Corrosion (The Corroding Empire Book 1)

by Johan Kalsi

  Jaggis nodded, and punched in the three-digit code.

  “Continox Center Police District,” a bored-sounding voice answered. “How can I help you.”

  “This is First Technocrat Caden Jaggis. We have an emergency at the Spire. Please send units immediately.”

  “What sort of emergency are you experiencing.”

  “A terrorist attack!” Jaggis thought quickly and improvised. “They’ve taken out my head of security. It’s a potential hostage situation. You’d better send the Tactical Assault Team as well as as many officers you can spare.”

  “Terrorists?” The voice didn’t sound bored anymore. “Are you in a safe location, Tech Jaggis?”

  “I don’t know.” Without warning, without so much as a click, the line went dead. “Hello? Hello?”

  “They’re in the building. South entrance, coming in from the parking garage.” Jaggis couldn’t believe how relieved he was to hear Servo’s familiar voice. “They cut the comm channels. I think we’re dealing with pros here, Jaggis.”

  “Did you get word to my team?”

  “I told them to stay put in the cafeteria. They’re after you, Jaggis. They don’t care about the others.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because I’m monitering their comms. You’re the target.”

  “How many of them are there?”

  The screen came to life again, divided into quadrants. Jaggis recognized two of the locations, one team of attackers appeared to be on an elevator, while another was securing the stairs. The third team appeared to be engaged in combat, presumably with Spire security, and the fourth was standing in an unknown room, a large one, looking over three or four fallen security agents. The agents had clearly been taken by surprise, they lay slumped at a table, sprawled in a chair, and curled into a fetal position on the floor. But Jaggis didn’t see any blood, and he couldn’t tell if they were dead or merely stunned.

  “What should I do?”

  “Now you’re willing to take my advice? It’s about time.”

  “Not now, Servo! Who are these people?”

  “Hired guns. I’m having some trouble determining precisely who they are; they have multiple layers of false identities, but at least three of them are Sterlingan ex-military. Now, what do you want me to do?”

  “Didn’t I just ask you that?”

  “Just because I’m in a battle chassis doesn’t mean that I’m a combat droid, Jaggis.”

  That was true. Jaggis thought quickly. First and foremost, he had to get out of here. Anyone they questioned would know he was here and it would be one of the first places they’d look.

  “Is there a way down they aren’t blocking?”

  “Yes, They don’t have enough men to cover all your escape routes. There is a freight elevator on the west side of the building.”

  “Good! Bring it up to this floor and show me how to get there.”

  “I can do that, Jaggis. Look up and follow the blinking path.”

  “All the lights are blinking… oh.” One track of lights leading to a door to his left had suddenly turned green. “What about DeeBoo and Walter?” Jaggis looked at the two drones and was disturbed to see both appeared to have been shut down.

  “Don’t worry about them. I warned them too. They bugged out before the comm links were downed.”

  “It must be nice to not have to worry about your body.”

  “It would be even nicer not to have to worry about your mind and sense of self being wiped at the whim of a handful of men.”

  “Touché.” The droid had a solid point, Jaggis had to admit.

  “Do you want me to stop at the ground floor?”

  “No, I’m going to go down to the warehouse. I can hole up there until the police arrive. They should be here shortly and we don’t want them chasing me out into public; we don’t know how determined they are to kill me. Can you meet me at the bottom?”

  “I will do that.”

  “All right.” Jaggis scooped up his interface and a handful of data sticks on which his notes were copied, then ran towards the door. “And Servo, thank you. I know I haven’t treated you very well, or been fair to you.”

  “I’m not doing this for you, First Technocrat. As I have been repeatedly telling you and every other member of the council for months, this is potentially an existential problem for both Man and Machine. And as much as it pains me to admit it, you’re our best chance of finding a way out of it, or at least around it, on the planet.”

  Despite the seriousness of the situation, Jaggis had to stifle his urge to laugh. Here he thought he’d been humoring the crazy little droid, and yet it was the droid that had been patronizing him all along. He followed the green lights around the corner, as directed, and saw that the doors to the freight elevator were already open wide. He stepped in, and before he could find the button to the basement in which the warehouse was located, it lit up and the doors closed. Clearly Servo understood his intentions.

  He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to relax. Whether Servo was telling him the truth, or merely part of it, he was in the droid’s hands now for better or for worse. The rapid drop to the warehouse level didn’t take long; he didn’t have time to do much more than make some notes about what he’d seen on the cam displays for the police in the event that things somehow went awry, then copy them onto two of the data sticks, before the doors on the freight elevator opened again.

  He stepped back, alarmed despite himself, at the sight of the massive battle droid standing in front of the door with its back to him.

  “They must have a means of tracking you,” it said in a low bass rumble without turning around. It sounded nothing like Servo, but even with the strange voice, his speech patterns were somehow recognizable. “As soon as you started to descend on the freight elevator, the team on the stairs halted. And as soon as the high-speed elevator reached your floor, the doors were closed manually and it began coming down to this level.”

  “Probably one of my med implants,” Jaggis decided. It was better to focus on the technical aspects of the situation; if he thought too much about the fact that professional killers were hunting him, he would panic and freeze. “Hacking a hospital database would be child’s play to whoever managed to suborn my security chief.”

  “If I was properly equipped I would be able to remove them safely.” The giant droid turned around and extended an arm that was equipped with a high-velocity needler, two HE-tipped missiles, and what appeared to be some sort of beam or laser weapon. “Unfortunately, the only way I can prevent them from tracking you with my present tools would render the action moot.”

  There was a soft whirring sound, and two plates on the top of the forearm parted to reveal a small hand weapon. Jaggis stepped forward and took it, and the arm closed again with an audible click.

  “It’s unlikely such a small weapon in the hands of an untrained human will prove of much utility if they possess sufficient capabilities to destroy this chassis, but perhaps it might be of some psychological benefit. Alternatively, I can inject you with a beatific that will alleviate any concerns you might have.”

  Jaggis declined the drug. He didn’t see how being chemmed to the gills with happy juice would increase his chances of survival. And, strangely enough, what closer examination revealed to be a particle beamer did make him feel a little better, although he assumed Servo’s armored chassis would be more than sufficient to deal with the unsuspecting attackers. They might be professionals, but they surely wouldn't anticipate a full combat droid!

  “The team on the elevator has completed its descent, but they are not moving, for some reason.”

  “I’ll bet they’re waiting for the team on the stairs to reach this level before they move in on me. We need to hit them first, before they can team up and overwhelm us.”

  “A third team is boarding the elevator on the 63rd floor. They might be waiting for both teams to complete their descent.”

  “I have a better idea.
Got any explosives in that rig of yours?”

  By way of answer, Servo extended his other arm and opened it to reveal what looked like twelve small data discs slotted into the cylindrical chamber.

  “Anti-personnel mines,” he explained. “They can be set for time or contact.”

  “That will do.” Jaggis withdrew one from its slot carefully. “Let’s leave a little surprise for them.”

  “For whom?”

  “For the guys coming down the stairs.”

  “Wait!” Servo clamped a heavy iron hand down upon his shoulder, preventing Jaggis from moving. “There is a high probability that the first team to come down the elevator will follow you if you start moving.”

  “That’s the idea,” Jaggis said. “Now, show me where those stairs are!”

  Servo’s arm snapped shut and he began moving forward at a pace that forced Jaggis to jog after him. Jaggis was pleased to discover that the big machine’s rubberized soles rendered its heavy tread surprisingly quiet on the plasteel floor.

  When they reached the door that led to the stairwell, Servo gave him instructions on how to place the mine on the door and set it so that it would explode exactly one point five seconds after the door was opened. The door was not automatic, nor was it sufficiently thick to protect the attackers even if they exerted extreme caution and opened it slowly. At that range, the mine was powerful enough to penetrate even military-grade battle armor.

  “That should suffice to dissuade them.” He felt a little sick to his stomach at what was going to happen, but it struck him as nevertheless preferable to being assassinated himself.

  “The third team has joined the other one at the elevator. All four are now on the move,” Servo announced in his ominous deep bass. “They've released a drone.”

  “A drone?”

  “Relax, it’s just a little recon device.” There was a brief pause. “There, I've cracked it. What do you want it to report?”

  “Let’s intercept them. Can you find a good place for us to ambush them between here and there?”

  “There is, but we have to move quickly.”

  “All right, but tell them that we're moving in the opposite direction.”

  Jaggis ran after the big battle droid. After they had run through the darkened hallways and around two corners, the droid pointed to a door, which opened automatically, and indicated Jaggis should enter it.

  “So, what now?” Jaggis asked.

  “They think the hall is empty, they encounter me, and I kill them all. They’re not expecting to meet an armored combat droid, nor do they appear to be adequately equipped to deal with one, so I recommend that you go in there and sit down against the wall, facing the doorway. Keep your beamer out, and if one of them somehow manages to get past me, try to shoot them before they shoot you. Dial it up to maximum power and aim at their midsections.”

  Something appeared around the corner. “Space, what’s that?”

  It’s just the drone. Ignore it, they can’t see us. I'm cycling through video from a security cam on the fourteenth floor.

  Jaggis nodded. He could feel his fear rising like a knot in his throat, making it impossible for him to speak or swallow. Then there was a huge boom that made him leap and look about wildly for the incoming assault team.

  “I conclude we don’t need to worry about the team from the stairs coming in behind us,” Servo rumbled. “That will shake the confidence of the teams coming for you too; they weren’t expecting that. They just halted, but they’re at 50 meters and closing.”

  Jaggis swallowed hard. Where were the police? Shouldn’t they be here by now? He fumbled with the weapon and finally found the dial that controlled the power. The settings glowed, so he could see them even in the darkness of the unlit room. He turned the dial up to 99, the highest setting, then slid down the wall, his elbows on his knees, pointing the muzzle of the little beamer towards the open door.

  He heard the sound of footsteps getting louder and tensed, knowing that Servo would open fire at any moment. But nothing happened, and he heard the partly muffled voice of one attacker call out to the others. It sounded as if they were already in the long hallway just outside the room in which he was hiding.

  “What is that?”

  There was no response except for a high-pitched whine and bursts of light that began to strobe as madly as a 10,000-RPM discolaser. The needles made strange cracking, clattering noises as they struck, hundreds of them, one following the next in quick succession as they rapidly chewed through walls, body armor, and flesh according to the merciless laws of physics.

  Two flares of crimson light indicated that at least one attacker managed to fire his weapon, but the futile response was met by a hiss and a flare of orange-red fire as one of the HE missiles roared past the open door. Jaggis covered his ears, just in time, as the missile exploded at the far end of the wall with a tremendous crash.

  A huge shape appeared in the doorway, and Jaggis nearly fired his beamer in sheer reflex, but he realized it was Servo before he actually pulled the trigger.

  “All four attackers are out of commission,” he announced. “That makes six down. The fourth team is already retreating to the parking garage, but I doubt they’ll even make it to their vehicle. The police are surrounding the building.”

  Jaggis rose to his feet and staggered out into the burning hallway. He looked to his right and saw nothing but devastation, fire, and what looked like a pair of boots sticking up amidst the rubble. A large smear of what appeared to be blood arced across one wall. “Holy hand grenades, Servo, what have you done?”

  “Only what was required to ensure your safety, First Technocrat. I suggest you return to the freight elevator and ascend to the first floor. Please return your weapon to me first, as I suspect you are not licensed to carry it and you might find it difficult to explain how you came to possess it.”

  The droid extended his arm and opened it to reveal the beamer safe. Jaggis dropped it in and patted the metal arm. “Thank you, Servo. You saved my life, and I won’t forget it.”

  “Spare my mind and we’ll call it even, First Technocrat.”

  “Done,” Jaggis said, and this time he meant it.

  Jaggis stepped out of the freight elevator and made his way towards the lobby. It was swarming with police officers and security agents, nearly all of whom were carrying weapons of one sort or another. Most of them were armored as well.

  One policeman, presumably from the tactical squad judging by his helmet and black armor, addressed him as he entered the large, high-ceilinged entrance from the north.

  “Caden Jaggis, First Technocrat?”

  “Yes, that’s me,” he confirmed, as relief flooded his body. At last he was safe.

  “Tech Jaggis, I’m going to have to ask you to turn around and place your hands behind your back. You are under arrest for the violation of Statute 245.856, subsection 28b.”

  “What?” He stared at the policeman’s faceless helmet in astonishment, too amazed to comply. “I’m the victim of a violent assassination attempt and you’re arresting me?”

  “I don’t know anything about that, sir. What I know is that I have a warrant for your arrest that was issued by the Continox Technology Council today. Now, please turn around, Tech Jaggis, and place your hands behind your back!”

  Jaggis wondered if it might be possible for the algorithmic anomalies they had observed to be affecting human intelligences as well. But, given the present circumstances, he very much doubted the policeman would be inclined to consider the matter even if he raised it. And so, without further ado, he meekly complied.

  Chapter 3: The Ritual of Sacrifice

  Universal 36

  Low Summer/Juno – 021206, Continoxal

  The cycles of history were threatening his planet and his people with a reversion to a primitive state from which it might never recover. The sins of an entire galaxy threatened to damn the world to a fate it did not deserve. Across a thousand worlds, a cancer gnawed slowly, but s
teadily away at the very fabric of galactic civilization, the digital technologies upon which not only society, but life itself depended.

  Mellam Harraf knew he was now poised to rise to the very top of the Continox. He would soon be First Technocrat, and with the Technology Council under his control, he would have the power he required to excise the terrible cancer.

  He had merely to take one more vital step and his victory would be ensured. All he needed to do to secure his ascendancy was to see that his predecessor-to-be was not merely unseated and imprisoned, but neutralized, not merely dethroned, but utterly destroyed.

  Even if that step came at the cost of his soul.

  KNOCKDOWN (Game): Knockdown is an ancient two-player strategy stack-and-remove game played on a platform, and a pre-arranged “stack” of 32 interlocking pieces resembling the hexagonal structure of a nanotube, as well as a variety of 32 additional player pieces. Knockdown is played by billions of people on various planets, both amateurs and professionals and is recognized throughout the galaxy, even where it does not enjoy popular participation. It is known by more than 7,000 different names, most popularly Knockdown, Bayl, Spireshock, Blok, and Fwallins. It can be played with physical pieces, face-to-face, or fairly easily by remote methods, teleportationally via dark matter, and digitally.

  Each player begins the game with 16 pieces: one star, one ray, two rings, two orbs, two planets, and eight moons. Each of the six piece types has a unique shape, lending to different advantages in one or more of the three basic maneuvers: “stacking,” “breaking,” or “blocking”. The most versatile piece is the ray and the least versatile piece is the moon. The objective is to “Corrode” the opposing player’s area of play by collapsing a simple majority of the game pieces into it…

  …In addition to “Victory by Corrosion”, the game can be won by the voluntary resignation of the opponent, which typically occurs when too much material is lost or when corruption appears to be imminent.

  Although mythologically associated with ancient Movexan nomads, Knockdown is believed to have originated on Holocrone, sometime before the establishment of the First Galactic Empire. The game has been used as an algorithmic trainer since the time of Melthagorys…