicle carrying several armed men coming toward them at a high rate of speed. “You should probably recall your cameras,” he said as he changed course and accelerated. “Hold on!”

  “What’s going on?” Arielle asked, hanging on to keep herself from falling out of the vehicle as it turned sharply around.

  Graham tapped several buttons on his console, commanding the orbs to return to the open docking case next to him. “You might want to call the production shuttle and tell Jeffen to spin up for liftoff! I think we’ve pissed off the locals!”

  Hanna looked behind her as their vehicle sped across the tarmac, jerking wildly from side to side to avoid the various trucks and people still trying to make their way toward the chaos that they themselves were fleeing. “This is unbelievable!” she exclaimed, holding onto the sides of the vehicle as the first of the orbs flew in and dropped into its slot in the docking case. “I didn’t think people behaved this way!”

  “You should visit the Congo,” Graham laughed. “Cut between those two trucks ahead,” he instructed, pointing.

  “Hang on!” the driver warned as he guided the vehicle between the two large, fully loaded flatbeds.

  Graham pulled a handgun out of his pack, turning around to face the rear as the vehicle came out from between the two trucks.

  “What are you doing?” Hanna exclaimed, her eyes suddenly becoming wide as she spotted the gun in Graham’s hands.

  “Ensuring our getaway!” Graham raised his gun and took aim, firing several shots at the pursuing vehicle as it came out from between the two large trucks. Caught by surprise, the chasing vehicle swerved instinctively as electrically charged rounds ricocheted off the front hood. The vehicle spun out of control, coming to a stop.

  “Are you nuts?” Arielle accused him. “You could have killed someone!”

  “Relax,” Graham said, turning around to face forward as the last orb settled into the docking case. “They were stun-rounds,” he added as he put the gun in his coat pocket and closed the docking case.

  “They might have crashed!” Hanna exclaimed.

  “Like I give a shit,” Graham retorted.

  Hanna turned around to look behind them again, spotting the pursuing vehicle as it started moving once more. “They’re still coming after us!”

  Graham pulled his phone out of his pocket and touched a button. “Tell me you’re hot and ready for liftoff!”

  “We’re ready!” Jeffen replied over the phone.

  “You’re going to get us arrested!” Arielle declared, “Or killed.”

  “There’s no police around here, remember?” Graham laughed. “But you could be right about getting us killed,” he added, still chuckling.

  Their vehicle pulled up to a stop next to the production shuttle, and Graham stepped out, grabbing his docking case and gear bag.

  “What about me?” the driver asked, looking slightly panicked. “They’ll kill me!”

  “Then I guess you’d better come with us, eh, mate?” Graham suggested.

  “What?” Arielle exclaimed. “We can’t take him with us!”

  “We can’t leave him here,” Graham insisted. He handed one of his gear bags to the driver. “Don’t listen to her,” he assured the driver. “Get on board.”

  The driver didn’t waste any time taking the bag handed to him and grabbing his own bag from the vehicle before heading to the production shuttle. Hanna and Arielle followed, running quickly to the shuttle and climbing aboard.

  Graham turned and walked backwards, checking that the pursuing vehicle was still a good distance away.

  “Pissing off the locals again, Graham?” Jeffen asked, leaning out the hatch.

  “Hell, I don’t even know why they’re so mad,” Graham said, smiling. “All I did was take a few pictures and shoot at them with a couple stunner rounds.”

  “Just like old times,” Jeffen said as Graham climbed aboard and moved past him. He closed the hatch, and a moment later, the production shuttle was kicking up dust as it climbed skyward.

  * * *

  “It’s not the first time you’ve used V-space for a meeting, Hanna,” Arielle insisted.

  “I know… I just wish we could get him on camera.”

  “This is the only way he’ll talk to you,” Arielle reminded her.

  Hanna looked up at Graham from her seat in the production shuttle. “Are you sure you can’t hack in somehow? Record the whole thing?”

  “I’m sure there are people who can,” Graham replied, “but not many, and I’m not one of them. That’s why V-space is so popular. It’s completely secure, and it can be as anonymous as you like.”

  “But doesn’t it depend on the internet?”

  “Normally, yes. But this is a direct, point-to-point link,” Graham explained.

  “I didn’t even know there was such a thing,” Hanna admitted.

  “They’re not cheap. They require specialized comms gear, using the sat-net. Every NCN production shuttle has a node. He’s probably using one of his company’s nodes for this. Hopefully, he knows how to purge the logs afterwards.”

  “Are we sure there’s no risk of infection?” Hanna asked.

  “Your system has been nanite free for nearly two weeks now,” Arielle assured her. “All of us are clean. Your NDI can’t infect you unless you have active nanites inside you.”

  “But I remember reading that there are always a few nanites left, no matter what,” Hanna argued.

  “It takes levels in the millions to have any effect,” Graham reminded her. “You’re talking about levels in the thousands, at the most. You’re fine.”

  “Easy for you to say,” Hanna retorted. “You all had your NDIs yanked on day one. Mine’s been active all this time.”

  “And you’re still not sick,” Arielle pointed out. “That should tell you something.”

  “That I’m incredibly lucky?”

  “You’re the only one of us who can do this,” Graham reminded her, growing impatient. “The guy must have something important to tell us, if he’s willing to use his own NDI this way.”

  “And what if he’s infected?” Hanna wondered.

  Arielle sighed; no answer ready; at least not a good one.

  “Being a reporter is a risky business,” Graham said. “It’s your call.”

  “He’s right,” Arielle agreed. “It is your call, Hanna. No one
will blame you if you decide not to do it.”

  “Bullshit,” Hanna argued. “Everyone will blame me. They might understand, but they’ll still blame me.”

  “It’s almost time,” Graham warned, glancing at the digital time displays on the shuttle’s forward bulkhead. “What’s it gonna be, kid?”

  Hanna took a deep breath and sighed. “Let’s get this over with.”

  “Atta girl,” Graham enthused.

  “Don’t forget to activate the sound suppression field before you connect,” Arielle reminded her. “That was one of his conditions.”

  “I remember.” Hanna looked at Graham, who was smiling. She remembered when she and Arielle had interviewed him in V-space more than a month ago. “Graham, can I ask you something?”

  “What’s that?” Graham replied.

  “Were you in a strip club when we interviewed you in V-space?”

  “Hey, what happens in V-space…” Graham smiled and looked at the time again. “Tick tock.”

  Hanna rolled her eyes, taking a deep breath as she activated the sound suppression field on her flight seat. The hum of the shuttle’s engines and systems, and the sounds of her coworkers, faded away, leaving her in complete silence. She reclined in her seat and closed her eyes, using her mind to initiate the point-to-point V-space link, mentally reciting the link address.

  Although her NDI had been active all this time, she had not used it since the internet had been taken down. It had taken her some time to get accustomed to life without her neuro-digital interface, as she had been using it since she was a teenager. When she had first gotten the implant, it had opened up a whole new world to her. Not just V-space, but instant access to all the world’s knowledge and instant communication with anyone, anywhere, anytime. It had literally changed the way she lived her day-to-day life.

  Of course, the reverse had been true when the internet came down, and she had stopped using it. She was back to the archaic method of manually typing search requests into the NCN data system, none of which had been updated since the plague had struck. Staring at computer screens and scrolling through endless results of algorithms trying to anticipate what you were looking for. None of it worked as well as her NDI had. An NDI was linked directly into your brain. It learned from your thoughts. It learned about you from cues you didn’t even realize you were giving it. It became your cyber-clone, ready to do what you needed it to do almost before you thought of it.

  It had taken Hanna only a few days to learn how to use her NDI effectively, but it was proving to take weeks to learn how to live without it. She had heard of people who had become so addicted to V-space that they had been unable to differentiate between it and the real world. When their NDIs had been removed by court order, they had gone through terrible, debilitating withdrawals. Hanna had used V-space as much as most people, but never to that extent. The stories of addicts scared her too much to let that happen.

  The darkness in her mind’s eye began to fill with the familiar transition that was V-space. Within seconds, she found herself standing in the rain on a darkened city street. She looked around as the familiar rush of V-space swept over her again. The feeling was so welcoming that, for a moment, she wondered if she had been an addict all along.

  Hanna continued to look around. Cobblestone streets, brick buildings, signs in old, twenty-second century English, before they switched to phonetic spellings to help with the unified language requirements, to support the colonization and integration efforts of the core worlds of Earth.

  Hanna physically opened her eyes, spotting faded images of Arielle and Graham, the concerned looks on their faces barely concealed by the semi-transparent images overlying them. She signaled to them that she was alright, then allowed her mind to focus solely on the V-space. It was something she did not often do. Allowing the V-space link to fully override her real senses had always felt like a gateway to dependency…to becoming an addict. But considering the times, this would likely be her last visit to the virtual reality environment.

  The sign on the building in front of her read ‘McTavish’s’, and had crude drawings of glass mugs overflowing with beer at either end.

  Hanna reached forward, putting her hand on the doorknob. It was cold and slightly wet. V-space was truly remarkable when you gave yourself up to it completely. As she opened the door, she could hear the sound of a sporting event being broadcast from a view screen above the bar. Men in striped shirts running around, kicking a white ball around a field. She recognized the sport but not the uniforms, which had changed over the centuries. There was a man behind the bar, older, with a thick mustache. He nodded at her and smiled.

  “Lookin’ to wet your lips, lassie?” the bartender asked in a thick accent.

  “I’m supposed to meet someone here,” Hanna replied, her voice cracking slightly.

  “Ah, yes,” the bartender replied, pointing to the corner booth.

  Hanna looked around the bar. There were only a few people there, talking amongst themselves, a few of them watching the game on the view screen. She wondered if any of them were real participants, but quickly dismissed that thought. This was, after all, a private, point-to-point link, which meant that only herself and the man who had invited her were participating. Everyone else in the bar was a ghost character, placed in the V-space by the simulation intelligence to make it more realistic.

  Graham was correct. Such V-space environments had to be more expensive. It took incredibly complex code to create realistic ghost characters, especially ones who were convincing. Nearly all the V-spaces Hanna had ever visited were either devoid of all people, or had been filled with active participants connected to the same V-space. This was completely different.

  Hanna paused at a table with three young men, all of whom were enjoying the game as they sipped their beverages. “What’s the score?” she asked.

  “Denton’s winning by three,” the nearest man replied enthusiastically. “Are you a Denton fan?”

  “What do you think?” Hanna replied coyly.

  “I think you need to pull up a chair and join us,” the man replied, a beaming smile on his half-inebriated face. “Bartender!” he cried out. “A pint for the lady!”

  “Thanks,” Hanna said, “but maybe another time. I’m here to meet somebody.”

  “Well, you just did, lassie!” the man boasted. “And a fine man he is!”

  Hanna smiled, moving on. “Enjoy the game.”

  The man watched her go, mumbling, “Lucky bastard,” as she walked away.

  Very realistic, Hanna thought as she walked toward the corner booth. She could even hear the man’s ghost friends teasing him about striking out, which brought a smile to her face.

  Hanna stepped up to the corner booth, unsure of who she would see. In V-space, one could choose to appear as whomever they wished. Hanna had chosen to appear as herself, however, deciding that there was little need for anonymity in this case. She was surprised when she saw exactly whom she had expected. “Mister Morra.”

  “Please,” Simon said, standing. “Call me Simon.” He gestured for her to sit. “I hope you don’t mind. I had them prepare a glass of wine for you, just in case.”

  “Thank you,” Hanna replied. She reached out and carefully picked up the glass. It felt as real as any glass she had ever held. Smooth, fragile, cool to the touch, with the right amount of weight for the glass and the wine it contained. She raised it to her nose and drew the aroma in. Exactly as she expected. A sip revealed that it also tasted as good, if not better, than any wine she had tried in the real world. “This is not your average V-space, is it?”

  Simon smiled.

  “Gold level?”

  “Black.”

  “There’s a black level?”

  “Very elite. Very expensive,” Simon explained, taking a drink from his mug.


  “I guess Stellar Express pays pretty well.”

  Simon smiled. “Not that well, I’m afraid. This account belongs to our CFO. He died yesterday.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “Don’t be,” Simon said. “The man was a horrible person. Worse than Cassan.”

  “I wasn’t aware that Victor Cassan was so disliked, at least not until recently,” Hanna admitted.

  Simon cast an inquisitive look her way.

  “I’m not at liberty to say,” Hanna stated.

  “I can probably guess,” Simon mused. “But it doesn’t really matter.”

  “Then you don’t like him either?”

  “I don’t dislike him,” Simon corrected. “I just don’t agree with his vision, as he puts it.”

  “What vision is that?”

  Simon didn’t respond at first, staring at his drink instead. “Let’s just say that Victor Cassan has his own views on how civilization should be run.”

  “And what are they?” Hanna asked.

  “That doesn’t really matter either,” Simon said with a slight chuckle. “At least, not now.”

  Hanna was starting to feel confused. “What did you bring me here to tell me, Simon? Are Stellar Express ships unsafe? Are they not really going where they say they’re going? Is it a scam of some kind?”

  Simon shook his head repeatedly. “Those ships are perfectly safe,” he insisted. “I’d stake my life on them.”

  Message; Unknown: Ask him why Stellar Express is really charging so much for passage to new worlds.

  Hanna sat transfixed at the text message hovering in her field of vision.

  Simon noticed the look of terror on Hanna’s face. “What is it?” he asked, becoming concerned.

  “I…” Hanna found herself speechless.

  Message; Unknown: Go ahead, ask him. You might find the answer surprising.