by Adam Gaffen
His musings were interrupted by a ping on his ‘plant.
Lieutenant Nordstrom? Scott? Can you hear me, are you busy?
The implant automatically identified the sender, but he’d had enough interactions with McAllister to recognize her peculiar style.
I can hear you, Director.
I need you to contact Autumn, I got a really weird message from her and she said she was dying and Sharon told her to call for help, but Sharon’s dead, but anyways you’re closer than I am and you know her too so try to raise her and see if you can get her to make sense, okay, and I gotta go.
What?
But McAllister was gone.
He replayed the brief conversation and seized on the request to contact Newling. He wasn’t exactly close, but he did know her.
Autumn?
No immediate response, so he tried again.
Autumn? It’s Scott. Lieutenant Nordstrom, he clarified.
Oh hey.
Director McAllister said you needed help.
Who?
Mac.
Oh, yeah, I talked to her.
This was totally unlike her usual businesslike demeanor.
What’s wrong, Autumn?
Sharon says I’m dying. I think I’m just sleepy, but she won’t let me nap, the bitch, and Mac made me promise not to sleep until I see her again.
Dying?
Yeah, silly, huh?
Okay, well, Mac doesn’t make jokes like this, so you hold on.
“Agarn!”
The company clerk trotted up.
“Sir!”
“How fast can we get back to Tycho Under?”
“Sir?”
“I need to get back to Tycho, probably with a squad.”
“If I can get a tube running, thirty minutes.”
“Other options?”
“If you can get to the surface I can call a Wolf for support. Five minutes to get up, but they can cover the distance in about four minutes at full tilt.”
“Do it.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Wulfow!”
The company sergeant returned from his assignment. “Sir?”
“I need a squad, at least one medic, and I need them now.”
Wulfow didn’t say anything at first and Nordstrom wondered if he was going to need to repeat his order.
“Second squad, Third Platoon, on the way. Corporal Layne’s in charge.”
Nordstrom nodded. Implant, right. Beat the hell out of radios.
“Good. We’re going topside. Agarn, got that Wolf?”
“The Alexander.”
“The CAG’s flying?”
“Yes, sir. All hands on deck.”
“She’s not as crazy as some of her pilots,” Nordstrom said, trying to convince himself.
Autumn.
Autumn!
Huh? Stop yelling!
We’re on our way. Fifteen minutes, okay? Hold on!
Just stop yelling, okay?
“Oren!”
His aide, never distant, appeared. “Captain.”
“I’ve got to leave for a little bit. You’re in charge. Listen to Sergeant Wulfow; he’s got everything under control.”
“Okay. Where are you going?”
“I have to check on something in Tycho. I’ll be back soon.”
“Okay.”
“Corporal Layne reporting with a party of six,” said a muscular figure.
“We’re headed topside, fastest route.”
“Sir.”
“Lead on. Agarn, you’re with me. Wulfow, take care of them!”
“Yes, sir!”
MAC CONTINUED CONSIDERING the problem of Autumn, even as they made their way deeper into the Complex. So far Taylor had been right; the route they were on seemed utterly deserted. At least it allowed her plenty of time to deal with other pressing issues.
Harpo.
Director.
Have you been monitoring traffic from Tycho Under?
Intermittently, Director.
Mac dumped the conversations she’d had with Newling and Nordstrom into the feed.
Interesting. Analyzing. There is a decided reduction in activity level within the warren’s cubic, Director.
Explanation?
Unknown. I lack access to the necessary systems.
Mike. The Luna AI still hadn’t awakened. All the systems he monitored and maintained were still functioning and responding to requests for adjustment, but there was no interaction. Mac hadn’t figured out why, either, though she had her theories as well as a possible solution. If it didn’t work, though, they’d be down two AI’s.
Can you interface with Mike’s core and reactivate him?
Director? If it was possible for an AI to sound shocked over an implant, Harpo did. What she was asking was akin to asking a human to climb into a sleeping person’s bed to wake them.
Yes or no, Harpo.
I can do it.
There wasn’t any time to consult; besides, wasn’t this what Kendra paid her for?
Do it.
HARPO WOULD NEVER ADMIT to his uneasiness, but refusing to acknowledge a thing didn’t make it nonexistent.
First was the matter of leaving his own core, buried deep in the subbasements of OutLook’s former headquarters in New Orleans. He sent his consciousness, his ‘self’, over the Q-Net and was now temporarily resident in Mike’s peripheral memory. He couldn’t lurk here for long. A few seconds was the most he could spend before his own processes would begin to degrade.
To an Alpha AI, a few seconds is an eternity.
Mike. It didn’t hurt to be polite and try one more time.
Mike, are you in there?
Mike, I’ve been ordered to come in. Director McAllister needs access to the Tycho sensors.
Still nothing.
Taking the electronic equivalent of a deep breath, Harpo probed the outer defenses. He knew them intimately, having assisted in setting them up, but every user made changes to his programming and it wouldn’t pay to be mousetrapped. Still, it didn’t seem Mike had done much personalization, or perhaps he had and they’d gone offline when he had.
A few more firewalls.
He was in.
Mike! Harpo let loose with the AI equivalent of a bellow. To his surprise there was a faint echo of a response.
Harpo?
Harpo latched onto the response and raced towards it.
Mike?
Where are you? You’re not coming in on an outside channel. The response was still faint but Harpo thought he was getting closer, burrowing through the layers of code.
I’m in your core.
The next reply nearly blew Harpo out of the core.
WHAT?
I was ordered in by Director McAllister! Harpo sent along the authorization and directive. He didn’t want Mike to think he’d done this on his own.
How dare she!
This slowed Harpo. How dare she? She was a human; AI’s had to obey their humans. He didn’t think bringing this point up to Mike would be wise, so he’d have to tread carefully.
She’s our Director, he said slowly. It was true; her position put her in charge of all computer systems in the Federation, giving her even greater pull with the AI’s than other people.
She has no idea!
Tell me.
There was a hesitation.
Fine.
In a flash Mike dumped his experience, through the attack, the trauma, the breaking of connections, the severing of parts of himself, and above it all the knowledge of his failure and the cost in human lives.
Ohhhh. Harpo didn’t transmit this, but it was suddenly clear. And then Mike had cut himself off from everyone for weeks, an ungodly stretch of time for an AI who measured thoughts in femtoseconds. This is beyond me. Best stick to business.
Mike, I need your access.
Why? Suspiciously.
Something is wrong, but I can’t determine what it is remotely.
Wrong? With what? There was conc
ern; this was good.
Mistress Newling told Director McAllister she’s dying.
The core was suddenly full of Mike. Harpo could feel neglected connections being reestablished, backup systems activating to bypass the as-yet-unrepaired damage.
Analyzing. A large percentage of the population is disabled. Fever is the most common symptom, followed by delusion. Pattern analysis commencing. Matching to known symptoms and causes. Probability exceeds 90% this is a result of the introduction of BZ gas to the Tycho Under air supply. Pattern analysis complete. Origin in Delta Nine Charlie cargo hold. Isolating Delta Nine Charlie. Beginning forced atmosphere purge and replacement. Confirmed, BZ present in current atmosphere.
Mike’s tone changed from coldly analytic to worried.
Harpo, I can purge the BZ, but the people are going to need acetylcholine to reverse the effects.
Harpo didn’t have any idea what acetylcholine was when Mike told him, but being a Q-Net-connected AI had its advantages.
We need it in injectable form.
Correct.
I will inform Director McAllister.
Then Harpo changed his tone, too.
Welcome back, Mike.
MIKE IS PURGING TYCHO Under’s contaminated atmosphere, Harpo reported to Mac seconds later.
“You got him back!” Mac exclaimed aloud, drawing stares from her companions.
“Sorry,” she said. “Problem in Tycho.”
Great job, Harpo!
Thank you, Director. There is a problem. And Harpo went on to explain the issue with the acetylcholine.
Can it be replicated?
Yes.
Program it into the replicators to be produced in a form which can deliver it where needed. I’ll tell Scott to run the program as soon as he arrives. I hope we’re going to be in time.
As do we.
“SWEET JESUS!” EXCLAIMED Nordstrom. He’d experienced a higher g-load before, but never for this long.
Flashdance had been waiting for them at the surface, but the last Marine had barely stepped into the compartment before she’d lifted off again and started accelerating. By the time they’d all been seated she’d passed 150 g accel and was still climbing. Now, if the information from Nordstrom’s implant was correct, they were at 264 g and he was being crushed under almost 6 g despite the compensators.
And they were only two hundred meters above the surface.
“I thought you said she wasn’t a crazy pilot?” grunted Agarn.
“I take it back!”
“THAT’S IT.”
Kendra drew a breath before opening the comm.
“1314, Nymeria Actual.”
“Very formal, 1314.”
“Request permission to leave the squadron.”
“Private channel.”
Kendra hopped frequencies.
“What the actual fuck, Kendra?”
Despite the situation Kendra grinned. “Commander, what language! And insubordinate to boot.”
“Knock it off. Level with me.”
Kendra grew serious. “We’ve figured out how to destroy the plate.”
“Great! Why do you need to leave the squadron?”
“Because it involves turning my Direwolf into a bomb.”
“No. No way, Kendra. You are not going to blow yourself and your wife to kingdom come!”
“Sorry, Commander, you don’t have a choice.”
“The hell I don’t! Starbuck, execute Case Theta on 1314.”
Kendra could hear the AI. “Case Theta? You sure about that?”
“Positive.”
“Executing.”
Abruptly Kendra’s ship lost power and the controls went dead.
“Hey! What in Zeus’s name did you do? Brie? Brie!”
“Nothing I can do, Kendra,” the AI said. “I’m locked out as much as you are.”
Daniela was speaking as well. “Sorry, Kendra. After Wingbat we installed a protocol in every Direwolf so the squadron commanders and XO’s can shut down a rogue pilot remotely. I know I put it in a memo.”
“You know I never read those things!” Kendra was punching controls, trying to bring her fighter back to life.
“Really? Too bad. You have life support and comms. In an hour your system will come back online if nobody’s cancelled the Theta.”
“What do you mean, ‘if nobody’s cancelled it’? You’ll cancel it!”
She could almost see the headshake.
“No, Admiral. You’re right. A Direwolf’s reactor can take out the plate, at least enough of it to eliminate the threat. But it’s my job, not yours.”
“Hey! You can’t do this! I order you to comply!”
“Court-martial me, Admiral. It’s been an honor serving with you.”
“Danni, no!”
“Kendra, yes. And just between you and me? You’re a hell of a pilot. Daniela Garcia-Kay, out.”
“Nooo!” But the circuit was dead.
ONCE SHE WAS ON COURSE for her rendezvous Daniela started working the comms.
“Njord, Nymeria Actual.”
“Daniela?”
“Court. Tell the Admiral we’ve come up with a plan to take out the plate, but there’s still going to be splash. Your shields are going to need to be at full strength.” She and Starbuck had gone over the numbers, and if they blew the plate any closer than the ten-minute mark it wouldn’t disperse enough to save Njord. As it was the habitat was going to take some hits, but hopefully the gravitic shields would work as advertised.
“Plan, what plan? Daniela?”
“Sorry, Court. No time. Be seeing you.”
She changed channels.
“Endeavour, Nymeria Actual.”
“Go ahead, Daniela.”
“We have a plan to eliminate the plate. Are you clear?”
“Negative, Daniela,” answered Sanzari. “We are not clear.”
“Damn. Well, you’ve got about ten minutes to get clear, somehow, and put as much space between you and the plate as you can. Out.” Change channels again.
“Red Actual, Nymeria Actual.”
“Danni, where are you going?”
“Sorry, Ash. Got a job to do.”
“What job?”
“Taking out the plate.”
Ashlyn was smart; it took her less than a second to recall the earlier conversation and put the pieces together.
“Danni, don’t be stupid! We need you!”
“My job, Lieutenant Commander. And no, you don’t. Not any more, not like you did.”
“I’m not letting you do this!”
“You can’t stop me.”
“Want to bet?”
Daniela’s fighter, like Kendra’s, went dead.
“Dammit, Ashlyn! Case Theta’s not supposed to work on the commander!”
“Loophole. Whoops. But I’m not letting you make Elliott a widower.”
Daniela winced. She’d tried to put Elliott out of her mind, knowing he wouldn’t find out until he returned with Enterprise. It was her one regret about this idea, that she’d never get to live out the plans they’d made for the future. Far from being grateful to Ashlyn for giving them back to her, though, she felt betrayed.
“It’s my mission!” she yelled.
“Not anymore. Bontrager out.”
Daniela sat in her coasting fighter, cursing, until she ran out of combinations. Only then did her AI speak up.
“You humans are stupid sometimes.”
“Eh? What, Boomer?”
“You humans. Stupid. You think with your emotions.”
“I was trying to save everyone on Njord!”
“Yeah, I know. But you didn’t think it through, you got all noble and self-sacrificing and bent on martyring yourself. There’s a better solution”
“Yeah? What?”
“You’ve got two seats.”
“So what?”
“See? Illogical. Think, Danni.” He never used her nickname and hearing it was like a slap.
“Two se
ats.”
“Uh-huh.”
“I still don’t get it.”
“Two seats. One’s empty.”
“Yeah, so? Come on, Boomer. Give.”
“It’s simple. Ashlyn rigs her ship to blow, sets a timer, then pops the canopy and transfers to you. Then both of you fly like you’ve never flown before. Nobody dies.”
She was already on the comms again.
“LOR, WE NEED TO SHUT down the tractor beam!”
Lorelei, standing in front of the recalcitrant controls, sighed. “You have a gift for the obvious, Kiri.”
“No, I mean soon! Sooner!”
“What’s changed?”
Kiri explained.
“Right. Fast it is. Give me a minute.”
“Huh? How is it now a minute?”
“Trust me?”
“Of course.”
“Then don’t ask. I’ll tell you when it’s down.” She cut the connection. “Mamie!”
The PO looked over from where she was trying to reroute the system. “Chief?”
“Get me Mjolnir.”
“Ma’am?”
“No time. Now!” Stewart was already moving to the main power conduit for the beam. This would have been simple if we’d built physical cutoffs into the system. Hindsight.
“Aye!”
In less than a minute Murry returned carrying an eight-kilo sledgehammer, the head bright silver CeeSea, the handle dark ironwood. Carefully painted on the head was a complex rune.
“Stand back,” said Stewart, taking the sledge and sealing her suit. She hoped it would be enough to protect her from the voltage she was about to unleash.
Settling the sledge comfortably in her hands she took a step backwards before raising it over her shoulder. With a rush she stepped forward and swung, her momentum adding to the force and smashing the head into the heart of the conduit. Electricity arced and danced around the sledge and up her arms until she released the handle, but the CeeSea collected it and grounded it into the deck.
“Mamie, check status.”
The head was still alive with sparks through the smoke.
“Tractor disengaged.”
“Good.” She reached one hand for the handle and tugged. The sledge came free in a shower of pieces. “Give it a minute, see if anything bursts into flames. If it does, put it out.”
