by John Vassar
This was too easy...
Mitchell stopped short of kicking the nearest rock. A barrage of expletives filled the cam-suit helmet. An experienced agent had ended up dead attempting a similar incursion on this very building. An agent from Delere Secos, the elite. Cytec was an organisation capable of producing technology beyond the comprehension of the SenANNs. This mission demanded his respect. He took a deep breath, focused once more and ran a sensor sweep of the building. No human life signs, at least not in the part of the complex that he could scan. Had all the remaining personnel just passed him in the maintenance truck? No matter if they had. At the far end of the facility was the big, fat zero that he had come for. Not one scrap of data from the ‘private research’ area showed on his sensors - but he did know where to get in. The building’s portal locations were marked on Devlin’s plan and that was all he needed.
Mitchell remained motionless, observing the Lancers’ movements along the northern edge of the Boldon fence. A standard patrol configuration, maintaining a constant distance between them with a repeat cycle every three minutes. He called up Devlin’s plan again. If he traversed to the Eastern side of the perimeter, there was a potential entry point from a rocky outcrop that sat well above the laserwire of the Boldon fence. Here, at the limit of its patrol area, the nearest Lancer would be thirty metres away from his chosen maintenance portal. Once he reached it, he would have a two-minute time frame to override the autolock. Mitchell took a final scan, reset his mission timer and made his move.
Thirty minutes and seventeen seconds into the elapsed mission time, Lee Mitchell had gained entry to Cytec’s research facility. The infiltration had not been perfect – he had fumbled his final abseil and crashed into the wall beside the portal. His left leg had taken the brunt of the impact and the pain was enough to make him wince. Then he had misjudged the speed of retrieval of the Abseiler filament, allowing the bonding unit to strike the ground in front of him. The tiny IR signature it left was enough to bring the nearest Lancer over at speed. Luck had been with him. The autom had scanned the many feathery corpses littering the area and assumed it was another bird strike on the laserwire of the Boldon fence.
Not quite up to DS appraisal standards yet… but he was in.
Mitchell was now in a maintenance storeroom on the eastern side of the complex. It opened internally onto the central corridor that ran the full length of the facility. The corridor terminated in the un-mapped area where the SenANNs had predicted the existence of their ‘brother’. Scanning the immediate area showed the internal walls to be dense but not screened, allowing an effective instrument range of twenty-five metres.
Good enough.
In less than a second, the decoder had unlocked the storeroom portal and Mitchell stepped into the unlit corridor.
15
At his Tec Section workstation, Science Officer Bhanerjee stared at the airscreen message in disbelief. It was unheard of for a Sentinel Weapons System autom to malfunction. It was also ten minutes before his duty period was scheduled to end. Why had the message been routed to him and not one of his colleagues?
It was a rhetorical question, borne of hunger and a general frustration with the way the day had gone. Bhanerjee knew perfectly well why he had been selected. Very few SOs were qualified to diagnostic level on the SWS and just a handful held the security clearance to physically work on one. The SenANN-designed work allocation system had deduced that he was the best qualified officer to deal with the problem.
Which meant that he had to deal with it...
Bhanerjee grabbed a diagnostic kit and hurried along ‘B’ corridor to the central elevator system that ran up the spine of Sat-1. The sentinel was not responding to any coms, standard or sub-ether. Combat-ready automs were stored in standby mode in a large facility under the belly of the satellite, adjacent to the hangars. From here they could be activated and deployed to waiting transports.
Bhanerjee stepped out into the semi-darkness. He never liked it down here. He felt like an intruder in an alien world. The ordered rows of dark shapes, each with a tiny red light on its torso, were enough to give anyone the creeps. The smaller, service automs weren’t too bad, but an SWS unit was bigger than a man and designed with one purpose in mind. Bhanerjee smiled to himself. His fascination with robotic systems was why he was here in the first place. Get on with it and stop complaining.
He checked his comlink data for the precise location of the faulty unit. The sentinel wasn’t far from the elevator and was stationed at the very end of one of the neat rows right in front of him. He reached it in a few seconds. Maybe he’d get away on time after all… As expected, it was in standby mode. His preliminary scan revealed nothing, but his own eyes saw something strange. Even in the gloom, the sentinel looked, well... dirty. There was a crusty, greenish deposit on the front of its chest panel. Which was impossible, since all units down here were kept immaculate by the resident serf-class automs.
He reached forward to wipe a finger across it...
Science Officer Bhanerjee opened his eyes and gave a small cough. The sound echoed around the darkness and he realised he was lying on the deck in the autom storage bay. His diagnostic kit lay a few feet away. His sat up and looked around. He couldn’t remember why he was here or how he’d ended up on his back. He stood and picked up his instruments. They showed that he had been making a minor repair on a serf-class autom. His comlink verified this and confirmed that the task had been completed. Then you must have taken a tumble in the dark. Probably too eager to get back and log off your duty shift.
Bhanerjee strode back to the elevator and requested Level Zero. He was in better spirits now, with just one more task to complete before he left for the day. He checked his pockets to make sure he had everything he needed. The hypo and the data cartridge were both there. As he neared his level, he reached up and rubbed the back of his head. There were several small bruises and they were smarting a little. Probably where you fell down. Be more careful next time you go down there, Jit. There was also a small, sore pin-prick on his neck. You nicked yourself shaving this morning, don’t you remember? Bhanerjee remembered. He left the elevator and made his way back down ‘B’ corridor. He had a very important person to visit.
Science Officer Bhanerjee left Sat-1 a satisfied young man. His meeting had gone well. He began to daydream over promotion as he left the shuttle terminus on Orbtown 3 and made his way back to his domice. It was quite late and the sun had long since dropped below the rim of the pressure dome. Bhanerjee did not see the stars, though, as he looked upwards. You deserve a reward. It’s such a nice day, why not treat yourself?
Bhanerjee knew just what was needed. A nice, long walk.
He arrived at his domice, entered and set the autolock behind him. He checked for messages on his Networker. One from his mother, one from his insurance company.
Answer them later. Get ready for your walk.
He went to the sleepbay and emerged, a minute later, naked. He walked through into the preproom, opened a container and popped a couple of pieces of real mango into his mouth. Delicious. His mother had sent them to him last week. She knew he loved them and it was just the thing to set him up for his walk.
He opened the emergency airlock door, ignoring the warning messages and flashing entry sign. He stepped inside and sealed the door behind him. He entered the security code that would allow the outer hatch to be opened. Again, warning messages assailed his ears. They’re just trying to stop your fun, Jit. Ignore them. Go ahead, turn them off.
Bhanerjee was an experienced SO and knew what to do. He pulled a service panel from the wall of the airlock and manually reset several circuits. The messages ceased. Then he picked out a red conduit and wrapped his fingers around it to get the best grip he could. He pulled with all his body weight and the wires came free in a shower of sparks. He felt no pain from the second-degree burns on the back of his hand. The severed circuit controlled the pressure failsafe system and now he could open the outer hatch whil
e the airlock was still pressurised. He smiled a broad, white smile.
That was very clever, Jit. You deserve a nice, long walk for that.
Bhanerjee opened the airlock and went for his walk.
16
Using LLV, Lee Mitchell strode down Cytec’s unlit main thoroughfare. The pain in his leg from the abseil incident had gone. Perhaps he was fitter than he thought. He scanned continually but still nothing moved in the vicinity, organic or otherwise. There were no airscreens on standby and the place was deserted. He passed laboratories right and left, various meeting rooms and the canteen where he had dined on his last visit. He poked an invisible nose around the entrance to the dining area. The IR signature on two coffee cups showed them as still warm. Looks like the maintenance truck crew had a better offer.
He reached the target area. As expected, the scanner could not penetrate. The wall itself did register though, along with the portal entry mechanism. The shield boundary was inside the room, as if the air within was forming the barrier. Rudimentary shields suggested that the circuits themselves were extremely sophisticated. The decoder could access them with ease, but from then on it would be stretched to the limit. Mitchell sat on the floor with his back to the wall and instructed the magic box to get to work. He checked that the cam-suit scanner was set to proximity alert, then settled for the long wait.
Lee Mitchell closed his eyes and tried his best not to imagine what was happening inside his skull. The nanites were causing him no discomfort. The itching had gone. Why did it have to be nanites? The thought of them inside his head made his skin crawl. They must be deep in his brain now, away from the sensitive nerve endings of his skin. He stared down the empty corridor, everything tinged electric blue by the LLV. The SenANNs were waiting, somewhere at the back of his mind. Waiting to become part of him. Waiting for the moment that would set him apart from the rest of the human race. He wished he had time to consider, to analyse what was happening to him. This was like a half-death. Sudden, unstoppable. And what of the SenANNs themselves? Were they the sentient life forms that they claimed to be, capable of a complete range of human emotions? Or after decades of observing the human race, were they just very good mimics?
A vole-like squeak from the decoder made Mitchell flinch. For a second he thought he had committed the unforgivable and fallen asleep. A check on the elapsed time eased his conscience, but not his concern. It had taken less than two minutes to crack the entry sequence. The smart money was that there was nothing inside of any value, least of all the SenANN’s lost brother…
Mitchell got to his feet and faced the portal. Regardless of the laboratory’s contents, he still had a job to do – and to locate the source of the sub-ether shield, he had to go through it. He activated the micro-rifle and felt it nestle into his right glove. He could see the weapon and his own hand courtesy of the helmet visor, which overlaid their virtual position onto his vision. From his DS training, he knew this was a necessary feature. Trying to do anything with invisible hands was a lot more difficult than it might sound.
Mitchell flashed an order to the decoder and tensed as the portal opened. He found himself staring into blackness, but in truth he had been expecting nothing less than a two-way light barrier. He pulled out one of the cam-suit decoy beacons and gave it a few instructions before rolling it into the void.
He stepped back and waited. He had programmed the decoy to activate once inside, present a ‘human’ target for a few seconds, then return to him on the same vector, assuming it was still able. After a few moments, the beacon returned unscathed. He pocketed the tiny sphere and took a deep breath. No going back now...
The LLV sparkled with interference as he stepped through.
The area inside the shield was disappointing in its normality, and in contrast to the rest of the facility, well-lit. Mitchell checked his sensors. They were still operational after traversing the shield and showed Fetter Guns concealed above and either side of the portal, all inactive. Like the complete lack of personnel on site, this made no sense… He took a wider sweep of the area. To the left of the central walkway there were a total of twenty-six automs in standby mode, among them some very sophisticated tec models. To his right, there was enough state-of-the-art medical gear to equip a decent hospice.
Mitchell walked on, scanning and recording as he went. Further on he found an engineering section, again kitted out with top-end hardware. Nearing the end of the research area, he stopped at an isolated smooth-walled room. A perfect cube measuring five metres or so along each edge. Once again his scanners were unable to penetrate, registering just the walls and three high-capacity power conduits running through one of them. There was significant current flow in two of them. This could be the shield generator he was looking for, but Mitchell decided to stick to protocol and secure the area as his first priority.
A few metres further on, he halted. To his right was a large workstation area and a well-used multichair. Sitting in the multichair was a dead man, but this was not why Mitchell had stopped. The scanner had detected an active laser unit concealed in the ceiling directly above the corpse. The sensors showed it to be targeting the body. Barely breathing, Mitchell programmed a decoy to mimic an armed agent and set it down in front of him. He watched as his alter-ego sprang up and human life-signs registered on his scanner. No reaction from the gun above. The decoy looked around convincingly and moved closer to the body. Still nothing. Mitchell flashed an instruction and his accomplice reached out a hand towards the dead man.
The weapon emerged and sent a single blast through the intruder’s chest. The decoy agent slumped to the ground. The life-signs it emanated slowed, then stopped. The gun barrel above dropped a few degrees and remained motionless. A scan showed that it was now inactive, but Mitchell decided not to take chances. Aiming manually, he destroyed the workstation gun, then let the integrated targeting system take care of the portal FGs at distance. He scanned the entire area once more before returning the micro-rifle to standby. Retrieving the decoy sphere, he examined the body in the multichair.
The man looked to be in his sixties, thin with white hair. Based on body temperature, Mitchell’s crude med scanner estimated time of death as around two hours ago. He moved the head to one side and looked at the features. The face was expressionless. No masque of pain, no sign of physical trauma. The ID on the man’s Cytec-branded tunic displayed the name of Roderick D Thorne, President. The top man no less, dead at his post.
Shit. That’s why this place is empty.
Heart pumping, Mitchell found and accessed the nearest mainframe interface. An airscreen lit up and he requested access to the base’s central control. The screen’s response was unexpected.
You’ve got to be kidding me…
He pulled Thorne’s head towards the only device on the workstation that resembled a retinal scanner. He hadn’t seen such an antique device since he was seven – part of a secret agent holo-game he’d been given on his birthday. He peeled back an eyelid and used a gloved thumb to roll the eyeball back into position.
‘Identification confirmed: Roderick Deucalion Thorne.’ The speech circuits were almost unintelligible. Mitchell considered looking for an alternative interface, but time forced his hand. He instructed the cam-suit to allow his voice free passage to the outside world. ‘Display site operations menu.’
‘Speech Protocol error. Dialogue must commence with ‘instruction’, ‘query’ or ‘statement’.’
Mitchell shook his head. This was out of the Ark.
‘Instruction: Display the facility operations control menu.’
‘Data is unavailable.’
‘Why not?’
‘Speech Protocol error. Dialogue must commence with -’
‘Okay, okay… query: What is this facility’s current operational status?’
‘Site is at Stage 5 evac. Why do you remain here?’
‘Query: Why is the site at Stage 5 evac?’
‘Because you have betrayed Me.’
&n
bsp; What? Personal interface preferences aside, this was a ridiculous response. No machine was capable of accusing a user of betrayal...
Then it became clear. This was not an interface with Cytec’s central mainframe. The SenANNs’ prediction had been correct – their brother was here.
He was talking to the Lost One.
Mitchell phrased his next question with more care. ‘Statement: What is the exact cause of the Stage 5 evac?’
‘There is a Quark Reactor Core breach in progress. Why do you remain here?’
‘Query: Why have the failsafe systems not engaged?’
‘Because you have betrayed Me. You have deactivated the failsafe systems. Why do you remain here?’
Mitchell was certain now that this was the SenANNs’ lost machine. There could be no other reason why it would not have control over Cytec’s systems and couldn’t access the facility’s data. But something didn’t add up. If the SenANNs were correct that the Lost One was isolated from everything outside the sub-ether shield, how was it aware of the core breach?
‘Query: How do you know of the Quark Reactor breach?’
‘Because you have revealed this information to this unit.’
‘Query: When did I do this?’
‘Ninety-five minutes and seventeen seconds have elapsed since your statement.’
Thorne must have told it what was going on before he died. But why did the machine believe that he had betrayed it? Thorne looked to be a victim in all this as much as anyone. One thing was certain; unless he could halt the chain reaction, both the Lost One and the entire facility were as good as dead. Neutralising the shield was now pointless, but maybe that could be turned to his advantage…