A Pattern of Details

by James Matt Cox

  That left a different class of organisms; one designed specifically to prey upon AI, smartsystems and smeshes: meta-viruses, often termed 'genies' by irritated coders. All League computers and 'nets had defenses against metaviruses but only if introduced externally. If the parasite managed to compromise an interior system it would circumvent the defenses it found, analyze them and alter itself into a self-executing module the 'net would recognize as safe.

  Morris found Harper on the bridge. The breaking dawn visible through the front ports told him just how much time had passed. Harper herself looked as though she hadn't slept.

  "There were a lot more contacts," she said without preamble, "They're not even bothering to hide. Much. How soon can we leave?"

  Something clicked inside Morris head.

  "When did the contacts start? I need the exact time."

  Harper stared but called up the log when she decided he was serious. Morris did a quick calculation. The answer fit perfectly.

  "We don't have to leave," he said, "The contacts aren't real."

  Before Harper could bury him in questions Morris told her what he'd found.

  "So you think these sensor contacts are the result of this parasite?"

  "It fits. We're not dealing with a simple virus. When a metavirus invades a smartsystem it adapts itself fully to its environment. If the gensats are compromised that means it has control of whatever they have. Genies can be given very broad instructions. Suppose its directive is to cause us as much trouble as possible. If you were in a GIPS smartsystem how would you do that?"

  "If I wanted to stay hidden I'd start a spate of anomalous... sensor contacts. Feces!" She thought a moment. "Can we trust our machines?"

  "Most of them. That vegg - viral egg - required a large datacache just to store itself and it couldn't execute properly on my datapad. That's how I found it."

  Harper nodded.

  "Isolate as many machines as you can. We must assume this thing has invaded us completely. Can you initiate measures without showing your cards?"

  "I think so. I'll switch everything I can to low-level hardcode. From there I'll try to segment the memory and cores. Dr. Delroy might be able to help."

  "No," said Harper quickly, "As of this moment only you, I and our saboteur know about this thing. I want to keep it that way."

  A disturbing thought hit Morris. "What about the beacon drone?"

  She nodded. "It's isolated but it may well be infected too. I'll do what I can."

  ***

  Morris unsealed engineering. The seals showed no disturbance but if his suspicions were true the saboteur would not need physical access.

  Unsurprisingly the fusion chamber reported optimal. Morris activated the hardcoded interlocks and started a low-level check hardcoded into tamper-proof circuit strips. Those results differed considerably from the high-level ones: the starchamber showed considerable deterioration. Not enough to affect the plant at its current level but more than enough to melt the chamber if they tried to take off. Morris thought about taking the maintenance monitor completely offline but decided on a different approach.

  Morris wasn't much of a coder and certainly no burner but Tech training of necessity included the basics of logic flow design, programming and smartsystem instruction. He started the hardcode regeneration cycles and worked on some computer genetics of his own. Using a portion of memory just large enough to contain it he wrote a module to simulate a perfectly-functioning fusion plant. It would not stand up to scrutiny but stable, well-maintained plants didn't vary much from nominal values. He programmed these and added a small variance routine. He then insulated his system and connected its inputs to a smartsystem monitor. That done, he added a routine to accept signals from the standard control ports, log them and discard them.

  For the fusion plant itself Morris fibered the hardware monitor directly into a pair of dedicated datalines. Thanks to Navy overbuilding the ship had ample redundant lines Morris could use as needed.

  The door to engineering beeped.

  "Morris," said Harkin, "Mallory said I'd find you here."

  He looked past Morris.

  "Maintenance? I thought you were done here."

  "Routine checks. And I am." Morris rolled his eyes. "The Commander wants me to personally check everything, verify function, et cetera and at length." He tried to put contempt in his voice but it came out petulance. Again.

  "Well we're ready for lunch." Harkin checked his chrono. "Make that eating lunch and you weren't answering the 'comm. Jena wanted to hit the emergency beep."

  He grinned at this and Morris joined him.

  "I really am finished here. Give me a few minutes to clean up and I'll join you."

  Harkin nodded and left. Morris re-sealed engineering, cleaned up and headed for the lounge.

  Rackwell joined them briefly for lunch. Jackson allowed him only bland, low-residue solids but he ate them with gusto if not speed. Morris gathered from the conversation that they had the camp down to the polish: work on the prefab interiors.

  "All without breaking anything," said Lace with a wink to Polov, who finished fixing the plotter properly.

  "We'll deep-map the site tomorrow," said Harper, surprising them all, "As yet we don't have any good details on it. If it even exists. I believe it does!" She added that last quickly. "We'll deploy the deep scanners. I've worked out optimals based on the local topography and we'll need three target teams. Technician, can you repair the damaged float by tomorrow?"

  "Yes ma'am."

  "Do so. Target teams are as follows: Kody, Harkin and Eisley; Taylor, Polov and Garrett; Lace, Jackson, Delroy and Rackwell. Jackson, you will take the rover. Kody and Taylor will take the floats."

  Several people tried to voice a protest, Delroy loudest among them. Harper silenced them quickly and with no alterations to the teams.

  Repairing the damaged float took little time. Very little since Morris didn't intend to repair it at all. He didn't have time to rebuild the damaged thruster so he reconfigured the vehicle. Normally it side-mounted two thrusters but, as a rugged frontier model, it had the hardware and connections for a center-mount. Moving the thruster to centerline mount took more effort than time and soon he had it done. Morris would take this float. He hardware-disabled the traffic control computer and reinstalled the core.

  Just to be safe Morris also disabled the higher functions on the other float and the rover. They didn't need extensive traffic control routines here and simple autoguidance didn't require a smartsystem. He also adjusted the display terminals so no one would notice the reconfiguration.

  ***

  Dinner and afterward found the groups planning what to do at the scan sites. Burying the deepscanners came at the top of the list but Lace wanted samples, Harkin wanted meteorologic data and Morris just wanted to finish. Jackson would take the rover to the closest site, Kody the next and Morris the farthest. Kody would also pass close to a possible entrance so he planned to do an overfly on the return trip. Delroy again stated her desire to stay with the ship and work with the datafeeds but again to no avail. Morris knew the scanners would take time to synchronize with each other and until that happened they wouldn't generate valid data.

  "It's very simple," said Morris to his team, "We bury the scanner, make certain the uplink is working and then do whatever else we can. Mean time to target is two and a half hours and I want to be back with plenty of daylight. Yes, Mr. Garrett, we will be taking a herc. It will greatly assist us in placing the scanner. As to what else we do we'll follow the standard Survey protocol until it's time to leave."

  Garrett and Polov swapped looks at that. Morris knew they'd do some serious reading tonight.

  Morris sat at his terminal and opened Delroy's message.

  'Good evening Specialist.'

  'We're not really starting the expedition tomorrow, are we?'

  'Why should we not?'

  A graphic opened with Delroy's diagram, this time with scaling and significant factors m
arked. Morris took the time to investigate the criteria. Although Delroy abstracted them in a compact mathematical shorthand he managed to grasp the gist of it.

  'This is our mission,' said Delroy, 'and these are the metrics affecting it and caused from it. According to the event summation the University assignment was a non-factor. We were meant from the start to investigate the Imperium site.'

  'Interesting theory.'

  'Don't patronize me! This is important!!' She highlighted several loops on the diagram. 'These cusps happened when engineering... When we had the first accident. The lower ones correspond to other incidents of improbable machine failure or low-probability events.'

  Morris indicated several smaller loops.

  'What about these,' he asked.

  'Statistically insignificant nonlinear perturbation. Clutter.'

  'Assuming you are correct, Specialist, what should we do?'

  No response.

  'Specialist? Do you have an answer?'

  Her console went into privacy lock. He keyed in a standard override.

  'Specialist?'

  The override terminated. He keyed in a priority override which also failed.

  Harper gazed sleepily at her chrono then at Morris. The thoughts he had hurled him awake and wouldn't let him go back to sleep.

  "What is it, Morris?" Harper half-yawned the words.

  "What can you tell me about Crystal Delroy."

  She closed her eyes and rubbed them hard. Then she motioned toward her office. At her request Morris physically isolated a terminal, purged it and set up heavy security on it. Meanwhile she pulled a datacube out of the safe.

  "Here are the bios. I'll let you read them."

  She watched over his shoulder as he did so. One entry stood out. Morris looked at Harper.

  "I don't want to believe it."

  "Neither did I."

  Chapter 13. Wheels Within Wheels

  Morris flew toward the scanner site mechanically, his mind elsewhere. He hadn't slept well after his visit to Harper; vivid dreams haunted him. Short ones, long ones, all disturbed him but not enough so to wake him. He woke incredibly tired and even an unusual morning shower didn't help.

  Wheels, he thought. Wheels within wheels within wheels, all of them interconnected to things he didn't want to contemplate. Political implication both macro and micro wove themselves out as abhorrent patterns in an obscene logic flow. The facts might fit but in that particular arena facts were ephemeral and not particularly important.

  Polov and Garrett, sensitive to his mood, kept their silence. Once they reached the scan site they circled a few times and Morris landed as close to the burial spot as possible. With Garrett in the exmap doing serious digging and Morris and Polov the fine bits they soon had an appropriate hole for the scanner.

  "Safety lock, Mister Garrett," said Morris, "Easy Mister Polov. We're almost there."

  Garrett locked the exmap. Now he could dismount and the herc would hold its position. Important since Morris needed both of the others to set the final alignment.

  Morris and Polov rotated the scanner carefully until it aligned properly. Polov and Garrett held the thing steady while Morris deployed the stability braces. In theory they would expand until they held steady pressure against the walls and bottom of the hole, all without disrupting the alignment. In reality it never worked that way. Morris manually increased the pressure on each strut until the other two could begin loosely filling dirt into the space between the scanner and the hole. The scanner was quite heavy and unwieldy and, ironically, required exact placement. By adjusting the struts individually Morris finally managed to hit perfect alignment with enough pressure on each strut to keep it in place when they replaced all the dirt.

  Morris attached and locked the datacable to the probe and motioned the other two to begin filling the hole in earnest. He mounted and unlocked the exmap and used it to emplace the 'comm uplink. Once he finished that he keyed in the start command and the scanner established its link with the gensats. After a minute of protocol exchange the scanner began the synchronization procedure.

  "That is done," said Garrett, "We have the cap in place, Dr. Taylor, if you'd care to put some rocks on top of it."

  After ensuring the 'comm cable was out of the way Morris did just that. He put enough weight on it to keep any ground from settling in and disrupting the alignment.

  "Now it's done," said Morris, "Link and sync is active. What next, Mister Polov?"

  Polov checked his chrono. "Take samples of local lifeforms for Jena and weather measurements for Dr. Harkin."

  "Report to base," said Garrett without looking up.

  Polov nodded sheepishly.

  "Target three to base." Morris uplinked through the gensats. "Target three to base, initial scanner placement complete, acknowledge."

  Silence.

  "Target three to base. Acknowledge please."

  Nothing. Morris checked the 'comm. It functioned as did the unit in the float. He knew the gensats were probably corrupted but it shouldn't affect 'comm relay, that was separate and automatic. He caught an anxious look from the other two.

  "Local conditions, sirras." Morris switched to the secondary frequency. "Target three to base. Please acknowledge, second channel."

  Still nothing. Morris switched to the rover's frequency.

  "Target three to target one."

  "Acknowledge," boomed Jackson's voice, "You three finished already?"

  "Affirm," said Morris, "Routine report and we couldn't reach base. Will you try?"

  "Wilco," said Jackson, "Switching channels now."

  Morris motioned the other two into the float.

  "We'll try some altitude."

  With a quick mental calculation Morris estimated how high to fly to establish line-of-sight to the ship. Then he added ten percent for extra certainty and lofted the float upward.

  "Target three to base, please respond."

  No response and no carrier.

  "Target one to target three," said Jackson.

  "Target three."

  "We couldn't reach them either. We're on locally high ground and we didn't even get a return pulse."

  "Do you have LOS?"

  "Affirm. No pulse and no carrier. Should we start back?"

  Why ask me, thought Morris.

  "How close are you to placing the scanner?"

  "Almost done," said Jackson.

  "I suggest you finish that at least. It's not my call but it may be nothing more than a 'comm malfunction."

  "Wilco. Target one out."

  Morris switched frequencies.

  "Target three to target two."

  "Target two acknowledge," said Harkin.

  Morris briefly explained the situation.

  "Target three will return to base," said Morris, "Suggest you complete scanner placement and do likewise pending contact."

  "Target two wilco. Out."

  Morris looked at Polov and Garrett.

  "Strap in hard, gentlemen. This won't be a slow trip."

  Without bothering to lose altitude Morris inserted his override key and pushed the thruster to max. Even one engine short the float managed a decent speed.

  ***

  Morris knew they had problems well before he saw the ship. Two streamers of smoke wafted into the air with no reason for either. Polov tried periodically to 'comm the ship. Even though he knew it futile Morris let the man do it. It kept him busy.

  Smoke poured from most of the prefabs. They didn't hold many combustible items but those that did burn made a lot of smoke. Another wisp of it streamed up from the ship.

  "No major power reading, sir," reported Garrett, "Looks like small systems and residuals. Nothing active."

  Morris landed as close to the ship as he dared. Nothing should explode but he'd take no chances.

  "Recall the others, Mr. Polov."

  Morris almost made it to the ship when he realized Garrett walked beside him. Visual inspection showed some minor damage but that
left a thousand other things that might have happened. Morris walked around the ship, verifying his initial observation. With nothing more to glean from outside he started up the ramp.

  A hand on his shoulder stopped him.

  "Careful sir, she may be juicy," said Garrett.

  "League ships ground through the landing struts, Ron."

  Juicy. The word spacers used to describe the electrical charge that could build up in a ship's hull during landing.

  The main 'lock refused to open. It had a battery backup but that only worked from inside. Morris pulled off the emergency panel and cranked it open manually.

  Once inside Morris could cycle the 'lock. The lights were out and the emergency glows looked dim after the sunlight.

  "Careful sir."

  Morris jumped when Garrett spoke.

  "You might need help, sir," said Garrett when Morris gave him a severe look.

  Morris made his way quickly but carefully to the bridge. The smoky air made him glad of his respirator. Whatever fires started didn't burn long since the ship had multiple redundant fire suppression systems, but as with the prefabs whatever did burn produced massive smoke.

  They found Harper on the bridge. Her arms and hands were horribly burned and she lay across the deck. She flinched when Morris touched her and mouthed something.

  "Ron," said Morris, "sickbay. Aid kit! Oxygen!"

  Garrett left in a hurry. Morris pulled off his respirator and put his ear to her mouth.

  "Ca... Ca... pac..."

  "Capacitor?"

  She barely nodded. "Sh... or...t"

  "Capacitor short?"

  Again the nod. "No... la... Not... launch..."

  "You tried to launch the drone? It failed?"

  "Bio..."

  Garrett arrived with the aid kit and an oxygen tube. Morris fastened that across her nose and mouth and pulled the pin. He and Garrett carefully removed the charred remnants of her uniform and applied burn gel copiously. Her pinched expression relaxed a little.

  "Find something," said Morris, "Let's get her to sickbay."

  Sickbay survived mostly intact. Only the machines hardwired into the ship's power net suffered catastrophic damage. The automed was a fused mess but much of the equipment was designed to be disaster-proof. The stasis monitor on Blakeschiff's body still showed green.

  Very carefully they placed Harper on the diagnostic bunk. Although it was fried Morris found an disaster-packed portable monitor. It took him longer to hook her in that it would Jackson but he managed. The readouts showed more red than not; not a good sign.