Selected Stories: Volume 1

by Kevin J. Anderson

  Then Triegen saw something odd. Harker seemed to be fighting with the other man. He used a tool, jammed it into the life-support pack in Suvo’s exosuit. Then he stepped back and watched as air spewed out, as Suvo collapsed.

  Triegen couldn’t believe it. This wasn’t accidental!

  Harker wrecked the life support in his companion’s suit, making it look like additional debris damage. He actively disengaged the air tubing. Suvo struggled, fought against him, but he was weak, and Harker completed his sabotage. After Suvo collapsed, dead, Harker stood triumphant, saying not a word.

  Triegen’s thoughts spun.

  This couldn’t be real! He had to be hallucinating again, succumbing to the dementia. But he knew he wasn’t.

  Triegen replayed the images, and saw again without any doubt that it was Zan Harker who had murdered the man.

  Yes, the Colonel had been caught in a flashback, had fought against these stranded miners while imagining they were rebels from a war half a century ago. Yes, Triegen’s dementia had definitely caused problems, put many people at risk.

  But, Harker had actually murdered Suvo.

  It wasn’t me!

  He froze for a seemingly long time—on the timescale of his thoughts—and then he called up records of the other accidents, the other murders. Maybe he was going insane after all.

  Actively engaging the facility’s scuttlers, Triegen saw a whole world open up before him. How had he never thought to dig into the automated systems before? His self-pity had blinded him.

  Triegen knew he couldn’t report this, despite his shock and disbelief. Even with the proof of the images, no one else would believe him. Not even Dr. Cherliz. Images were too easy to fabricate. And the micro-expressions he observed on the faces of all the facility personnel screamed of mistrust and fear. Fear of him. What he read in their faces now was the opposite of what he had seen in the eyes of his brave soldiers on Collos.

  He knew he had to watch Mine Supervisor Harker very, very carefully.

  Brooding with his thoughts and keeping busily active while other parts of his brain ran the facility, Colonel Triegen reviewed the other incidents and discovered that Zan Harker was in some way connected each time.

  Triegen studied all the events with a different perspective.…

  VI

  The sooner they acted, the less likely it was that Triegen’s unstable brain could prepare a defense against what they were trying to do.

  All that remained of the military hero was a blob of gray matter inside a central preservation chamber. But he surely had a sense of self-preservation, even if his feelings of guilt might paralyze him. Harker hoped to take advantage of that.

  Regardless, Harker wasn’t keen to fight a victim who could fight back, unlike all the others. The colonel had access to all the defensive systems of Aurora Facility 5 … and he was a tactical genius. Harker knew this would be a challenge. He was convinced that not even a sane and undamaged brain would simply give up its existence so easily, and Triegen was a fighter.

  On the other hand, Harker was a killer.

  Alfred Cho and Cina Adakian joined Harker and Cherliz, all of them coming together outside the central brain chamber, seemingly by coincidence, but exactly on time. Harker didn’t doubt that Triegen had been watching them all.

  Dr. Cherliz would do most of the physical work to get rid of Triegen, deprogramming and disconnecting the brain, bypassing the facility’s life-support systems to manual operation. Harker wasn’t certain that Cho and Adakian would be much help, but they would be a useful distraction, if nothing else. Cannon fodder. They had tools, and Harker had a sturdy metal pipe, an all-purpose weapon, just in case.

  Harker hoped that they would catch the colonel by surprise, since there were six months to go before the replacement brain arrived. Maybe he could get away with this.

  The central core chamber had its own defenses. At present, the barricades were just standard security protocols, but no doubt, in time, Colonel Triegen would increase his defenses, build up unexpected protective layers as he waited for the desperate miners to make their move.

  Dr. Cherliz was the closest thing to a friend Triegen still had. Harker knew she would be the key to getting the brain to let his guard down. Her voice was soft as she opened the barricaded door. “Colonel, we’ve come to make some modifications, install fail-safes, just in case you have another episode. We have to make sure the Aurora personnel stay safe.”

  When the core chamber door opened, Harker pushed his way in first, holding the metal pipe. Dr. Cherliz came close behind him. Cho and Adakian hesitated in the chill metal-walled corridor. They were nervous.

  The colonel’s voice emanated from speakers. “I agree that the safety of the people in this facility is paramount. There are many dangers here—many unexpected hazards.”

  Harker entered cautiously, keeping the metal pipe low, although he knew he could never hide it from all of the optical sensors.

  Colonel Triegen’s brain hung suspended inside a crystal-walled cylinder, adrift in nutrient fluid. Hair-fine wires ran from the silver base of the tube, which was surrounded by overrides and computer terminals, default backup modules should the brain die. No supercomputer could match a human brain with speed and finesse of calculations and reactions, but life-support systems could be done by brute force.

  Another station near the central brain held the communication controls, the local intercom and long-distance transmissions out to the vast Network outposts and fleet ships, but no signal sent from Aurora Facility 5 would be received for some time. They were on their own here.

  “Colonel Triegen, we’ve made a difficult decision,” Harker said. “The facts are indisputable. You’re dangerous and functionally unreliable. There have been accidents, and people are dead.”

  “Not accidents,” said the Colonel’s voice. “Murders. And murderers should be punished. I think you would all agree.”

  Harker was startled when images of his own face flashed on the monitors around the chamber.

  Dr. Cherliz ignored the videos as she took a step toward the consoles. “I’m sorry, Ben, but we’ll need to bypass you for the time being, put you on backup storage mode until the replacement brain arrives. We’ll—”

  Suddenly, three scuttlers bustled down the wall from where they had hidden among the conduits and energy-gel pipelines in the ceiling. Their tools were extended, a tiny welding apparatus, a clicking blue arc of a stunner. They dropped like spiders onto Dr. Cherliz, and she thrashed to drive them away.

  The second scuttler zapped her with an arc, and she stumbled backward, fleeing through the control chamber door where Cho and Adakian were trying to defend themselves against other scuttlers in the outer corridors.

  Three more scuttlers raced across the floor toward Harker. He whirled, swinging his metal pipe to smash the small multi-purpose robots. He struck one, but the other two raced away.

  As soon as Dr. Cherliz scrambled out of the control chamber, the doors hissed shut, and the hatches sealed, leaving Harker alone inside.

  With a chill, he realized that Triegen had done that intentionally.

  Wary, he turned in a slow circle, saw numerous scuttlers moving along the framework overhead. One climbed onto a computer console.

  Outside the chamber, he heard pounding on the sealed hatch, muffled shouts, a clang of tools against metal. He suspected Cho would be removing the access panel, trying to force open the doors. They were shouting, calling out Harker’s name. They were afraid for him.

  Harker straightened, and the corners of his lips twitched. He bared his teeth and turned to face the suspended brain in its transparent cylinder, though the direction didn’t matter. Colonel Triegen had eyes everywhere.

  “Murderers must be punished, Mr. Harker.”

  “Yes, Colonel, they must. And you will be.”

  Cina Adakian’s voice burst through the local intercom. “Zan, are you all right? We’re trying to get to you.”

  “Mr. Harker has been
damaged,” Triegen announced.

  Harker squeezed the metal pipe, felt its heft. This battle should’ve been done with subtle re-programming, disconnects, and re-routes. He would have to do this the old-fashioned way.

  Harker whirled and brought down the metal pipe, targeting the scuttlers first. The pipe smashed into one, and he quickly reversed his swing, crushing a second. Pain flared in his leg as a third scuttler burned his calf with a torch.

  Harker dove to the side, sliding to a halt and battering the last scuttler into wreckage. He pulled himself back to a standing position and limped forward.

  “In fact,” Triegen continued over the intercom, “Mr. Harker is actually—”

  Hefting the pipe with both hands, he brought it down on the communications nexus. He smashed the intercom controls with enough force to crunch through the casing, smash the circuits, and unleash a shower of sparks. The intercom went dead in the middle of Adakian’s alarmed shout from the corridor.

  Holding the pipe like a medieval weapon, Harker faced the brain cylinder. No one outside could hear their words now. This would be a private conversation.

  “I’m afraid your dementia is getting the best of you, Colonel,” Harker said. “It would be better if you just surrendered. Let us deactivate you. The facility can run on backup systems for a few months.”

  “I will not surrender,” Triegen said. “I know how to protect people. I am a hero, no matter what you claim I’ve done.” The simulated voice paused. “I agree, though, that I am unreliable and prone to failure. I’ve lived too long. I’m degenerating. But I can’t let you remain unchecked among these people. They’re my responsibility—and you are a terrible danger.”

  “You’re imagining things, Colonel.” Harker felt heat burning inside of him. “You can broadcast lies about me, but no one believes you. You’ve killed too many of them. It’s just trickery, the feeble gasping of a dying, old mind.”

  “I’ve learned not to trust my memories or my thoughts anymore, Mr. Harker,” said the calm, simulated voice. “But I know my own personality, and I can compare my memories with actual facts. I found stored images that you couldn’t delete. I have proof that you’re responsible for the deaths, not me.”

  Harker was surprised. He hadn’t expected this. Even so, he responded with a smile.

  Triegen continued. “I won’t be your scapegoat. I need to protect these miners. Therefore, I have to remove you. Eliminate the threat.”

  Harker laughed. “You are weak and deluded, Colonel. They think it was you. You can’t change that.” He twisted the pipe in his hands, savoring the moment.

  The room’s lights flickered. “It doesn’t matter, they’ll be safe. I can take responsibility for what I actually did, the failures that I allowed—but not for the crimes you committed. I had hoped to endure until the replacement brain arrived, but I’ve switched over to emergency backup monitoring, self-sufficient systems that will make our operations far less efficient. Toward the end, the facility will be at absolute minimum, no reserves whatsoever. But my people will survive, if just barely.”

  Harker couldn’t allow that to happen. The others had seen the attack of the scuttlers, and they knew he was trapped inside, at the mercy of the murderous Colonel Triegen. They wouldn’t believe the demented old brain.

  Harker peeled his lips back in a wordless roar and lunged forward, swinging the cudgel. It struck the curved crystal wall with a resounding thump that chipped the tank in a starburst pattern. He swung again, and the chip became a crack.

  Above him, though, more scuttlers raced up and down the conduits, and Harker knew it would be a losing battle to engage them. There were thousands of the semi-autonomous machines on Aurora Facility 5. Now, overhead, they used their tools to slice open energy-gel pipelines, pouring a rain shower of foul-smelling chemicals down on top of Harker.

  He screamed up at them. “No, you don’t!” With renewed fury, he swung the pipe again, and the impact made the spiderweb of cracks on the crystal preservation cylinder spread. Fluid began to ooze out of the seams.

  One last blow. Harker hammered with the metal pipe just as the scuttlers, following Triegen’s instructions, scritched their tools and struck a spark.

  The blow cracked open the brain canister, the vat crumbled—and the spark caught. The flammable chemicals ignited in a deafening basso roar that engulfed Harker in hell.

  VII

  When Harker awoke, it wasn’t like anything he had ever experienced. He couldn’t feel his body. His thoughts were not so much asleep as unaware. Even when consciousness returned, he felt himself loose and drifting.

  He remembered the fire and the pain consuming him while he twisted in the throes of ecstasy over his kill. How was he still alive? Dr. Cherliz must have saved him.

  He felt so detached, so numb everywhere. He must have been pumped full of painkillers. Everything remained dark, and he couldn’t feel any warmth or cold. Sensations sparked in random places.

  He heard a voice he recognized … but he wasn’t hearing it the way he used to. The voice was just a random set of sounds piped straight into his mind, and as he concentrated, it became clearer, more familiar. The voice of Dr. Ana Cherliz.

  But something was wrong.

  “Hooking up your external sensors now, Zan,” she said.

  Light flooded his vision, but it wasn’t vision, and it didn’t come from eyes. It was information. Hundreds, maybe even thousands of streams, pouring into him. So much information. So much …

  He saw it all, like a god. All seeing. All present.

  “This is going to take some getting used to,” Cherliz said, “but we had no other option. You saved us from Colonel Triegen. He’d gone insane, tried to kill us all, tried to shut down the facility. He was intent on murdering you, but you destroyed him, Zan. We all thank you for that … but at such a terrible cost to you.”

  He tried to speak, but found he had no vocal cords, no body, no way of communicating.

  “Wait, just a second,” said the doctor.

  Something changed, and a pathway opened in the data. He found that if he concentrated, made his thoughts sound like specific words, then they came out through the speakers. “What happened to me? I’m alive?”

  “Yes—and so are we, thanks to you,” Dr. Cherliz said. “You’re in the satellite control chamber. I’m still hooking up and testing your senses, but you’ll be our new control brain, at least until the replacement arrives. I’m sorry, Zan, but your body was burned to a crisp, you were barely alive. If I had waited another five minutes, you would’ve died.”

  Harker was horrified, drowning in a flood of senses, all the images that stampeded into him from Aurora Facility’s countless sensors. How could he sort them all? How could he pay attention?

  Then Harker began to use the unorthodox senses to look outside, and he realized that with a flicker of thought he could extend his presence to all parts of the frozen planetoid, the mining facilities, the separate semi-autonomous transport crawlers, the distant crews of miners in the deep ice tunnels.

  He could feel the heartbeat of life-support systems, could breathe through the ventilation ducts like his own extended respiratory system.

  He began to use that network to see all the personnel here, to understand all the possibilities … to feel all the power he now had that he never could have touched before. Even though he had no body remaining, Harker felt a familiar hunger.…

  “Yes, Dr. Cherliz, I know you did what you could.”

  In a long, instantaneous pause, he savored everything. It was like a whirlwind of opportunities. Again, he felt the heartbeat of the Facility, how light it was, how fleeting.

  How extinguishable.

  “I think I’ll be just fine.”

  My first collaboration with Doug Beason started out as a lark. I was working as a technical writer at the Lawrence Livermore National Laboratory, where Doug had come to spend the summer as a visiting physicist. Up to that point, I’d had a few minor short stories publish
ed, as had Doug, but neither of us had broken into any professional sales. Being two aspiring science fiction writers in the same workplace, it was a natural for us to meet.

  We knocked around a few ideas and decided to write this story just when Doug was recalled to Albuquerque, where he was stationed in the US Air Force. We sent partially completed drafts of the story back and forth through the mail (long before the days of compatible computer systems, so that each of us had to rekey the other’s pages whenever they arrived in the mail).

  Our second story, published in Amazing Stories, was the springboard for our novel Lifeline, which led to a three-book contract with Bantam. Since then, we have written nine novels together, including most recently Critical Mass, a high-tech thriller about the nuclear power industry.

  Reflections in a Magnetic Mirror

  (WRITTEN WITH DOUG BEASON)

  The Church questions whether this ““anomaly” is even alive. And if alive, we question whether it is intelligent. And if intelligent, we insist—without qualification—that it has no Soul. Man cannot create a Soul; that is for God alone.

  —Cardinal Robert K. Desmond

  As the deuterium passed through the opening, the discharge bombarded it from all sides. Electrons were torn from their nuclei, heating the fuelstuff in the plasma until the elementary particles fused together. The reaction sustained itself. Billionths of a second passed—an eternity to the plasma—while lasers delicately probed the inner workings of the maelstrom.

  His own thought processes moving infinitely slower, Keller stood in silent awe, praying that it would work.

  The particles bounced back and forth in the chamber, billions of times a second, unable to escape past the giant yin-yang magnets on either side of the Magnetic Mirror Fusion Facility. Long-range coulombic forces sculpted the plasma, creating swirling, complex interactions.

  “And?” Keller asked.

  The technician reached up to the screen directly in front of him, touching a blue icon that opened up to display two columns of numbers happily glowing green. “Everything’s perfect, Gordon. Blessed be the Holy Laws of Physics.”