Exodus: Sci-Fi Thriller (The Belt Book 5)

by Gerald M. Kilby

  Exodus

  The Belt Book Five

  Gerald M. Kilby

  Contents

  Reader’s Group

  1. An Avatron Awakens

  2. Darkness at the Edge of Town

  3. Just Another Robot

  4. Canyons of the Mind

  5. Late-Night Caller

  6. Exodus

  7. ZeroBall

  8. Shipping Out

  9. Auxiliary Command

  10. Scratching the Itch

  11. Probe

  12. Ancient Apparition

  13. A Matter of Antimatter

  14. Bald Reality

  15. Deception

  16. Into the Data-Stream

  17. The Festival of Lights

  18. Easy Target

  19. Takedown

  20. Ultimatum

  21. A Foolhardy Errand

  22. Martian Dawn is Breaking

  23. Brain Dead

  24. Suicide Mission

  25. A Brave Attempt

  26. Containment

  Author’s Note

  Also by Gerald M. Kilby

  About the Author

  Reader’s Group

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  1

  An Avatron Awakens

  A long row of remote-controlled robot avatars, known as avatrons, stood mute and inert in their docking stations in the administrative sector of New World One, the vast orbital habitat that had been constructed out in the asteroid belt.

  Ever since the destruction of the quantum intelligence on Ceres and the subsequent attack on the New World by the VanHeilding Corporation, these avatrons had been busy, pressed into service almost daily by a multitude of important people whose input into the administration of the Belt Federation Territories was deemed to be so significant that they required a physical presence at the decision-making table.

  Yet an avatron, by its nature, is nothing more than a vessel. A technically very sophisticated one, it must be said, but a vessel nonetheless. Its sole purpose is to provide a physical interface for a remote human operator, enabling them to be on-site, so to speak, even though they both exist in separate locations. In a sense, the avatron becomes the human in robotic form, relaying in real time the actions and voice of the operator, as well as providing visual, audio, and haptic feedback.

  But they have their limitations. The primary one being the skill of the operator in utilizing a neural interface, since all actions are thought rather than performed. The second is how long it takes for the signal to travel through space. As the distance between avatron and operator increases, so does the reaction time-lag, up to a point where it’s simply too long to conduct any meaningful real-time interaction.

  Yet as a display panel flickered to life beside one of the fifteen inactive avatrons stored in the council chambers on New World One, the incoming data-stream did not emanate from some local source. It was not some government official down in Rongo City on Ceres, in a hurry to participate in some high-level meeting of the administrative council. Nor was it the CEO of some industrial outpost hoping to negotiate mining rights or finesse profit structures. No, this data-stream was emanating from Mars, over two hundred million kilometers away, and had taken more than fourteen minutes to arrive at the avatron’s interface port.

  The control panel screen displayed the incoming data-stream in a rainbow of stylized graphics—but only for a moment. It then went dark for a second before bursting back to life, this time displaying a frenetic scrolling stream of code in harsh, utilitarian monochrome.

  Had there been a technician present, then perhaps they would have noticed this activation and the subsequent anomaly in the display data. But there were few people around at this time of evening. Even here, on this artificial world, the humans that inhabited it remained creatures of Earth and its solar cycle. They rose to an artificial dawn and wound down as an artificial evening approached. Now it was almost midnight, and few but essential workers and the odd night owl were about. And so the data-stream performed its digital dance with the avatron, unnoticed and unhindered.

  After several minutes of constant data input, the screen suddenly went dead. Again, had a technician been monitoring this anomaly then they would have concluded that the process had ended and that the avatron would now come to life, like a marionette balancing on strings of digital data. But it did not. It remained inanimate, tucked away in its high-tech sarcophagus, only for the data-stream to resume some twenty-eight minutes later—the time it took for a signal to be sent back to its source, and for Mars to reply.

  This stop-start, send-and-reply transmission continued for many hours until the data-stream finally ceased, the display went blank, and the avatron took its first step out of its docking station.

  It shifted its head this way and that, sensing the environment like some forest creature taking a cautious step into an unfamiliar clearing. Satisfied that no threats were imminent, it proceeded to examine its physical self, holding an arm up and turning it around like someone trying on a new coat. This slow, curious robotic tai chi lasted for several more minutes until the avatron was satisfied with its understanding of its physical geometry and functions. It moved cautiously across the storage room and stopped in front of a remote-access terminal. It raised a hand and waved it over the screen. The terminal came to life.

  Datagrams flicked across the screen as the avatron searched the New World One data-stack. After a few seconds, it found what it was looking for: the location of Luca Lee-McNabb, the much sought-after granddaughter of Fredrick VanHeilding.

  2

  Darkness at the Edge of Town

  It was late, and Miranda was feeling drained—more so than usual. Yet it was not so much a physical tiredness that affected her; this was a deeper malaise. A fatigue that had taken root in her very being, one wrought by a lifetime of fighting with a family that seemed hellbent on her demise and of those whom she loved.

  Luca had still not regained consciousness since her confrontation with the node-runners during the battle for New World One—that was over seven months ago. Now she lay in a hospital bed in intensive care, wired up to a collection of monitors and feeding tubes.

  On the upside, she was not brain dead, and according to Dr. Rayman, she was not critical nor in any immediate danger. In reality, she seemed physically fine. Yet that situation would deteriorate over time. The longer she remained catatonic, the more the physical inactivity and the intravenous feeding regime would gnaw away at her physical well-being.

  Miranda had been by her side for the last few hours; it was something she did most days. And each time, she would hope that maybe today would be the day that Luca would show some sign of activity, some flicker of an eyelid or twitch of a finger—anything that would indicate a path back to consciousness.

  In the beginning, she was so consumed by Luca’s welfare that she had taken to sleeping in the hospital. But as time passed and no change seemed imminent, she took up residence elsewhere, and her visits became shorter—once or twice she would even skip a day. Yet this ritual still took up most of her time—what else did she have to do?

  Scott would also visit nearly every day, and with no response from Luca, the only thing left for them to do was to talk. This was just small talk at first, but soon they would plumb the depths of their mutual past, both trying to understand what had happened to them, and how it had it come to this.

  Finished with her visit for today, Miranda walked along the wide corridor to the entrance lobby of the hospital and spied Dr. Stephanie Rayman, who had recently started working here.
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  The doctor acknowledged her with a wave. “You heading off now?” said Steph, coming over.

  “Not quite. I was thinking of heading up to the roof terrace, just to gaze at the night for a while.” She gestured upward with a pointed finger.

  Steph glanced at her slate. “I’ll be finished soon. I could follow you up…if that’s okay?”

  “Of course, always glad of the company.”

  Steph nodded in reply, and Miranda continued her journey across the lobby to a stairway that led all the way up to the flat roof of the two-story hospital building.

  It was a quiet place, usually devoid of people. A place where Miranda liked to go to clear her head. She walked across the open expanse of the roof to a clutch of recliners that someone had the good sense to drag up here. She sat down with a sigh and gazed out across the vast, nighttime vista of the New World One habitat.

  Overhead, the sky was ablaze with what looked like a thousand twinkling stars, but these were just the lights from the far side of the giant cylinder—eight kilometers away. Yet in the darkness, it seemed as if the entire habitat was open to the heavens.

  Ahead of her, Miranda could see the long lines of the agricultural facilities stretching out along the interior rim. The headlights from the various carts and industrial robots threaded their way along fixed transport routes, like rows of illuminated ants.

  To her left, the lights from population clusters increased the closer they got to the end cap, this being the most built-up sector of the habitat. To her right, the scattering of lights began to lessen as the population density thinned out. Farther along, the lights disappeared almost completely into absolute darkness, leaving just a vague impression of the far-off end cap—ten kilometers distant.

  “Hey, got something for us.”

  Miranda glanced around to see Steph standing beside her holding two mugs and what looked like an actual bottle of wine.

  “Is that…” She leaned in closer, trying to read the label in the dim light.

  Steph handed it to her. “It’s supposed to be a genuine bottle of Spanish Rioja…all the way from Earth.”

  Miranda examined it with a fascinated awe. “Where did you get this? It must be worth a fortune.”

  “A patient gave it to me. He’s one of the Cerellians. You know, the wealthy shipbuilding family. Anyway, he says it’s real. Fancy a…mug?” Steph held up one of the utilitarian mycelium mugs that she had brought with her. “These will have to do. I couldn’t find anything better in the hospital canteen.”

  “Are you sure? Don’t you want to keep it for a special occasion or something, considering what this must be worth?”

  Steph took the bottle from Miranda and proceeded to open it. “It’s just a bottle of wine, and besides…”—she gestured at the sprawling nighttime vista—“this is as good a time and place as any.”

  Miranda took one of the mugs and held it out. “Well then, don’t let me stop you—hit me.”

  Steph filled both mugs, handed one to Miranda, and settled herself down onto a recliner. She raised her mug to Miranda, who reciprocated. “Cheers.”

  Miranda took a sip. “Oh-my-god. That’s amazing.”

  Steph let out a long, satisfied sigh and gazed out across the habitat landscape. “You know, if it didn’t know better, I could be convinced I was back on Earth, sitting out on a warm summer’s evening.”

  Miranda rested her head back on the recliner, a light wind feathering her cheek. “Yeah, I think it’s the way the air moves inside the habitat that adds to the illusion.” She took another sip of her wine. “How do they do that? Get the air to move like it’s a gentle breeze.”

  “I don’t know. I presume they need to keep it circulating… Big fans, I suppose. Feels nice, though. Almost real.”

  They sat for a while, just soaking up the vista and decompressing from the trials of the day.

  Miranda finally broke the silence. “It’s staggering to think that humanity can build such a place.”

  “Yes, it’s amazing what we can do when we’re not trying to tear ourselves apart.” Steph gestured toward the end cap hidden beyond the distant darkness. “Cyrus says that the next five kilometers are almost completed, and they’ll be removing the end cap in the next few weeks.” She glanced back at Miranda. “This place is going to get a whole lot bigger.”

  “We’re probably going to need it, with the thousands of new people that keep arriving from Ceres.”

  “It’s not just Ceres,” said Steph. “I’m seeing a big influx of refugees coming in from the mining regions, out past Vesta. It seems that a small war has broken out now that the QI on Ceres has been destroyed.”

  Miranda sat up a little and looked over at Steph. “What have you been hearing? How bad is it?”

  She took a drink from her mug. “I only know what I’ve overheard from some people coming through the hospital, but it’s bad. Several of the mining corporations see the loss of the QI on Ceres as an opportunity for a land grab. Mainly Xiang Zu Corporation, as far as I can tell.”

  Miranda sighed. “What the hell is wrong with these people?”

  “Human nature, Miranda. Enough is never going to satisfy them. They always want more.”

  “Yeah, human nature.” Miranda gave a shrug and sat back again. “I suppose that’s why we need a quantum intelligence network to keep us all in check.”

  Again, they were silent for a while, each lost in their own thoughts, taking in the dance of the nighttime lights.

  “I’ve decided that it’s time for me to leave, head back home to Earth.” Steph kept her gaze straight ahead while she dropped this on Miranda.

  “Leave?” Miranda sat up again with a jerk, almost spilling her drink.

  Steph turned to her with a resigned expression. “Things are getting more unstable here. The violent flare-ups out in the asteroid belt are becoming more frequent. I get the feeling that something big is brewing.” She sat up and gave Miranda a hard look. “You need to get out too, as soon as possible, before it all blows up.”

  Miranda remained quiet for a moment, before raising her mug to Steph. “So this is a kind of going-away party?”

  She nodded. “Kind of.”

  “When are you thinking of departing?”

  “In a week or so, as soon as I can organize a flight to Mars, then on to Earth.”

  “Gonna miss you, Steph. It was great having you around again. I really don’t know what we would have done without you.”

  Steph nodded and raised her mug. “Gonna miss you, too.”

  They banged their mugs together and took a drink.

  “You think Luca will ever come around?” said Miranda after a while.

  “I honestly don’t know. She’s physically fine, normal brain activity, she just…doesn’t want to wake up.” Steph seemed a little frustrated and started rolling the mug between her hands. “You shouldn’t wait, though. You have a ship. Go now, get to Mars where it will be safer. God knows what’s going to happen here.”

  “I know, but I just don’t want to risk space travel, all that heavy acceleration. I can’t imagine it would be good for Luca. Scott also thinks it would be too risky.”

  They went quiet again. Some activity had kicked off down at one of the agricultural facilities. Several ground transports had pulled up, ready to load up goods. New people appeared and began milling around, waiting to start the loading.

  “How’s that going, you and Scott? If you don’t mind me asking.” Steph said this as she refilled their mugs.

  Miranda screwed her mouth up. “Difficult.”

  “I imagine it can’t be easy.”

  “It isn’t, not when my family is trying to kill us all.” She looked over at Steph with a smile. “That tends to get a little problematic for a relationship.”

  “True.”

  “And it’s hard to know what’s what after all that’s happened these last two decades.”

  Steph gave her a sympathetic nod.

  “Sometimes I get flashe
s of the old Scott…but mostly I just see the new one.” Miranda shrugged. “I don’t know why I’m telling you this. Maybe the wine’s gone to my head.”

  “The new one?”

  “Distant, more cynical, more world-weary, I suppose.”

  “I think we’re all suffering from a little of that.”

  “Sure, but it’s more than that. I think the age thing gets to him.”

  “You’re both the same age, more or less.”

  “Steph, look at me. If you didn’t know me, what age would you peg me at?”

  “Yeah, I get it. You don’t age like the rest of us.”

  “No, I don’t. I look like I’m in my late twenties—a legacy of my family’s meddling in genetics.”

  “And I’m supposed to feel sorry for you somehow?”

  Miranda gave a long, slow sigh. “I know, why should anyone feel sorry for me? But you need to put yourself in my shoes. I watch on while all those I love grow old around me, and then I’m pushed away as some sort of freak because my presence reminds people of what they’ve lost. And it’s the same fate that awaits Luca—if she ever wakes up.”

  Steph raised her eyebrows and looked over at her friend. “You shouldn’t think that way…because it’s simply not true. Yes, I admit I’m a bit envious of your genetics, but you’re still Miranda. That hasn’t changed. And longevity is not exclusive to you—it’s available to anyone…with a few billion in spare cash.”