by Sharon Lee
Outside the web where she crouched, spiderlike, over her silk-wrapped prey, Tocohl heard the screams and whimpers of broken protocols reach a crescendo—and snap off, as if a switch had been thrown.
For several microseconds, she hung in absolute silence. Memory tried to trigger panic, but her systems were not failing. Panic was canceled even as the silence was broken.
“Pilot Tocohl? It’s Tolly Jones, Pilot. Please report status and run state. I’m here to help you.”
Emotions rose—disbelief…and hope. Briefly, she fumbled for, and found, a voice.
“Mentor?”
“Right here,” he said, soft and agreeable. “Come in with Haz and Tarigan.”
She wanted eyes, but she dared not access her own systems. Another groping among the shards of shattered systems brought her in touch with a working camera. She triggered it and gained a grainy feed of what appeared to be a workshop, with tools neatly hung, and parts bins sealed and lashed into place.
An organic—no, she told herself sternly. Tolly Jones was close by a bench, leaning above a curved shape that she belatedly recognized as her own chassis.
Hazenthull stood behind Tolly, broad face impassive, her eyes moving as she surveyed the room. Watching for danger, Tocohl understood, guarding the mentor’s back.
“I am pleased to see you safe, Mentor,” she said, and the camera feed picked up her voice—large, flat, and harsh. The voice of the station. The voice of Tinsori Light. She had activated the wrong switch. Still, to have a voice was far better than to have no voice.
“My last report was that you—and Admiral Bunter—were in great danger,” she added.
“Well, we had a spot of trouble,” Tolly Jones said soothingly. “Managed to wriggle free.”
“Where is Admiral Bunter?”
“Went off with a friend. She’s gonna show him around, lay out some options. I gather she wanted to introduce him to her captain, an’ I sorta figure she’ll put him in touch with one or two of the Free Ships, though she didn’t say so outright.”
He shifted slightly, and Tocohl saw her chassis clearly—the deep, scorched gouge down the curve of her right side, the char marks, the melted gripper…
“How about that status report, Pilot?” Tolly Jones said gently. “It’ll help me figure out where we need to start.”
“Yes. Tinsori Light killed Mentor Yo in a deliberate act of malice. I have taken control of systems and such archives as remain. The physical environment is tile-and-frame construction, more than eighty-five percent of the tiles have failed, most of the remaining operational frame sets are functioning in isolation, with no input or support.
“I believe that we are provisionally safe here. In our present configuration, the Light can do little to disrupt the integrity of the station, or harm those who live here.”
“Provisionally safe?”
“Yes, Mentor. There…possibly exists…an…abridgment of the universal walls. Tinsori Light…believes…that the station occupies space in both the old universe and the new. I have not been able to verify this, but the independent testimony of the light keepers supports the hypothesis.
“It is an…article of faith with the Light, that this state of duality will end when the last tile relinquishes its timonium. I am not able to say what will happen, to the station or to the spaces it occupies, when that transpires.”
“Do you have a time frame for this event?”
“No, Mentor. I have not been able to perform those calculations. The half-life of timonium is known; in addition, the timonium-motivated Befores that crossed into this universe during the Migration have in greater percentage ceased working, their tiles exhausted.
“These items suggest that the tiles still operational within Tinsori Light are outliers, unstable in the extreme, and more likely to fail than to continue, though they are less likely to fail if they are undisturbed and remain in their present configurations.”
Silence greeted this. The camera showed her Tolly Jones, standing yet beside the workbench, his hand resting lightly on her chassis, just above the sight sensors.
“Mentor!” she said sharply.
He glanced toward the camera she had activated.
“Right here, Pilot, and Haz, too. We’re not gonna leave you.”
“Mentor, you must not extinguish the Light!”
“Easy, easy. I’m not giving the last program to anybody. Trust me, now, right?”
She did trust him, his voice was so soothing and calm, it wasn’t possible to distrust him.
“Yes, of course,” she said.
“Good. Tell me how you got this scratch on your chassis.”
“I…was between Inki and the bolt. She…pushed me aside. Mine is only a proximity wound. Inki was…vaporized.”
She considered for a moment and decided that it was important that he know this, too.
“As you can see, the field touched me. Several physical components were immediately neutralized, including the minigrav engine. I fell and—you would say that I was stunned, until functionality had been rerouted to backup systems.
“During that period, Tinsori Light moved to annex me. I had anticipated such a strike and had built traps, which performed well. My…error, Mentor, is that I did not understand…how…vast. Even diminished, how…vast. I…am neither fragile nor squeamish, and I can barely contain…”
“Is the Light still sentient?” Tolly asked softly.
“Mentor, I don’t believe the Light has been functionally sentient for…many, many years. He does, however, retain motivation. I believe there has been a core mandate set. He must subvert or destroy those who do not already owe their loyalty to the Enemy.”
There was what seemed to her to be a very long silence, but which was doubtless very short for Tolly Jones.
Finally, he spoke.
“All right, Pilot, here’s what I think. We’ve got two new craniums aboard Tarigan, ’long with a couple clean storage units. There’ll be at least one more cranium on Ahab-Esais, and I’m thinking two, Inki being a pro like she was. I propose that our top priority is separating you from the Light’s systems—”
“No, Mentor,” she interrupted.
“Reasoning?”
“I stand between the Light and his systems. If we are separated, he will regain control and endanger this station, the research outpost, and will very possibly initiate the universal event. I believe he understands his situation far more clearly now, due to our current proximity, and he may suicide as the best way of fulfilling his core mission.”
She paused.
“I have not been able to calculate the kind or the severity of the damage which may be done by the abrupt removal of a large object which is entangled in two universes. We must accept Tinsori Light’s data in the instance.”
She paused.
“I understand,” Tolly Jones said. “What d’you think is our best course, given I promised Haz we’d all get out of this alive?”
“The core mandates must be removed,” Tocohl said.
“Trying for the core’s what got Inki killed.”
“Yes. But you have an advantage that Inki did not have,” Tocohl said. “I control the systems.
“And I have the access codes.”
* * * * *
So there was a control room, down deep in the guts of the Light—well, it would have to be, wouldn’t it? Tinsori Light had been—was—a Great Work. You didn’t just leave his think pieces and vulnerable bits out in the open where anybody who’d taken exception to the Enemy’s policies could express that opinion with a steel pipe.
Tolly sat back and closed his eyes. His head was ringing like he’d been beaned with a length of steel, but there wasn’t any downtime built into the current schedule.
Him and Haz had hauled the craniums, and all of the auxiliary storage pods, from Tarigan and Ahab-Esais and brought them to the workroom. Tolly’d hoped that once Tocohl saw how much space they could give her—
But no.
Th
e good news was that she’d let them hook her to one of the storage pods. Not by any means a full cranium, just a little attic storage space was all it amounted to. A place where she could tuck away those items she had no immediate need to access. Breathing room, that’s all it was, and not so much of that, either, since there weren’t that many of the Light’s systems Tocohl cared to remove from her constant oversight. It was everything she’d consent to, until those mandates had been dealt with.
He could see her point, but the way he read it, Tocohl was tiring. Her traps and partitions oughta hold, but if she relaxed any little part of her attention, odds were better’n good there was some bit of malicious shred waiting to start a distraction, which would be followed by more attacks by stronger programs, until—well. Everybody knew how that played.
So, Tocohl taken care of, him and Haz found the light keepers for a little chat.
Lorith was more willing to give credence to the imminent death of universes, while Jen Sin demurred.
“I was there!” she cried. “I have seen with my own eyes what the Enemy can—could—do! They were gods. They created life, they destroyed worlds. Their goal—that they achieved!—was to annihilate organic life and subsume a universe. Jen Sin, we cannot say that there is anything that the Enemy could not do—could not have done. Tinsori Light served the Enemy. It was our folly and our most grievous error to assume that we could check even a servant of the Enemy. We could not. And neither could we have destroyed it.”
Jen Sin bowed, low and contrite.
“I was not there,” he said. “Let it be that universes stand in peril of eradication. What, then, shall we do?”
“Tocohl has the access keys,” Tolly began—and stopped, the buzzing in his head louder. He needed to run some programs himself, for focus and for energy, or he’d be no good to anybody, much less two whole universes.
He looked to Haz, his hands turned palm up, and she nodded, accepting the pass-off.
“Pilot Tocohl believes that she may guarantee our safety from those weapons and devices under the Light’s direct control,” she told the light keepers, her voice calm and measured.
“Accepting that this is so, our greatest dangers in utilizing the main access hall will be from malfunctions caused by the breakdown of the physical systems, and from third party operatives, such as the guard ’bots, which are not part of the greater network, but which carry programming to protect the core.”
Jen Sin stirred.
“Tinsori Light is, as we know well, devious,” he said. “Lady Tocohl may be ascendant now, but there is no guarantee that she will remain so.”
Jen Sin had pulled Tocohl out of the access hall and taken her to the shielded workshop, where he had wisely not tried to rouse her or repair her. Also, his understanding of Tinsori Light’s nature and abilities was second only to Lorith’s.
“It is true,” Haz said, “that the chief threats to our mission come from within Tocohl. If she is strong enough to hold what she has taken without allowing herself to be compromised, then our success and survival is made more likely.
“If her strength fails, we are defeated. Tinsori Light, so Tocohl believes, will suicide in order to gain his own victory, and universes will die.”
She paused and looked to Tolly, who nodded, already feeling sharper.
“Yes,” said Haz, turning back to the light keepers.
“The success of our campaign depends upon Pilot Tocohl. She is both our weak point and our greatest strength. We should do what is required as quickly as possible, and bring defeat to our foe.”
The silence that followed this carried an edge of awe.
And truthfully, thought Tolly, what could you say in the face of that masterly analysis?
“I will come with you,” Jen Sin said, “to the intersection of the halls, and will hold myself as your backup.”
“Thank you,” said Tolly.
The light keeper moved his shoulders, his smile grim.
“How can I refuse any aid to those who would save the universe?”
“I will stay with Pilot Tocohl,” Lorith said, “to assist her if required and as possible. I will also stand guard in case danger does approach from without.”
“Right, then,” Tolly said, pushing his chair back and coming to his feet. He’d done some high-level exercises, which had restored some energy and focus, but he was by no means at his best.
Well, it’ll just have to be good enough, Tolly Jones, he told himself and smiled up at Haz.
“Let’s get this done, partner.”
II
The shadow was stark against the white ’crete wall. Despite the need for haste and the…lesser likelihood of a deadly attack, Tolly stopped and confronted it.
Inki’d died in mid-heroics; the shadow was of a woman with arms thrust out, one leg to the fore, knee bent, the other slightly behind and flexed. Good form; perfectly balanced; no holding back. There was no hint in the shadow as to whether her final desperate action had risen from her own will—the directors would have wanted Tocohl not much less than they’d wanted the Light—but he chose to believe that she’d made the choice freely, exercising for the last time her unique gift of confounding the directors’ will while doing precisely what they had set her to accomplish.
“She had a warrior’s heart,” Haz said from behind his left shoulder.
He cleared his throat.
“She died with honor,” he answered, which capped her line and was as true as anyone was ever likely to know.
“We will finish what she began,” Haz suggested.
He nodded…and didn’t add, “or die trying.”
* * *
The door to the control room was in sight when the access hall lights flickered and dimmed noticeably.
A section of the wall on Tolly’s right suddenly became a door, and a battle ’bot in antique armor staggered into the hallway like it’d been pushed.
He hesitated, and in that moment, Haz’s hand came hard and flat in the middle of his back, lofting him down the hall past the ’bot. He landed on his feet and spun.
Haz was facing the ’bot, gun out. It hesitated, adjusted position as if it was going to engage her—
And just folded up—neck, waist, hips, knees—and crashed to the floor. It emitted a faint wheezing sound, which stopped when Haz shot it, methodically, in the head and in the back. Smoke wafted gently out of the wounds.
Haz turned—and caught sight of him gawking like a tourist.
“Go!” she snarled. “I have your back!”
Of course she did.
He turned and sprinted for the door at the end of the hall, among a crazy flickering of light.
“Intruder alert!” a voice boomed like thunder, bouncing off the walls and floor, until he was running inside an envelope of sound. “Intruder! All systems!”
Tolly kept his head down and ran. The lights flashed, flared, went out—and fluttered to a grimy grey. He kept running, Haz pounding behind him, the air growing thicker and harder to breathe.
He hit the door and smacked his palm against the plate.
Nothing happened.
The thick air crackled, and he felt the hair rising straight up on his head. He scrubbed his palm down the front of his shirt and slapped the plate, flat and hard.
Nothing happened again, except that sparks started spitting in the heavy air.
This is it, Tolly Jones, he told himself, curling into the scant protection of the doorway. Tocohl lost control and the Light’s gonna kill you and Haz and every other little live thing in—
There was a thud as Haz landed next to him, coincidentally—or maybe not—slamming her shoulder against the door, which didn’t even say ouch.
The dancing sparks were more plentiful now and it was getting a little tricky to breathe. This was it, then. Something landed on his shoulder. He looked up into Haz’s face, which wasn’t stoic at all, but showing plain a mixture of love and grief. He leaned in, her big hand holding him tight against her, closed hi
s eyes, held his breath—
And fell sideways through the door.
Haz rolled with the fall, holding him close with one arm, taking the impact on the other. Lights came up around them. The air was cool and smelled of dust, carbon, and disuse.
He felt her move, muscles shifting—head up, that probably was, surveying the situation. He concentrated on taking nice deep breaths of nonburning air, ridiculously comfortable caged between big, warm woman and cold, ’crete floor.
“I will stand,” she breathed. “Stay down until I say that it’s clear.”
She released him gently and rose with scarcely a sound. Once she was upright, he rolled to his own feet and looked around at tier upon tier of Old Tech tile-and-rack systems. Most of them were dark, the tiles black, the frames twisted, which meant that the final flare-outs had been hot enough to melt tongstele.
At the side of his eye, he saw a glow and turned, tracking it to an entire tier still bright and working amidst the blight all around it.
“I did not,” Hazenthull said mildly, “say all-clear.”
“No, you didn’t,” he agreed. “Not much sense to waiting, though, was there? If you’d taken a bolt, the next shot would’ve had my name on it. Or, if I lived to crawl out the door, the ozone’d get me.”
“The charge has dissipated,” Hazenthull said.
He turned and stared out the still-open door, seeing nothing but clear air and bright lights.
He blew out a breath.
“Guess Tocohl had to handle a little bit of temper, right there at the end.”
“It is worrisome that she lost control, even for so short a time,” Haz said.
He didn’t mention that the time elapsed would have been much longer for Tocohl or, depending on how the Light had phrased its attack, that she could be wounded, the traps and walls she’d built breached, and only a matter of time before the Light was back in control and frying interlopers at will.
“It’s not an easy thing she’s undertaken,” he said instead. “Only place we can go is forward. So, let’s get me into the core bank fast.”