At the other end, another hole was covered by a metal sheet, opening into another basement-adjoining room. Sandy cleared it and the basement beyond before clearing Danya and Svetlana to come through. Modeg stayed to guard the basement, as Zhao had remained to guard the balcony crossing . . . Danya signalled to her that he wasn’t happy leaving people behind, it only increased the chances of discovery. Sandy could see his point, but Home Guard weren’t incapable, bots were pretty stupid, and a random sector search that discovered their trail could be neutralised before it transmitted back. Bots were not in constant communication with HQ because HQ blocked all outside transmissions, fearing subversion. Which was why they were having to sneak inside the kill zone to begin with . . . but it did mean bots could be taken out without HQ’s immediate knowledge, provided it was done fast.
And leaving people behind to guard the trail meant they wouldn’t be ambushed on the way back. Though probably Danya knew several other ways.
The next crossing was six stories up, this time a hidden plank bridging three meters between close balconies. Or it would have done, if the kids hadn’t had Sandy. They’d barely gotten over and inside when Sandy heard a whining sound, and ushered them quickly into the back of the apartment. A hover UAV went over, lift fans whirring. Sandy wasn’t so worried about them. There was no way to make them silent; she could hear them coming a long way off. But Danya indicated the spot he knew was just one building over, so they left Duage at the balcony, meaning now it was just them and Gunter.
They took stairs down, then a fast door past a corridor and into the deserted kitchen of what had once been a ground floor restaurant. Sandy took guard by the kitchen doorway and peered out. The restaurant beyond was a wreck, destroyed by weapons fire long ago. Danya indicated out and to the side, and after a full scan, Sandy silently did that. The side door was missing, and the wreck of a crashed aircar had come down right alongside, between buildings, providing cover.
Then Sandy heard it coming—tires up the road—and gestured Danya quickly back into the doorway. Danya in turn gestured to Svetlana, who darted across to join him. None of them looked when the bot passed—most recon bots had complete 360-degree vision, and if you could see them, odds were they could see you. Best to hide, and listen. Sandy recalled old tales of Jason fighting Medusa, duelling with a foe he wasn’t able to look at without turning to stone. She reckoned this one had just the four wheels, weighed perhaps half a ton. Probably had more firepower than she felt like dealing with if she could avoid it.
They left Gunter to guard that crossing, moved quickly into the neighbouring building, then took the stairs. Two floors from the top, Danya took them into a corridor, then finally to an apartment doorway. Sandy opened it quietly and cleared the room as best she could, crawling low behind the bed. The room was bright with light from nearby towers. She lay on the floor behind the bed, wondering if she should roll across to the bathroom to check it was clear. She decided against it—any one of those towers could have AI-analysed telescopes trained on these buildings, and the windows were clear to see through. Any movement could conceivably launch a high explosive round in here within a matter of seconds.
So. She took off her small backpack and began setting up the unit the Home Guard had lent her. It was a military issue encrypted radio, an ancient thing at least a century old, but in good working order and suitable for her purposes. This apartment, Danya had assured her, was the only one he knew with a view of a Chancelry com tower, and within a hundred meters. That was within the boundary of Chancelry’s own chatter, and if she set the frequency right, should get confused amidst all the other signals; a lot of them were automated along the barrier, plus all those civvie signals . . . even if the location triangulation did get set onto her, it probably couldn’t place her with certainty outside the barrier. She hoped.
She placed the little transmission dish against the pillow—no automated scan was sensitive enough to see that through all this light contrast—and began listening. Danya and Svetlana joined her, backs to the bed, one on either side and watching with curiosity. Sandy put the unit in her lap, then plugged the cord into her head, not wanting to leak even the smallest local transmission.
With the control panels up, she received for a moment. Lots of traffic; a genuine cacophony. Excellent. She sent her own signal to join them, modulating it to resemble them as much as possible. That took some work, but she was somewhat designed for this, too—one of those reflexive programs that just happened when she thought about it. Home Guard had provided her with thousands of local pass keys and identities, and after a little while of listening she was able to determine which ones seemed most likely to work. She tried one. A com tower asked for a pass key, which she saw as a 3-D graphic on internals, and 3-D graphics asking for pass keys was her bread and butter.
She gave the kids a thumbs-up to indicate she was in. Svetlana pulled out a little portable screen and pointed to it questioningly, wondering if she could be allowed to see what was going on. Sandy shook her head . . . they lacked the right cord. Svetlana rolled her eyes and looked immediately bored. Sandy smiled. Kids.
But the network . . . this was more like it. This was a very big network, but nothing compared to Tanusha. Lots of it looked automated, but that just made it predictable, and she flew down gleaming visual highways, looking for branch-offs and offshoots. How to find a single GI in this network? Narrow it down and keep narrowing. Experimental GIs wouldn’t be allowed to just roam. Somewhere heavily shielded, then. Chancelry HQ, someplace very hard to get into.
It wasn’t hard to find, but it was heavily shielded. On internals it looked like what medieval knights must have seen staring up at the walls of impenetrable castles, huge barriers designed to keep everything out. But unlike castles, network barriers had to be penetrable; if there was no communication with the outside, there was no point putting it on a network at all. She just had to find a way to fool it into thinking she was an insider. And that, with her skills in a League-software environment, was just a matter of time.
“You’d do more good staying on station and working on the problem up here,” Cai told the three Feddie agents as they sat on his bare-boards floor and contemplated a shared station graphic.
“No,” Rhian said firmly, cleaning one of her pistols. “I came to help Sandy and our other GI friends. We can’t do that if we’re not on the planet.”
“Getting down to the planet’s going to be very hard without ISO help,” said Ari. “Forging IDs for a downworld berth wouldn’t be hard without them, but now they’re working with League again, and League’s at least paying friendly visits to New Torah, we can’t assume ISO hasn’t told everyone that we’ve arrived.”
Cai’s apartment was in a deserted quarter of the station. It was directly beside a heating vent, or it would have been freezing instead of merely cold. Big windows overlooked the docks, covered now by a big tarpaulin. It must have been quite an upmarket joint when the station was fully occupied and buzzing. Now, stripped of all fittings, it echoed.
“Look,” said Cai. “League resumed contact with New Torah at least two years ago. I’ve been doing recon in these parts for a while, and I know this for a fact. I suspect it has something to do with whatever Chancelry is up to with their GIs. Chancelry is doing all kinds of experiments on GI technology . . .”
“Why?” asked Ari.
“I don’t know. But whatever it is, League wants a part of it.”
“Chancelry’s a heavy arms manufacturer,” Ari muttered, rubbing his forehead. “What do they even want with GIs?” He glanced at Cai. Cai said nothing. Ari’s eyes narrowed. “You know something, don’t you? Who do you work for, some private League corporation? Maybe Mohindi Group, worried Chancelry’s stealing a lead on you?”
“You can ask all you want,” said Cai, “but I’m not at liberty to discuss it.”
“Hang on,” said Vanessa. “ISO’s entire premise for this operation was that League didn’t want anything to do with New Torah.
That they had no interest in intervening here, didn’t want to admit New Torah was a problem, and would start a war with the Federation if the Federation tried it instead. Now you’re saying League’s actually been here talking to New Torah for two years?”
“At least,” said Cai. “So if the ISO were upset at their own government for something, it wasn’t that.”
“Maybe . . .” Ari’s eyes widened a little. “Maybe ISO weren’t upset League wanted nothing to do with New Torah. Maybe they were upset League had too much to do with them.”
Everyone looked at him.
“Okay, okay,” he said, “think about this. League Gov gets involved with New Torah, the last place in the known universe they’re actually welcome. I mean, they’d be more welcome on Callay.”
“’Specially amongst your friends,” remarked Vanessa.
“Suddenly Chancelry Corporation, New Torah’s biggest surviving heavy arms manufacturer, starts making GIs. Heavily experimental ones. No media out here, no human rights observers . . .”
“Few enough even back League-side,” Rhian said drily.
“Damn sight more than here,” Ari retorted. “Anyway, we don’t know what the hell they’re up to with GIs. But that’s the point, neither do the ISO. And ISO have senior high-des GIs like Mustafa, who take this stuff very seriously. They want to know what their own government is up to, but their own government won’t tell ISO because they know ISO will get pissed.”
“Oh, fuck,” said Vanessa, blinking. “Oh, they fucking suckered us right in, didn’t they?”
“They suckered Sandy right in, you mean. They made her believe—Mustafa made her believe—that ISO wanted to force League to intervene in New Torah. Instead, he knew League were already involved in New Torah, he just wanted to force them to let ISO in on the action. And in coming here, and causing all kind of chaos as Sandy is so good at doing, suddenly League and maybe even New Torah get worried, and tell Mustafa, ‘hey, that’s enough of your troublemaking, we’ll let you in on the deal, but you gotta ditch your new Federation buddies.’”
“So Mustafa betrays Sandy,” Rhian said quietly. “In exchange for getting the ISO a slice of the action.” She slapped her pistol back together, with ominous intent. Chambered a round.
“Makes sense,” Vanessa agreed. “There isn’t much he wouldn’t do for ISO. And he knew how important it was to Sandy, that she’d fall for it more easily than most.”
“Yes,” said Rhian. “But now he’s going to regret it. They all are, you watch. Sandy’s still alive down there. She’s dangerous enough on normal days, but now she’ll be really angry. They’re all screwed.”
“Even Sandy can’t take out all the corporations in Droze single-handed,” Ari murmured.
“No?” Rhian looked dangerously sceptical.
“If you’re right,” Cai interrupted, looking at Rhian, “then we have a problem. Cassandra seems very effective and determined. But I warn you—if she were ever to stand a realistic chance of compromising Chancelry HQ on Droze, League would never allow it.”
Vanessa frowned at him. “League would never allow it? You mean New Torah would never allow it, surely?”
“Either,” said Cai, with certainty. “But if Cassandra were successful in spite of New Torah’s efforts, League would intervene. If necessary, they’d destroy Droze from orbit, whatever New Torah thought of it, and no matter how many died. With this League ship at station dock, they could actually do it. New Torah has orbital defences, but this ship is fast, and already in close orbit. Droze is relatively defenceless against it.”
“Destroy Droze from orbit?” Vanessa stared at Cai, incredulously. “Ari, help out this poor head-kicking grunt for a second, does this make any sense to you at all? Ari?”
Ari said nothing. Vanessa looked at him. Ari was staring at Cai, open-mouthed. His long face seemed paler than usual in this cold, dark against his beard. He raised a finger and pointed at Cai. The finger appeared to be shaking slightly.
“I know what you are,” Ari whispered. Cai stared back, with hard, unblinking eyes. Ari raised a hand defensively, as though to protect his uplinks, one covering his ear. “No, you stay out of my head! I won’t tell anyone, I swear!”
“Ari!” Vanessa barked, now utterly lost. “Ari, tell anyone what?” Ari thought himself completely vulnerable to Cai? Ari was an uplink wizard—he was vulnerable to no one. Her hand clasped the pistol in her thigh pocket. “Would someone tell me what the hell is going on?”
“I can’t tell you,” said Ari, a little calmer now, but no less astonished. “We’ve got recon to do, we’re in enemy territory, and if these guys captured me they might find out that way. Cai’s identity needs to remain secret. Cai.” Very sincerely. “Trust me on this. If you are what I think you are, I’m on your side, too. And Vanessa, Rhi, you don’t need to worry. I don’t know if it makes him a good guy, necessarily, but he’s certainly not on their side, I guarantee it. League, ISO or New Torah, no way.”
“New Torah least of all,” Cai murmured, seeming to relax. “I thank you.”
“No way!” said Vanessa, getting to her feet. “There is no way I conduct an operation like this. One of you will tell me what’s going on!”
“So, things being what they are,” Ari said to Cai, ignoring her completely, “we need to find a way to help Sandy. Perhaps disable that ghostie, certainly find out what her captain is talking to New Torah about.”
Cai nodded. “It will be nice to have some assistance. I am capable, but I cannot do it alone.”
“You’re the only one?” Ari asked, an amazed smile breaking through.
Cai smiled back. “Yes. For now.”
“Wow,” said Ari, leaning back against the wall, both hands in his hair. “Wow.”
“But I warn you,” said Cai, “what we can find up here is limited. The true secrets are in Chancelry HQ. Only Cassandra can uncover them. And those secrets, I am entirely sure, League would rather nuke the city than have revealed.”
Anya looked around. She couldn’t remember coming here. She couldn’t remember where “here” was. There was nothing really to look at, just a giant blank, no colour, no texture. Beneath her was something that might be a floor, but her hands felt nothing as she pressed upon it. She seemed to feel weight, though. And thus, balance. Though it would help if she could see a horizon.
Someone was walking toward her. She looked up. It was a woman, though she wasn’t sure how she could tell. It just moved like a woman. The clothes were indistinct, as was the face. As though obscured by some kind of static.
“Hello,” said a voice, and it was a woman’s voice. She squatted alongside. “Do you know where you are?”
“I think this is some kind of VR,” said Anya, puzzled. “But I’m not very good with VR, usually. How does it work?”
“I’m sorry,” said the woman. “That’s my fault. I brought you here. I found you hooked into the main network here, and I wanted to talk to you. This is the only way I could do it without the corporation seeing. The VR matrix hides all our activity here.”
Anya knelt upright. Then, carefully, she stood. She looked herself up and down. She wore her tracksuit, standard clothes. Though of course in here, the tracksuit wasn’t actually real.
“What’s your name?” asked the woman.
“Anya,” said Anya, still looking herself up and down.
“I’m Sandy.”
“Why can’t I see your face?”
“Well, the VR doesn’t know what I look like.”
“Can you see my face?” Anya asked.
“I can. And your hair. I like that haircut.”
Anya put a hand to her hair. It was dark, cut straight about at the jawline, and straight across at the fringe. “Oh. I haven’t had this haircut for a while.”
The woman nodded. “The VR produces an image of how you’ve looked recently. Most people have those images in their memory implants.”
“Where did you find me?” Anya asked. “I can’t remember where I
was.”
“What can you remember?”
Anya thought about it. She remembered the usual routines. She remembered not passing tactical. The monitors hadn’t been happy with that. They’d told her she had to take herself off the roster for more procedures.
“Not a lot,” she admitted. “That’s weird, that must be something to do with the VR. Are you from Chancelry, or Heldig? I mean, you are a GI?”
“Yes.”
“Well I remember failing tactical, but I didn’t believe them,” she explained, frowning as she tried to piece it together. “I didn’t think I’d done that badly, but the monitors insisted I had. I wanted to get onto active duty roster—I needed to do something. I was getting tired of waiting and doing all of their boring routines. But they said I had to do some procedures, and I hate those.”
“Medical procedures?” asked the woman.
Anya blinked at her. “Do they do procedures differently from where you’re from? You never said where you’re from.”
The woman looked aside, hands on hips. Anya wished she could see her face. “I’m not from any of the corporations,” she said.
“You’re from outside?”
A nod. “I’m here because I promised someone I’d come to find you. Someone who said he was a very good friend of yours. He said his name was Eduardo.”
Anya gasped. “You met Eduardo? How? Where?”
“He came to where I live. He told me about you. He said you were his very best friend.”
“He is!” Anya agreed. “Where is he? Is Eduardo okay?”
A pause from the woman. “He’s fine,” she said then. “But he can’t be here right now. I said I’d look for you when I came here, and I’d try to bring you to him. Would you like that?”
Cassandra Kresnov 04: 23 Years on Fire Page 39
