Provenance I - Flee The Bonds

by V J Kavanagh

  Alex stopped. ‘You know what. They will attack Provenance, and we will all die.’

  The gurney slowed to a halt at the last rack. Waves of blood red splashed over Penny’s shrouded body.

  Alex tapped the management console’s screen, his malachite hued face turned arctic-blue. ‘There are thirty-four in total, fifteen women and nineteen men. Pick a number.’

  Steve’s consternation darted between the blue screen and Alex’s set face, ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘We can’t hide a Drone on Provenance. As soon as Penny’s connected, they’ll decontaminate. We must swap her for someone else.’

  Steve couldn’t decide which was worse, Alex’s suggestion or the manner of its delivery, ‘So we unplug someone and have Penny take their place?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘I thought you loved her?’

  Steve ignored the fact that he’d never mentioned his relationship with Penny. Perhaps Jason had. ‘I do, but she wouldn’t want me to kill someone to save her.’

  Alex’s lips compressed. ‘Let me explain.’ He tapped the screen several times. Steve turned his head, attracted by a mechanical clunking in the stygian aisle.

  Each Egyptian-blue rack supported one hundred and eighty cryotubes in thirty stacks of six. A short distance along the rack, a stack glowed pale yellow. The second from bottom cryotube extended into the aisle, the one underneath rose to fill the vacant slot while the extended cryotube lowered to the floor.

  Alex passed Steve, pulling the gurney, ‘Come on.’

  By the time they reached the three-metre long translucent cryotube, its curved lid had retracted. On the dark blue pressure-relief mattress lay a white wrist clamp, its coiled cable running to the back of the tube’s monitoring unit. Alex knelt down and tapped the MU display. The mattress rose to the top of the cryotube and the cryotube rose level with the gurney. He stood up. ‘We need to lay Penny in to activate it, when the mattress descends, we’ll take her out.’

  With Penny on the mattress, Alex attached the clamp to her left wrist. After cycling through a series of displays, the MU beeped and three amber bars and two white dials appeared. Penny descended.

  Alex reached for Penny’s shoulders, ‘Now!’

  The empty mattress sank to the bottom and the cryotube’s curved lid clicked shut, trapping the wrist clamp’s white cord.

  Alex pulled the gurney clear. Steve followed, his disquiet focused on the cord stretched between Penny’s wrist and the cryotube.

  A minute passed before he heard it, a whirring, like a slow drill. Steve turned; the whirring came from the direction of the rack’s management console.

  Out of the darkness it crawled, its whirr accompanied by the patter of invisible traction. Two curved arms extended from the front and a tail looped forward over its black body. The Scorpion was a frequent visitor to cryostasis nightmares, nightmares from which you could not wake.

  The Scorpion stopped, rotated, and extended its claws.

  Steve thrust a glance at Alex.

  Alex raised his hand. ‘Not yet.’

  The Scorpion extracted the empty cryotube onto its flat body, the wrist clamp cord strained, Penny’s arm extended. The pronged tail lowered over the tube, its movement ceasing with a clunk. Alex stepped forward and clipped the cord. It slapped back against the side of the cryotube. The Scorpion paid no attention; it reversed, pivoted and pattered into the shadows.

  The lesson wasn’t over. Alex nodded in the direction of the departing tube. ‘Watch.’

  Against the distant blackness, a vertical strip of light widened, bleaching the Scorpion’s black body. Its prehensile tail uncurled, its arms twisted the tube upright and inserted it into the wall. The light vanished.

  Steve touched Penny’s gravestone cold arm. He knew where the bodies went. There was no heaven, no hell, just the emptiness of space. He glanced up. ‘There must be an alternative.’

  Alex rubbed his forehead. ‘There is. I can change Penny’s biofield — but UV11’s accumulative, I can only give her enough for a few days.’

  Steve swallowed. He’d obviously skipped the part of the IMK instructions that mentioned UV11’s accumulative effects. ‘Do it.’

  Alex removed the wrist clamp. ‘The remaining nanobytes must be extracted within three days.’

  ‘Or?’

  ‘Or it will be as if you’d never met.’

  * * * *

  Steve stepped onto the white carpet of Alex’s cabin and squinted.

  ‘You like white then?’ The only thing missing was an operating table.

  Alex’s eyelids flickered. ‘It shows the dirt better.’

  Steve could only nod, his bewilderment fixed on the spotless carpet. That was a phrase his mother had used.

  Seniority bestowed on Alex a larger than average cabin. Ahead and to the right, a picture window replaced two walls. Snow-capped mountains mirrored in a lake of blue glass. At the outer edges of the window, the translucent voile swayed, adding a touch of realism to the virtual imagery.

  The mountains provided a backdrop to two white settees separated by a low table, also in white. Steve stared at its hexagonal top and six spindly legs. From the fuzziness of his early childhood, a picture painted itself; a white hexagon with six legs held a chessboard. Matt sat on the floor, his cross-legged knees under the table, ‘I’m white.’ It can’t be. Steve looked away and slammed the locker door. No, it can’t.

  The ubiquitous white colour scheme continued onto the double bed resting against the left-hand wall, and the door to the bathroom. There was no kitchen; everyone ate in a canteen or restaurant, depending on rank.

  Alex nodded towards the bathroom. ‘I expect you could do with a shower.

  ‘Yes, thanks.’ Steve hoped it wasn’t too noticeable.

  He spent exactly five minutes in the shower, Alex’s rank allowed for such extravagances. When he returned, midnight over Manhattan had replaced the snow-capped mountains. His eyes followed his nose to two cups of coffee on the table. Alex had been out to a vending machine.

  Steve sank down opposite into the settee’s welcoming embrace, ‘Thanks for the coffee.’

  ‘You’re welcome.’

  Steve took a sip. ‘Not bad for a machine.’

  Alex’s lips twitched, ‘Thank you. One sugar, yes?’

  ‘Yes, that’s right.’ Alex knew a lot about him, perhaps too much. Steve looked up, dropping his smile. ‘Did you set a trap for me at DC 4?’

  Alex’s shock appeared genuine, ‘No I did not, why would I?’

  ‘I don’t know. But then, I also don’t know why you told me there were no nanossasin clinics on Earth.’

  ‘It’s not safe for you on Earth, or your friends.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Isn’t it obvious?’

  ‘Do you have any information about who killed Jason?’

  ‘I’m SCITECH, not CONSEC.’

  Steve leaned forward. ‘You don’t seem particularly concerned either.’

  ‘If I wasn’t concerned, I wouldn’t have agreed to protect his best friend. That’s what he would have wanted — what he always wanted. He understood what was at stake.’

  ‘Which is what?’

  ‘Perhaps you should sleep first?’

  Steve took another sip. ‘No. Let’s hear it now.’

  Alex leant back, clasping his fingers in his lap. ‘Very well. Twenty years ago, two SCITECH officers experimenting with cytoarchitectonics discovered they could manipulate brain stem cells to enhance individual lobes. Advances in glucose fuel meant lab-grown brains could be engineered for specific tasks. The new Human Processing Units could interface directly with control mechanisms, apply reasoned logic and, most importantly, learn.’

  Steve thought back to the white cubes and their blinking light. They weren’t CPUs, they were human brains — starved of oxygen. ‘I assume they don’t feel pain?’

  ‘That’s debatable. A
nyway, the first HPU recipients were the AHs and then Provenance’s management systems. Five years ago, the Council instructed SCITECH to produce a brain for use in combat. As development progressed, SIS ordered SCITECH to enhance the HPU’s aggressive capabilities. SCITECH complied.’ Alex shrugged. ‘What choice did they have? They manipulated the prefrontal cortex and restricted the production of serotonin. The result was an autonomous HPU that would attack whatever it was ordered to attack — it was then that SCITECH realised what they’d created. What if one was plugged into navigation and decided to ram Earth? A few raised concerns; we don’t know what happened to them.’

  Steve couldn’t hold it in any longer, a yawn escaped. ‘Sorry.’

  Alex’s lips compressed. ‘It’s okay, I’ve nearly finished. In June, a SCITECH officer at MP 14 requested information on a new variant of Prefect, the latest recipient of the SIS HPU. He also realised the danger of autonomy coupled with aggression. That’s when Captain Kalckburg became involved and shortly after, Jason. You know what happened next.’

  Steve rubbed his eyes, ‘So you contacted Jason?’

  Alex shifted to the edge of his seat. ‘SCITECH needed someone in CONSEC who had the authority to conduct an investigation.’ He looked down, ‘The discounts on proscribed tech were just a cover.’

  Steve felt confused, not by what he’d heard, but by his inability to form a coherent response.

  Alex reached across and took hold of Steve’s cup. ‘I will tell you the rest tomorrow.’ He glanced at his MPS, ‘I mean later today.’

  Steve tried to stand, but the settee held him, pulling him in deeper. When his eyes closed, he gave up trying.

  Alex’s muted voice floated in the emptiness, ‘You need to sleep now.’

  09:16 FRI 03:11:2119

  Intra Zone, Seine-et-Marne, France, Sector 2

  Kacee wrapped her arms tighter. As usual, her fairy tale dream had mutated into nightmarish reality. She turned towards the footsteps.

  Francois bounded down the porch steps, his olive hunting jacket and canvas trousers appeared well worn. He’d set her up. Kacee had shown the Drone’s photograph to Dee. His fear reaction had almost obliterated his recognition reflex — and confirmed Kacee’s suspicions. Penny MacGillson was Steve’s girlfriend.

  Francois’s smile widened, the sun-soaked gravel crunched beneath his calf length boots. ‘You look beautiful, ma Cherie.’

  Beautiful wasn’t the word she’d use. Her clothes were similar to Francois’s, but new, stiff, and one size too small.

  ‘Thanks, but like I said, I don’t want to shoot anything.’ Aside from you.

  ‘Of course, I understand.’

  Kacee hitched into his raised arm and together they descended the curved flight of steps to the driveway. ‘Is Martine coming back today?’

  He turned an unreadable smile on her. ‘No, unfortunately she has decided to leave. I have someone else to care for you.’

  Steve’s warning impinged on her thoughts. ‘That’s okay. I can manage.’

  His hand rested on hers, ‘I insist.’

  Dee waited on the driveway, his melon shoulders stretching a pristine hunting jacket. Eventually, his roving eyes found her face, ‘You decided to come then?’

  ‘I couldn’t let you face all those dangerous animals on your own. One of them might shoot back.’ Her eyes darted. ‘You boys gonna catch them with your bare hands.’

  Francois chuckled. ‘No, my dear . . .’ He angled his head towards the throaty roar of the approaching All Terrain. ‘Albert has the guns.’

  * * * *

  Kacee was lost. She’d been alone for forty minutes, walking for twenty. It wouldn’t have surprised her if Francois had left her on purpose, so he could come to the rescue of his Joséphine.

  She glared up. The milky afternoon sun strained through the sparse canopy, spotlighting the litter of orange leaves, moss, and dry bracken. Occasionally a dead leaf would succumb to gravity and drift aimlessly through the silent trees, landing with a faint tick. No, she wouldn’t be calling for help. At least not from him.

  Kacee snapped her head around, her stomach tightened. She wasn’t alone anymore.

  The dark haired Albert stood a stone’s throw away, his camouflaged fatigues hugging his gangly build. He was young; maybe even a lastborn. He raised an arm and beckoned, his sharp jaw flattened into a smile. Kacee set off towards him.

  When she reached the shade of an oak tree, she stopped. Albert tilted his puzzled expression and beckoned again. Kacee’s neck tingled, her preoccupation focused on his rifle. Francois’s and Dee’s didn’t have silencers.

  She pointed. ‘You wanna sling the rifle?’

  Albert’s smile broadened. He hitched up the rifle and raised his palms.

  Relief blew through Kacee’s lips. She returned the smile and continued walking, chiding herself for letting nervousness distort reason. A gunshot boomed across the forest, followed by a whoop from Dee. Anxiety fell from Kacee’s shoulders, the layers of dry leaves sprung beneath her boots.

  Albert raised his arm in the direction of the gunshot. As Kacee passed him, she could already feel the bath water’s cosy embrace and smell its sweet vanilla steam.

  The forest began to whorl.

  She swung around, vision lagged, stretching psychedelic swirls of chlorophyll and orange. Her vision caught up, her focus bounced back. Albert appeared distant against a backdrop of animated colours. One hand covered his mouth, while the other reached towards her.

  Something hissed.

  19:37 FRI 03:11:2119

  Cabin 42-18-3125, Provenance, LEO

  ‘Don’t be a baby.’

  Matt folded his arms and pouted. ‘I’m not a baby.’

  Steve prodded with his wooden sword, ‘Yes you are, baby, baby, baby.’

  Matt peered down over the edge of the tree house floor. ‘Mummy said we mustn’t come up here until Daddy’s finished it. It’s dangerous.’

  Steve huffed and punched his hips. ‘No it’s not. If you don’t fight, I’ll tell everyone in class.’

  Matt moved away from the edge and raised his sword.

  Steve’s eyes lit up and he did likewise. ‘Hajime.’ He shuffled left. According to the book, you had to manoeuvre your opponent to face the sun. Matt moved out of the leafy shade, and squinted into the afternoon glare. He parried Steve’s strike and stepped back.

  Steve dropped his sword and dived. ‘Matt!’

  Only Matt’s head was visible above the wooden decking, his face contorted into a sinuous mass of flushed pink, ‘Stephen!’ He threw his right arm up onto the decking, his tiny fingers tearing at the rough timber.

  Steve grabbed his brother’s arm with both hands. ‘It’s okay Matt, I’ve got you.’ But it wasn’t okay and they both knew it, there was nothing to hold.

  The coarse planks scraped beneath Steve’s shirt, pulling him closer to the edge. Matt’s head disappeared below the decking, the fingertips of his left hand shining white against the golden wood.

  Steve was at the edge, staring into wide green eyes.

  Panic shredded Matt’s voice, ‘Don’t let go.’

  Steve gritted his teeth as Matt’s smooth skin slipped through his desperate grip, ‘I won’t.’

  Six metres below, soft summer grass beckoned.

  * * * *

  ‘Steve, Steve, wake up.’

  Matt never called him Steve. He jolted awake and sat up, the single white bed sheet that covered his semi-naked body slipped down. ‘You drugged me!’ Steve’s anger suppressed the pain in his scarred shoulder, almost. He hadn’t had that dream in years.

  Alex’s face drooped, ‘I needed to prove you could trust me.’

  ‘Why did you undress me?’

  ‘I washed your clothes.’ He pointed to a neat pile of clothes at the foot of the bed.

  Steve rubbed his eyes and sighed, ‘Okay.’

  Alex’s pained countenance vanished into a smile.

&n
bsp; Steve’s reciprocal smile hid his puzzlement. Jason had once said he thought Alex had some sort of bipolar disorder. Steve didn’t think so, more likely the mercurial Alex was a TYPE. PURE’s advanced eugenics had left TYPEs with a variety of psychological oddities, and being a TYPE would also explain Alex’s meteoric rise through the ranks.

  His puzzlement switched to his left wrist, it hadn’t been bandaged when he’d arrived and his MPS was missing.

  ‘Like I said, I needed your trust.’ Alex nodded at Steve’s wrist. ‘That’s a biofield scrambler; it will change to any number of identities.’ He retrieved Steve’s MPS from his trouser pocket. ‘I’ve programmed in fifty so far. Mr Wilkinson has many friends.’

  Steve took the MPS and studied it, ‘Where do the identities come from?’

  ‘INC of course. Don’t worry they’re not active.’

  Steve lifted his studious gaze. ‘How do you access INC?’

  Alex smiled. ‘I’m well connected.’

  * * * *

  Steve stepped out of the bathroom, the sundrenched picture window’s translucent voile swayed in a tropical breeze. He continued towards the settee, his shoulders slumping at the sight of energy bars on the hexagonal table. While he’d been in the shower, Alex had made another excursion to the vending machine.

  Alex glanced up. ‘It’s too dangerous for you to eat in public. You know Colossus isn’t going to collide with Earth. Captain Lacusta told you — before you terminated him.’

  Steve tensed, and then shrugged it off. Alex had had plenty of opportunities to kill him. ‘You know a lot.’

  Alex gestured at the opposite settee, ‘We’re past that. Drink your coffee before it gets cold.’

  Steve sat and picked up the plastic cup. ‘How do you know about Lacusta?’

  ‘I have access to the net.’

  ‘So do I, but I can’t listen in on AHs.’

  Alex touched the bars on his mandarin collar, ‘I’m a Chief Science Officer. I have certain privileges.’

  ‘You’ve been tracking me?’

  ‘Yes, as I promised Jason I would.’