Shards [Book Two]

by Peter W Prellwitz

  He sipped his tea, but it had cooled. He closed his book with a firm snap, signaling the access to end. As the walls faded from virtual to real, Deiley stood and stretched, flexing and rubbing his shoulder. The room smelled of succulent spiced pork and steamed rice. Dinner was waiting for him, with Miss DeChant standing humbly by to obediently serve him. Her selection of wine would, of course, be perfect.

  * * * *

  There was a sickening crack of bone as the man slammed against the stone wall. He choked out a cry, but had no breath to scream louder. His arm was useless, shattered in three places. He struggled to his feet and looked through the blood that smeared his vision. He assumed a wounded defensive position, using the wall as both a brace and safety point.

  A dark, smallish figure closed on him before he finished setting. Utterly silent, the creature stopped in front of him and looked at him. It didn't touch him, didn't even make a movement he could detect, yet suddenly his leg gave out and again he heard the dull snapping of a bone. He fell to the ground, sobbing.

  “Stop! Oh, God, please stop!"

  The thing that was killing him did stop, or seemed to. It was such a dark night, and his vision was so blurry, though, that he couldn't be sure. It leaned close and he flinched, openly crying from pain and fear, as he waited for another blow and another broken bone.

  “Why should I stop? Do you have a reason?"

  “Yes! Yes. I—I—don't know what you want, but—” He screamed as a blade sank deep into his shoulder. The knife withdrew, and he felt warm blood soaking his shirt. It was metal, not a holoknife, so at least it didn't sever his arm. His attacker said nothing because both knew the question.

  “All—all right. I know what you want. You're looking for a girl who disappeared around here about—"

  “Quit stalling."

  “Okay!” he yelled, bracing for another stab. Nothing happened, and he calmed down a little. He was more terrified than he had ever been in his life, and he was going to tell what he knew. But a small part of him felt anger and shame above the pain and fear, and he thought briefly of the four-shot energy gun in his boot.

  “Okay,” he continued, gaining a little strength. “I haven't seen the girl ... I haven't!” He almost shouted to convince the creature. “All I know is that one of the SS corporals hasn't been seen for a couple weeks, and he was known to really ... to really enjoy ... you know...” He was hesitant to go into detail for fear of reprisal.

  “I know what you mean. He's a big man with a mean, perverted soul that liked to destroy women. So why do I want to hear this?"

  “I dunno. Maybe because he's been real regular for years, and now he's gone."

  “What else?"

  “Well, there's talk about the base commander having someone at his house all the time now. Only no one knows who. And the same time that Rawlins disappeared, the commander, guy named Deiley, was in the town, looking real hard for someone. And he never comes to town. Maybe Major Deiley got upset at Rawlins for raping this girl you were looking for because he was looking for her, too. The guy is like that. Listen, that's all I know. I swear.” He slumped down, both in pain and to get his hand closer to the gun. He moaned. “Please. Let me get some mediaid. I'm busted up bad."

  His assailant said nothing, but turned away, ignoring him. Now was the time. He reached a hand into his boot and charged the unit. Had he left it in his boot for the full three-second charge time, the sound might have gone unheard. But he was anxious and brought it out immediately. He pulled the gun up level and pointed it at ... At what? His attacker was gone, completely disapp—

  The knife cut deep into his throat, slicing it open. He felt warm and dizzy and sleepy. All his pain went away, and the alley became even darker than it had been. He couldn't hear the gun charging anymore, but it didn't seem all that important now...

  Susie pulled the gun out of the dead man's hand and turned it off. This was the best lead she'd had yet, and she had been willing to let him live. Oh, well. Probably better this way. Stooping, she wiped her knife off on the man's pants, then sheathed it. The gun she tossed into a nearby pile of rubble. She'd tell someone back at base about it; it would be retrieved once it had been checked for internal trackers.

  She paused for a moment, thinking, then headed west, toward the base. It would be difficult to verify what the man had told her, but she didn't need verification. In their sixteen days of searching, it was very obvious that Abigail was not roaming around in Glendale. Even if she had sharded, which seemed certain now, she would have been spotted by one of the many units that the Resistance maintained here to care for and protect the Shards. There had been a brief hope two days ago, when the search teams had come upon a Shard named Ellen. She had been uncooperative, but she had admitted to having seen Abigail and had her clothing. Though she denied it, other Shards had said they saw NATech go into her home the same morning Susie and Abigail had separated. This information, coupled with what Susie had just learned, placed Abigail in the NATech primary compound, and probably in Major Deiley's house. Susie shuddered and hoped Abby had not sharded as that pleasure ripe. She had no idea what kind of person Major Deiley was, but there was little point in hoping for the best when it concerned NATech. She picked up her pace.

  An hour later, Susie passed through the final checkpoint and entered the primary Resistance base in Glendale. It was a makeshift location, frequently moved and poorly equipped. Since there was little that wasn't under NATech influence, it was the best that could be done. Sometimes, it was enough. This time it wasn't.

  Alan looked up from his flat display terminal as Susie entered the room. He saw the blood on her pants and shirt, but made no comment. He'd known Susie for over ten years, since she had first joined as an idealistic teenager right after her parents had emigrated. Susie had become involved with Research, but she could as easily have become an Enforcement noncom. Tonight, seeing the intensity in her eyes, Alan was glad she had chosen the path she did. Susie would have been consumed by combat, and a wonderful person would have been lost.

  “What news, Susan?” he called out at she walked over to him.

  “Finally got a break, Alan! I've verified Abigail's whereabouts, and we were right, she's in Primary. Worse, she's with the base commander."

  “Maybe not worse,” Alan said slowly, calling up a report. “The base commander is a major by the name of Benjamin Deiley. He's been in command of the Glendale barracks for twelve years. He's ruthless, cold-blooded, and no nonsense. On the up side, he's ruthless, cold-blooded, and no nonsense."

  “So he wouldn't like you,” Susie said acidly. “Why would those things be good?"

  “Because he treats Shards with the same efficiency as his men, and is as hard on his men as the Shards. He makes use of the NATechSS rape squads, but keeps them under a tight reign. Relatively speaking,” He added quickly at Susie's hard look. She wasn't as numb to this as he was. “He doesn't tolerate Shard abuse unless it's to the benefit of his command, both military and civilian. Unless he saw a point in beating or raping Abigail, it's very unlikely that he did. So the question would seem to be: did he?” He looked at Susie inquiringly. She didn't react, but looked at him impassively.

  He paused, knowing from his years in Research he was treading on shaky ground. “Could you tell me if Abigail had a riping that would make her useful to Deiley?"

  Susie said nothing for a moment. The details of a Cue's ripes were known only by her researcher, and they were not shared with anyone. Was this the exception to the rule? Susie had worked with Alan in Research years ago, so she knew how difficult it was for Alan to ask. And with Abigail in just about the worst possible position—sharded, cut off and deep inside NATech's influence—Susie couldn't see how telling Alan could hurt more. She nodded assent, and Alan motioned to the few people in the room for privacy. They left quietly. Susie pulled up an old chair and sat close to Alan.

  “There are two human personas and one machine ripe in Abby's past that Deiley would find immensely use
ful, only in very different ways.

  “The first human one was the one I'd already told you about; the pleasure girl. Abby had a sharding episode about three weeks ago as that creature, which is what precipitated our leave to Phoenix.

  “The second human was also female, but somewhat different. She was a maid by the name of Miss DeChant. She was owned by one of the more respected sonics theorists at the Paris Institute during the twenty-fourth century. There didn't seem to be anything special about this ripe other than her closeness to a man of relatively high position and possibly on NATech's credrolls. We're not sure. NATech hadn't gone public at the time. The man, Philip LeClaire, disappeared one night and was never seen again. Likewise Miss DeChant.

  “The machine ripe—"

  “Wait a moment,” Alan interrupted. “You said Miss DeChant disappeared? But that's Abigail."

  “I know that. But as you should know, Alan, even though we can piece together a Cue's ripes, there are almost always gaps. In Abby's case, she has a gap of 117 years from the time she was Miss DeChant until we located her again as this pleasure girl. It was these two personas that led us to assume she had originally been female."

  “You mean...” Alan's voice trailed off and his eyes widened.

  “I'm sorry. You don't know. Yes, Abigail was originally a man by the name of John Wyeth. She's the only Cue that's been mis-sexed, to code a phrase. She's made the adjustment extremely well in the last two years, and probably doesn't give it another thought. In fact, I know she doesn't except on rare occasions, and even then it's more of a looking back than reliving.

  “Anyway, back to the subject. The most likely machine she may have sharded into would be a Netter. She was a Netter from 2051 until 2251. Although a lot of those records were destroyed in the EM fallout after the Rock, there were enough brain traces left to estimate those years."

  Alan nodded. “She'd be very useful then, if for nothing other than an historical source. I know Deiley does have an interest in history. I've read a couple of his submissions, and he's quite good. But I don't know if he would keep her just because she's a database. Is that it?"

  Susie nodded. “There are other personas, of course, though they were all machine. But nothing of interest to Deiley."

  “Okay. So what do we do?"

  “What likelihood is there that she's sharded as a pleasure ripe?"

  “Probably not much. Most base commanders keep a pleasure ripe at their home. Some keep two or three. It's considered a compensation that comes with the office.” Susie made a face. “Sorry, Susan, but that's reality. The NATech female commanders do the same.” He looked at his terminal thoughtfully.

  “But not Deiley. There's never been a mark against him in that area. And there have been three times when he instantly and harshly responded to unfounded rumors that even hinted that he kept a pleasure ripe. In two of the instances, he personally executed the instigator. So it's unlikely that Abigail is riped as a pleasure girl. Deiley would either kill or release her as quickly as he could.

  “So that leaves Miss DeChant, the Netter, and her original persona. All three have possibilities."

  “Surely not the last one, Alan. If Abigail were herself, trust me, she'd have contacted us by now."

  “Listen, Susan, you don't know Deiley the way..."

  “No, you listen, Alan. Who do you think got us out of the jam that started this whole mess? It was Abigail. One of her programs, rather."

  “I'm not sure I understand."

  “That's because you've never had to. Abby's written a program that is almost a living thing. She calls him Mike. It was Mike that brought that microsat down and wiped out the NATech squads."

  Alan shook his head. “That's not possible. Your saying Abigail wrote a program that in turn wrote its own program to bring down a microsat with such precision that it could be used as weapon? It can't be done. The microsat would have to be commandeered, the shields remodulated, and the guidance system completely rewritten. And all in, what? Five minutes? To do that, the guidance system would require picosecond response times, and without true judgment, it.. would..."

  Alan's voice died off as realization came over him. Susie continued to look at him impassively, waiting for full understanding to dawn on him. Then she nodded.

  “That's right, Alan. From what we've been able to determine, Abigail understands and can program in unbound trinary code. How much, we don't know. But enough to be able to turn her programs into pseudo lifeforms. That's why we must get her back. If NATech were to discover..."

  “Geez! At the best, they'd kill her and lose the secrets. But at worst, NATech would learn unbound trinary code and they'd seize an unbreakable grip in the puterverse!” He looked at her sharply. “So what does this have to do with Abigail's current ripe?"

  “Don't you see? Abigail's fully capable of escaping a NATech compound, or if not that, then getting a message to her cyberfriend, Mike. But Mike's found no trace of her in the past sixteen days."

  “You've talked to this Mike?"

  “Three or four times a day. He's a rude, immature jerk, and difficult to get to cooperate, but he cares for Abby deeply, and has been incredibly helpful in keeping watch for her to access. She hasn't put in an access at any level. That almost certainly means that she's accessing as a Shard, if at all."

  Alan looked like he'd been hit with a board. “Wait. This is too much. Mike can access everything? Surely not the private access areas of NATech's base commanders. Why the security codes alone, along with the worms and—"

  “Just little toys for Mike to break, Alan. You have to see this guy to believe him. Abby, too. In the puterverse, she's a completely different person. She's still Abby, but she strikes you as mature woman, with a great deal of power."

  “I have got to meet this Mike.” Alan had a thought. “So if Mike can constantly scan for Abigail, why haven't we asked him to also scan for this Miss DeChant or the Netter?"

  Susie stared at him, then gave a short derisive laugh. “Because I'm an idiot, Alan, that's why. Of course he can do it. All I need to do is tell him where to find the profiles and imprints of the other two ripes."

  Alan stood up and offered his terminal to Susie. She sat down and took a deep breath. Dealing with Mike was not a favorite pastime. She waited a moment longer, then asked for access.

  The room faded to black. A vast prairie opened up, with mounds and valleys. Every mound was dotted with green access passages and every valley had silver blue data streams, shot with gold, flowing through it. In the furthest distance, a low black shape clouded the horizon.

  “Incredible!” Alan was standing behind Susie and seemed slightly dazed. “I've never seen such wide open areas! Susie, how did you get this kind of access? It must be at least level ten!"

  “It's level twelve limited eighteen. Abby gave it to me. She had me at up to level fourteen, but I couldn't handle it. It's the wildest thing I've ever seen, except when I'm with Abby. She says she uses level thirty-one."

  Alan was still staring around in disbelief and barely heard the question. “I can't get over this! And she's at thirty-one? Or don't you believe her?"

  “I don't. I think she's higher than that and doesn't want to hurt my feelings. Personally, I don't think she has a level."

  “Wow. I have to admit I'm beginning to see your interest in Abigail."

  “That's not it at all, Alan!” Susie said sharply.

  “I know. I'm sorry. That didn't sound the way I meant it. So, how do we find Mike?"

  “That's one good thing about him. He finds you.” Susie turned toward the open plain and cupped her hands around her mouth. “Hey! Mike!"

  “It's about time you showed, flesh.” An impudent voice spoke up behind them. Susie was used to Mike's tactics and would have been surprised if he hadn't appeared behind her. Alan, however, was jolted, and spun around. Mike looked at him through narrowed green slits.

  “So who's this turkey, flesh? Another little joyrider, come to see the great Mike?
"

  Alan recovered quickly. He was used to programs being subservient and polite, but at least Susie had warned him.

  “No, I'm not a wild bird, Mike. My name is..."

  “I couldn't care less what your name is, turkey. Beat it. You're not wanted."

  “Shut your yap, Mike, and pay attention.” Susie stepped between the two. “His name is Alan Lockwood. He's a lieutenant for the Twelfth Regiment and he—"

  “The Twelfth?” His tone changed considerably. “That's different. What can I do for you, Lieutenant?” Mike bowed slightly. It was Susie's turn to narrow her eyes. Alan, unfortunately, took the bait.

  “That's better. We're trying to find ... AAAAHHHH!” The scene abruptly changed to a lake of fire. Alan could feel the heat on his legs and the fire in his lungs. All about him, tiny winged creatures made of bones and tar were shooting and stabbing at him. Afraid that the base had been hit, he started to call for shut off, but Susie jumped in.

  “No! That's what he wants, Alan! He's just toying with us because to him we're just unimportant flesh.” Susie had to shout over the flames. She was coughing continuously. “The only one he really cares about is Abigail! This is his way of lashing out. Understand? Other than her, we're all the same!"

  Alan nodded and tried to look past the pain. He knew it was psychosomatic, which helped ease the effects. But the pain still continued. He shouted above the roar. A tar devil flew into his mouth and started stabbing his tongue, but he ignored it.

  “Mike! Listen! We've got a way to find Abby! But you've got to help!” He broke off in a fit of coughing, spitting out the tar devil.

  “Yeah, right! Pull the other one, turkey!” His voice was a deafening roar. Alan's ears vibrated and bled from the sound. Yet it was a sound that had soul wrenching anguish and burning hatred in it. “You flesh have messed with her before! Abby! Oh, Abby!” it wailed, “where are you?"

  “We know where she is, Mike! We've found her!” Susie was up to her knees in tar, and her clothes were smoking. “Do you hear, Mike? We ... have ... found ... OH!"