A Pattern of Details

by James Matt Cox

  Polov looked puzzled at that.

  "The original resin used in zrock came from Honloo," said Harkin, "The trees that produced it didn't produce much. The planet is mostly islands so there weren't many trees and the government there is more geared to high-price tourism than actual productivity. They deliberately choked down production to elevate the price."

  "Until zweed," said Lace, "The GeneTec plant spectrum cranked it out like water. As a bonus the plant fiber can be processed for hardener after the sap is extracted."

  "That is impressive," said Polov.

  "That's the basic pattern for most successful League companies," said Lace, "Simplicity and elegance. The follow-up team will have zweed cuttings and the resin extraction plant. Within one or two growing seasons all the zrock needed here will be produced here. Every planet has rocks, even Eauvert, so all that's needed is the resin."

  "Cryo," said Eisley, "That sounds like one of Dr. Langstrom's econ lectures."

  Lace chuckled and with that the mood in the room lightened. She, Morris and Eisley even managed two quick games of three-across.

  ***

  After a nice, long shower Morris sat in front of his terminal, waiting. Delroy didn't appear for dinner nor afterward and an overheard whisper between Lace and Jackson had them worried. Morris pinged Delroy's terminal. No response. After the second ping it went into privacy-lock. Morris pulled on a shirt and trousers.

  Delroy didn't respond when Morris beeped her door but he didn't expect it. She had it locked and somehow managed to disable the emergency override. Morris returned to his room for his override key. The basic level didn't work, impressive on her part, but the Tech advanced code opened the door.

  Squinting against the dim light Morris saw Delroy sitting in the room's only chair with her knees drawn up. She stared sightlessly at the privacy-lock still flashing on the terminal. Trying not to disturb her Morris sat on the bed and slowly turned up the lights. Her face still had no color and only the moist tracks down from her eyes separated her from a statue. She held a drugstick, unlit and mangled, and neither she nor anyone else had tended her lip.

  "Specialist, it's Morris."

  She squeezed her eyes tightly shut and a tear trickled down each cheek. He was at a total loss but dared not call Jackson. Not yet.

  "Talk to me, Specialist. How can I help you?"

  Morris cringed at how harsh the words sounded.

  "I'm going to seal your lip. I'm not leaving." The words sounded alien yet he felt them necessary.

  Delroy flinched away when he touched her. He gently turned her face toward him then cleaned and sealed the wound. Next he cleaned her face with a moist cloth. Her jaw trembled but still she refused to look at him.

  "Specialist... I don't know what to do now."

  "Why?" She barely whispered the word. "Why? It... wasn't... supposed... to happen..." She began to shake violently. "It... I can't. I can't! It's... I can't stop it!"

  "Specialist. Crystal! It's gone. The creature is gone!"

  "H-he's... He's d-d..." She drew a ragged breath.

  "He's fine, Crystal. Rackwell is alive and well. He was hurt but we got him to Jared in time. He is alive and he'll thank you for saving his life!"

  "N-n..." She shook her head and turned away from him.

  Morris gently turned her to face him again.

  "Rackwell is alive, Crystal. Jena and I are unhurt and so are you. We're safe! We're safe aboard the ship and you're in your cabin. Do you understand? Listen to me, burnit!!" Morris' last words shocked him but they worked.

  Her eyes snapped into focus and though she tried to look away she did meet his gaze.

  "We're all alive and well, Specialist."

  She gave him a shaky nod.

  "I'm going to call Jared now. He can help you."

  Again the shaky nod.

  Jackson examined his scanner critically and selected a hypo.

  "Traumatic shock, Doctor," said Jackson, "Understandable and treatable."

  Delroy didn't meet Jackson's eyes either but she didn't flinch when he administered the hypo.

  "That's a mild sedative, Specialist," he said in a soft even voice, "along with something to take the edge off strong emotions. It will help you sleep and you'll feel better in the morning."

  Jackson gently compelled her to her feet and guided her to her bunk. Morris stripped back the covers and stepped aside.

  "Thank you," said Delroy, almost inaudible.

  "You're quite welcome, Specialist," said Jackson, voice mild and nonabrasive, "If anything troubles you, call me."

  Jackson left the room.

  "T-technician..."

  She met his eyes for a bare instant, just on the verge of saying something. Then she looked down.

  "Th-thank you."

  "Would you like me to stay until the medicine takes hold?"

  A tiny nod. Morris scooted the chair over and sat beside her. Her arm lay atop the covers. Without thinking Morris took her hand and she squeezed his tightly. She took a deep breath and, though her grip remained tight, relaxed. Then, as the sedative started to work, her grasp relaxed and she drifted to sleep.

  Jackson stood outside her door with a concerned expression on his face.

  "Will she be all right?"

  "Yes. I gave her a strong sedative and the anti-stressors should keep her dreams tame. I'm curious as to how you got in. Did you cut the lock?"

  "No!" Morris showed his key. "Why?"

  "Because I tried the security and medical overrides and she disabled them. Did they work for you?"

  "I used a higher-priority override. One that not many people know exists."

  "Polar. I know nothing. I'm glad, though. I was ready to visit Mallory when you called." The big man heaved a big sigh. "The important thing is she's resting and ready to recover." He suddenly grinned. "It appears you have an expert touch with more than machines."

  ***

  Work proceeded lackadaisically the next day. A somber mood fell and Morris saw no way to dispel it. Polov worked at finishing the plotter but didn't. He consulted the manuals at least three times for each connection he made. Not that Morris could criticize; he accomplished little. He pulled the damaged thruster from the float and spent the entire morning cleaning it. He barely managed a start when Jackson beeped.

  "The zrock mixer's running a little rich. Nothing catastrophic but it's using more resin than it should."

  Morris jacked into the mixer and started a high-level diagnostic. The controls were set properly but the mixture was indeed rich. The sensors reported it, the computer acknowledged it, then nothing. A logic trace showed nothing amiss. Morris disabled the automatic control and installed a simple proportional differential feed that should hold until he found the real trouble.

  Harper wore a troubled look throughout lunch. She spoke little and gave distracted answers to questions directed at her. After a while even Lace gave up. Conversation around the table was hushed, almost furtive. After the others left for their tasks Morris made his way to her office. The door opened to his touch and he found her poring over star charts.

  "What's wrong, Ms. Harper?"

  "Ever to the heart of the problem, Morris. How quickly can you prepare the ship to launch?"

  "Twelve-hour emergency preflight. More quickly if you're willing to take some risks."

  Harper sighed. "Can you do so without the others noticing?"

  That gave Morris pause.

  "I can try. If our saboteur has half a brain cell, though, he or she will have a monitor hidden somewhere I won't find it. I sealed engineering with the purpose of keeping trespassers out, not data in."

  "Rut!" She rubbed her eyes. "Technician, we may not be alone here."

  "What?!"

  Harper called up an event log on her datapad. It belonged to one of the gensats and it reported an extraneous sensor ping at 0314 that morning.

  "It could be a simple anomaly," said Morris.

  "Keep going."

  Not lon
g afterward several other satellites reported unusual readings. Taken alone any one of them might represent nothing more than a random bit of debris or chunk of drifting metal that picked up a charge. Taken together, though, the likelihood of any of that dropped to zero.

  "I've been checking the charts. There's enough junk in this system to hide a fleet and we're not particularly well-armed."

  "Who..." Morris stopped.

  Any number of single-sector petty empires would love to own an Imperium site. More than a few aggressive ones lay within range to try and take it, too. That was not a comforting thought but Morris' next one was even less so.

  "The Consortium?"

  "Not the most likely but not the least either. They're not particularly close but they're rich enough to support the logistical chain. They would love to take a bite out of Halcyon, though, and if they could take a jab at the League and collect an Imperial site in the package then so much the better."

  "What about the beacon drone?"

  "I've fed it the logs and all our data up to now. I don't want to launch it, though. When it goes it may be the attack signal." She considered something, then handed Morris an override key. "This is the Command-6 key. All ship systems and crypto are here including what you need for the drone. Keep it safe."

  Morris secured the key in his harness with a sense of foreboding.

  "This isn't just a Survey mission, is it."

  Harper didn't answer directly.

  "What is your opinion on the number of incidents that have happened since we grounded here. Not necessarily major ones, and you can exclude what happened to Rack."

  "Accidents happen," started Morris. Then he stopped.

  Accidents did indeed happen. Nothing built by humans was proof against them but certain ones were more frequent than others. Morris thought hard on that. Since they landed, since before they landed they met with a series of the least-likely incidents imaginable. The fail-proof power coupling that failed. The damaged robot. The conduit feeder and autoplot that malfunctioned. The zrock plant running rich. The float engine that reported nothing until its hard-safeties triggered.

  "I'll find out what happened," said Morris, "I'll find the pattern."

  Harper nodded.

  "At least we know who our enemy is."

  A very unsettled Morris made his way to the hold. As he passed through the lounge he saw Delroy at her console working with datafeeds. He'd not have spoken but she broke the silence.

  "Technician."

  "Specialist." He regarded her carefully. "Are you feeling well?"

  "Yes," she almost-smiled.

  "Excellent. You did a good job yesterday."

  A cloud passed briefly across her face. After a moment it went away.

  "Thank you, Technician." Then, very softly, "For everything."

  ***

  Morris started the lowest-level diagnostic he could on the damaged robot. He attached sensors to every part more complex than a strut and attached a smartsystem-driven analyzer to their outputs. With nothing to do until it finished he headed outside to check on the progress.

  What Morris saw surprised him. Eisley, Harkin and Polov, released from repair duty until Morris finished the 'bot, worked at putting the finishing touches on pipes, channels and conduits at one end of the foundation. At the other end Garrett, Lace and Jackson poured zrock and worked to finish the surface. They would have the foundation finished by the end of the day and ready for prefabs tomorrow. True to Jackson's word, Garrett handled his exmap like a professional, including the built-in data systems.

  Someone placed the crates containing the site bioreactor close to the edge of the foundation. They would install it first so Morris opened the crates, removed the seals and began prepping it. Several minor breakdowns happened during the afternoon but nothing to rouse Morris' suspicion. By nightfall the campsite foundation was a large and wetly-shining rectangular pool of hardening zrock with multitudinous pipes, poles and connections protruding from it.

  "That," said Lace as she raised her glass, "is done! Do you believe it now, Greg?"

  Polov nodded around a mouthful of food. Dinner was quiet without Jackson but he said he'd be late and to start without him.

  "I wouldn't have believed it," said Eisley, "if I hadn't..." She looked suddenly at the doorway with a huge smile bursting across her face.

  "May we join you?"

  Rackwell spoke raspingly from the stretcher Jackson put in chair configuration. Raspingly, thought Morris, but strongly! With a loud and happy shout Lace and the Halcyon students swarmed him. Jackson tried to caution them against too much excitement but Rackwell visibly brightened at his reception.

  Jackson didn't allow Rackwell to stay long. They left with the big man's promise that they'd visit outside tomorrow, at least for a short trip. Rackwell spoke reassuringly to his students and offered profound gratitude to Morris, Lace and Delroy. He also apologized wholeheartedly for disregarding the protocol and Morris saw no reason to chide him for it. When Jackson returned from taking Rackwell back to sickbay a much happier group finished their meal.

  ***

  Everyone worked furiously the next day. Although Rackwell didn't make it to breakfast the cheer from the previous night remained. To Morris it felt as though a dark cloud lifted from them all, including himself. He finished the bioreactor well in time for it to go into the prefab designed for it and, for a small miracle, it worked perfectly from powerup. Morris had just finished prepping a set of water pumps when his 'comm beeped. The robot diagnostics finished. He and Jackson placed the pumps and Morris stayed to make sure they worked, which they did, then he went to check on the 'bot.

  Morris puzzled over the diagnostic results. According to the most delicate readings the AI-guided analyzer could make nothing had failed. From its smartsystem-meshed processors down to the most basic actuators the diagnostics reported no problem. Even the test on each individual processor in the smesh showed nothing. All systems showed perfect function with no reason for the 'bot to have failed.

  On a hunch Morris pulled the computer from the damaged float. He checked it for any physical damage and found none. He hooked the analyzer to it and started diagnostics again.

  Morris joined Rackwell on his visit outside. Even in the short time he'd spent in the hold the camp changed. Half a dozen prefabs now stood and light poles and fixtures popped up as quickly as Garrett could work his exmap. The others moved equipment and supplies into the appropriate buildings and in some cases stayed to set it up or configure it. They didn't bring a lot of furniture, of course, but that would come later. After seeing the care with which Lace de-crated equipment Morris suspected she'd improvise quite a bit of it. Amazed, Rackwell toured each structure with all the joy of a child with a new toy.

  "Incredible." Rackwell still had difficulty speaking but no one missed the genuine excitement in his voice.

  ***

  "One more day should do it," said Jackson as he polished off his dessert, "Still think we won't crack it, Greg?"

  "I'm convinced, sir," said Polov, "I admit I doubted but no more. I'm also learning, no blather. Even allowing for the differences in technology it should all transfer."

  "Patterns, Mr. Polov," said Morris, "Manage the pattern and you can increase the efficiency."

  Apart from that Morris spoke little during the meal. Those words started him thinking and he had plenty to contemplate: the diagnostics on the float computer showed nothing.

  Harper spoke even less than did Morris. She had a few words with Kody but no one else. She bore an obvious burden but Morris saw no way to inquire since he still worked to maintain the schism between them.

  ***

  Morris sat bolt upright, shaking off the waves of cold revelation. The vestiges of fitful dreams remained with him, teasing him with their presence while denying him their content. All save the last; though the details escaped him he still recalled the overall shape of it. He knew why the 'bot exploded and the float crashed.

 
Hoping he was wrong he disconnected his terminal and datapad from the ship's net, meshed them and powered them up. As he expected they both responded slowly. He froze the mesh into monitor-check mode. Acting at a very low level, mem-freeze would act before any software could effect changes and would not allow lockout or interruption from it.

  Even the datapad had a daunting amount of memory to search but Morris knew, within broad tolerances, what to seek. He managed to isolate and clear large chunks of memory that contained only random data. Then he found the datacaches from the 'bot and the float's computer. He carefully dumped the diagnostics he ran later and that left him with only the one he slirped from the float's computer.

  That datacache was ten times the size it should be. Not enough for what he suspected but that didn't make him wrong. He carefully isolated the data and unmeshed the 'pad from his terminal. Simple pattern heuristics showed nothing but when Morris ran a recursive stochastic metric, success! The datacache represented an egg; an egg Morris himself unwittingly spread.

  A quick check showed Morris' terminal insufficient for what he wanted, even if meshed with the datapad and that didn't leave many options. He didn't want to use the ship's 'net, a chill ran down his spine at that thought, but he did have one system to try.

  Morris carefully adjusted the datacore from the float. It hatched the egg once, it would do so again. He configured it to appear smarter by using the smesh and some extra memory from the 'bot. He also connected an analyzer set to invisible monitor. He jacked his datapad into the float computer and sat back to watch.

  The smaller computer queried the float's for hooks, protocols and ports. Data, fraudulent, flowed into the datapad as the two machines determined how best to communicate. Then anomaly struck! The datacache containing the egg showed activity. It couldn't do much in the tight area containing it but it could hatch! Morris watched as it started to decompress itself into the float's memory. Once it settled it began recursively decompressing other modules and before long it had insinuated itself into every part of Morris' ersatz smartsystem.

  To call the thing a virus would be inaccurate. While inconvenient, ordinary viruses posed very little threat to modern systems. Occasionally a burner managed to slip one past a 'net's defenses but AIs and smartsystems soon exterminated them.