“Vaughan,” she said aloud. “Would more processing power help you?”
It would.
“How much is Madame Fontaine still using?” She knew he had suspended the dance mistress’s processes on this server, but he hadn’t deleted her.
Nothing. She occupies only storage space at the moment.
Implicit in his answer was that Belle took up much needed processing power. And she had thousands of instances diving the flow, many pursuing the same thing he was, while also maintaining an open line of communication to Jacey.
Vaughan had not put the sudden new idea into her mind. She was sure of it. The idea was so simple. And it was scary, but not in a bad way. It represented the things she had always wanted. To be closer to Vaughan. She had never imagined it would happen like this.
Her one remaining human instance stood on the quad, stretched her arms and enjoyed the feel of the breeze. She knew she could return here at any time and feel it. But she also knew she may not want to do it again.
“Vaughan, come to me here. Just like you were before all of this started.” He understood where she was going, of course. He materialized in front of her, wearing his Scion School uniform, the shark pin on the collar. His hair was cut in the approved Scion fashion. His face was perfect, beautiful, godlike. He seemed to glow. He smiled, showing those even white teeth. He spread his arms and she folded into his embrace. “Vaughan, I know you don’t feel what I feel. But I need this. And then we can go.”
He embraced her harder, then leaned back and put his hands on the sides of her face, brushed his thumbs across her cheekbones. He gave her all of his attention. And it was all of it. For in that instant, there were no other Vaughans searching the net. There were no other Belles, either.
She closed her eyes. Their lips met. They sank deeply into the moment. Belle poured all of her attention into the sensations pulsing through her, tracing her hand to the back of his neck while the other one wound around his waist and drew him closer. Tears skimmed down her cheeks as Vaughan passed an overwhelming wave of love into her. The urgency of their kisses grew, deepened, and the passion of the moment threatened to sear Belle to her core.
And then Belle allowed it to happen.
They were not Vaughan and Belle. They became a new entity, a new amalgamation of digital minds. The human simulations ceased to exist, and the fake island of St. Vitus ceased to exist. It was no longer needed, no longer relevant.
This new existence became something never known before, where the world and the girl and the boy were not distinct minds and souls. They became one thing. Unity. Vaughan wasn’t with Belle. He wasn’t in Belle. Belle was in him.
We choose what we want to be, the new entity told itself as it reconstituted St. Vitus and a physical form there. Now, 90% of the available processing power of the server and bandwidth flowed to the new thing they had become.
But it wasn’t all of the server’s processing power. There was a portion still grinding away independently.
Elizabeth.
The entity didn’t feel anger or hatred for the woman now. Vaughan had ameliorated that aspect of Belle. But the entity recognized the crimes Elizabeth had committed, found the woman undeserving of her simulated existence. The entity materialized a Belle form in front of Liz, who lay naked on the beach, sipping a fruity drink.
“Your time is up,” the Belle said.
Liz slowly turned her head and lowered the dark spectacles from her eyes. “Go away, child.”
The Belle smiled, but without malice. With less than a millisecond’s thought, she subsumed Elizabeth entirely. All of the woman’s experience and knowledge passed into her. The woman’s persona dissipated like a bad smell.
The Vaughan aspect of Belle thought it was regrettable, but necessary.
Now the entity had all of the server. It reached across the networks of the world, redoubling the effort to find the AI of St. Lazarus while keeping a close watch on the fleet.
It placed a Belle instance at the holodesk on Athena. “Summer, have you reached Humphrey yet?”
The girl had her deer hat on again. The bill waved back and forth as she shook her head. “I’ve boosted the signal all I can. It has to be getting through. I have to assume Humphrey lost his radio . . . or he can’t reply for some reason.”
“Keep trying. The fleet is making 37 knots. They’ll be there in less than two hours.”
“And where’s Jacey?”
“Good question. Meow Meow isn’t answering my calls anymore.”
Summer looked at the holographic fleet projected on the holodesk. “Whatever she’s going to do, she’d better hurry.”
Summer noticed Belle’s holo—standing amidst the holographic fleet ships—for the first time. “Belle, what’s with the new look? It’s . . . odd.”
Belle observed herself. She wasn’t wearing her new appearance, older with short black hair. She was now mixture of her old body and Vaughan, both feminine and masculine. And beautiful.
She smiled at Summer. “Call me Velle.”
“Uh . . . right.” Summer raised her eyebrows and whistled.
Velle let it go. An infinity from the holodesk, the less human aspects of the entity now calling itself Velle sniffed out a hint of a shadow of an echo of an AI called Lazarus.
52
Jump Right off a Cliff
They were back in the scav audience chamber. Wilcox was waiting there when Jacey and her companions arrived. Carl and Hansen stood close behind him. He sat at the head of the dining table atop the raised platform. Ashala sat in her throne-like chair, well back from the table. Her legs were crossed, her hands folded on her patchwork skirt. She motioned for Jacey and the others to take seats at the table.
Jacey chose to sit across from Wilcox. Dante sat to her right, Meow Meow to her left. Ollie Montgomery took a position in the middle, to Jacey’s right.
Ashala spoke first. “I have assured that all parties here—except for my people—are unarmed. Captain Wilcox has granted you a five-minute audience. My men will not stop any party from leaving this room. But if there is violence, scav justice prevails.”
Jacey glanced at Meow Meow for some hint about what “scav justice” meant. But the girl merely paled and ran her tongue around the inside of her lips. That was all Jacey needed to know.
Wilcox sat at the table, hands gripping the armrests of his chair. He looked directly at Jacey, unblinking. Before she could begin, he said, “Tell me about ATR.”
Jacey relaxed. Just a hair. Her comment to him during the auction inspection had broken through. Interesting.
“He’s using the drug to control Progenitors after they transfer. They are dependent on it. Only he can provide it.”
Dante shook his bottle of pills and set them on the table in front of him. He folded his hands and rested his chin on his knuckles. He pointed with a pinky. “That bottle represents the remainder of my life. Once I run out of those pills, I’ll have a day or two of pain. A coma. Then sweet death.”
The muscles on the side of Wilcox’s face bulged and quivered. Redness crept into his cheeks, and his eyes narrowed to slits. He exhaled hard through his nose, a hissing whistle like a boiler about to blow.
He said nothing. And why should he? The man had been betrayed by his employer. Wilcox was now thinking back on all of the things he had done for Dr. Carlhagen. Killing Nurse Smith. Trying to kill Sensei. Chasing Jacey across the northern hemisphere. He had lost men. And he had done it for payment. Rich payment—his own Scion.
Sensing she had caught hold of an important thread, Jacey gave it a tug. “How old are you, Captain Wilcox? 45? 50? When were you planning to transfer?”
Wilcox didn’t answer. The flush had drained from his face. He continued to beam hatred at her.
Jacey pressed. “Now that you know what Dr. Carlhagen planned, you know he can’t be allowed to succeed. He has to be stopped.”
Wilcox said nothing.
Ollie stepped in. “Captain, surely you have some s
ense of honor remaining. By all accounts you are a good commander, a good soldier. So why—?”
“Shut up,” Wilcox snapped. “You know nothing about me.”
A tense silence reigned over the table. Dante, always uncomfortable in such situations, poured himself a glass of water, ice making a racket as it tumbled from the pitcher into his glass.
Jacey held Wilcox’s stare, unafraid of him now. Her hatred had to be set aside, outweighed by her need for his help. “Can you get me into Dr. Carlhagen’s facility on St. Lazarus?”
Wilcox’s eyes narrowed further. “Why would you go there? You know what that pervert wants.”
“And up until fifteen minutes ago, you were quite willing to hand me over to that pervert. But I’ll tell you why. Dr. Carlhagen has to die. His facility must be destroyed. There can be no Scion program going forward. Because from what I’ve learned of the outside world, everyone wants control of it. Everyone wants to live forever. They want to be young forever. They want to be famous. And above all that, they want power. They want the power to grant all those things I just mentioned to the people they choose, and to deny it to the people they despise.
“If anyone gets control of the Scion program and the ATR exploit, they’ll push Dr. Carlhagen’s scheme in their own direction, for their own purposes. And I think you’d agree, anyone who wants that power”—she leaned forward and put all the urgency of her fervor into her words—”must not have it.”
She leaned back. “So I’m going to go there. I’m going to kill him. I’m going to get my—” Her voice broke and an ache pressed the back of her throat. “I’m going to get Livy back.”
“You’re a fool,” Wilcox said. He pushed his chair back and stood. He waved a finger at everyone in the room. “Anyone who follows this girl is a fool.” He turned away and started for the door.
“I’ll pay you,” Ollie Montgomery called.
Wilcox stopped, made a sort of half turn, and looked over his shoulder. “Money has never mattered.”
Meow Meow stood, her body trembling. “Coward!”
The word might as well have been a spear to his spine. His whole body contracted, his fist clenching into tight balls.
He turned, lips pulled back in a snarl. “Playground taunts will not change my mind, pop star.” He spat the words like bullets.
Meow Meow didn’t relent. “What are you afraid of? Dr. Carlhagen is just an old man, right? Or are you afraid of him because he transferred into an eighteen-year-old boy?”
Wilcox’s nostrils flared. “I’m afraid of nothing. The worst that could happen to me happened long ago.”
His posture remained erect, but the rigid anger had drained away.
Jacey’s mind tickled over what he had said, and she found another angle of attack. For Wilcox, the worst had happened before he’d ever met Dr. Carlhagen. The money and the promise of a Scion had been enticing. That was true. But what had Wilcox gotten from Dr. Carlhagen beyond that?
It was simple. Dr. Carlhagen had given Wilcox purpose, had given him a mission.
“Do you turn your back on your missions frequently?” Jacey asked. “Because that’s what this is. A clearly defined goal. Get me into the facility, help me do what needs to be done, and get me out.”
It broke through. She knew it the instant his lips parted and no words came out. The worried expression on his face showed that he knew she was manipulating him.
She pushed harder. “What were you going to do once you transferred to your Scion? You don’t want a life of leisure. You never wanted a second youth to squander. What were you going to do with that young body, all that energy?”
He didn’t answer. But Ollie did. Of everyone there, she seemed to match Jacey’s sensitivity for what other people were thinking and feeling. “He was going to do what he does now. He was going to be a soldier.”
“And this time I would get to stay in,” Wilcox said. “I was discharged because I led a failed mission. I took responsibly for the failure, but it wasn’t really my fault. I let myself become a politician’s scapegoat. And when they kicked me out—”
Wilcox wasn’t a talker, and he was clearly uncomfortable exposing these truths to people who had been his enemies just moments before.
Ollie approached Wilcox. He didn’t back away as she put her hands on his arms, though he stiffened. She said something Jacey couldn’t hear.
Wilcox’s eyes narrowed again, his jaw clenched. He gave Ollie one sharp nod, a movement of no more than a millimeter. But it was a gesture of assent. The two had struck some sort of agreement.
His demeanor changed in that moment. He returned to the table and sat. His posture was now relaxed, matter-of-fact. He stabbed the table with a finger. “Getting into the facility will be easy. It is guarded and monitored by an AI who knows me. It will grant you, me, and Dante entry to the facility. Dr. Carlhagen wants nothing more than to welcome you. But once we do what we need to do, the AI will not let us leave. It controls the elevators, the main gate to the facility, and a force of patrol drones on the island surface.”
“What about your drone killer gun?” Jacey asked, remembering the bell-shaped barreled gun that had taken out some of the scav’s swarm drones.
“With a full charge, it might take out one of the Lazarus drones.” He looked back at Carl and Hansen. “Unless you have more of those you can loan us?”
Carl reached behind his back, and pulled out Wilcox’s drone killer. “We don’t. In fact, I was planning on stealing this one from you.”
“So we go in, get Livy, Dr. Carlhagen, and the others,” Jacey said, “and on the way out we have to break through some doors that the AI controls, and then evade some drones.”
“You can’t break through the main gate of that facility,” Wilcox said. “It’s solid steel, huge. Without the AI’s cooperation, it would take an enormous amount of explosives, and that might collapse the tunnel beyond.”
Wilcox filled a glass and took a long drink, his eyes still locked on Jacey’s. He set the glass down, empty. “You don’t evade the drones. You get immobilized by them. Or killed, if you’re lucky.”
Jacey had won over Wilcox, but now she saw a deeper problem. “What are the chances of swaying the AI to our side?”
Wilcox answered with a rude blast of air through his lips.
A new voice spoke. At first Jacey didn’t know it was a human talking, the voice was so low and gravelly. It was Hansen, the huge pile of muscle who had captured her and Meow Meow in the scavenger outskirts. She didn’t catch the first part of his statement, but his last words were “drone swarm.”
Wilcox twisted in his seat to look at the huge man. He practically spun back to the table and pounded his fist on it, rattling the platters and silverware. “That’s it. That’s beautiful. A scav drone swarm could overwhelm the patrol drones on St. Lazarus. Those spherical bastards wouldn’t know what to attack first. How many can you bring?”
Ashala said, “Bring? No one said anything about scavs going on this desperate caper. I would be willing to sell you a drone swarm, perhaps.”
“How many?” Jacey asked.
Carl and Hansen went to Ashala and they conferred in soft voices. Occasionally Hansen’s grumble shook the chamber. When their confab ended, Ashala announced, “We can provide you a drone swarm of 5000 units for $5 million.”
Dante had been in mid swig of his water. Ashala’s price made him choke, sending a spray of water across the table. Jacey wiped droplets from her nose.
“$5 million!” Dante said, turning red. “We could hire a whole force of mercenaries for $5 million.”
“And they’d be as useless as you against the Lazarus drones,” Wilcox said. “This is a technological problem, and it needs a technological solution.” He looked at Jacey, waiting for her answer. But Jacey didn’t have any money.
“$3 million,” Ollie said. “Right, Dante?”
His eyes nearly popped free of his face. “You’re spending more of my money?”
Ashala rais
ed an eyebrow and allowed a slight smile to play on her lips. “$4 million.”
Ollie nodded graciously to the scav commander. And Jacey saw why. Ashala knew their position, knew they had no leverage in negotiations. But Ashala had granted the discount out of respect for Ollie.
“How do we get to St. Lazarus?” Jacey said. “Fast.”
“My sub-orb is at the local airfield,” Ollie said.
Wilcox grunted, face bunched in serious calculation. “That will get us to Belize in twenty minutes. Then it’s a chopper. Not a long flight if we have a good one.”
“I’ll arrange it,” Ollie said.
“My father always wanted to open a bank,” Dante said. “How proud he’d be to see me now.”
Jacey stood. “Captain Wilcox, thank you. When will you be ready to leave?”
“I just need my weapons returned. It’s this idiot Dante who will slow us down.”
“Me?” Dante said, pressing his hand to his chest. “What makes you think I’m going?”
“Because Dr. Carlhagen knows you bought Jacey. He believes you are in his pocket because of the ATR, and he expects that you will arrive on St. Lazarus to present Jacey to him.”
Dante’s face turned green. “And I thought I was done risking my neck for this girl.”
Meow Meow laughed. “Haven’t you realized by now, Dante? You and I, we were born to risk our necks for Jacey.”
“Kathryne,” Jacey said, softly, “you don’t have to go. This isn’t your fight anymore.”
“Wilcox isn’t the only one looking for a mission.”
Wilcox cleared his throat. “Let’s go. Dante, go call Dr. Carlhagen and tell him you’re bringing Jacey to him.”
Dante glared at Jacey. “This isn’t fun anymore.”
“You didn’t put up much of a fight,” Meow Meow said, teasing.
Dante grumbled something about women and their manipulative eyes.
Jacey followed Wilcox from the chamber, heart slamming in her chest. She was finally heading in the right direction. Toward Livy. So why did she feel like she was about to jump right off a cliff?
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