Kraft could visualize the tactical possibilities. “Winger, I’m giving you provisional approval to start planning a mission, based on this. Get over to M & O and start kitting out for another trip back to Kolkata. But understand this: you’re not departing until General Linx cuts the final orders. I want him to see this plan too. Covert insertion into a sovereign state like India requires approval from CINCQUANT’s level or higher.”
Winger was satisfied he had come up with a good plan. “You won’t regret this, sir. Me and ANAD…we’ll get to the bottom of this yet.”
Kraft warily eyed the ever-shifting form of the ANAD swarm, now evolving toward the recruiting poster trooper again.
“I’m already regretting it, Winger. Just make sure Doc Frost outfits this bugger with a better selection of configs.”
So they went back to Containment to see Doc Frost again.
“People scattered when we approached,” Winger told Frost. The professor was tinkering at the control panel of the smaller containment chamber, using a quantum manipulator to prise apart the innards of a captured Shavindra bot.
“Look at this, Johnny.” He indicated an image on the screen. The image resembled a darkened corridor, with rows of flashbulbs popping on and off in strange geometric patterns along featureless walls. “You’re looking inside the processor matrix. Quantum bits dropping out of entanglement, then vanishing again into superposition with other bits. The heart of the whole shebang…right here.”
“That’s great, Doc. But ANAD and I need your help.”
Frost barely glanced up. “What seems to be the problem, Johnny?”
Winger explained how other troopers around Table Top had reacted to the sudden presence of uncontained ANAD swarms.
“Everybody realizes there’s still a lot of work to be done making ANAD part of our outfit…part of our lives as troopers.”
Frost clucked thoughtfully. “Maybe I can help with that. I have some ideas on how to tweak ANAD’s main processor and config generator. A little something I’ve been cooking up.”
“That’s great, Doc. How long will this take? The mission plan calls for a new task force to depart at 2200 hours tomorrow night.”
“First things first, Johnny. ANAD will have to go back into containment to get these upgrades.”
Upon hearing that, the swarm flared momentarily and began roiling like an angry cloud. The faceless formation of assemblers soon took on a vague resemblance to Doc Frost himself, in outline, with a stern, almost furious look.
“ANAD,” Winger said, “that’s not necessary. I know you don’t like containment but Doc’s got tricks that’ll make you a better trooper. It’s like when we train and drill at all hours of the day and night, in all kinds of conditions. We don’t like it either. But we do it because it makes us better troopers.”
***ANAD does not require containment for config changes. New configs can be transmitted by quantum coupler***
“Not these changes, I’m afraid,” Frost said. “I’ve got to get inside your core and re-build the basic lattices…physically re-construct the arrays, molecule by molecule.”
Reluctantly, the ANAD swarm relented and assumed a capture config for entry into the containment vessel. But unknown to either Frost or Winger, the swarm silently detached a tiny sub-swarm element. ANAD’s internal processor set up a quantum coupler link to this sub-swarm, which it designated as Element B.
Then the main swarm reluctantly flowed into the containment chamber. Frost secured the capture port and cycled the lock. ANAD was now securely in containment.
Or so they thought.
Element B dissipated in the atmosphere near the containment chamber, so as not to trigger any alarms. The loose swarm configured as a collection of dust particles drifting by, invisible to the eye, innocuous and unnoticed. The ‘particles’ settled out on chairs and consoles nearby…and listened.
“What kind of changes have you got in mind, Doc?”
Frost began shutting down the imager view of the captured Shavindra bot. “It’s not quite as simple as you made it out to be, Johnny. But I didn’t want to say that in front of ANAD.”
“What do you mean?”
Frost ran a hand through thinning tufts of gray hair.
“Well, to be honest, there are some oddities in ANAD’s processor kernel, some snatches of the original viral genetic code that I still don’t understand.”
“I thought you knew everything there was to know about ANAD.”
Frost smiled ruefully. “I know what I created, Johnny. But ANAD is programmed to evolve, just like a living organism. Not only that, but when I lifted that virus genetic code from the east Africa dig twenty-five years ago, there were pieces of code I couldn’t figure out…code that’s there for some reason, but I’ve never been able to determine what. They must be dormant pieces of code needing something, some factor, to activate them.”
Winger was thoughtful. “I had forgotten all that, Doc. Some of the original programming for the first ANAD master assembler came from an ancient virus.”
“Exactly. There’s some part of ANAD that still has an ancient racial memory of a time before there were humans, before there were even eukaryotic organisms. I’m not sure if these things are all related but they may be. We have to be careful tinkering around with the basic algorithms…I don’t want to inadvertently activate something I shouldn’t.”
“That’s why the Four Rules are programmed into every assembler by law.”
Frost nodded. “True but it’s entirely possible that Red Hammer or some fab hacker in Kolkata or Bangkok or Nairobi has found a way to program around these Rules. Maybe they’ll accidentally activate stretches of code we don’t understand. If they do—“ Frost shook his head—“I’m not sure what might happen. Humans and other multi-cellular organisms weren’t around when this code was last executed. In effect, Johnny, we’ve taken the genetic smarts and flexibility of an ancient virus and married it to modern programmable molecular assemblers.”
“Why, Doc, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re having second thoughts about tinkering around with ANAD. But I’ve got a more pressing tactical problem: I’ve got to figure out a way to penetrate the nanobotic shield around that quantum generator in Kolkata, before that big rock in the sky falls on our heads. I was hoping you could help me.”
“I think I can do that,” Frost replied. “It’s just that ANAD has evolved over the last twenty-five years to a level of complexity I hadn’t really anticipated. But here—let me show you what I’ve got in mind—“
Unknown to Frost and Winger, Element B had heard and recorded all they had said. The sub-swarm would soon report back to the ANAD master, when it was released from Containment and they were re-united.
While Frost continued working with the processor of the master assembler, Winger went back to the M & O building and hooked up with Dana Tallant. The task force had to start getting its mission gear together.
Approval orders from CINCQUANT had come in at 1650 hours, and the mission was on. General Linx had even drafted a new name for the effort: Operation Quantum Hammer.
Winger and Tallant went over the details of the orders as they cleaned and fitted out their hypersuits in the ready room.
“So I’m second fiddle again,” Tallant was saying. She used a laser patchbeam to cauterize a slight tear in the outer laminate layer of her suit. “Situation normal, I see.”
“Look, Dana—“ Winger was stepping through battle codes and configs on a display plugged into the suit computer. “—I know you want to run your own show, but CINCQUANT’s orders are clear. Plus, I’ve been there. Don’t be such a crybaby.”
Tallant sniffed, “wiped” her eyes clear of make-believe tears. “Oh, Johnny Winger, all I ever wanted to do was serve under you.”
Winger ignored her. “We infiltrate as civilians. Covert entry. You and me are posing as wealthy European tech entrepreneurs. We’re in town t
o get twisted. Get ourselves enhanced with illegal nanobotic enhancements. I’m thinking that bazaar around the Howrath Bridge that Sergeant Kano tried to put out of commission would be a good place to start. Q2’s giving a briefing at 1700 hours on local details and the latest intelligence.”
Tallant scanned the orders herself. “It says here that 3rd Swarm comes along too. Configged as para-human. Does that mean ANAD? Like in the canteen—done up to look something like a human?”
“That’s what it means.”
“Nobody’s going to buy that, Wings. ANAD looked like some kind of ghost or otherworld spirit. The config’s not quite there.”
“Doc Frost is working on that right now. He’s confident he can make ANAD look as real as you and me.”
Tallant snorted. “Baloney. I’ll believe it when I see it.”
Winger had a sly smile on his lips. “You could be looking at a config right now and never know it.”
Tallant nodded. “Uh-huh…you look pretty solid to me, atom boy. This idea of letting ANAD out of containment to try and look human is just too creepy for me.”
Winger went on with his checking of battle codes and configs. “Finish up what you’re doing. I’ll show you what Doc Frost is up to.”
Tallant dreamed about the upcoming mission. “Just think of it, Wings: tomorrow, you and me in exotic Kolkata. Hooking up with local fab lords…enhanced to the sky with every gizmo and gadget the Corps’ money will buy.” She gave him a playful slap on the butt. “Including some we’ve never heard of before.”
Winger could see it in his mind’s eye. “Just don’t give Colonel Kraft any sordid details. I’ll deny everything. Anyway, this may be our best chance, maybe our last chance, to pick up some kind of connection back to Red Hammer.”
CHAPTER 6
Kolkata, India
September 16, 2080
The Howrath Bridge bazaar was slammed with people and Johnny Winger knew the task force would have a hard time staying together. It was like fighting swirling ocean currents to move anywhere. The bazaar was loud and chaotic, filled with smoke and pungent smells—the high-octane odor of masala tobacco was especially strong at the Garden Street entrance—and the air was thick with loose nano, clouds of bots mingling with incense, opium and scores of cooking oil fires. Vendors hawked grapes and mangoes, bananas and fabricator shells of every type, vials of rogue DNA called twist hung from clothes lines strung up between light poles and dilapidated tents. Women in sarongs with black teeth from chewing betel nuts zipped and weaved through the labyrinth balancing huge baskets on their heads, baskets filled with everything from buffalo patties to rebuilt matter compilers for the fabs that were on sale everywhere.
Winger, Tallant, Barnes and the rest of the Operation Quantum Hammer task force pressed forward, shoving their way through the throng, heading for the eastern terminus of the bridge, where the ornate arches of the Victoria Race Course entrance made a small promenade jammed with rikshas and pedcarts disgorging tourists by the hundreds.
“I’m betting that big black cloud over the arches is nano!” Winger yelled back to Tallant. Both troopers were dressed in civilian garb, consistent with their ‘cover’ as Euro businesspeople, out for a stroll through old Kolkata. “It never disperses…can’t be smoke from a fire. Bots are keeping formation…maybe a demonstration of some kind!”
Tallant nodded. She found herself grabbed and pinched a dozen times as she forced her way along. What I wouldn’t give for a MOB barrier right about now, she thought to herself. She spotted Winger’s head by his ball cap, bobbing above the crowd a few meters ahead.
“Head for that gathering by the arches!” she called out. She had seen what looked like containment vessels lined up on benches and tables, through the crowd. “Could be a fab seller taking orders!”
Winger waved at her, acknowledging the idea and shifted course, navigating through the on-rushing tide of people as if he were steering across a fast-moving river.
Jeez, BioShield would have a field day out here, Winger thought. Wonder where the hell they are? To sell fabricator parts or cores on the street, with no license, was a serious offense. To let molecular assembler swarms loose in the environment without control and dispersal protection was even worse.
Kolkata was a cesspool, no doubt about it. Some things never changed.
Slowly, Winger and Tallant made their way to the race course arches, across a jammed plaza thick with bikes, carts, cattle and donkeys. A large tent surrounded on three sides with tables and benches dominated the arches. Flat screen displays hanging from poles flickered down on the crowd, with images of Bollywood action pics counterpointed by plaintive plucking from a mandolin player nearby. In the center of a knot of yelling, shoving, jeering customers, a swarthy man in a turban and dark green kaftan pecked at a keyboard. All around the arches, throbbing globs of nanobotic swarms swelled and gyrated to the music. Masala smoke was thick and acrid in the air.
Winger shoved and pushed his way to the edge of this crowd, joined over the next few moments by Tallant, Barnes and the rest of the Detachment. The turbaned vendor was a small man, desert burning in his eyes, as his fingers flew over the keyboard. Presently, he stopped and noticed a very young child, a small girl, standing shyly a few meters away from Tallant, playing hide and seek in the folds of her mother’s loose sarong.
The vendor, who sported a thick black moustache, beckoned repeatedly to the young girl. After a few minutes, her mother relented and let her child go. The girl inched her way into the clearing and stood in front of the vendor’s table, to applause and approving shouts and chants from the crowd.
The vendor’s name was Najipoor Singh. The words were handwritten in Hindi, scrolled on a fabric sign hanging over the table. Singh reached into a canvas bag and pulled out a trinket for the young girl. He handed it to her and she took it, shyly, turning the small cylinder over and over in her hand.
“You have a djinn in that cylinder, little one,” Singh announced, loudly enough for all to hear. “A very powerful spirit. He can grant you any wish you want. Make a wish, child, and the djinn will bring it to you, right here—“
The girl’s name was Menaka and she had huge brown eyes. Sad eyes, thought Winger, as he looked on from ten meters away, at the front of the crowd.
Menaka twirled the cylinder as Singh had shown her and squeezed her eyes tightly shut. When she stopped twirling the cylinder, she felt it vibrate and was so startled, she dropped the cylinder to the dirt.
Instantly, the device was enveloped in a fine mist, a sparkling mist that billowed out and upward, swirling about the clearing in front of Singh and his tables like a miniature cyclone. Gasps and shouts erupted from the crowd, and the spectators shoved back against each other, to give this growing apparition greater distance.
The mist gradually materialized into the faint outline of a man’s upper body, with a recognizable face, shoulders and arms crossed in front.
The ‘djinn’ then spoke out loud. “Little one, I have come from the clouds above to grant you a great wish. Make your wish now—“ The djinn’s voice was a deep bass profundo, so deep it rattled the beaded curtains that covered Singh’s merchant tent behind them.
Menaka stared wide-eyed, mouth open, at the apparition. She was speechless.
“Go ahead, child,” urged Singh. “The djinn wishes you to make a wish.”
Shouts of encouragement and support came from the crowd. Gradually, Menaka worked up enough nerve. Shy, haltingly, she asked for a new pedcart for her father.
“His cart is broken, Great One,” she murmured. “It is our livelihood. Father needs a new cart to carry the tourists.”
The deep voice rumbled again, a little reverberation adding to the sense of barely contained powers.
“As you have spoken, child…so shall it be—“
At that moment, the swirling, twinkling apparition of the djinn dissolved into a maelstrom of churning,
roiling clouds, streaked with flashes of light. It was like watching a thunderstorm in miniature, from the inside.
When the storm began to subside, the barest outlines of a structure could be seen enveloped in the thick fog. The fog dissolved, slowly at first, then with speed, to reveal the front seat and handles of a new pedcart. Its wheels dripped with moisture and sunlight shone from the supple leather seats in the back.
The crowd was silent for a moment, then erupted into cheers and gasps. Menaka stared wide-eyed at the new pedcart, inching her way forward to tentatively put a finger along the handles, tracing the smooth curve of the metal.
For fun, Singh reached down and honked the horn a few times, startling everyone. The crowd laughed.
“You see what a gift the great djinn has brought you, little one. The djinn I have in my possession can do the same for every one of you.” Singh pointedly stared at each face in the front row of the circle of onlookers. “Such a powerful djinn, such a powerful servant is available to you, today, right now, for a very special price. You will not believe the deal I can make for you. My friends, you cannot leave this bazaar without experiencing what this amazing servant can do for you—“
Johnny Winger leaned over to Dana Tallant, standing alongside.
“Not bad nano, if you ask me. Config changes were quick. He managed to hide some of the frizziness with smoke.”
Tallant nodded. “A little clunky in the conversion, if you ask me. But showmanship trumps everything. Like a magician…he kept their attention away from the nuts and bolts.”
“Where’s ‘Anderson’?”
Tallant indicated somewhere behind them. Winger turned, stood on his tiptoes. Then he saw the face of the para-human swarm, easing forward through the crowd.
Winger chuckled to himself. To Tallant: “There so much nano in the air around here, nobody’s noticed that ‘Anderson’s a little frizzy around the edges.”
Johnny Winger and the Hellas Enigma Page 14