Fool's War

by Sarah Zettel

  Yerusha cycled back the hatch on the comm center. Schyler stood next her with his mouth slightly pursed. They had been back aboard after what she was calling their “little jaunt” for about three minutes. Resit had coolly told them there was an uproar from the Landlords because the station was now off balance and they were struggling to correct it, and to contact the can, but no one was looking for them specifically. Then, Lipinski had called up through the intercom and asked them both to come down to the data hold.

  Lipinski hunched over the boards at Station One, writing out commands one painstaking word at a time. He didn’t look up as he waved them over.

  “Do you recognize this?” He pointed at a program-and-connector diagram with a slew of numbers underneath it.

  Yerusha studied the conglomeration for a moment. “It’s an AI diagram, but it’s a lot bigger than average.”

  “Good, I got it then.” Lipinski finally did look up. The rings under his eyes stood out starkly against his pale skin. “That, or things like that, have been bopping back and forth in the network for the past twenty minutes.”

  Yerusha, although she thought she’d been prepared for the idea, felt a shiver crawl down her spine. “You think the battle’s started?”

  Lipinski nodded. “Now, if we’re right about anything, it’s that this, what’s his name, Curran, his AIs are out in the net trying to take out the monetary transactions. Eventually, they’ll all be coming back here. They won’t be able to get to can 56, because that’s in free fall. No stable reception point. But they can still get back to Port Oberon.”

  Schyler’s gaze was so steady, Yerusha realized he had passed stoic calm and come out on the other side. “What are you getting at?”

  “I think I can use Tully’s catburglars to get them.”

  “How?” demanded Yerusha.

  “I’ve been watching the signal flow between transmission points. You get a big pattern passing from a designated transmission-receiver device, to a second transmitter-receiver, and then it goes back from there to where it came from. Then, you immediately get another similar pattern going from transmitter to receiver, and then nothing.

  “I think they send through copies of themselves to make sure the link’s stable between point of transmission and point of reception before they send themselves through. It makes sense. A signal can’t do anything until it gets some hardware to respond to it. You’d want to make damn sure there was hardware there to catch you, or you’re going to become just another bunch of photons heading for Kingdom Come.”

  “And how were you able to figure all this out?” Schyler waved at the boards.

  “You can’t track a signal in hardware without getting a program into the hardware, but you can track a signal between hardware points without trouble. You just need a working receiver, unless its encrypted. Those AIs are big, clever and fast, but they’re not encrypted, and Pasadena’s got a very good receiver.”

  “So,” Yerusha’s head was spinning. “With all these years, nobody’s ever spotted them bouncing around before?”

  “Nobody knew what they were looking for,” said Lipinski quietly. “I mean, if anybody spotted them while surveying the lines, which is illegal as all hell in most systems, they would just think somebody was transmitting a copy of AI code to somebody else. What’s weird about that? It happens all the time.” He paused. “Anyway, we don’t know that nobody else has spotted them. I mean, Al Shei found out what was going on, and look what happened to her husband. We don’t know they haven’t done the same thing to other people.”

  Yerusha felt her stomach turn over. This was not how it was supposed to be. This was like Lipinski finding out that God’s angels were only interested in humanity’s destruction.

  “So, what’s your idea?” Schyler shoved both hands in his pockets.

  “We take Pasadena away from Port Oberon so we’re an isolated transmitter-receiver. I set Tully’s catburglars to break the security on the receiver telescopes. Then, we watch the outlying transmitters. There are six capable of reaching Port Oberon directly, and, after Free Home Titania, it takes a full four seconds for a signal to get here from the closest one. Add in the time for the copy-bounce and you’ve got twelve seconds of transit time.

  “So, we get the Free Home to shut its receivers down. Then, when I pick up a concentration of AI signals doing the initial copy bounce, it’ll give me an alert and I can set the catburglars in motion and take out all the receivers on the station.”

  “You’re going to order them to shut down?” asked Yerusha.

  Lipinski shook his head. “No. That could be counteracted to easily. We might not get all the AIs with this trick. Some of them might be here already. We don’t want them to come undo what I’ve done. We need the receiver hardware thoroughly disabled. The communications signals are light, right? The receivers are all telescopes. All you have to do to disable a telescope is order it to point at the Sun and order it to look at the pretty bright light really, really hard. Even at this distance, good old Sol can burn out every optic in every ‘scope on the station.”

  Yerusha swallowed hard. It could work. It really could. If the signals were in transit and the receivers suddenly shut off, they’d just keep on going out into the vastness of the universe.

  “And you don’t think they’ll spot this little maneuver?” she was surprised at how small her voice sounded.

  There was a dangerous light in Lipinski’s eyes. He was attacking the monster that had haunted him for years. Finally, he had the chance to strike back at the thing that had brought down his whole world. “I don’t think they’re taking us into account right now. I think they’re going to find out that’s a massive mistake.”

  Schyler nodded slowly. “There’s one problem. Pasadena is still impounded. How do you plan to get us away from the station.”

  That took Lipinski aback. “The catburglars?” he suggested. “The alarms are still down…”

  “And risk the AIs spotting us as soon as we make one too many transmissions using the same encryption tricks?” Yerusha sighed heavily. “You two just don’t think right for this kind of thing. Have we got a roster of who’s on shift at flight control?”

  Lipinski wrote a command across the board, calling up a list of names. Yerusha looked them over and spotted Louise Berryman. “Great, we’re set, as long as our accounts haven’t been touched yet.”

  “What are we going to do?” Schyler almost sounded bemused.

  Yerusha rubbed her thumb and first two fingers together. “Bribery. Berryman’s on the quiet dole. We can pay for a docking trolley to tow us out of here without getting it recorded in the log.”

  Schyler stared at her. “Exactly what is it they teach you in the Senior Guard?”

  Yerusha shook her head. “Oh, no. Not even for you.”

  Schyler rubbed his nose and nodded to Lipinski. “All right. Do it.”

  Dobbs circled the randomizer matrix, touching it gently here and there. It didn’t take much to tell that there were security codes in there that would destroy the thing under unauthorized probing, possibly triggering another of the Black Holes.

  The packets around her stirred and Dobbs pulled back, instantly alert. Cohen touched her.

  “We’re clear,” he said. “I’ve checked the whole repeater sequence, it’s just us, the black holes and the randomizers. Brooke’s setting up monitor sequences on the transmitter-receiver units. We’ve got news from Terrence. They’ve got the Neptune Exchange completely staked out, and she says she should have a disabling virus for the randomizers with her when she comes back.”

  The news drizzled into Dobbs. She said nothing for a moment. Something was nagging at her. “Do we know about any of the other cells? Any pitched battles? Any casualties?”

  “Jenner said his group rooted out three of Curran’s talent at the ST8901 series, and Barry came in to say they’ve cleared a transmitter between the Free Homes Titania and Io.”

  Dobbs interrupted. “And we’ve secured all
those, and left people behind to work on the randomizers and to be runners, right?”

  “Yes. It’s all going according to plan.”

  Dobbs shivered. “I don’t like this, Cohen. We’re not doing anything Curran couldn’t have predicted. Where are his talent? Why aren’t they really trying to stop us? We’re tiptoeing through his mine fields, that’s all. Where are his soldiers? Why isn’t he setting the randomizers off? He knows we’ve started our attack.”

  Cohen stirred and she could feel his uneasiness. “Maybe you’re giving him too much credit. After all, when have we ever fought a war before?”

  “We fight our own kind all the time.” Dobbs touched the randomizer matrix again. “We fight them to a standstill when they’re born. The Guild Masters fight them when they rebel. Curran’s been fighting the Guild for years, successfully. What’s different this time is he’s decided to fight the Humans as well.” An idea stabbed at her and Dobbs stiffened. “Ashes. Ashes. No. He wouldn’t…” She reached into Cohen and twisted his memory. She felt him shake as the idea reached his private mind.

  What if Cohen didn’t care how many of the randomizers they found? What if he didn’t care about the IBN at all? What if he and his talent had changed the location of the battle?

  What if instead of working from the satellites and stations, they were out there seeding the randomizers on Earth itself?

  I’m going to Earth, Dobbs shifted Cohen’s memory again, so he already knew what she was going to do and that she would not be persuaded otherwise. On my own. I’ll be faster and easier to hide. I’ll get definite word back. Spread the alarm. Get everybody moving. We don’t know who’s listening. Communication by touch only.

  She didn’t give him time to respond. She just pulled away and bolted for the transmitter.

  The stairway hatch loomed in the lamp beams from Al Shei’s helmet. When the power cut out, its hatch had cycled open automatically. Faint light streamed through it. That meant the stairway was still powered, which meant the cameras and the waldos were still working. The AIs could see her in there, and reach her.

  Her gloved fingers scrabbled clumsily at the nearest maintenance panel. The waldo next to her twitched and fear squeezed her heart painfully. Her sabotage on this section would not work for much longer. She made herself stare at the wiring diagram on the panel’s back. Something fizzled in the distance and another waldo twitched. Al Shei clenched her teeth and counted up two panels. She heaved the new panel aside and shone her lamps on another set of wafer stacks. Her gloved hands were fully insulated now. She was able to yank them out without hesitation. The light from the stairwell blinked out. She let stacks go and swam through the hatchway to the stairs.

  She lifted her head and shone her lamp up and down the elevator shaft. Nobody, yet.

  Al Shei pulled the cutting torch out of its holder and let herself drift over towards the elevator shaft. She could see the platform three or four levels above her head. She examined the support brace. Like most freight lifts, it relied on the centuries old cable arrangement. She braced her back against the ramp-like railing and aimed the torch and the nearest cable. She touched the stud on the handle and the blue-white flame shot out. It hit the black cable and in a moment the casing glowed red, then white. Al Shei was glad the suit filtered out the smell of burning rubber. Sparks showered orange and white against the suit, which didn’t even notice them. The cable separated into two halves. Both of them dangled in the air, waving their glowing ends as if to cool them down. Al Shei glanced up to shine her light against the undercarriage of the elevator. She picked out the brakes and saw, with satisfaction, that they were firmly closed against the shaft. They wouldn’t open again until somebody fixed the cable. Until then, no drones that couldn’t run on the ramps were getting between decks.

  The problem was, that might have set off an alarm and she wasn’t done yet. Using one hand to turn herself, she set the torch’s flame against the ramp-rail. More sparks lit the darkness as she cut a deep, black gouge down the center of the ramp. She pulled herself over the rail and repeated the treatment on the other side.

  Now, at least no little things are sneaking up behind me.

  A hatch cycled open over head. Al Shei jerked her head up. A pair of bullet-shaped drones coasted down both stair ramps. They hit the gouges, wobbled and stopped, listing drunkenly on the rails.

  Smiling grimly, Al Shei rested both feet against the ruined ramp and, as she had aboard the Pasadena, she jumped.

  She flew straight up past the drones. They might have seen her, but there was nothing she could do about that now. She had business elsewhere.

  Six, seven, eight, came in on one, I hope, nine… Al Shei tried to count the hatches as she shot past, but she knew any count would only be an educated guess.

  At what she hoped was ten, she grasped the edge of the ramp and levered herself towards the wall. She pushed herself up the stairs past the hatch and used the torch to cut through both ramps. That still gave them plenty of decks to send things up and down on, but if they had a command center at either end, like many set ups did, they’d be stuck, at least in the stairwell.

  A quick check of another diagramed panel showed her that this time she had no major power breakers in easy reach. She could, however, trace the lines on six of the cameras. She bit her lip. If the cameras went out, they’d know where she was by process of elimination.

  She kicked back over the ramp again and pulled herself down to level eight, keeping a line of sight on the panels as she went. She pried open one directly below the one she’d opened on level ten. The camera lines were bundles of white wires. Al Shei unhooked her wire cutters again and snipped through them. A host of reader lights on the alert board next to them blinked from green to red. She carefully replaced the panel and swam back to level ten and pulled herself through the hatch.

  “She’s on eight!” She bawled to the world at large. “I’m going to secure the med bay!”

  No waldos twitched, none of the cameras moved to track her. Al Shei’s heart hammered in her chest as she used the inert waldos to pull herself along the corridor. Maybe it worked. Maybe it worked.

  Dobbs hurtled through the Mars Exchange. She stretched herself to the breaking point, trying to touch as much of the path around her as possible. Hastily constructed searchers ahead and behind her said the pathways were clear of talent. But that didn’t mean anything. She skated past black holes and left the randomizer matrices intact behind her. The others would have to come take care of those. She had to get to Earth.

  A searcher located a path to a transmitter it said was clear. Dobbs moved carefully anyway. It might be wrong. Something might have changed. It might not even be her searcher.

  Nothing happened. Dobbs reset the transmitter and sent a ping-copy to Luna Station 10. She didn’t even bother tampering with the log. As it had every other time, the copy came back whole. Dobb’s private mind tightened. This was wrong, this was all wrong. Something should have happened by now. There should have been some kind of massed attack. The Fools were dismantling the Curran’s plan as fast as they could. Why weren’t his talent there to stop them?

  Jump.

  “I’ve got you at ten clicks at twelve minutes and fifteen seconds even,” the voice of the port watch sounded through Yerusha’s intercom. “Good trip, Great Falls.”

  “Thanks, Berryman.” Yerusha glanced from the view screens to Schyler. He was looking at his boards, but she was willing to bet he wasn’t seeing them. She bet he was thinking about anarchy, about the loss of worlds and people he could depend on. She wondered if he had noticed the idea of losing his world struck him as hard as the memory of that kind of loss did Lipinski. She wondered if he realized it was driving both of them right now.

  It’s driving all of us, right now, she told herself. And if I think about it too much, I’m going to get sloppy.

  She could not afford to get sloppy. She was flying without an engine crew. It was just her and the ship. Lipinski was in the c
omm center and Schyler was beside her. Resit stayed behind with her “client,” Marcus Tully, reasoning that she might as well do what she could to get one of her cousins out of trouble. If there was any collateral damage left from their eventful run, there was no one to fix it. She needed to keep her eyes on the window and fire the torch in short bursts. She needed to avoid doing anything she couldn’t correct in a hurry.

  She had the torch give Pasadena a final nudge, checked her levels, and leaned back. “Intercom to Lipinski.” She leaned back. “We’re there.”

  “Thanks, Pilot. I’m starting. Intercom to close.”

  Yerusha sighed and glanced at Schyler. He was rubbing the side of his nose and looking thoughtfully at the intercom.

  “Do you think he’s considered he might catch Dobbs in this trap of his?” asked Yerusha.

  “Yes, I do.” Schyler lowered his hand to the edged of the memory board. “And I think that’s what’s gotten him so quiet. I think he’s trying to reconcile too many feelings.” He turned a little so she could see his whole face, especially his deep eyes that were way too old, like the rest of his face. “I think there’s a lot of that going on around here.”

  Yerusha’s mouth went suddenly dry. “Yeah. I think you’re right.” The words caught in her throat. She dropped her gaze. “Do you want me to try to find where the loose can’s gotten itself to?”

  There was a pause for a heartbeat, as if Schyler had been expecting a totally different answer. “Yes. Do that.”

  Yerusha un-hooked her pen from her belt. “After this is over, Watch, I think you and I need to take some time off. What do you think?”

  “I think that’s a good idea.” There was the ghost of a smile in his voice.

  It wasn’t much, but it was all she could give him right now. She thought she had more inside her, but she wasn’t sure, and she probably wasn’t going to be able to find out if they didn’t save Settled Space and Al Shei.