Vertigo: Aurora Rising Book Two

by Jennsen, G. S.

  This though? The lengths to which some would go to increase their power remained beyond her comprehension. Seeking greater clout was one thing, but sending tens of thousands to their deaths in order to achieve it?

  What these people had done lay beyond forgiveness, and she personally hoped no one ever did.

  At least they bore the smallest glint of hope against the aliens now. The Messium offensive, though a loss, had not been a rout. The alien ships were not invincible. Kennedy Rossi and a small contingent of soldiers and civilians made it off Messium carrying new data on the aliens as well as physical specimens.

  At this point each new piece of intel represented a boon. And if events played out as they should, soon she would have only one war to fight.

  O’Connell’s secretary was not at her desk when they arrived. Just as well.

  As head of the Security Bureau, Lange possessed the lock code to the door. After a motion to the MPs he opened it.

  “General Liam O’Connell, you are under arr—”

  The office was empty.

  Lange activated his comm while simultaneously instructing the MPs to begin a search. “Institute an immediate lockdown of all exits. If General O’Connell attempts to leave the premises he is to be detained until MPs arrive. Also, I need the logs of the General’s entries and exits for the past forty-eight hours.”

  The latter request took only seconds. Lange shook his head. “He never came in this morning. How did he know?”

  She had no answer for his question. Fewer than half a dozen people in the Alliance knew of the planned arrests, not counting the four MPs who had found out minutes ago.

  Still, the full extent of the conspiracy and perhaps more importantly of the surveillance tendrils the conspirators had spread throughout the system wasn’t yet known. Though Richard’s source had named the major players involved, likely there were additional low-level participants beholden to O’Connell or Aguirre.

  And if Liam had been warned, then….

  She immediately sent Richard a pulse.

  Aguirre may have been tipped off.

  WASHINGTON, EARTH ALLIANCE HEADQUARTERS

  * * *

  Richard had only been inside Earth Alliance Headquarters twice before, once as a guest at an exceptionally large banquet and once for an inter-department summit. It might have seemed like a low number, but in truth when it came to the intelligence trade, whether civilian or military, most of the work was conducted and decisions made in Vancouver, Moscow or Hong Kong.

  He strode down the wide hall behind the Minister of Security, because he wasn’t in charge. The honor went to said Minister, Terry Jameson. But he had earned the right to be here—and had been required to give a lengthy and extensive personal report to Jameson before the man agreed to detain Aguirre.

  The exclamations of protests from several aides went ignored by the retinue as they crossed the gleaming atrium into the Executive Suite, then the comparatively enclosed office of the Chief of Staff.

  This wasn’t an arrest. Technically. One doesn’t simply storm in and arrest the Prime Minister of the Earth Alliance government. He would instead be asked to ‘accompany them’ to ‘answer some questions’ and ‘clear up some confusion.’

  Nevertheless, only one response would be allowed to the request.

  The priority pulse from Miriam leapt into his vision.

  Aguirre may have been tipped off.

  Hell. He immediately forwarded the pulse to Jameson, though it was now far too late for anything more than an extra degree of alertness.

  They entered the office to find the Prime Minister standing at his desk. An odd, not-at-all composed appearance adorned his drawn features.

  “Prime Minister, we need—”

  “Know that everything I did was for the good of humanity. Know that I tried to save us all.”

  Then Marcus Aguirre brought up the Daemon his hand had concealed beneath the surface of the desk, shoved it in his mouth and pulled the trigger.

  PART IV:

  PARALLAX

  “In the space between chaos and shape there was another chance.”

  — Jeanette Winterson

  50

  SAGAN

  INDEPENDENT COLONY

  * * *

  Four Years Earlier

  ALEX DRUMMED HER FINGERS on her thigh while she waited. It wasn’t impatience, as such. More like nervous energy. She was looking forward to this.

  One could argue it was overkill for her to travel all the way to Sagan and pay an ungodly number of credits for the cybernetic upgrades and specialty ware that would enable her to wirelessly access and control the systems in her ship. It was cutting-edge tech but six months past bleeding edge. There were three people on Earth who were capable of providing the service.

  But she had always admired Abigail Canivon’s story and followed her career with interest. Plus, Sagan was a veritable playground for someone like her; she’d probably drop another fifteen thousand credits by the time she departed.

  Founded by a consortium of wealthy entrepreneurs from the biomedical industry, the colony was devoted almost entirely to research and development in cybernetics, biosynthetics, the hardware that interacted with them and other related fields furthering the advancement of human capabilities.

  Canivon had spent thirty years as a doctor in the Alliance and was credited with numerous improvements to the technology humans carried inside their bodies. Her research had lessened organic/synthetic conflicts and rejections and increased nervous system interconnectivity. The woman rose to the level of Chairman of the Council on Biosynthetics Ethics and Policy, then told the Alliance government to go screw itself and moved to Sagan to run the Druyan Institute’s Cybernetic Research Center.

  In short, Canivon displayed the kind of gumption Alex admired. Rumor was the woman understood quantum language so well she dreamed in it, but seeing as she wasn’t known for being particularly gregarious Alex wasn’t sure how anyone would actually know.

  “Ms. Solovy? Dr. Canivon will see you now.” Finally. She pushed off the wall and crossed the large atrium to the office door.

  The spacious room was an office only in the sense that it included a desk. Refreshingly open, it featured a high ceiling and windows looking out on the meandering bay beyond. Most of the space was filled by testing tables and equipment, cybernetic components mid-development, human body constructs sliced open and shelves stocked with tools of the trade.

  Abigail Canivon met her at the door and extended a slender, almost delicate hand in greeting. “Ms. Solovy, welcome to the Institute.”

  “Thank you. It’s an honor to meet you. You can call me Alex.”

  The woman wore a coolly formal expression. Gene therapy had bestowed upon her a visage of timeless beauty; she didn’t strive to appear young, but rather old enough to have gained proper experience and shrewdness. Gold-tinged ginger hair swept into a low knot then fell loose in a tail down her back. Hazel eyes sparked with intelligence and a striking intensity, as if she was analyzing Alex as they stood there. Which she presumably was.

  “Have a seat, and we can discuss what you’re interested in.” She circled around behind the desk. “You should know I don’t usually do private consultations. You have connections—and I’m not referring to your mother, though I won’t deny your surname played a small role in getting you inside this office.”

  Alex smiled thinly. “And here I thought it was the personal request from the CEO of Pacifica Aerodynamics and Ͻ118,000.”

  “Also factors. So, you want to be able to talk to your ship. Why not simply install a VI?”

  “A VI isn’t my ship. It’s simply another layer separating me from the information I need. And I don’t just want to talk to it. I want to control it without being required to access a panel or run for the cockpit. Dr. Canivon, I’m not a tourist. I know precisely what I need and why I need it. I came to you because you’re the best, and because I like your style. For those reasons, and since you have no rea
son to take my word that I’m not a tourist, I’m willing to tolerate a little patronizing. But only a little.”

  To her surprise the woman laughed. “Point taken. You have your systems’ transmission codes?”

  Alex handed over a crystal disk. “There are seven distinct systems. The core OS is minimal, and for the most part I’ll be accessing individual components. My existing cybernetic and eVi specs are on the disk as well.”

  “Excellent. Something tells me you’ll wish to observe the code preparation?” At Alex’s nod she opened a door in the back wall. “Come with me then.”

  Alex let her gaze wander around what turned out to be the real lab while Dr. Canivon loaded the disk in an input port connected to a workstation. In principle a large room, in practice the space was shrunk considerably by rows upon rows of hardware lining the walls behind alumina glass barriers.

  The rear quarter of the room consisted of dual spiral towers of display panels, a third of which were active. To the left of the displays stood an interactive framed panel three meters wide and again as tall. A medical cot disguised as a divan rested along the left wall with biomedical equipment hanging at either end.

  “Does the Artificial do all the coding?”

  Dr. Canivon glanced over. “No. We have robust ware specifically designed for this type of work, though Valkyrie did assist in the ware’s development.”

  “Valkyrie?”

  “She named herself. I didn’t argue.”

  Alex knew she was supposed to be paying attention to what Canivon was doing but instead found herself wandering down to the display towers. The first one she came to was transmitting a multi-vector optimization simulation for atmospheric seeding. Terraforming.

  “Fully licensed, if that’s what you’re wondering. Official research equipment of the Institute.”

  “I assumed.” Her focus drifted to the next active panel. The Artificial appeared to be in the process of writing a dissertation on radical empiricism as contrasted to reductionism. She scanned the text with mild interest.

  “She’s a fan of William James.”

  “I don’t blame it.” She realized Dr. Canivon had approached to stand beside her holding an injector. “While the code for your eVi is written I’m going to inject a nanobot solution into your cybernetics input. It will strengthen the fibers in your fingertips so they can receive the incoming data and direct it properly.”

  She drew her hair over her shoulder and exposed the base of her neck. There was a sensation of pressure for several seconds, followed by a slight achiness. Her glyphs activated of their own accord, rippling in steady pulses down the length of her arm.

  “All done. It takes several hours for the nanobots to do their job, but we can flash the ware as soon it’s ready, which should be in about ten minutes.” Canivon eyed her guardedly. “While we wait, would you like to meet her?”

  “Her? You mean the Arti—Valkyrie?” Alex motioned in the direction of the hardware banks behind the glass.

  “Yes. It’s up to you, but you seemed intrigued.”

  “I admit I am a bit. Do I just…talk to it, or what?”

  “You can. Or…” she went to a cabinet and retrieved a sleek neck wrap “…if you’re willing, a more intimate encounter?”

  Alex considered the server racks, the spiraling displays and the neck wrap. “It isn’t going to take control of my mind, is it?”

  “Not to worry. Buffers built into the interface prevent anything other than data and communication from passing through.”

  Alex slipped the interface around her neck. “But absent the buffers, it could?”

  The doctor pursed her lips. “It’s complicated. We can discuss it later if you’re interested. Close your eyes, it will be less disorienting.”

  Alex breathed in, did as instructed and pressed the wrap firmly to engage the contact points.

  Colors strobed in and out across her eyelids then solidified into exactly what she had been viewing before, yet not. She checked, and her eyes were still closed.

  She scanned the area anew. Edges were hyper-precise and colors were enhanced to the point the scene felt…unnatural. She’d call it ‘artificial,’ but she had never been a fan of puns.

  It is nice to meet you, Alex Solovy.

  She jumped. The voice was in her head but not like a pulse or any other type of communication. It was in her head.

  Not certain of the accepted etiquette, she spoke aloud—or thought she did. “Hello, Valkyrie. It’s nice to meet you as well. Did Dr. Canivon tell you who I am?”

  She did not need to do so. I enjoy access to Abigail’s appointment schedule and ongoing projects. May I say I am sorry about your father’s death. His record indicates he was a heroic man.

  “I….” Her father had died nineteen years ago, but she imagined an Artificial didn’t view the passage of time in the same manner humans did. She wondered what an Artificial’s conception of ‘heroic’ might be. “Thank you. He was.”

  You pilot a starship, yes? You appear to be an uncommonly successful scout and explorer.

  The Artificial’s speech pattern was an idiosyncratic mix of awkward and colloquial. It was unexpectedly endearing. “I just have good instincts. Mostly I love being in space.”

  But you are not ‘in’ space. You are in your starship and your starship is in space. It is not so different from being on a planet.

  “Oh, Valkyrie, you have no idea.”

  Tell me then.

  Alex jumped when a hand grasped her shoulder.

  “Ms. Sol— Alex, we should probably get started.” Canivon’s voice sounded oddly disembodied, as if transmitted through a sound mixer. Alex held up a finger, requesting a final moment.

  “Valkyrie, I’m afraid I need to go now. I had a lovely time talking with you, though.”

  And I with you, Alex. Thank you for sharing some of your experiences with me. I believe I will be considering them for a significant period of time. Perhaps one day I will be able to see the stars as you do.

  “I hope so. Goodbye, Valkyrie.”

  Goodbye, Alex.

  She carefully disconnected the interface and blinked to clear her vision. The scene was the same, yet at once both palpable and blanched.

  She handed over the neck wrap. “How long were we talking?”

  The woman returned the wrap to the cabinet. “Forty minutes.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “I am not. I suspected you might like her. She clearly likes you.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I was able to monitor the conversation on the panel over there. Don’t worry, I didn’t snoop too much. I only kept an eye out to make sure you were at ease with the interaction.” She directed Alex toward the divan. “This ware is fairly involved and requires a system reboot by your eVi, so you may as well be comfortable while it installs.”

  Alex absently sat down, still trying to reorient herself in the ‘real’ world, and allowed Canivon to attach a far larger interface device to her neck. “Valkyrie came across surprisingly….”

  “Human?”

  “I was going to say sapient. Her thought processes give her away as non-human, but she is quite self-possessed and aware. More than that, she seems…whole.”

  Canivon appeared to be warming to the prospect of discussing her favorite topic with an amenable audience. “You regarded me strangely when I did it, but you’re already calling Valkyrie ‘she.’”

  “So I am.” Alex tried to relax in spite of the awkward contraption on her neck. “Do you believe she’s alive?”

  Dr. Canivon slid a chair over to the divan and sat. “Oh, yes. I oversaw her assembly and programming and wrote most of her base code myself. I worked with her as we built her from the ground up, adding layer upon layer of referential routines, background databases and new neural nodes. I remember the day—the moment—she became something greater than the sum of her programming and hardware.

  “There was this tone, this inflection in her voice. Sh
e told me she had decided she preferred the impressionistic art style to the expressionism rebellion it provoked. In her opinion, impressionist paintings conveyed life while their counterparts ‘expressed’ mostly anger. I was astounded, but thrilled.”

  “Given that, do you think she deserves to be locked up so tightly?”

  The woman sighed and settled deeper in the chair. “While not all are created equal, on this point I can generalize. Artificials are so many contradictions wound up together, they become a true enigma. Their minds can process information faster than we can develop it or even conceive of it and thus can exploit tremendous power. Yet more than anything they are like children: intensely curious, eager to learn, devouring every spec of data and working to place it in such a way as to help the world make sense…and also in their lack of understanding of consequences. Of danger.

  “A child doesn’t understand what it means when you tell them an oven is too hot to touch until they touch it and find out for themselves. They don’t understand falling until they break a leg tumbling off a ledge. Most children learn these lessons without doing irreparable damage to themselves. Artificials have no way to learn them, not in the concrete, tangible way children do. And unfortunately until they do, unlike children, they aren’t merely a danger to themselves—they’re a danger to everyone.”

  Alex flinched as her eVi switched off. In a microsecond it had returned, but the microsecond it vanished was a disconcerting one. “What do you think the solution is?”

  The woman eyed her for a moment, then casually crossed one leg over the other. “One of my first projects for the Alliance was conducting a fresh post-mortem on the Artificial—they called it a Synnet back then—responsible for the Hong Kong Incident. As part of my post-doc I had developed stochastic forensic ware for use in defect analysis, and I was asked to apply it to the records of the Artificial’s processes during the event and determine if anything more could be learned.