Broken Glass (Glass Complex Book 1)

by John Hindmarsh

  Steg attempted a denial. “I really don’t know what you are talking about.”

  “Come now. I was watching you at the workstation. Set after set of variables entered and not one key touched. If I’m not mistaken, you applied a small program modification as well. I daresay if I checked the log it will show nothing?” Steg nodded. “I thought so. Well, my friend, we must have this out before this cutter lifts off the deck because I have one hell of an idea. What do you need from me to ensure your cooperation?”

  “If you know enough to claim I’m a de Coeur, you should be able to define my needs?”

  “That stupid woman? Oh, we will find some way of helping the de Coeurs re-establish their rights.” Steg’s face clearly expressed his doubts and the stranger continued. “OK. I may be only a major but in the Specials that just about outranks an admiral in this Navy. Here, let me at that workstation.”

  Steg now was firmly of the opinion the man was unstoppable. He knew he’d erred in permitting someone to witness the series of simulation displays generated without any direct keyboard input. His carelessness could prove to be expensive. He watched as the stranger entered a string of codes, far too rapidly to identify.

  “Now, de Coeur, this confirms my identity. Of course you don’t have the equipment to carry out a retina check but at least it covers the basics.”

  He moved out of the way to permit Steg to study the details, which were exceptionally brief. “Major Denke,” he acknowledged.

  “Just Denke. Specials don’t worry about rank, as you’ll learn. We answer to whoever can get the task done. Now, are we going to cooperate, work together on this idea of mine?”

  “I somehow doubt I have any options.”

  “A realist. Good. Your cutter pilot’s guess is likely to be correct. The pirates probably are Xesset. Very difficult. If they turn and run, we have no chance of catching them, their ships are fast. Their ability to drill through space-time is impressive. If they stand and fight, they fight like they have no tomorrow and if they are threatened with defeat, they’ll scuttle their ship, blowing it to scrap and killing all on board. As a result, we capture nothing. We’d like to capture a relatively undamaged ship for a change. They seem to have some interesting equipment that we could make use of.”

  “My abilities won’t change that?”

  “There might be some marginal assistance, I suppose. No, just think about it. If you can communicate with Ziangka’s system, why not with the Xesset’s? And sabotage them?”

  Steg was completely taken aback. Then the objections flooded in and he started to voice them aloud. He stopped. Denke was not listening; he was already at the workstation.

  “Be positive, de Coeur, be positive,” he threw over his shoulder. “Take advantage of every resource. Now tell me, what is the range of your ability?”

  “Unknown.”

  “Not good enough. We have to think of some way to test and extend the range if possible. A pity we have only hours before we hit the pirates. Now tell me, can you tap into Ziangka’s archives?”

  “Which ones?”

  “The archives for the Xesset language—it’s not much, but all we have. Our xenos have put together all the scraps they have been able to lay their hands on. Hah. One of their few worthwhile efforts. Can you tap into it?”

  “I can try.”

  *Module Ziangka, this is Steg de Coeur. Please acknowledge.*

  *Module Ziangka.*

  *Patch me into the Xesset language archive.*

  *Implemented.*

  Steg looked at the major. “OK, what next?”

  “We test.” He pulled a page of carefully folded script from a pocket and held it for Steg to read. “Translate this.”

  Steg studied the document for a moment. “It—it’s a page from the Xesset Book of Life—it goes like this.” He read the words aloud as he communicated back and forth with the Ziangka system, faltering at first and then proceeded with increasing proficiency. “Suffer not the stranger to enter upon the hearth of true believers. Render them, destroy them, for they are not worthy of life. Seek them out, find them wherever they are. Their goods will be our bounty, their bodies our virtue.”

  He stopped when Denke crumpled the sheet and returned it to his pocket with a curse.

  “I’ve been working on that for over a week and you just read it off in seconds. That was High Xesset, dammit.”

  “So if I can use Ziangka’s system to communicate with the Xesset?”

  “Communicate, hell. Control, my friend, is what we are after. Control. Now how much of that language file can you absorb? Or can you directly access the archive?”

  “I haven’t attempted to absorb a file and then use it. And while direct access may be more straightforward, I haven’t tried that either.”

  “Let’s try direct access. Bypass the Ziangka system and read the file. I fully authorize all access and costs.”

  Completely intrigued, Steg did not stop to reconsider the request.

  *Module Ziangka, this is Steg de Coeur. Please acknowledge.*

  *Module Ziangka.*

  *Run following instructions. Establish possibility and method for me to directly access live and archive data banks. In particular the Xesset language archive. Objective is to eliminate delay in query routines. If necessary, consult with Glass Complex. Also query range of ability, Steg de Coeur to any module or complex. Fully authorized by Major Denke.*

  *Program running.*

  Steg was reminded of a hawk about to pounce on its prey as Denke watched him.

  “What is the verdict?”

  “Ziangka’s system is working on the problem.”

  “We need to determine just how close you must be in order to work with this ability of yours. What a time to field test.”

  “I am attempting to get an answer to that, as well.” Too late Steg realized his error.

  “How?”

  Steg stalled. He would need to be very careful in future, this major was capable of deriving accurate conclusions from a minimum of data. He could not let him know the Glass Complex was capable of space-time communication. “I thought the Ziangka’s system might be able to make an approximation.”

  “No, not enough data available,” Denke dismissed the suggestion. “We’ll just have to test as we go. Can you read any files at all, without accessing the main system?”

  “I have never attempted to. Normally I approach the system and request access. It seems the best way.”

  “There must be more to all this than you’ve realized. You’re entering commands and that’s supposed to be impossible from a remote workstation. For example, you can’t use this workstation to re-program the system.” Steg was surprised to see a flash of mischief on Denke’s face. “What would the Captain say if you took control of his command bridge?”

  **Module Ziangka to Steg de Coeur. Program received from Glass Complex. Writing now. *

  Steg slumped to the floor, unconscious, as blackness surrounded him and filled his mind.

  ******

  Chapter 13

  The young Acolyte moved through the photon flows, almost swimming as she sought her mentor and guide, the First Senior. Her excitement was dampened by her increasing concerns, the concerns she and her team members held for their mentor. She signaled her companion, seconded from the Second Senior, to follow her as she again encountered a surge of purple colored symbols, strangely and hauntingly shaped. First Senior was close by; she knew intuitively that he was the source of these strange, vividly colored light patterns.

  *First!* Her call was a blast of electrons.

  *Who calls?* The reply was soft, quavering, almost below detection.

  *First Senior, it’s me, Helen* she said as she homed in on the faint response. *I’ve been looking for you, my report is due.*

  *Report? What report?* The reply degenerated into vague electronic mumbling.

  “Oh, First, you told me to report to you.* She received no reply and her concern grew. *Do you need assistance?
Shall I contact Second Senior?* Without waiting for a reply she signaled to her helpmate, a rapid burst on a frequency far beyond the reach of the obviously ailing First Senior. *Alert—bring the Second—I think First Senior will need our—his assistance.*

  Helen broke out of contact with the Complex with uncharacteristic abruptness and ran with all speed to the First Senior’s office. She burst through the doorway, closely followed by other Acolytes who had caught the urgency of her dash. First Senior had collapsed across his desk and was unconscious. She struggled to raise him. Two Acolytes rushed to assist her and they lifted the frail body away from his desk and laid him gently onto his couch.

  “How is he?” Second Senior inquired briskly, bustling into the office past anxious Acolytes. First was a very old friend and colleague.

  “We’ve called for the medic, Second,” confirmed one of the Acolytes who was checking the condition of Senior. “I’m afraid it will be a formality, though.”

  Second Senior sat beside his friend’s body. The silence grew and filled the room. More Acolytes arrived, quietening as they caught the silent message from those already crowded around the doorway and filling spaces in the small office. The saffron-robed medic arrived and Acolytes silently moved aside, soundlessly clearing a passage for him. His examination was brief and his conclusion certain. He stood and turned to Second Senior.

  “Second, his death was not unexpected. He knew—he’d been driving himself far too hard these past few months. I warned him. He knew the price he would pay. Please accept my condolences—all of you. I will make arrangements.” The medic departed, moving slowly through the silent gathering. The sadness of death was not lessened by its inevitability.

  His footsteps faded and the gathered Acolytes gave silent expression to their grief, remembering the one who had been their friend and guide, mentor and high priest, the one who had prepared them for their duties and guided them through their responsibilities. The one who had now left them.

  “My children,” Second Senior coughed, his voice catching. “We all mourn First. Reduce Complex activities to a minimum, for the next three shifts. Helen, was your report urgent? Has anyone urgent tasks that cannot be deferred?”

  Helen waited for a moment in case other Acolytes also had urgent tasks to bring to the attention of Second Senior, who now was responsible for overseeing Glass Complex affairs. No one spoke.

  “Second, it concerns the progress of Steg de Coeur,” Helen spoke softly. She indicated her helpmate. “We were going to report progress and yes, I consider the matter to be urgent.” Her helpmate indicated his concurrence.

  “Steg de Coeur? One of the decoys?” At Helen’s assent he continued. “Come, we’ll move to my office and you can brief me.”

  “Second,” Helen began as soon as they were settled in the new office, “how much background do you need?”

  “Cover the basics and then immediate events that have generated your concerns.”

  “Yes, Second,” Helen gathered her thoughts. “About thirty years ago First Senior proposed to the Earl that members of his family should be given the ability to communicate with the Complex, emulating us Acolytes but with a private, hidden facility. He proposed development of a bio-nanite based viral agent to be used on a limited number of embryos. The Earl agreed. Oh, I know it represents a high risk and ethically debatable concept. However, the viral agent was used on only three family embryos, with lots of testing prior to its application. Steg de Coeur was one of those subjects. The viral agent was administered with utmost caution; it had a very short life span and subsequent viral generations mutated in a manner that removed their neural specificity.” Her abbreviated summary omitted details of horrendous risks and brilliant engineering that accompanied the invention developed at the urging of the Complex AI. “In effect, the viral infection performed the equivalent of sub-cell level surgery on structures of the embryonic neural tube. Thus, as a result, as the brain and central nervous system formed in the womb, the discrete brain functions were supplemented with a tremendous boost to their ability to communicate. This impacted not just cell to cell communication abilities but added the ability for the cells to function together as a coherent system, a system with external communication abilities.”

  The Second Senior nodded his understanding and Helen continued.

  “Complex provided regular and close monitoring and guidance of the development of these enhanced cell functions both before and after birth. In later years we applied hypno-blocks to ensure the test subjects did not gain premature conscious awareness of their heightened communication abilities. We were ensuring that development of this ability should be gradual, to ensure a richer and more resilient result.”

  “Yes. Generally I had a background awareness of all this and you’ve refreshed my memories. Continue.”

  “We’ve been monitoring Steg de Coeur,” continued Helen’s helpmate. “He had been developing to plan. Additional electronic circuitry was incorporated into Ebony, hidden in the other micro-circuitry built into that weapon. We’ve been able to use that to monitor his activities, especially over recent days. Also, we’ve used the sword to initiate triggers to remove some of the hypno-blocks. As a result he’s become more aware of his abilities.” He paused to take a breath.

  “Yes, yes, go on.”

  “Well, he’s jumped far ahead of our program by a startling factor,” advised Helen. She described recent events on board Ziangka. “He instructed Complex to apply a direct access process and as a result Complex released a program to give Steg de Coeur direct access to system memory. Any system memory. If he survives.”

  The Second Senior was silent as he considered the details. “This is surprising and unexpected. I don’t recall any mention of this ability. He has made a substantial intuitive leap, far in excess of expectations.”

  “Yes. We thought Complex had made allowances for all possibilities. We hadn’t included this in the released progress assessments or objectives. Complex has advised that de Coeur’s now on a major deviation from its projections.”

  “A major deviation?”

  “I’ve had time to run only one Prognosis suite. Complex is currently unable to define the future scope of development of Steg de Coeur’s abilities.”

  “Hmm. I recall First describing Steg de Coeur as a wild card. Perhaps he didn’t realize how wild. You have a question about de Coeur’s survival?”

  “Complex reported that he collapsed when the program was applied. We haven’t had any update after that.”

  “Please keep me fully informed. Do you have thoughts on de Coeur’s likely development?”

  “We cannot—I ‘m unable to make a prediction. I can’t even guess. We should continue to monitor him, and we’ll provide guidance and assistance as and when possible. We are just trying to keep up, without any idea of how he’ll develop.”

  “I agree, monitor and guide. Ensure Complex provides maximum assistance. What about the other subjects of this viral infection?”

  “Rakyd de Coeur was infected. However, he’s shown no major or unexpected developments. Unfortunately the other subject was one of those family members executed by the Imperials.”

  “Wasn’t an Acolyte similarly treated?”

  “Yes, Second. The Imperial soldiers killed him—he volunteered to deliver instructions and papers to Steg de Coeur when Complex determined he should go offworld.”

  “Of course, I remember. Very well, continue your project. Report immediately to me when you have updates, including changes in the status of de Coeur.”

  The interview concluded. Now they could mourn the death of their friend and mentor.

  ******

  Chapter 14

  Steg could see pinpoint light sources embedded in the darkness that enveloped him. Some were close by and some were distant, others he could not assess. Some flickered, some glowed softly, and others glared and shone with hurtful intensity. He shut them off, shielding himself from possible pain. He focused on the largest, clos
est light. He studied it for a short while, seconds or days, he was unsure.

  It spun and gradually resolved into a multi-dimensional array of symbolism that was both live and not live. The light broke into smaller lights and flows of light, waves and streams, each flickering and flowing in an unknown, yet apparently pre-determined manner. The flows attracted him, drawing him closer and closer until he was immersed, moving inside the main currents. He was overviewing and participating in the multitude of flows, merging now with the pulsing network of high speed photon tubing, flowing timelessly here, and slowing there, sometimes in rapid bursts, sometimes stationary.

  Awareness slowly grew; he realized he was experiencing data flows of the Ziangka’s system, that he was viewing the vast command structure, participating in the activities of the system and watching the pulses of data across the network of processors and storage points. He halted his apparent movement and selected at random a cell, accidentally triggering a process that immersed him in a flood of green light that was packed with data in orderly row after row, hundred, thousands, countless rows that reached out and beyond the horizon. He was exploring a data cell, a glass storage device. He wandered around its interior, sampling and testing, accepting and rejecting, reviewing row after row of data. He was surprised and alarmed, He was enjoying his unrestrained freedom and effortless movement, afraid that something would stop his progress, inhibit his activities. At last he was satisfied and he withdrew from the cell, from the device, from the tunnels of light, from the network.

  He opened his eyes, startled to see Denke and a medic standing over him, both with worried expressions. The major spoke.

  “Does that happen to you very often?”

  “What do you mean?” queried Steg as shafts of pain replaced the blackness.