“They are nothing to be trifled with. They get into your head and you can’t shake them loose.”
“Cat, the BrightWinds mission was a year ago. They can’t still be talking to you.”
Beauchamp gave Helen a thin, fatalistic smile. “Like I said, you don’t have any idea what you’re up against. And as far as anyone’s concerned, you’re just another OP who cracked under the pressure. And once Beyond Blue secures the Golfball assets, it’s not going to matter anymore.”
“So you’re the one directing the Scale?” Helen latched on. “You made them some kind of deal out there at Myrian and it got Ted killed. So what now, you let them through the gate, walk them right back here?” Helen wasn’t sure how deep Beyond Blue was in, but she had some confirmation now. Beauchamp was working to bring the Scale to the gate.
Beauchamp cocked her head as if listening to the wind, then knocked back the rest of her drink and set the cup on the table.
“Ted made his choice. If he’d requested me as his OP for that mission, none of this would matter. Instead he stuck with you,” she sneered. “Now you’re about to be shut out and what, you think I’m going to tell you anything?”
“You have to know we can’t open that gate,” Helen implored. “It doesn’t matter if the Scale are good guys or bad guys, we can’t let an unknown organism into our biosystem.”
“The gate has filters for just this kind of eventuality,” Beauchamp replied. “We can keep the iLlumina under control.”
“The filters are for something simple, like a homegrown virus. They’re not going to be able to handle something that plans ahead,” Helen said.
Beauchamp gave her a thin smile. “I’d suggest you take the next job offer that comes up and get out, but I’d much rather see you go down with the ship.” She stood up in one smooth motion and left the table without another word.
Goddammit.
Helen stared after the other OP, fists clenched. She had her confirmation, if not actual evidence. Beauchamp had met the Scale out at Myrian, maybe even directed them at the Golfball. Beyond Blue knew perfectly well what was going on out there. If they managed to keep control of the Scale, they’d be able to take control of the jumpgate. It wouldn’t matter if Line Drive went forward: all those resources, all that power, would be held hostage.
“Well, that went poorly,” Titus said as he refreshed her glass. “This one’s on the house.”
Helen’s smile was a wooden and automatic as Beauchamp’s had been.
“Thanks, Titus. The Far Reaches vending machines leave a lot to be desired.”
“Sorry you’re left holding the olive branch. That one’s been pissing off people left and right lately.” He nodded in the direction of Beauchamp’s exit.
“Oh?”
He shrugged. “You’re not the only person I’ve seen meet up with her over the past couple of weeks, and every one ended with an argument. Rita from BrightWinds, Migos from Animus, even an analyst from Far Reaches, and they don’t usually hang out after work with the OPs. In fact, your boss Keller was in here with her the night he got murdered. Horrible stuff.” Titus shook his head and moved off to tend to another customer.
Helen stared after him in shock for a long moment. The revelation that Beauchamp had met up with Keller before his murder rang in her head like a bell. She clenched and unclenched one fist at the realization that, even if Beauchamp wasn’t the one pulling the strings, she was almost certainly calling targets for whoever was.
Bitch.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
“So they do have a plan. This isn’t some aggressive life form we can hold back with an interstellar bug spray,” Helen said a little too loudly. The three new people working with James on the touchscreen wall glanced up, one with a smile. Ivester waved a hand at them and they resumed their work. Dougal closed the office door to keep the rest of their conversation private.
Too damn many people.
It felt like there were interlopers in her secret clubhouse. Helen’d taken her time returning, walking through the well-lit areas of downtown on her way back to the Far Reaches campus, burning off the terrified rush from her success at getting confirmation from Beauchamp. Some self-destructive part of her tempted fate, daring Beauchamp or her cohorts to come after her so she’d have a chance to take all her frustrations out on some unsuspecting thug-for-hire. So she’d have a clean, easy way to tie someone, anyone, to the deaths of her friends, rather than this double-handful of theory and half-spoken fact. Some part of her enjoyed the distraction, being a part of the flow again after so many weeks in Far Reaches’ basement. The rest of her was mulling over the conversation with Beauchamp, picking it apart in her head.
It had taken her a few blocks of angry footsteps to puzzle it out. The missing entanglement particles from the Myrian23A5 mission were the key. Far Reaches had bought the salvage rights and hired all the OPs. Beyond Blue had acquired the AIs and with them the NAV half of the communication sets. That meant that Beauchamp was using the Beyond Blue particles to talk to the Scale. It also meant that when Keller tried to get access to those assets, he tipped them to what Recovr was up to.
“Well, you were right, this sure sounds like a battle plan,” Dougal said, drawing Helen back to the here and now. The three conspirators had retired to Ivester’s office to review what James had been able to piece together for them. Ivester’s casual relationship with chairs meant he was seated on the desk. Helen had picked the chair farthest from the door, with her back to the corner. The meeting with Beauchamp, as insightful as it was, still had her on edge.
“James was able to put all that together?” she asked.
“James and the analysts Dougal pulled in from upstairs. It wasn’t easy, but a program is a program is a program and James can throw a lot of processing cycles at another program,” Ivester interjected. “Having your coffin hooked into a Scale meant we were able to match program commands to very specific responses. Even if you or I couldn’t catch them, James made short work of it.”
“The plan, at least as this—” Ivester waggled his fingers, searching for a word, “—cluster of Scale knows, is to first reclaim the Golfball as raw materials. Once that’s completed, they’ll move to building out a transport they can control.”
Dougal picked up the thread. “It’s a form of compartmentalization, very like what we use for our eenies. No cluster is going to know the big picture, they just have their instructions and get a new set when the job’s done.”
“So the Scale aren’t out at the star yet?” Helen asked, surprised. In the back of her mind, the idea that all of deep space was already inhabited by the Scale had begun to take hold.
“We chose Otlyan23 because it’s an orphan. No planets, no real interaction with its neighbors, just a spinning ring of asteroids and stellar gas around it that we can mine for materials. I think it’s clear that the Scale are trying to find a way to get there and they’re piggybacking on our tech to do it.”
“If this is true, why didn’t they just jump straight there with the micro-gate from Myrian? Why bother with the Golfball at all?” Dougal asked.
“That’s easy enough to answer. Power.” Ivester called up a map of Otlyan23’s local neighborhood, setting the small white star spinning in the space between them. A bright blue line traced the path from where the Golfball lay, at the outer edge of Otlyan’s gravity well, to the orbital position of the planned gate. The path of the payload that Helen had launched over a month before was outlined in pale green and came to a neat stop at the same moment in space. He pulled their point of view farther out to show the Myrian asteroid in frame.
“That’s the payload’s path into Otlyan’s orbit. On the way, it’s been collecting material and building an army of our own eenies so that it can build us a great big star-powered gate. When the Golfball gets there, the particles get incorporated and voila, we have our key. Now, Otlyan’s too fa
r out for the Myrian gate to reach it, but when the Golfball caught a loop around this moon here for a boost, it passed just within reach.”
Myrian lit up, showing a translucent sphere that showed the limits of that asteroid’s micro-gate. One of the loops for the Golfball’s long trajectory just passed within the furthest edge.
“Beauchamp said that Beyond Blue wants to control the gate. Have they made an offer to Far Reaches to acquire any of the Line Drive assets?” Helen asked. She reached out a finger and spun the little glowing ball on its axis.
“Not that I’ve heard, but since the board retired me, it’s been a little harder to keep track.” Ivester frowned. “I’ll see what I can find out. There are other interested parties involved, so there’s no guarantee Beyond Blue’s offer would be accepted. But that far out in space, possession is pretty much law. If they make it out there and seize the asset, a court has no way to really stop them. We’d have to go get it back ourselves.”
“Do we know anybody else inside Beyond Blue who could get us a copy of their internal timeline?” Dougal asked. “If they’ve already got an object in orbit, then this might all be moot.”
“The announcement was a cover for them taking Otlyan over from our Golfball. They don’t have anything of their own even close. If we can keep the Golfball from making its rendezvous, the gate will be safe,” Helen replied, thinking back to Beauchamp’s reactions during their conversation. “Beauchamp will warn their team that we are on the offensive, if Keller didn’t tip them to it already.”
The idea that Keller had been killed for asking too many questions about Beyond Blue’s side of the Myrian assets didn’t sit well with Helen. It just added to the sense of dread that was getting harder to ignore, day by day.
“The Golfball contains the particles we need to control the jumpgate when it comes online. If we send it off course or destroy it, then it’s all been for nothing.” Dougal got to his feet and started pacing. “So let’s tackle the problem we can tackle right now. How do to stop the Scale from taking over the Golfball?”
The analyst caught Ivester’s virtual Golfball between his fingertips and expanded it. Windows opened up, displaying information gleaned from all their attempts to connect.
Under his quick-moving fingers, the Golfball came apart. Helen could see holes within the delicate structure, indicating elements that had gone missing: some because the Scale had eaten them away, some because the eenies had been interrupted.
“Hold on a moment.” Helen took a closer look. The timeline of events showed holes opening and closing within the structure, like little mouths gasping for breath. “There are repairs being made.”
Ivester and Dougal both crowded in to get a better look until Helen zoomed in on the simulated image. “The Scale are eating the Golfball, but it looks like it’s being restored almost as quickly as it’s being destroyed.” She scrubbed back and forth along the timeline, showing the Golfball in various states in sequence.
“You think our eenies are still following their programming?”
“Why wouldn’t they be? It fits with what I saw when I was out there,” Helen said.
“If our eenies are out there and capable of receiving new instructions,” Dougal pointed out. “Maybe we can actively turn them on the Scale, not just chewing them up as if they’re space dust, but treat them like an overrun.”
“We can’t get back out there until the signal clears,” Ivester replied. “The coffin can’t connect without a waldo and the Scale seem to be onto the fact that we can piggyback onto them.”
“What about the NAV’s signal?” Helen asked. “We’ve only been working with the OP signal. What if we can hook my coffin up to the NAV computer?”
Ivester and Dougal exchanged glances. “There’s a five-minute time limit on the NAV signal, remember? Now that the Scale know we are here, that limit might be much shorter.”
“I think it’s worth at least a peek to see if we have a second avenue of communication,” Helen replied. “Beauchamp must have told them we’re avoiding that channel, so they won’t be looking too closely,” she continued in earnest. “And the NAV channel can reprogram our eenies. My OP channel doesn’t have that capability.”
“Our eenies aren’t built for battle, they’re for construction. They have a very specific set of commands we can work with,” Dougal said.
“Did you see the video I was passing back? They have already adapted. The Scale aren’t even ahead of them. It’s an impasse. There’s got to be a way to give our eenies bigger teeth.”
The waves of iridescent silver eenies were still fresh in Helen’s mind.
“She’s right. As far as the eenies are concerned, the Scale are just material to be recycled. The Scale probably feel the same way about the eenies.” Ivester grinned, struck by the outrageousness of the idea. “What we’ve got is two competing armies of builders. The eenies are attempting to build Golfball Phase II and the Scale are trying to build whatever the hell it is they are trying to build.”
“They’re evenly matched.” Dougal took a deep breath, eyes alight with the idea. “So there’s a possibility the problem’s already been solved,” he continued. “If they are really at an impasse, the Scale can’t build what they need to take over at Otlyan. We could just leave everything alone.”
No. No. No. After all the work they’d done to push forward, sitting back and hoping for the best was the worst idea Helen had heard. Before she could interject, Ivester brought up reality.
“That’s not going to last.” He scrubbed the sequential images of the Golfball back and forth, eying the changes in the shifting gaps in its frame. “A ‘perfect balance’ between these two armies will tip, sooner or later, and there’s no guarantee it will be in our favor. If the Scale tactics change at all, I don’t know how flexible the programming on our eenies will be.” He called up the specs for the nano-machines designed for the Golfball. “But I think we need to figure it out pretty quickly.”
He turned to Helen. “We’ll get the coffin set up to entangle with the NAV computer, but I want your word that you’ll drop out at the four-minute mark. We can use that link to give the eenies programming that will target the Scale.”
“How do you build a battle plan to fight an army that just rebuilds itself?” Dougal asked.
“You call in a specialist,” Ivester said. “Fortunately, a ‘Grey Goo’ scenario was postulated more than a hundred years before we even developed this technology. Dealing with runaway eenies is something Far Reaches already has experience with. We can adapt those protocols to fit our current situation.”
Of course, there’s also Beyond Blue to deal with. Helen glanced over at Ivester and Dougal, already digging into Far Reaches’ eenie emergency plans, thick as thieves. She felt a quick jab of loneliness. First Ted, then Keller. She felt the loss of both compatriots, but never so much as when she was spinning her wheels waiting for the plotters and planners to finish so she could get back in the coffin.
Dougal’s right. Tackle what’s in front of our face first. Fix the Golfball, save the world.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
The coffin lid slid closed, blocking out the sounds of the Recovr lab. Helen took a deep breath and settled herself more comfortably against the thick gel padding. On the surface, entanglement was entanglement and the only difference between a NAV and an OP was the depth.
An OP was fully entangled, with the joints and drives on any given waldo mapped to respond to the electrical impulses that drove a living human body. NAVs were much more removed. Their job was to operate the larger hardware. Open the doors, run the software checks, reprogram the eenies, all things that could be done from an integrated console. Much like a radio in your hand or a radio built into a car were the same technology, the quantum entanglement part of the system worked the same in both cases. It was the user interface that carried the differences.
So Helen ha
d no real idea what to expect when she entangled with the NAV particle out at the Golfball.
She took a deep breath as she lost control of her fingers, her arms, resisting the urge to flex those muscles one last time. What lay on the other side was an unknown—even Ivester could only offer her generalities. If NAV communications at the Golfball were still intact, she’d be constrained, limited to usual NAV operations. She’d be unable to act as a physical body, but able to interface with the computer and reprogram the eenies. If NAV communications had already been consumed by either the Scale or the eenies, then she’d have to adapt on the fly again. All she knew at the moment was that the connection was still open.
“Ready, Operator Vectorovich?” Ivester’s voice was the only one on the line. NAV didn’t have an emergency channel, so she’d be cut off entirely once she entangled. Ivester had considered aborting the mission when faced with that fact. Helen had talked him into it only by allowing them to program in a kill switch. At four minutes, she’d be disentangled, no matter the circumstances.
“Fire it up,” Helen replied. Her vision blurred to black as the entanglement sequence began.
“See you in four minutes.” Ivester’s admonishment rang in her ears, the last communication she would have.
Keep it short. Keep it simple. Just a test mission to see if the NAV line is still usable, Helen reminded herself as her vision cleared and she found herself inside the Golfball’s NAV array. Oh wow.
Helen had been expecting a tightly constrained environment, the virtual version of wearing a straitjacket. The NAV computer was an unexpected, completely chaotic joy. Helen stretched and flexed experimentally, but her physical actions went nowhere. It was akin to floating in a large bathtub full of body-temperature water.
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