CHAPTER 27
UNIFORCE Headquarters
Paris, France
February 10, 2111 (U.T.)
0700 hours
Johnny Winger knew that somehow, in some way he couldn’t quite articulate, Rene was the key to defeating Config Zero. He hadn’t worked out how, exactly, in his mind. But it was a strong feeling and it was getting stronger.
His thirteen-year old daughter Rene wasn’t down there on the fiftieth floor of the Quartier-General in Containment. No, that wasn’t Rene. And from that fact flowed a number of other facts. The object…swarm…entity…presence…whatever you wanted to call it… inside the Containment chamber was a source of valuable intelligence. She was a tool, nothing more. Even a weapon in the fight against Config Zero.
That was why Johnny Winger decided to go visit Rene in Containment. To convince himself that these things were true.
Dr. Falkland was at the main console when he got there.
“We’re running some tests, General. Trying to fine-tune the Quantum State Grabber. Colonel Lofton wants to try to increase resolution in these sessions. More detail. I’m running some of your daughter’s latest imagery through a new state filter to see how it works.”
Winger stood before the porthole and studied Rene. He tried to tell himself this wasn’t their daughter. It was hard.
Rene lay on her side on some kind of bed…it looked comfortable enough. Her head was propped up on a pile of pillows. She was entangled in covers. Her eyes were closed. Something flashed just over the top of her head and Winger swallowed hard when he realized what it was. Part of the bot cloud that formed her head was streaming off as loose mechs. It was like her head was surrounded by a faint, sparkling halo…her config wasn’t holding.
He hadn’t seen that effect before.
“Dr. Falkland, why is her config not holding? The top of her head…her hand there—“
Falkland peered inside next to Winger. “Oh, that…it’s probably the effect of the Grabber. We pulled R9 out but the Grabber makes her config drivers work hard. Not sure why, exactly, but when the Grabber’s operating, it seems to mess with her config. The configuration manager has to re-build structure at a faster rate. It’s kind of like an infection, in a way. You know…when you have a fever—“
Winger nodded. She’s a tool. A transmitter. A comm channel. Just keep saying that….
“Is Colonel Lofton getting what he wants from this?”
Falkland shrugged. “I suppose. Why don’t you ask him yourself? He’s right in there—“ He indicated a closet-sized room off to the side. The door was shut. “He’s fixed up a sort of theater in our equipment room. Your daughter’s imagery data is massaged in this console and projected in 3-D in that room. He says it’s like being inside her mind.”
Winger went over and pulled open the door. It wasn’t locked.
Lofton was inside, reclining in some kind of cocoon-like seat. The room had been altered into a sort of theater in the round. The interior walls were curved so that Lofton lay back in the middle of large cylinder. Real-time imagery, presumably from Rene’s processor files, played across the interior surface…a steadily shifting collage of scenes, images, snatches of graphics, pixelated mashups, visual static. There were no obvious patterns to what was displayed. But Lofton gazed around at the view mesmerized, in open awe of what he was seeing.
“General, I didn’t see you…squeeze in here. Shut the door, too, sir, if you don’t mind. I don’t want to miss anything.”
Winger squeezed in. “A swarm’s eye view of something, I presume?”
Lofton nodded. “It is, sir. That’s what we think anyway. This is from a session this morning. There’s just so much…we’re working night and day to interpret all this data, but it’s hard. This, for example…is it from the Devil’s Eye anomaly? Is it from the Old Ones? Is it somebody’s nightmare…we just don’t really know. Photons from outer space…that’s all I can say right now. But it’s showing us something.”
Winger struggled to stay calm. He knew how Dana felt. “Tell me, Colonel…what exactly are we dealing with here? Is Rene a transmitter? Is she a receiver? A router or a portal or what exactly?”
“Maybe a little of all of that, sir. It sounds flaky, but she seems to be operating like a spirit medium…you know channeling dead people and famous historical figures. Only we think she’s channeling comms and processor activity from some distant source. Possibly even the Old Ones…the Delta P phenomenon, to give it Farside’s official name.”
Winger watched the diffuse patterns playing out across the walls. “Rene’s going to be our best weapon against Config Zero, Lofton.”
Lofton seemed to agree. “General, I spent last night reading about Ultra…the cypher system used by the British to decrypt the Nazis’ secret Enigma codes in World War II…a century and a half ago. You know Churchill wouldn’t let his generals fight any battle that might reveal what the Brits were doing. He didn’t want to compromise Ultra. A lot of people died because of that. Sometimes, I think of your daughter in there as our version of Ultra. If we’re smart, we can read what she’s telling us.”
“I’ve got a better idea, Colonel. I want to take Rene into the field. A little op I’ve got in mind.”
That made Lofton sit up. “An op, sir? With my primary source?”
Winger had to smile. Like a lot of intel rats, Lofton sometimes got lost in a maze of codes and ciphers and indicators. You had to drop them some crumbs from the real world so they could find their way back to civilization.
“Just a little something I was cooking up, something to run by UNSAC. We’ve got these whizbang disentanglers now and they seem to work. If I could put a few of these around Config Zero’s location…Mount Kipwezi in the African Sanctuary…we could jam up his command and control infrastructure. That would make it easier for Boundary Patrol to engage and destroy underground swarms. Also, DNTs emplaced around Config Zero might help us isolate the bastard from outside comms. Who knows: once isolated, that cloud of bugs might just be easy pickings. We might be able to fry the whole works and put an end to this problem once and for all…no more Symborg, no more angels, no more Assimilationists.”
Lofton shutdown the imagery and the curved walls went dark. He sat up. “How exactly does taking my primary source help out, sir?”
Winger figured that was a valid question, one he was sure UNSAC himself would ask. “Two reasons: first, to have on-site intelligence as to what Config Zero’s up to. And second, to see if Rene can detect and possibly influence or distort Config Zero signals to and from outside comms…the Old Ones or Devil’s Eye or whoever it’s talking to off-Earth. If Rene’s really channeling Config Zero signals, maybe I can use her to insert new signals or spoof normal signals to and from the Big Guys. A new form of quantum warfare, I guess.”
Lofton was skeptical. “We’d have to learn a hell of a lot more about how to read these images, General. We’re in the baby stage now…just learning some words. We don’t know the vocabulary, the rules of grammar, we don’t know much of anything.”
Winger stepped out of the little theater and motioned Lofton to come too. The two of them stood before a porthole that looked into the Containment chamber. Rene had changed position, and seemed to be fidgeting, trembling, maybe having a dream or a nightmare. All the bed covers had become scrunched up. Imagery pulled by the Quantum State Grabber flickered across Falkland’s screens…staticky, jerky imagery.
“I know that, Colonel. But somehow, I’m sure Rene’s the key to the whole idea. If I can do something to disrupt Config Zero’s comms permanently, I need to do it. The DNTs will help; they’ve already helped. But with Rene, I’ve got a chance to really get in there and gum up the works…if we understand what she’s telling us and use her the right way.”
Lofton seemed resigned to the idea. “That’s my whole point, sir. We don’t really understand yet. But she is your dau
ghter.”
Winger wondered about that. “No, Colonel…that’s not my daughter in there. It pains me to admit that. I lost my daughter in this war years ago, when she was kidnapped and disassembled. She spent God knows how many weeks in a living hell. What you see inside that containment chamber is just a shadow of the real Rene. To you, she’s an intelligence source into the Old Ones. To me, she’s a weapon I can use against Config Zero. I have to think about it like that.”
“She’s waking up, General,” Falkland informed them. He was following neural activity traces on a screen on his console. “Coming out of Stage Four now…neuromuscular inhibits dropping…full processor now on-line…config manager, buffers, coupler…all coming up.”
“I just want to talk to her,” Winger decided. The irony of that should have disturbed him but it didn’t. He’d just finished telling Lofton how Rene was a weapon and not a daughter. Now he wanted a little fatherly chat…with a weapon. It didn’t make any sense. None of this made any sense.
Lofton cycled the hatch open and Winger went inside. He bent down and saw his daughter’s eyes flutter open. They offered no recognition, no real emotion. Flat button eyes. In his mind, he knew it was the config. Not enough bots to simulate life in there. Falkland said it was the State Grabber. Winger wondered.
“How do you feel, honey?”
Rene regarded him coolly. “Daddy, I think I’m not like you anymore.”
What am I supposed to say to that? Yes, you’re different, but at least you’re better looking than Gort the robot. No, we’re just alike, except you’re a cloud of bots and I’m skin and bones…other than that—
“Are you comfortable, Rene? Too hot…too cold? You look kind of sleepy to me.”
His daughter nestled deeper into the covers. Winger noticed her face wasn’t quite tracking right. An eye, part of her lips…when she moved suddenly, features became smeared and fuzzy, like the bots were sluggish. Probably the Grabber, he assumed.
“Daddy, when can I leave? I’m tired of being in this room. I want to play with my pad. Where is it, anyway?”
“Rene, sweetie…you’ve been sick. The doctors are running tests. They’re just trying to make you better, that’s all. You need to be a good girl and be patient.”
“I want to leave. Can’t I just go outside for awhile? I haven’t seen the sun in like ages.” Her eyes, now fully stable, pleaded with him.
Winger took a deep breath. Might as well get this out. “As a matter of fact, we are going on a little trip. Soon as I get permission from the doctors.”
‘Where are we going?”
“How’d you like to go far away…I’m thinking Africa? Go on safari, see all the wild animals. How would that be?”
Her eyes widened. Maybe a little spark in there…but it could have been the harsh lighting inside the containment chamber. “I’d like to do that, Daddy. When is it… today?”
And so the conversation went for several more minutes. Dad and daughter chitchat. Your Mom and I love you very much. Don’t give the doctors any trouble, just do what they say. We’ll be leaving on our trip in a few days. Daddy has to make arrangements. Do you still have those dreams? Are they bad dreams?
The last question made Rene think for a moment. She had a way of curling her lips just so…somehow, that gesture transferred over. The bots managed to get that right and it cut right into Winger’s heart.
“Not so bad. Mostly they’re just like pictures in my mind. Or vids, only kind of jerky, like pieces. I see stars sometimes. Lots of stars like in the night sky. And big ships. And explosions…Liam would like that a lot. He likes things that blow up.”
Winger turned to look at the porthole. Falkland, Lofton, I hope you’re getting all this. “Just relax here today, honey. I’ve got to talk with the doctors…see what they want to do next. After I make all the arrangements, we’ll go on our little trip to Africa. I could maybe bring your googlepad so you could study up on Africa.”
Rene seemed sleepy now and she turned over on her side. “Great, Dad…bring my pad…I’m just kinda tired now—“ She mumbled something else.
Winger circled his finger at the porthole. Open up. Moments later, the hatch cycled and he stepped out.
Falkland had that look that said Well? “I was hoping you could get her to talk about her dreams some more. Verbals help us calibrate what the State Grabber gets.”
But Winger just wanted to get out of there. “Keep doing what you’re doing, Doc. Colonel…”
Lofton was shutting the chamber hatch, cycling the lock. “Sir?”
“I’ve got a briefing with UNSAC in two hours. Meet me in my office in half an hour. I want your input on this mission. I intend to recommend to UNSAC that we take Rene with us as part of the Detachment. Sort of an auxiliary trooper, I guess. UNSAC will want to know what sort of intel you’re getting from Rene. I want to know if you can duplicate all this—“ Winger swept his arms around the lab—“in the field…on a mission. Grab imagery for intelligence purposes. And how feasible it might be to inject some misinformation into her process—I mean, her mind—something that gums up comms with Config Zero and his cronies.”
Lofton secured the hatch and sort of shrugged. “We have no idea whether this imagery is coming on a one-way channel or whether we can send anything back at all…the idea hasn’t been tested.”
Falkland was intrigued. “It might be possible, General. I can imagine some methods that might work…of course, they haven’t been tried. Just theory, you understand.”
Winger was already headed out the door. “Be in my office in half an hour, both of you. You’re going to help me put together a little briefing for UNSAC.”
The briefing came at noon. Jurgen Steiner, Security Affairs Commissioner was just finishing off some kind of sandwich and swatting crumbs from his otherwise spotless desk when Winger entered. UNSAC waved him to a credenza and table arrangement near the window.
“Come. Sit. General, your message said you wanted to talk with me about something, some kind of proposed mission?”
Winger went over the particulars of his proposed mission into the East Africa Sanctuary.
UNSAC watched the details scroll down his screen. Steiner always looked like he had indigestion, Winger thought, occasionally looking up to check his reaction. A pained look, eyes down to slits, mouth in a deep frown. Jeez, you’d think the man was sitting on a butcher knife.
“I have several questions, Winger. First, why you? Surely we have enough qualified troopers to fill out a special ops detachment for this kind of mission. I don’t much care for risking my CINCQUANT on a little field trip into enemy territory.”
“Sir, there are plenty of qualified command ratings who could handle this. Actually, my reasons relate to why I’m including an auxiliary trooper in the personnel list. I realize this is not standard procedure—“
UNSAC studied the details more closely. “Rene Winger. That’s your daughter…the one who…er, the one who—“
“That’s correct, sir. The one who’s actually an angel. Sir, we have ample evidence now from recent geoplane ops and other sources that the disentanglers work pretty well. They seem to scramble quantum comms to and from Config Zero. I want to use that. My daughter spent time as a hostage of Config Zero years ago. Q2 has determined that, because she’s is an angel and she endured some kind of living hell in the Sanctuary, she has some special insight into what Config Zero’s up to, its plans, its motives, if I can use that term. To be perfectly honest, sir, Rene’s become kind of a portal, an inside source as to what the swarms are doing, where they’re going.”
Steiner regarded Winger gravely. “I read the reports, General. Your daughter can produce dreams, some kind of imagery, that correlates well with other sources. A long-distance spy, I guess. Seems like hocus-pocus to me.”
Winger had to admit there was some truth to that. “I have to go with
what Lofton and Dr. Falkland tell me. She has dreams. They’ve got some kind of gadget that can pull the imagery from her processor and display it. And Lofton worked out a way of matching the imagery with what SpaceGuard and Farside can detect of swarm movements, deep space and locally. It’s complicated and I don’t pretend to understand it, sir. But, well, if my daughter can help in this fight in any way, I want to pursue it.”
UNSAC sat up abruptly. “Even if it means risking her life in enemy territory? Winger, you know I can’t approve putting civilians into combat situations.”
“Sir, my plan is to use Rene as a key part of our mission. Lofton thinks she can not only receive signals but send them as well. We can use that. We should use that…to put some counterfeit signals into Config Zero’s comms. At least, to know in detail what the bastard’s up to. We have a chance to really gum up its command and control system…and, with the disentanglers working, that might just make the difference.”
UNSAC sipped at some hot tea and perused the mission plan again. “I can’t argue against your basic strategy, Winger. Look, I’m tasked with trying to contain Config Zero, destroy his swarms and, oh by the way, could you make Symborg look like a fool while you’re at it. That’s from the SG and the politicians. Anything that makes my life and job easier, I’m all for it. But Rene…your daughter…if something happens, it won’t just be your neck in the noose, Winger, it’ll be mine as well. I can hear the investigators now: ‘What exactly were you thinking, Herr Commissioner, when you authorized putting a thirteen-year old girl on the Detachment? Please tell us….’”
Winger hated saying this but it was the truth. “Sir, what you see down there in Containment isn’t Rene. That’s not my daughter down there all hooked up like a lab rat in Dr. Falkland’s house of horrors. My daughter was lost years ago, when she was first taken hostage. I don’t know exactly what Config Zero did to her. But I intend to—“ he stopped, realizing that he was walking headlong into revenge territory . “”What I mean to say, sir, is that the swarm entity down stairs that everybody including me calls Rene Winger really isn’t Rene. She’s a tool. Maybe even a critical weapon in this fight. I recommend we use her…as I’ve outlined in my plan.”
There was an ever so slight, almost imperceptible nod to UNSAC’s massive Teutonic head. The moustache twitched. His eyes narrowed and his lips tightened.
“It’s against my better judgment, but damn it, you’re right and I know it. We need every weapon we can get. Winger, put your detachment together. With your daughter. I’ll think up something to hold off the inevitable recriminations. Get down there to Africa and smash that cloud of bugs for good.”
Winger stood up, retrieved his pad and saluted. “With pleasure, sir.” He left UNSAC’s suite of offices with a determined set to his face.
There was just one more detail he had to deal with before he started fleshing out the detachment. Checking the time, he realized that she would probably be down in the General Staff commissary about now.
He took the lift to the eighteenth floor and went looking.
Dana Tallant had chosen a seat out on the café terrace overlooking a view of the Jardin du Luxembourg. Early morning traffic crawled and honked along the Boulevard Saint-Michel, just below her table, which sat under a small striped awning along the outer rail. A faint shimmer above the rail betrayed barrier bots protecting the cafe-goers, from birds, other swarms, stray jetcabs and assorted nuisances.
She was just taking her first sip of the cappuccino when she spied her husband headed toward the table.
“You left early this morning, Wings. I felt a kiss, thought it was you, but when I opened my eyes, nothing. It was you, wasn’t it?”
Winger sat down and pinched off part of her bagel, stuffing it in his mouth. “What if I told you it was actually Howie. I programmed him to give you a good bye kiss every day.”
Tallant rolled her eyes. “I’d say that sounds about like a man. What’s up?”
Winger described the mission he had just briefed UNSAC on. “There will be two detachments. Alpha deals with Config Zero in Africa…locating and activating disentanglers on his front doorstep. Bravo goes to Rome. Symborg’s got a rally planned. Lofton over at Q2 and I both think without comms from Config Zero, we can grab Symborg’s master bot and be out of there before anybody knows what happened. I’m heading up Alpha Detachment.”
Tallant peered at her husband through a wreath of steam from her cup. “Why am I not surprised? You’ve been whining and bitching like an old lady about being cooped up in an office. I guess I’m only surprised this hasn’t happened before now. Sure, we always send our flag rank 0-9s on suicide missions. Sound tactical thinking, Winger. You’ll get a medal for this, I’m sure.”
“Hey, I’ve got some reasons and yes, they are sound tactical reasons. This is not a briefing. I just wanted you to know the scoop.”
“So, who’s on board? Anybody I know?”
Winger went down the rosters, ticking off names and ratings. “I’m also taking Rene with me to Africa.”
Dana Tallant looked up and blinked at her husband. “Excuse me? Did you say you’re taking Rene with you?”
Winger explained his reasoning. Right away, he could see Dana pulling back, withdrawing into herself. Her lips became a tight line when she did that. She wouldn’t make eye contact. Words became syllables.
“Sound tactical reasons?”
Winger knew this would happen. “Look, I know how you feel. I feel the same way—“
“Sure.”
“What I’m saying is that, like it or not, Rene’s got a gift. Whatever the explanation, she’s important to defeating Config Zero. You know that. I know that. If we don‘t use her gift, there’s no telling how many people might die. I have to bring her along.”
Dana was skeptical. “You have to bring a thirteen-year old along to help place some gadgets around a mountain, inside a protected sanctuary, with swarms and God knows what else in the area. You have to do this?”
“Dana—“
Tallant held up her hand. “Please. No more lectures. I know she’s not really our daughter. I know Rene’s gone. It’s just…it’s just—“ She wiped at her eyes with a napkin. “It’s so hard, you know…hard to give up. Hard to admit—“ She swallowed, dabbed at the corners of her eyes, then straightened herself up. “—hard to admit that we’ve been living like this for so many years. I don’t know what to call it…living a lie. Living a simulation. I know lots of people do this…fab their dear departed loved ones and keep them around for old times’ sake, like pets. But, Wings, you and me…I mean, I had hope that Falkland—“
Winger reached across the table and took her hands in his. “Look, we just wanted to have a normal family. But, Dana, these aren’t normal times. We’re at war and the front lines are everywhere. The enemy’s everywhere. He could be that table over there…or those jetcabs circling around the Eiffel Tower out there. We can’t live a normal life when the world isn’t normal. I can’t explain what kind of gift Rene has, only that we can use it…and yes, that means using her…to defeat Config Zero. Or at least, keep the bastard horde of bugs from running and operating its swarms all over the world.”
“What can Rene do that your disentangler gizmos can’t do?”
“She gives us intel on what the swarms are doing. Lofton thinks the comms can even be two-way…in other words, she can send and receive. If that’s true, and it hasn’t been fully tested, we have a chance to put a real hurt on Config Zero. Mess up the comm links between Zero and his troops and we’re halfway to putting slimebag out of business. Who knows: we could even put DNTs to work with some kind of upgraded replication blocker, like we tried to use in Berlin, and Zero might just be ripe to be picked off. Dana, we’ve got to try.”
She seemed resigned. “I know. I know. I get it. Just promise me one thing, Wings—“
“Anything…you name i
t.”
She loosened his finger grip on her hands and gently placed his hands on the table, patting them. “Keep Rene away from that bastard, whatever you do. Don’t bring her into proximity with Config Zero…I don’t want her…whatever part of her that’s still left, that’s still human…to have to go through that again. Promise me that, Wings. Don’t put Rene through that again.”
Winger took a deep breath. In his own mind’s view of the mission, bringing Rene before Config Zero was part of the tactics. “I’ll do what’s best for the mission, Dana. That’s all anyone can ask. I don’t need her to setup the DNTs. But interfering with comms…Falkland and Lofton both say the closer the better. It’s just how quantum systems work. We need the intel, Dana. And we need to try to jam comms anyway we can.”
Tallant finished her coffee and dabbed at her lips, then stood up abruptly. “Then that’s it, I guess. Got to go now…there’s a briefing at 0900 hours.” She came around and gave Winger a quick peck on the cheek. “Later—“
And she was gone, ducking back into the café in a swirl, bumping into another officer bearing a tray who was just coming out to the terrace.
Winger sat there for a moment, watching jetcabs orbit the Quartier-General, picking up and dropping off passengers from the landing pads on the roof. A queue of cabs had formed like a halo around the top of the building.
Was it anger? Confusion? A broken heart? They had lost Rene twice now, once when Config Zero had her kidnapped. And now, when they had to give up the idea Rene could ever be a normal daughter. She was a weapon in the arsenal of UNIFORCE, no longer the second child of John Winger and Dana Tallant.
Which was worse: losing a child? Or losing the idea of a child…losing the idea that you even had a child?
Winger got up and headed for the Detachment ready rooms downstairs. He didn’t even want to try to answer those kinds of questions. He had a mission now. The mission was critical and he would be commanding.
That was all any nanotrooper could ask for. Every atomgrabber knew that atoms were tricky things, slippery things. Almost like ideas. They bounced around. They changed shape. They disappeared and reappeared like shadows.
That’s what Rene was. That’s what she had always been, what any of us are. We’re just atoms.
Better to concentrate on the mission.
Johnny Winger and the Great Rift Zone Page 50
