Tyger Burning

by T. C. McCarthy

  “What am I going to do with this?” she asked.

  “Pay attention so I can show you how it works. You’re going prevent anybody from getting in here because when the fighting starts, I’ll be deep in the system and unable to help. You have to prevent them from getting to me—no matter what.”

  Maung plugged into the console and edged carefully through Dark Side’s network. There was almost no traffic. All the drifters were in holding cells and none of the guards were working so the fibers felt empty, as if he strolled on a desert road. But every once in a while a packet flew past. He concluded from leakage that some of these were Chinese weapons, waiting for a new system to activate so they could go on the offensive and carry out whatever mission was assigned to them, but overall Maung was grateful for his fortune; the Sommen rifle had made all the difference when it surprised them. Otherwise the Chinese would have had time to destroy the network. Since Maung and the others overpowered them quickly, Chinese forces only had time to lay a few traps that he now deactivated.

  Maung finished and closed all nodes, including the one leading to the classified zone in which he and Than first found the Phobos data. The port to this area looked dark. Its firewall was gone and he calculated from the lack of energy that whatever happened in there was over, and that the lines were probably destroyed from some defensive countermeasures that literally melted the cables or hardware—or both—before the Chinese could get in. Just in case, he coded an alarm to trip if any traffic flowed out, and then moved on.

  Maung paused at the node leading to Sunny Side. Cycles and cycles passed as he wrote tiny algorithms and then shot them out, millions per second, bouncing them throughout Dark Side’s network where some of them tested for Chinese logic and others ordered nonessential systems to shut down. Eventually, Maung decided he was safe. From afar, Sunny Side looked dead, and the entire Dark Side system was under his control and littered with traps and weapons that should stall any Chinese efforts to regain control, at the very least giving him enough warning to counterattack. He was about to move in for a closer look at Sunny Side when something nudged him.

  A code fragment—one that somehow managed to sneak through the firewall from Sunny Side—pinged against his output stream and Maung was analyzing it when another emerged. Then another. Soon he realized that had he not been there to quarantine each one, they would have self-assembled on his side of the wall to form a larger entity, maybe a weapon designed to corrupt their networks or something worse. It was Chinese; the encryption had a whiff of the kind he’d used during the war. Maung watched the quarantined fragments join with each other to form a kind of snake, after which the thing copied itself until every bit of quarantine storage filled with squirming programs eager to grow larger and move out. Maung guessed but couldn’t be sure: It was a self-replicating copy of a Chinese super-aware’s wetware. It was him.

  The realization alarmed Maung. Every simulation he’d run had indicated a clear Chinese advantage and there was no call for such a move because of exactly what was happening now: potential detection, quarantine and decryption. The snakes were useless without pass codes and other data that a Dream Warrior could turn against the Chinese, so to insert itself like this was a great risk—so great that Maung concluded he’d missed something. Maybe there was a fragment of data in his storage that seemed insignificant, one he’d missed and which would have shown the true nature of things on Sunny Side or outside Karin; something that had the Chinese terrified. But there was no time to reanalyze everything that had happened since the Charleston Spaceport. Maung needed access to Sunny Side and its planetary coms systems so he could gather new data, information from Earth and Allied monitoring of Chinese activity that he thought might clarify the tactical situation.

  He removed one of the “snakes,” putting it into its own new quarantine space where he began probing. Maung dedicated almost every resource to decryption. His semi-aware scanned the first layer and pinged it with a code he scavenged from Chinese warriors at the Sommen site and the snake went rigid. Then a tail segment slid open. It reminded Maung of a puzzle box, where the opening now gave access to a second encryption layer, which he “moved” toward with the care of someone traversing a minefield.

  The second stage looked relatively simple compared to the first and he used a combined library of standard codes from the war and new ones from earlier in the day. Within a picosecond of hitting it with his first code, the snake dissolved before Maung’s eyes and transformed into a meaningless collection of characters as if it had done the digital equivalent of dousing itself in acid. He mentally sighed; this would take longer than he thought, and Maung selected another to try again.

  You are showing signs of organic fatigue and buildup of toxins, his semi-aware warned. Rest; I can perform the decryption and wake you when it’s finished.

  Maung was a child again. He sat in the center of the ring of monks, who chanted in a low tone that reverberated in his ears and made him sleepy. He lay on his back and red clay bricks formed a high dome overhead, and with the candles and incense he wondered, just before falling asleep, if the color red was special for some reason.

  When he woke, the young monk was handing him to his mother who asked, “What did you learn?”

  “Much,” the monk said. “But only part of it is for you. A great suffering is coming and this child is highly intelligent; he must learn science and math so he can leave Myanmar to be part of something greater and carry our people forward. He will be a warrior who fights with dreams. He will have a son, who will be a great danger to all. But his daughter and her children will save the world.”

  The semi-aware pinged Maung awake, ripping him from his dream. I’ve finished. We now have a potentially complete list of codes. I suggest we move to Sunny Side now because we don’t know how frequently these codes are changed.

  “You got it wrong,” said Maung.

  What did I get wrong?

  “The memory of what the monk told me and my mother. There was a message about my son and about carrying the Myanmar people.”

  I don’t know where you got this “data,” the semi-aware said. But I assure you I recounted all that was transferred to storage. Perhaps your incessant desire for nicotine has corrupted your mind.

  Maung penetrated Sunny Side’s firewall, where thousands of copies of the semi-aware assaulted him with challenges, asking for pass codes and identifiers, but to them Maung looked like another Chinese program and within less than a second the queries stopped. He passed them a data packet, one that said most of the Dark Side network was fried. The others ingested the data and then moved off to conduct other operations for which they’ve previously been tasked. Before any of them queried further, Maung shot off toward the coms center.

  Its node was firewalled too. Maung’s expectations of this being an easy mission dissolved when the self-assembling code he had analyzed on Dark Side turned out to be one without clearance for full access, and he figured that a real copy of the Chinese semi-aware—or at least a truer copy—was running things from somewhere on this side, maybe beyond the coms center firewall. First he’d have to break through. Then there would be a fight like none they’d experienced so far and Maung doubted that he was in shape for that kind of mental battle. Already he’d been operating for hours; despite the rest his semi-aware gave him, his performance had slowed and his body was exhausted. He pulled away from the node and shot back toward Dark Side, squeezing through the firewall after making sure that he hadn’t been tagged or followed.

  Both eyelids rubbed like sandpaper and his tongue was dry, and when he tried to sit up Maung found his muscles so sore that he could barely move. New blood seeped from between the sutures in his hand.

  “You’re back,” Than said.

  “Where are Nang and Nam?”

  “They went to get some sleep. We sent a bunch of the new guards out for acclimatization to Dark Side; to train them how to move and watch out for nano-mines. You know. The stuff you had to learn wh
en you got here.”

  “How are they handling it?” Maung asked.

  Than grinned and shook his head. “Like a bunch of seven-year-old kids who want their mommy. Two dead already because they knew better than us Myanmar idiots. And when we showed them the drifters? Terrified.”

  Than laughed and it made Maung smile. He understood the guards’ reactions; when Maung first arrived it seemed crazy to convert human beings into zombies, no matter what they’d done to deserve it.

  “I need rack time and to get my sutures checked. I’ll be back in a few hours but I’ve set up a bunch of trip alarms on the network; wake me up if any go off.”

  Sleep refused to come at first. Maung slid in beside Nang and scooped her into his arms so that she melted into him and then halfway awakened. She grinned. Then Nang slid on top of him and whispered to hold still until she finished. He did, and after Nang took what she wanted, he kissed her neck.

  Maung forgot where he was when Than’s voice broke over the coms panel and he jumped up, bumping his head on the ceiling of his barracks cubicle. He pounded the panel to shut it off. Maung squeezed as quickly as he could into a pressure suit, grabbed his helmet and coil gun, and then jumped off the ledge, floating headfirst through passages and shouting for people to make way. A few minutes later he reached the control center.

  “There you are,” Than said, “I thought we’d lost you.”

  Nam was at the desk and pointed to the flashing signal that hovered within the holo readout. “That’s one of your warnings, right?”

  Maung nodded. “This is it, Nam; they’ll come soon. I’m going to attack Sunny Side systems. Remember: If the Chinese arrive early, do what you can to keep them away from me. Wake up Nang and get her down here to help with defense.”

  “Got it,” said Nam. “Anything else?”

  “Get me a cigarette.”

  Nam laughed and handed Maung his helmet, which he put on in case the area decompressed while he was inside the net. Nam plugged him in. Once Maung dove into the network he saw that his traps and defenses had held off an attack but that the enemy had gained ground where the Dark Side firewall had been destroyed. While his defense codes kept the Chinese super-aware busy, he got to work. This time it was his turn to generate copies of himself but they were copies coated with the shell that he used earlier, the one with all the Chinese passcodes, and when he finished there were thousands, each one producing another thousand until finally he gave the order to attack.

  Maung grinned as he slaughtered. His programs ripped through the attackers, shredding their codes and rocketing up the cable toward Sunny Side so quickly that they couldn’t organize a defense. Now millions of copies of Maung branched out and scoured the networks to destroy every enemy they found and recover control of the nodes and systems, while Maung himself headed to the coms center. This time he attacked. Not bothering with finesse, Maung threw trillions of packets at the wall in an attempt to brute force his way through, but after several minutes of failure, one of Maung’s copies reported back: They’d taken control of the main Sunny Side reactor and backup power supply systems.

  The Chinese super-aware’s codes exist on network systems that draw power from Karin’s reactor, his system said. We shut down all power transmission then wait. When we restore power, the firewall will be gone. It will also destroy all our copies and codes.

  “We’ll reconstruct all that,” Maung said. “Do it. Now.”

  A second later all power to the communications center was cut, and the node went black. Maung waited ten minutes. Then he ordered power restored and as soon as the node flickered to life he assaulted again but it wasn’t necessary; he encountered a new firewall—one that was a barely existing screen of default code—and broke through, with millions of copies of himself following. The Chinese super-aware was gone and Maung sighed with relief that the battle had been delayed; he was still exhausted.

  We now have control of all of Karin, his semi-aware announced. I estimate that the main Chinese battle group will attack us within an hour.

  Almost immediately, communications flooded in. Maung staggered under the amount of data and routed it to storage while he scanned messages for anything important, soon focusing on one report from Earth. Once processed, he set up his copies to defend Sunny Side, and returned to the control room.

  “That was fast,” Nam said when Maung sat up.

  “Chinese forces will land here within the hour.”

  Than whistled. “Great.”

  “Wait.” Maung caught his breath, waving for Than to be quiet. “That’s not all. I got a transmission from Earth. Because of the Chinese incursion on Karin, the Allied Nations organized a second fleet—this one for going after Europa. The first fleet is still headed here and has accelerated so they’ll arrive tomorrow. China just declared war. Again.”

  Everyone stared wide-eyed at Maung and for a time he stared back in silence. Finally Nam nodded. “Maybe now our people can redeem themselves, Maung. You can show them we’re not all bad.”

  “So what?” said Than. “Earth is hosed.”

  “Maybe,” Maung said. “But I still don’t understand what’s happening. All this centers on the Sommen attack site, forgotten American Dream Warriors, and a secret program on Phobos. And I still can’t see any connections.”

  “Maybe there aren’t any,” Than said.

  “There have to be. It’s all interconnected and without the proper data, I’ll never figure it out.”

  Nang slid through the airlock and removed her helmet before Than told her the latest news; she looked at Maung. “Maybe you can show the Americans that you’re not a bad guy anymore; that you’re on the right team this time.”

  “That’s what I said!” said Nam.

  Maung ordered Nam to release the drifters. After that they called a meeting of the guards—everyone, including the Sunny Side ones—and Maung grinned at the sight of Mike’s arm in a sling. The medbot had fixed it. But Nam whispered that the humerus still had a day or two of healing and for now he’d have a hard time firing a coil gun. Maung had to stop himself from feeling sorry for the man; he deserved it.

  Maung ordered the men to settle in so he could brief them on the situation, and at the end turned from the holo, shocked at the expressions of horror on their faces.

  “We can’t hold out for a day,” Mike said. “The Chinese will be here in a matter of hours—four destroyers and whatever landing forces they carry, not to mention bombardment capabilities. We have to wall off a section of the asteroid—a deep one. Hide out until Fleet arrives.”

  The other Sunny Side guards nodded, despite grumblings from the Burmese; Maung held his hand up, quieting them all.

  “Nam. What do you think?”

  Nam smiled and looked at his countrymen. “I think that not only is your plan going to work, Pa, but that we’ll kick the Chinese asses off this rock.”

  “Wait a second.” One of the Sunny Side guards stood, trying to be heard over the Myanmar guards’ laughter. “Wait! So you guys managed to fight off one drop ship. Great. Those destroyers will carry several drop ships. Each. Do you really think we can win? How?”

  Maung nodded and flicked the holo-viewer so it backed up to a data image; he pointed to the columns, one at a time. “These are the numbers of drifters we have; we didn’t even have time to use them in the first attack, so the Chinese won’t be expecting it. I’m not sure they have any plans to deal with them.”

  “And we have you—an additional force of 128. This will help. But the most important thing . . .” Maung motioned for Nang, who ducked out into the hallway. When she returned, she carried the Sommen rifle and Maung continued. “We have a secret weapon—a Sommen weapon, against which they have no defense.”

  “It’s just one rifle,” Mike said.

  “This rifle is a destroyer of worlds,” said Nang, “and is so powerful that I dare not fire it here, for risk of melting your suits and causing eye damage.”

  “Laser?” someone asked.<
br />
  Maung shook his head; he reminded himself that even his wetware had trouble with the answer. “I think it’s plasma.”

  “Plasma. That’s impossible,” said Mike. “Where’s the reactor? Where’s the—” He stopped when Maung glared.

  “It shoots plasma. Tiny amounts at the temperature of a blue star, over ten thousand Kelvin. But we still have to have the weapon tested somewhere, and have no idea how it creates the stuff without a reactor. As you say: There’s no way to create a reactor so small and even if we did, those temperatures are unattainable. But with this we could destroy even their ships if they get within line of sight.”

  Some of the Sunny Side guards began to smile and Mike shrugged. “OK,” he said. “But you’ll have to go over your plan one more time; I want to make sure we know everything.”

  Maung resisted a wave of guilt. He wasn’t going to be on the line with his friends and when Nang left the control room to position herself in the ruins with the Burmese, he wanted to grab her and change his mind, to ignore the numbers and probabilities that now chugged through his consciousness because this was just like it was the last time. When he lost his wife. A part of his brain that the Chinese surgeons hadn’t excised, a primal chunk of gray matter in the back, now screamed at him that he needed to protect Nang and pull her back from the line because Nam or Than could easily fire the rifle too. But these thoughts dissipated. The wetware fired bursts of logic that made his instinct look silly and Maung winced at the mental upbraiding he’d just given himself. He watched until her figure disappeared into the airlock.

  “Maung,” Nam said.

  “What?”

  “We’re getting an alarm. The Chinese Fleet is now on radar.”

  Maung turned back from watching the airlock and focused, leaning back while Nam carefully inserted the cable. When it snapped in, he gritted his teeth.