Threads of Canor: Sector Bomb

by Simon Woodington

  Chapter Five: A Strand Off

  Aaran is hard as nails and Ayani no less reliable. As I understood it Ayani's wish had somehow involved fire. She's as fearsome as her mother is unrelenting. Aaran closed the connection with a thumb and reclined on the couch beside me.

  "What's on?" [We'll beat them, even if the elevator miraculously stalls on the way up.]

  "Just re-runs." [I'm completely lost. What will we do?]

  "Whatever. Pick something." [Stop Ayani from vaporizing the entire SLASH party. Seems like the craziest operation a Court could assign their Knights, am I right?]

  "'Yolanda's Backbeat Cookout'?" [She never said that.]

  "No."

  [In fact she did,] Sonata interjected. [Wetwork, if performed optimally, could minimize civilian loss in the long run.]

  "'Counterinterterrorism'," I read. [I see. It would be logical on the scale of another war.]

  "Is that even a thing?" Aaran had the answer. [You heard Sgt. Antwight. The AOC knows who's instigating and has justified death in its defense. An entertainment colony as a Court is a disasterpiece for our recovering society.]

  "'The Secret Life of Fresh Food'." [Can they accurately predict who would precipitate a civil conflict?]

  "'Time Lapse Miracles in Gardening'. No." Aaran chuckled, a little callously. [Think accuracy matters?]

  "'Allies of Courtesans'." [Yes.]

  "Stay off the Adult streams, bonehead." [I guess your memory isn't what it used to be. You see the surface of Canor lately?]

  "It says 'Documentary'." [Not in the last twenty minutes.]

  "'So what? It's rated 'R'. An excuse to be philosophical about interpersonal mechanics. What about 'Pickled II: Lids from Afar'?" [Got me there. The Alliance is a large organization of powerful individuals. Someone in there decided this was a good idea.]

  "That is an hour and three minutes long." [Evidently. What are you proposing?]

  "We're running out of streams. Most networks are on emergency status." [Razor has fans that are willing to mincemeat their opponents. Laston can't be the only proponent.]

  "'Keep 'em Talking: Heart and Mind of the Tailor'." [He is the only one the Court has told us about.]

  "That's almost over. You wanna watch the last twelve minutes?" [True 'nough. Makes me wonder what Reggie knows that she hasn't told us.]

  This gave me pause to think. [If she is not keeping secrets she is not doing her job.] "What about 'Crazy Cuties and Carrot Pals'?"

  "By the Pillars, no."[The Alliance has a lot of blame to disperse.]

  "I'm picking something." ['Blame to disperse'?]

  "I asked you to." [Politicos want to keep their jobs if they can, and principles can be dispensable, or worse, valuable stock and trade. Reggie's unusual, shoot'n straight the way she does. Lotta respect for her people, and herself.]

  "'Myths and People: Shards for Power.'" [By 'her people' you mean us, as well. I agree.]

  "I give." [What does respect mean? I've faced a lot in the last twelve hours. I can lose a limb or two, your Dad's a wiz ... But I was scared, brutally scared, of being alone. Of losing Yale.]

  [Why? You are very strong.] Perhaps she might explain what made her so vulnerable.

  [Physically, but I'm not a loner. Women aren't, usually.] There was a weighted pause which had significance I could not appreciate, so I took note of the instance. [Buddy, you wouldn't get this... but, Yale made me a mother, and stood by me every time I needed him. We're together and without him I ... I'm sorry, but that's it. I know his love for me. Without that mutual love we're going to burn the remnants of the Alliance to its foundations.]

  [So the leap in logic is family, from which you form a basis for choosing to fight.]

  [Uh, yeah. Without a reason to choose, which is what I was gonna say. Buddy, someone decided vaporizing every opponent on Razor was the best course of action to take to protect the future of the Alliance of Courts, and being shocked about it or appalled by the usual business of politics is not a liberty we can afford. Right now we can do nothing but protect our families.]

  [I agree with that. Your sense of priority is appropriate.]

  [What priority? Let the city burn as if I could stop it. My family is my life.] "Not a thing to watch. Why don't we take a walk, Buddy?"

  We stepped outside, and I felt like we had been conversing for a longer period than I could suitably index. On deck is a safe place to talk, though it feels cave-like, with no way to view the planet distancing as we rose out of the atmosphere. Aaran's dedication to family had begun to fascinate me.

  She took a tremendous risk carrying me through the ruins of Sector 9 to my Father's bunker. Unlike Sonata I was not endlessly in awe of her, so I took stock of her actions on a lower priority than, say, environmental observations. I had the choice, and I deemed our safety of high importance, but I realized that she did not do so for everyone she associated with.

  "You're probably at it now, figuring I take you as family," Aaran said with a sidelong glance. "You're cute, and I'd probably protect you anyway, just because you're David's."

  "His creation."

  She stopped and looked irritated, but it wasn't reflected in her voice. "You upset?"

  "I suppose I am. Why do I deserve that, and how is my physical appeal applicable?"

  "Crackin' shards, was all that conversation a waste of time? Don't you get attraction?"

  "No. I value life because–because ... I choose to. It is beautiful to me."

  "Oh. Then think over what I told you and suss it out, y'bucket headed dummy," she answered, terse. We walked on quietly around the plasteel deck, grey, dark and lit only by the heavy duty LEDs over our heads. I glanced up at a white-blue flash of light that skittered along the elevator power rail.

  "That was strange."

  "What was?"

  I pointed at a thicker, more vibrant tongue of energy that lashed at our deck away from the rail and assumed an erratic pattern just six feet away from us. The Bastion gave with a start and stopped altogether. The deck lights went dim and then shut off completely.

  With only the illumination of the Augmented Strand to move by, Aaran and I did our best to reconnoiter. Just two others were on deck with us. One a guard, the other dressed in the reds and blacks of Court formals. Another Representative. He noticed us and came closer.

  Thick set and heavily bearded, he eyed me and Aaran with particular interest.

  "Horash Tome," Aaran mouthed bitterly.

  So he was going to meet her.

  "Aaran Vanadyl Coates. Good evening," he said, curling big lips around her name, obsidian-silver eyes lancing.

  "So you did show up, y'slack excuse for a bundle of nerves."

  "You tell me I'm wrong to be alive, or just wrong to be happy?" The thought of displeasing Aaran did not seem to concern him, though he did seem amused. Watching his big cheeks puff with smugness, I decided I didn't like him.

  "I'll let you ponder that."

  "How sullen and irrational you are. I owe Representative Castlegar many favors, all of which I have repaid."

  “Sullen? You puff-pastry shov-”

  "That logic is flawed,” I interrupted. Aaran flashed me a warning, but I shrugged and asked: “Which part of that statement is true?"

  He looked at me as if I'd just thrown myself on the deck at his feet. "Who is that?"

  "My partner. Watch your ash-burnt mouth, he's a good kid."

  He grunted dismissively and leveled an index finger at the Augment. "Are you going to get rid of that?"

  "Maybe. Have a plan, Representative?" Aaran rounded on him without remorse. Why did he let her get away with being so verbally abusive? Previous history might account for this, so I took note of the fact.

  "No. That's why you're here. Hurry up."

  “Blasted shield, you knew, of course,” Aaran grumbled. “No wonder the grunts were so nervous. You level something at their necks?”

  “Hurry up,” he repeated.

  “I do that we're all meat.” Aaran's
attention focused on radiant source of our plight. “Well, mostly meat. Lucky us.”

  "Katsu has no finesse but wonderful table manners," Horash ejected at apparent random. "I'd loathe be late for supper."

  What is wrong with this man? I couldn't risk transmitting to Aaran directly with the proximity of the Augment. Instead I made several quick signs to the effect of 'He's bent?'

  Aaran grinned and signed back: 'Wicker with memory implants. Don't mind him. Lots of work to do.'

  'O.K.'

  Augmented Strands are self contained, AI driven engineering tools that are used to sustain the elevator and its component parts. While they can repair and replace any worn out hardware, they are prone to code fragmentation that can occur during idle status. It has been suggested by some that they 'get bored'. This 'boredom' is avoided by the near constant failure state of the elevator. Yes, the elevator is always on the verge of catastrophic failure. Thus, Strands are ideal to the task, and improve public morale by transforming near total disaster into wondrous reliability.

  Another cleverly orchestrated construct, one might say.

  “Natali's got some kinda talent,” Aaran murmured. “Elgin's a masterwork.”

  “N.R.K. is her label on the blueprints...” I realized.

  “Her engineering mistakes have turned this fiasco into a landmark.”

  The solution was clear, but complicated. How to break the elevator without, you know, breaking the elevator?

  "More than that. Strands repair damage inside of hardware, like a component failure." Aaran squinted at me, thinking along the same lines.

  “I will factor that into my simulations.”

  "Can't this robot just hack something?" Horash demanded.

  He knew. How had he come by information? Aaran glared at him and catered her response to the safety of the crew. Rep. Tome could be trouble if pushed too hard. "No. Strands replace hardware, code and all. An indiscriminate hack could send us careening back to the surface. Have you noticed the safety clamps aren't locked in?"

  Horash paled. "W-why are we hanging in the middle?"

  "We are being suspended by the emergency propulsion systems of the Bastion. It has an unlimited fuel supply," I explained.

  "Not while the Strand's sapping the lines." How would she know that? "I guess it's something you learn from experience."

  I chuckled at this, unsure of what made it funny. While Horash muttered about flavored water, the color of the moons and our incompetence, I ran several simulations in my head. One had a favorable chance of success and I related the idea to Aaran.

  'You know Augment Strand operation codes?' she signed in reply.

  'I have access to a month old command glossary.'

  'So there's a chance it won't match.'

  I nodded.

  'It could damage you?'

  'Unlikely.'

  'It's your hardware, Buddy. Not my call. I vote 'no' because I like you.'

  'Then I won't.'

  'Don't base your decision on personal feelings.'

  'What else is there?' Even saying so I knew there were many possible considerations, but at that time I rated her opinion of me the highest of them all. 'I am sorry. You're right. The percentage chance of success is greater than 88%.'

  There was one problem.

  'Nice of you t' round up for me, but... You're hesitating. What is it?'

  'I'm uncertain how to deliver the command without exposing my own components.'

  'Use my blade.'

  She's quite clever, really. Frequency modulation would enable me to encode a command into the blade's laser emitter. The Augment should respond as if interfacing with a native module. Aaran handed me her silver-white blade and I set to work. Aaran's technically savvy enough to know the capabilities of her weapon, and well she should as a master of the predominant martial art for which it is primarily used.

  Representative Tome yawned and requested a drink of one variety or another. He was harshly rebuked by the on duty deck officer. "S'my vessel you lout. Snap a lid on your trap!"

  Horash was momentarily quelled, to my relief. Programming completed, I warned anyone nearby that I would be operating a live blade on deck. Aaran demonstrated appropriate caution and pushed Horash when he stupidly refused to budge, making the way clear.

  I had to swing and activate the blade at the point of contact, no sooner, or the command would be misinterpreted. At that moment I realized I owed Aaran a debt of gratitude; our sparring had granted me some familiarity with my restored, and improved, reflexes.

  I swung the blade without activating it to approximate the arc, then repeated the motion immediately, for the live strike. White light flashed and the blade deactivated instantly. I stepped back and watched the Augment writhe, processing the command.

  "Did it ... work?" Horash inhaled dramatically, as if he had swung the blade. It leapt at him, then darted up toward the elevator ceiling and away. Aaran laughed as he fell backward and landed on his posterior.

  "Yep. Good work, Buddy. That's a pass. Horash!”

  He whirled, the weight of his cheeks pronounced. “What do you want?”

  I handed her blade back at that moment as a demonstration, even knowing it was not the weapon she intended to wield. “You're supporting Fenora.”

  “I am? She's my wife, you fool.”

  “Check yourself.”

  He stopped, considered, then bowed his head. “You're right.”

  “Sorry Hash. I'm not here to beat you up. Says on the ship's log you aren't here.”

  “I miss you brow beating me, sometimes. Odd, perhaps. You're not kind to me.”

  “Should I be? I guess you can't tell me why you're here.”

  “I don't owe you anything. What will you give me for it?”

  Survivors of habitual wicking often latch onto a singular form of interaction. As a businessman, 'checks-and-balances' suited him.

  “Would it be enough I owe you one?”

  [Is that wise?] I wondered.

  “You're paid up. I'd like you to owe me.” A sly smile sauntered onto his face. “Manners mean nothing in the world of credits. Is it worth the trade?”

  Funny him asking, as I was curious about the value of the transaction.

  “You're saying it isn't?”

  His face scrunched. Was he thinking or constipated? “No. That information has no value. No return on the investment. It would be unfair.”

  Aaran was flabbergasted. This satisfied Horash immensely. In his victory he made a slight bow and dismissed himself, demanding some refreshment from a paid assistant who tripped over toe and heel to appease. To most the rank enforces obedience, though it has little military authority. Aaran and I are agents of the Court, and thus are not required to follow extra-hierarchical bodies.