Nucleation

by Kimberly Unger

  Her elation had lasted for a half-second when the Scale “talked” to her. Helen had felt, finally, like she had a line on a reason for Ted’s death. Then it had all gone pear-shaped, along with her mood.

  “Ivester, did you get any of that?” she asked as soon as the lid was clear. Ivester had remembered to shunt her through the buffer this time, so her body was her own again in record time. Helen sat up in the coffin, head still ringing with the sound and fury of the eenie attack.

  “Do you ever wake up not angry?” Ivester asked from his spot by the console.

  “Not anymore,” Helen snapped. “Ivester, these things know we’re here.” She was still trying to get her head around what the Scale had said.

  “Wait, where did you get that idea?”

  “It recognized me. It fucking talked to me.”

  Ivester and Dougal exchanged glances. Helen put a lid on her frustration and took a breath before re-asking her question.

  “Did. You. Get. Anything?” she spelled out deliberately.

  “Yes. We got everything. And you’re right, those are not our eenies. In fact . . .” His grin was one of vindication. “I think we can safely say the Scale are not from around here at all.”

  “What do you mean, it talked to you?” Dougal fixed on the more immediate point.

  “It talked. In English. Like, actual words. Not code or images or any of the other things I’ve been getting so far. It told me what they’re called. It gave me their name,” Helen elaborated carefully.

  “These things are not intelligent,” Ivester pointed out. “From everything we’re seeing in the commands, it’s all pre-programmed, that’s why James has been so quick on the draw. These things are fancy robot-ants, just like our own eenies. Why would it have a name?”

  “I was talking out loud, looking for something to use to keep my data collection simple. The Scale, the singular one I was entangled with, not the big mass of Scale as a whole, responded with a name.” Helen swung her legs over the lip of the coffin, dropping to the floor in one smooth motion. “How the hell do you pre-program something like that? They’d have to know we, not just our eenies, but WE are on the controlling end of things . . .”

  Oh shit.

  “Beauchamp.” Helen breathed her rival’s name as the puzzle pieces clicked into place.

  “What about her?” Dougal asked, puzzled. Ivester was a little quicker on the draw; Helen could see the moment the realization hit home.

  “They know we’re out here because Beauchamp already encountered them on the BrightWinds mission out at Myrian,” Helen said. She headed for the office cube in the farthest corner of the lab to change out of her supersuit, mind racing.

  “Why would she keep something like this a secret? That’s insane,” Ivester called after her.

  “She also just might not have known. I mean, we didn’t really know ourselves until they incorporated that communications particle, right?” Dougal defended the absent OP, but Helen wasn’t listening.

  She closed the office door behind her and leaned against it for a second, collecting her thoughts.

  She knew exactly why Beauchamp wouldn’t have mentioned it to anyone. The repeated insinuations that Helen had snapped or was on the way to snapping had been a constant soul-sucking irritant. No OP would put themselves in that constant state of defense willingly.

  Even this vindication did nothing to erase the marks of those tiny slings and arrows. As much as she might have given Beauchamp the benefit of the doubt on the outside, on the inside a darker sort of blame was starting to coalesce.

  Focus forward, she told herself, drawing her attention away from the bitterness that lay in wait if she slowed down even a little. The stunning image of those brightly colored, urchin-like Scale floating into the air was one that would stick with her. It didn’t make Ted or Keller’s death worthwhile, but it gave her something to hold up to the light.

  Helen stripped quickly, scraping the connective gel off her skin with her hands and toweling off the residue. The blue puddles on the floor shimmered under the lights as the cleanup eenies emerged from the foam mats on the floor to do their job. Ivester had dumped the eenies out of one Far Reaches trashcan on the floor and reprogrammed them to . . . take . . . care . . .

  Helen yanked a sweatshirt on over her head and continued staring, mesmerized as the gel puddle was rolled over by a wave of iridescent grey eenies that consumed it all, then vanished back into the matting underfoot. Just as they had rolled over and subsumed the Scale out at the Golfball.

  “IVESTER!” She yanked on pants, ignoring the way the legs and arms stuck awkwardly against her still-damp skin, and shoved the office door open. The engineer was in some sort of deep conversation with the analyst when Helen emerged, mind alight with her new revelation. “The Scale and our eenies. They do similar things, they take similar actions. They understand each other.”

  “On first observation, that seems to be the case.” Ivester frowned. “But I caution against jumping to conclusions just yet.”

  “Of course you do, but is it possible that the Scale targeted our NAV Feed because they know the NAV is the one who passes commands to the eenies?” Helen continued. Ted’s last act had been to pass instructions to the eenies building the Golfball.

  “It’s not unreasonable, but again, such a response should have to be pre-programmed,” Ivester responded. “It does beg the question as to how they might know which of the quantum entanglement Feeds to target.”

  “Beauchamp. Her AI NAV shut down the mining operation on Myrian because of catastrophic failures that we couldn’t find when we got out there. What do you want to bet they ran into the same sound in the Feed that Ted and Mira did? That’s where they figured out our weakness: they broke the BrightWinds AI NAV first.”

  “We’ve only just scratched the surface here,” Dougal said. He clasped his hands behind his back and paced. “We don’t know if these are a naturally occurring life form. We don’t know if they’re some kind of exploratory force, but wild speculation is going to send us off in the wrong direction. We need proof.”

  “I don’t think it matters,” Ivester pointed out. “We’re on a clock. The jumpgate is going to be completed in a month, maybe less. Even if they are friendly critters bringing sunshine and champagne, we can’t let them through.” He cast an apologetic glance at Helen. “The entanglement Feed’s sending gibberish again. I think it’s safe to say your upgraded Scale has been eaten. How do you feel about trying again if we get a clear signal back?”

  “I’m game,” Helen replied.

  “All right. Dougal and I will keep working on the information you passed back to us. I’ll need to bring this to the board’s attention. They’re not going to be happy Far Reaches is holding the bag on this one. In the meantime, I have an awkward favor to ask,” Ivester said.

  Oh no.

  “You want me to go talk to Beauchamp.” Helen gritted her teeth reflexively. It was an obvious next step. If Beauchamp knew about the Scale, they needed to know whatever they could get out of her. “Are you fucking kidding me? If she’s directly involved, I’ve got a list of things as long as my arm she needs to answer for, starting with Ted’s death.”

  “Even if all she can do is tell us what happened out on Myrian23A5, every little bit of information will help me make our case to keep the gate closed,” Ivester said. He caught Helen’s gaze, grey eyes bright with intent. “If she is responsible for Theodore’s death, and for the assault on you, we will make sure she is held to account for it, but for now we need information.”

  “You can send someone else.”

  “Look, we know you have a history, but it’s not like she’s violent,” Dougal said, missing the point.

  “I might be,” Helen ground out.

  Dougal and Ivester looked at each other nervously. The idea that Helen might be inclined to act out hadn’t occurred
to either of them.

  Dougal implored. “Look, she’s an OP, she may have been in communication with the Scale. If anyone can make a connection with her, you can. Please try.”

  “Set it up at Wade’s.” Helen’s warring desire to confront her rival won out over common sense. “It’s public, the place is always crawling with OPs and NAVs from every firm in town.”

  Helen closed her eyes, counted to five.

  Save the planet first. Revenge later.

  “I’ll see what I can get out of her. She owes me that much at least.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Wade’s was a breath of fresh air after the long hours in the Recovr team’s lab in the sub-sub-basement. When not being rented out for a corporate function, Wade’s was a favorite hangout for OPs and NAVs from all five competing firms. Walls flickered into and out of existence as diners engaged or dismissed privacy screens depending on their mood.

  Helen arrived early and tipped Titus for a table near the center of the space. Anyone wanting to listen in would be blocked by the conversations of the crowd of patrons around her. While people and cameras would be able to confirm they met, Wade’s unique layout meant that the actual content of their meeting would be hard to come by.

  Outside the glassine shields that reflected the worst of the solar radiation, Helen could see an afternoon sky painted with blues and pinks as the sun started its downward slide towards evening.

  “Ms. Vectorovich! Glad to see you back!” Titus circled around and greeted Helen as if he hadn’t just pocketed a hefty tip for seating her. With Wade’s serving as the de facto hub for OP and NAV after-hours mingling, Titus knew every OP and NAV in the city by name. Helen looked up from the tasting menu into artificial blue eyes that delivered sincerity on demand.

  “Hi, Tee. The usual please.” Helen folded up the menu and set it aside. She was agitated and by no means hungry, but ordering was another box on the checklist of old habits she could use to stay focused. She had no idea what she was going to say to Beauchamp or how she was going to convince the other OP to reveal what she knew. Ted would know. Helen was coming to realize that those gaps were entirely of her own making. Ted had a gift for people, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t manage without him.

  “Of course. Are you here on business or pleasure?”

  “Business. Meeting up with Catherine Beauchamp, of all people.” Helen allowed herself a tight smile. Presuming she shows.

  “That’s bold. Well, if you’ve come to bury the hatchet, please remember there’s a surcharge for bleeding on the table linens,” Titus pointed out with an arch smile.

  “I’m here to make a peace offering. No bleeding required, I hope,” Helen elaborated carefully. It stung going through those careful social motions without Ted, but she would manage. The side effect of Titus knowing everyone was that Titus talked to everyone. She recognized a few faces, so the meeting would hit the rumor mill within an hour. By getting Titus’ ear early, Helen would be remembered in Flight Ops gossip as the party taking the high ground.

  Goddamn, people are a lot of work.

  “I’ll keep the bandages ready,” Titus called over his shoulder as he went to fetch her order.

  Helen grinned despite herself. Wade’s collected a lot of after-hours personnel in various stages of work-related disrepair, with all the hazards that went along with mixing frustrated humans with recreational substances.

  She turned her attention back to scanning the entrances. Helen didn’t believe that Beauchamp was directly responsible for the poison in her coffin. Actual physical action wasn’t the other OP’s style. Even at Ted’s wake, Cat had a proxy, someone or someones who took the actual action while she stood by and observed. Did she mastermind it? Convince one of the overworked techs to change the mix? As much as Helen might like to take Beauchamp to task for, well, everything, she would have to leave that to the Metro police. Helen’s task right now had to be figuring out what Beauchamp knew about the Scale.

  You can always kick her ass after you save the planet, right?

  Dougal and Ivester had roped in two more members of Analysis to break down the information that Helen had been able to retrieve. Until the Feed out to the Golfball was clear again, Helen was free to work towards tying up the rest of the loose ends.

  And here comes the biggest loose end now.

  Catherine Beauchamp paused when she stepped in through the restaurant’s door, scanning the room. She’d changed her look, gone sleeker and more streamlined. The other OP’s signature aqua poof had been slicked back into a tight bun at the nape of her neck and her wardrobe had gone just a bit more tailored. She caught sight of Helen and appraised her for a long moment before approaching.

  “Helen, sweetie. I wasn’t sure you were serious about meeting.” She took a seat without shaking Helen’s offered hand. “It is still Operator, right?”

  “Until the day I die,” Helen said with perfect seriousness.

  Beauchamp smiled, the pulling back your lips without any real humor kind of smile. It was oddly automatic. She raised a finger to call Titus over. “I heard about Keller. That’s horrible news.”

  Helen managed to keep the frown off her face. Something was off in Beauchamp’s responses. The bad attitude was there, but the usual malice behind it was missing somehow, like she was just moving through the motions. It was unsettling.

  “I’m sure you’re curious as to why I wanted to meet with you, all things considered,” Helen said. Titus appeared with Helen’s order and Beauchamp’s usual, stalling her opponent’s response. Neither woman wanted to be overheard.

  “Curious is the word. With all the trouble going on over at Far Reaches, I figured you’d have been fired by now.” Beauchamp raised an eyebrow. “Looking for a reference letter? I don’t suppose being batshit crazy is going to look good on a résumé.”

  Helen took a sip of her drink to cover her irritation. “No, I’ve got that part covered.” She changed tack before Beauchamp’s gloat got a good head of steam on it. “I’m here to talk to you about Myrian23A5.”

  Beauchamp stopped, glass halfway to her lips. Helen caught a flicker of fear behind her eyes before she set the glass back down and arched an eyebrow. “I’ve run more than a few missions for Far Reaches, Helen. I don’t recall that one in particular.”

  “I’m surprised, but learning from your failures was never your thing. It was from your time back at BrightWinds. An asteroid mining facility and an artificial intelligence NAV gone a bit wonky?” Gotcha.

  Catherine’s expression darkened, eyebrows drawn into a straight line.

  I know what you’re afraid of; now let’s find out why.

  “I’m sure anything done under BrightWinds purview has stayed under BrightWinds purview. And is none of your business,” Beauchamp said coldly.

  “Normally that would be the case,” Helen said. “But Far Reaches picked up half of BrightWinds assets out of bankruptcy and Beyond Blue picked up the other half. We found something out there. What I want to know is if you sicced it on the Golfball intentionally.”

  “If you have all the records, then you know as much as I do. Myrian23A5 was a mess when I got there. The AI NAV declared it a total loss and it was scrapped, end of story.”

  “And yet I found a perfectly functioning mining waldo and a whole lot of dust.”

  Beauchamp’s lip twisted. “You were on about dust before, after you screwed up the Golfball launch. I think you’re seeing things.”

  “Did they talk to you, Cat?” Helen pushed her line of questioning forward. It didn’t matter if Beauchamp thought she was crazy. What mattered was that she get Cat to drop her guard, to let something loose. If nothing else, Catherine Beauchamp had a temper; maybe she’d get mad enough to slip. “Did you talk back to them? They knew they could target the NAV array, that it was a weak point. That’s why they went after Ted, he was the NAV. Did you tell them
to target him, Cat?” Helen pressed.

  “Dr. Hofstaeder needs to redo your psych eval,” Beauchamp sneered. “I warned her of the long-term effects of that feedback. Not my fault if she didn’t listen.”

  Snippy? Yes. Insulting? Check. But despite all of their differences, this was a different OP than the one she was used to seeing at Far Reaches Flight Ops. Better controlled, tighter lipped. More afraid.

  “You knew about the feedback.” Helen caught the thread the other OP had left dangling, tugged at it. “When we opened up the Golfball and that sound came through the Feed, you knew exactly what it was because the same sound took out your AI NAV. And you didn’t raise a finger.”

  Not exactly fair, Beauchamp hadn’t been on the Golfball team at that point, but Helen was pushing buttons now, looking to play on any latent guilt that might have been keeping the other OP up at night.

  “I didn’t know anything. The NAV called it, I dumped out, end of story. Everything else, everything that came after, is on you.” Beauchamp broke cover and leaned forward, more than a touch of menace in her expression. “It’s Ted’s own fault he decided to stick with you as his OP. If I’d been there, I could have saved him.”

  The tacit admission hit home. Beauchamp had been trying to play a long game, and when Ted failed to do as he was told, she’d written him off. Helen rolled over the flash of anger and pressed harder. “And now Beyond Blue’s involved. Did BrightWinds run into them more than once, Cat, or were you the only OP to find the iLlumina?” Helen deliberately wrapped her tongue around the name the Scale had given her. The look of shock and surprise on Beauchamp’s face was priceless.

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Cat picked up her cup again. Helen could see her fingers trembling with the movement. The mean girl façade came down for a minute, just long enough for Helen to catch a fresh look of fear and resolve in Beauchamp’s eyes.