Subversive Elements (Unreal Universe Book 2)

by Lee Bond

  xxx

  Garth loaded the kinesthetic data acquired during his walking tour of The Museum into the Bosch simulation. The prote came back with a request for him to wiggle his arms and legs around so the emitters could calibrate the holographic image over his own body with better accuracy. He wanted to chuckle at Naoko’s dumbfounded look, but didn’t want to be rude; he was giving her a look at all his secrets, and if he had time to freak out about her being Lady Ha, the tables would be turned without a doubt.

  “Confession time.” He said quietly. “Odin was designed to confuse people. It looks like a hunk of crap but has the computational power of four high quality security protes and is able to do things no one has probably ever thought of. Don’t! Sorry, sorry, it, uh, it only looks real. If you break the illusion, someone might see.”

  Naoko pulled her hand back from touching the new man’s arm. The rendering was unbelievably crisp! Never in her life had she seen anything like this! In her studies and as Lady Ha, Naoko knew she’d seen more of what Latelian technology was capable of than most, but never in her wildest dreams would she have imagined a proteus capable of generating a holographic field over a moving object. The real-world applications were obvious, immediate, overwhelming. “How did you manage to do this?”

  “That’s the funny thing about me.” Garth commented, waggling his arms around until the prote got its act together and linked the control points properly. As it was, nothing was near a hundred percent. “When it comes to hardware, all I have to do is think about stuff and wham! It all comes together for me. Hard part was figuring out how to bypass all the security in that fu … bloody system.”

  “Odin is not something that can be built safely?” Of course it wasn’t. The modifications he’d made to the PCU were anything but safe. She still couldn’t believe that the equipment hadn’t simply blown up around him.

  As Naoko watched the hologram move its arms and legs, occasional glimpses of Garth flashed through the simulation. The longer they talked, the more he shifted, the less and less frequent that became.

  Laughter burst out of Garth. “Not on … no. This bad boy took all the spare duronium in the entire building. Once I came to … er, once I was finished with the modifications, I had to stick around ferrying raw materials to the processing units for hours. If I’d left, well, chances are the entire building would’ve been eaten. And probably half the block. Or maybe the entire planet. It’s hard to tell with, uh. It’s hard to tell sometimes what’s going to happen. But, hooray, that didn’t happen.”

  Naoko’s mind started calculating the amount of duronium that a facility like Ashok’s might reasonably possess. She narrowed her eyes. A minimum of three tons of duronium had gone into Odin. Unthinkable. It was just … not possible. The nearest direct comparison was Chairwoman Doans’ Prometheus Device, and everyone who cared knew that no PCU of Latelian design had made that ancient machine. How had he managed to do these things?

  She cleared her throat and, hoping she didn’t sound as horrified as she felt, asked, “How did you do that?”

  Garth shrugged, and the proteus handled the holo-transform flawlessly. “Like I said, dunno. Prote’s done.” He cleared his throat and spoke sub-vocally. “Can you hear me?”

  Naoko’s hand flew to her ear. Then, very self-consciously, she scratched at her earlobe. “That’s … amazing.”

  “Training.” Garth admitted easily. “In SpecSer, sometimes you’re not in the best position to ask for help but you need to ask anyhow. You learn how to speak without moving your mouth or throat with any big motions. It’s a matter of life or death, and with those kinds of pressures, you get good or you get dead. With the prote here already calibrated to use the biometric scanners that’re normally used to monitor health and stuff running nerve function analysis, intent parameters, genetic security systems blah blah blah, it’s even easier to use than the stuff I used in field ops.”

  “But… I … I know those biometric systems, Garth. I’ve studied them as part of my education. In order for them to not only scan your body for minute changes in posture but to predict what’s going to happen next you’d need …”

  Garth tapped the side of his forehead; for anyone watching, giant Harry Bosch did the same. “Right on the money, honey.”

  Naoko went pale as a ghost. ‘Odin’ wasn’t just as ‘powerful’ as four security protes to be doing the things it was already doing; the internal systems of the massive prote had to be designed to run in ways closely approximating how Latelian scientists believed AI minds to work. “If you get caught with that thing, you are going to The Peak, Garth. Parallel processors or whatever you’ve built inside Odin are illegal. You must be careful.”

  The voice that came out of Harry Bosch’s face wasn’t Garth’s at all. Harry pointed to the podium area, saying, “They’re done, Si Kamagana. It’s time for us to find out what’s shaking.” Naoko’s hand slid through the hologram to grip his fiercely. Garth, who could easily imagine her worry, didn’t say anything.

  xxx

  Vilmos smiled at the murmuring crowd.

  He tapped the microphone loudly until everyone stopped talking and all eyes turned to him. A motion to one of his people turned the Sheets off. Naturally, this brought another round of rumbling and grumbling. He smiled patiently and resumed tapping the mike louder and faster until everyone shut up. When he was positive no one would interrupt, he began. “Are there any reporters in the audience?”

  A few nervous hands shot up. When casually dressed people standing next to Vilmos deployed towards those volunteers, those hands disappeared just as quickly.

  Alas, the damage was done. While foolish reporters and journalists were escorted to the front, Vilmos readdressed the crowd. “You are no doubt wondering what is happening. A few among you may have already attempted to alert the ‘proper’ authorities about our … ahhh … suspicious behavior and have discovered that your protes cannot connect to outside servers.” He hung his head for a moment. “This is unfortunate, but still, very necessary.”

  The newshounds arrived at the podium. They were all clearly worried, and with very good reason. Most of the men and women working for the various media outlets on Hospitalis actually were quite intelligent. Often exposed to stories or information best left unreported, they had to realize –or at least fear- what was happening.

  Vilmos recognized more than a few of the foolish volunteers, though he doubted they’d recognize him in turn. Not that it mattered. They all of them knew what real terrorists looked like. For them, it was just a matter of figuring out –if they could- which terrorist group had taken them all hostage.

  Vilmos turned to greet his volunteers, ‘forgetting’ to turn his microphone off in the process; this close to him, none of the reporters would realize the speakers had been configured to relay their conversation out into the crowd without being heard up at the podium. “Excellent. I’ve read some of your bylines for years, and I know you are all smart people. I’m counting on you to help the rest of our fellow Latelians. Now, can any of you four tell me what you think is going on here?”

  “Latelyspace for Latelians.” The oldest man said grimly. “You’re staging a protest.”

  “Or one of the others.” This, from a young woman who seemed to always find herself in the right spot at the wrong time; Vilmos had been deftly turning her away from the core of his group for three years running. It was a surprise to find her here. She truly had a reporter’s luck. It was a shame.

  “A protest.” Vilmos nodded enthusiastically, sarcastically. He caught the eyes of a few friends and they shook their heads, laughing. “'Latelyspace for Latelians' and ‘the others’ are smokescreens. If you reported the truth as journalists should, you’d know that and we wouldn’t even be here in this room today, preparing to do what nothing or no one on this planet or any other can stop. A protest? The word doesn’t even begin to describe the fullness of our plan, ladies and gentlemen.” Vilmos pointed to the old man. “You, what’s your name agai
n?”

  The old man considered keeping quiet but the head count told him that the more he complied, the longer he’d stay alive. “Sa George Hamilton.”

  Vilmos snapped his fingers. “You used to do very insightful, inspiring pieces on the condition of Latelian loyalty. Very inspiring. As matter of fact,” he asked slyly, “weren’t you a staunch supporter of the previous administration?”

  “I was.” George admitted unhappily. “Yes.”

  “And the cause of your ‘falling out’ with the Regime?”

  George hung his head. The words came out as a whisper, but he was no idiot. He knew his words would echo through the Viewing Room. “Heavy-handed use of the Sigma.”

  Vilmos grinned widely. “Excellent, excellent. Simply amazing.” He patted George on the cheek. “I couldn’t have hoped for a better answer if I’d written it myself.” The terrorist leader looked the other three correspondents up and down. “It’s truly unfortunate that George here gave me the right answer off the mark, ladies and gentlemen. At least for you.”

  By now, the crowd had concluded that the drama unfolding before them had little to do with the Game; mentioning ‘Latelyspace for Latelians’ in a roomful of Latelians would never cause much of a panic. Given the wide demographic in the Room, it was more than likely that there were actual members of that organization –as well as sympathizers for other groups- present.

  Mentioning the Sigma, though, that pushed a culturally conditioned button that had many older visitors worrying frantically before they even knew what was happening. Entire days back in the old Regime had been covered under the thick, choking blanket of the Sigma Protocol’s higher directives, whole families and scores of journalists disappeared into The Peak. Scottsdale’s purges had grown more and more infrequent as he’d grown fatter and wealthier, but you’d be hard-pressed to find an old-timer over the age of eighty who couldn’t remember those dark days. They were better off with Doans, even if she was talking to Trinity.

  Talking about the Sigma was a sure way to bring ruination.

  Vilmos’ tone suggested worse was about to ensue.

  Vilmos turned to the quietly murmuring crowd. “Please, ladies and gentlemen. If you all pay attention and do exactly as I say, things will go quite smoothly. As George so rightly put it, we do happen to be here to stage a ‘protest’, and it is against Chairwoman Doans’ use of the Sigma Protocol.” Vilmos frowned apologetically as several of the older people in the audience started hissing and booing at his boorish behavior. “Or more specifically, the duplicity her use of the … of the Protocol implies.”

  “What d’you mean?” shouted someone loudly. The unseen shouter got many nods of approval at the question.

  Vilmos hated sheep. They were in a crisis of dire proportions and perhaps one in three hundred realized it; the rest no doubt considered their circumstances to be some kind of play-acting. They were acting as though this was a Town Hall meeting. It was disgusting. Worlds full of weaklings and fools, with only him to fix things.

  “I’ll answer, but in return, I ask that you look to the exits.” Vilmos waited for people to turn their heads. Beside him, a spotter marked those who didn’t look. He was quite happy that everyone was doing as they'd been told even as he hated them for their docility. “Now, as you can see, there are two men or women at each of the exits. What you cannot see is that they are armed and that there are others roaming the exterior halls. They are also armed. Furthermore, if you’d be so kind as to look up into the rafters, well, you can’t see them, but there are four people up there equipped with very high-powered sniper rifles. Rest assured that if you act up, you do so at the risks of the lives of innocent people. Anyone causing me discomfort will of course die, but so too will three random people. I see that there are children in the audience, so please, heroes, consider the future of our race when you make up your mind. There are no distinctions made in this room.” He added darkly, “Not today.”

  “Now,” He said when the audience’s level of panic reached a high point, “what do I mean by the Chairwoman’s ‘duplicity’?”

  Vilmos looked over his shoulder and nodded. One of the men working the controls for the podium drew his Stretch gun and fired three shots in rapid succession, neatly blowing holes through the heads of the reporters. George stepped out of the way as the bodies fell, face white. He started retching. Vilmos threw his hands in the air and shouted very loudly; the entire audience was a boiling, seething mass of fear, terror and outrage.

  “Please, people, please. Please, no unnecessary deaths. If you move from your seats, you will die. What I have to tell you is that important. When I am done, those of you with children can tend to their needs, and those who need potty breaks will be escorted safely to the nearest facilities. We’re in this for the whole day, and I’d like for us to get along until it’s over.”

  The crowd subsided into a barely contained seething mass. The three unexpected and casual murders held them in place by the thinnest of threads.

  Vilmos cleared his throat. “Chairwoman Doans’ policies towards uniting us with the Trinity dogs are an unconscionable betrayal of our natural birthright. Our ancient ancestors, those colonists who risked obliteration at the hands of the Trinity AI to come here, to Latelyspace, would turn over in their graves if they could only see what is happening. It’s disgusting. And what is worse, Doans is the best Chairperson we. Have. Ever. Had.” He slammed a fist into his hand at each word to drive the point home.

  He resumed. “She has an iron will, she is unflinching and unapologetic. Our system is slowly recovering from an unexpected and unprepared-for Recession because of her understanding of the human condition. Doans has the respect of the military leader, which, if you follow history, is rarely the case. The only area where she fails is in her apparent determination to destroy our culture. Her use of the Sigma Protocol under any circumstances while she tries to convince us that our best hopes lay with the AI tyrant is bullshit politics! If she insists that the ‘friendly attendance of Trinity Representatives is the best thing for us, then how dare she use the ultimate executive powers of a dictator? She cannot do both, cannot be a bureaucrat and a tyrant! Since she is the best Chairwoman this system has ever seen, we, my brothers and sisters and I, have decided to give her the opportunity to do the right thing. Will she act as a dictator, and crush us in full view of the public, effectively destroying her dreams of ‘democracy’, or will she allow the horrors we plan to go unchecked? We will certainly not ‘deal’ as democracy permits. The ball is in her court. You.” He pointed at George. “Get the audio tape from that man over there and flash it to your station.”

  The terrorist leader glowered at the people. Reality was crashing in on them. “You are sheep. You blindly follow a leader who doesn’t know who she is. Today will go down in history as the day Chairwoman Doans was forced into being the dictator she is instead of a coward. All Hail Latelyspace!” Vilmos leaped off the podium and disappeared behind one of the Screens.

  Pandemonium struck.

  xxx

  Garth kissed Naoko on the cheek. “If I’m getting out of here, this is the best opportunity.”

  Sick to her stomach with worry at the unbelievable moment of horror threatening to consume her, Naoko sniffed back tears. “I’m very frightened, Garth.”

  “I know, I know.” He nodded gently, holding her hand. “Remember what I said. Don’t do anything or say anything to attract attention, all right? If you need to, talk to me. I’ll hear you and I’ll come, no matter what. Can you do that?”

  Naoko nodded, and then leaped back in her seat as a powerful crack of sound shredded the panicky shouts filling the Viewing Room. Someone down by the front toppled over suddenly, head missing. Naoko reached out to grab Garth’s arm, but he was gone. Naoko closed her eyes and counted to ten, breathing deeply with time. This wasn’t any worse than those few times she’d met Turuin in an exposed area to trade software bundles. Braving Morgan the Dead over in Easson had been a thousand times mo
re fraught with danger.

  Besides, Garth was right. The terrorists had to be working with a timetable; with whatever it was he was planning, they were going to have more on their minds than frightening innocent men, women and children.

  They wouldn’t know what hit them, Naoko thought with a surprising vicious streak. Her man was unstoppable.

  Harry Bosch and Vilmos Gualf

  Garth had promised himself before leaving the hospital that he wouldn’t play fast and loose with his life any longer -not when his foolishness and arrogance had already caused so much pain and anguish- yet here he was, trapped in a Museum, gearing up to stop a terrorist incursion.

  Scratch that. There was every chance he was dealing with two separate groups.

  There was little choice, though. Not when the Chairwoman’s unilateral response was a rousing game of ‘The God Soldier Smash-and-Grab’. Ordinarily, those tactics were extremely effective in grinding revolutionaries down. Sadly, there were far too many people in The Museum for that to happen. The death toll would make the Spaceport Disaster look like a stubbed toe.

  He was unprepared. He was unprepared in every way, shape and form, while those who’d taken The Museum over knew exactly what they were doing. This was no spontaneous plan. The Chairwoman’s apparent plan to merge Latelyspace with Trinityspace had driven the entire underground network of terrorists insane with fear. They were likely to do anything at all.

  The plan –such as it was- was simple; he’d keep to the shadows, keep quiet, eliminate small clusters of terrorists as and when he came across them. Garth hoped that by diverting some of the leader’s focus away from whatever grandstanding he wanted to do in the Viewing Room, lives would spared.

  It was a gamble, though. Push too fast, be too successful in eliminating those radicals seeded throughout The Museum and the leader might snap, killing hostages with reckless abandon. Again, kill too many and when the Chairwoman got around to it, God soldiers would just steamroll through the Viewing Room.