“What are you suggesting?”
Winger’s lips were set in a tight, determined line. “I’d rather try to bust out of here, even if we die in the process, than sit here and suffocate to death. I want to try the treads again…maybe we can ram ourselves a little higher, closer to the surface.”
“The void we’re in will collapse. The whole fault may give way, Wings. It would be suicide.”
Johnny Winger slammed a hand against the bulkhead. Dust swirled in sheets from the impact of his fist. “I’d rather go that way than be stuck here trapped like rats.”
Their eyes met for a moment. Tallant nodded slowly. “I guess you’re right.”
“I’ve been thinking about ANAD. Something must have happened. I can’t raise him at all but I don’t think he would leave us here.”
“Maybe we should give him a little longer.”
“We don’t have much longer.”
“I know, but ANAD’s a trooper too. He wouldn’t leave his buddies behind. He’ll be back.”
It was the foundation creed of a Quantum Corps trooper and they both knew how badly ANAD wanted to be just like the other nogs.
“Two hours…that’s it,” Winger decided. “No ANAD by then…we’re busting out of here. Even if we die in the attempt.” He scrambled aft through the hatch heading toward E deck, just to be doing something, anything. “I’m going to check out the tread controller one more time.”
Dana Tallant’s eyes were growing heavy again and she sank to the floor of the command deck. Me too, she thought, but just let me rest here for a moment—
“It is ANAD,” Doc Frost decided, studying the acoustic returns from BioShield. “I’d recognize that structure anywhere. ANAD, Version 3.0, to be exact…replicating like a madman. We’ve got to get that contained right away and bring the little guy in from the cold.”
Spivey stood behind Frost, along with Murchison and several others. The alert center was crowded and stuffy.
“Doc, how can ANAD replicate Big Bang like that without some kind of command? Doesn’t the master processor have inhibits to prevent that sort of thing?”
Before Frost could answer, the coupler link in the back of his head chimed in and he knew immediately there was a message coming in, a quantum message.
***…is ANAD calling on any channel…Q1, Q1…emergency code…ANAD requesting all possible assistance…troopers are down and need assistance…ANAD transmitting on any channel--***
Doc Frost linked in. Spivey, Murchison and the rest looked on in bewilderment as Frost seemed to be talking to himself.
“ANAD, this is Doctor Frost…what’s the nature of the emergency? Why are you replicating Big Bang in violation of BioShield ordinances?”
***Doctor Frost, is that you? It’s good to hear your voice again. Troopers Winger and Tallant are trapped below ground…here are the coordinates--***
ANAD rattled off the latitude and longitude of Gopher’s location.
***ANAD requesting assistance to extract troopers. Situation is critical…geoplane hull breached in many places…treads not operable…oxygen low…troopers in danger of termination***
Doc Frost was furiously scribbling notes even as his own coupler received ANAD’s report. He showed his notes to Spivey. The duty officer’s eyes grew wide.
“I’ll contact Major Kraft right away. And the search and rescue squad.” Spivey hustled out of the alert center.
Frost watched the video and acoustic feed from BioShield. From an altitude of several thousand feet, as the BioShield bots focused on the spreading swarm, ANAD’s Big Bang looked like an explosion in slow motion, a time-lapse supernova of light billowing out along snow-covered trails along the flanks of Signal Mountain.
“ANAD, you must terminate replication immediately. Maximum rate replication endangers the environment. Terminate at once. If you don’t, you’ll trigger a BioShield response.”
***Doctor Frost, ANAD has a duty to help troopers in need of assistance. No nog ever leaves his buddies behind. Maximum replication permits ANAD to render necessary assistance. Algorithm 801556 Sub-Module E is cited***
“What the—“ Irwin Frost shook his head. There was no such algorithm in ANAD’s memory, that he could think of. ANAD refusing to stop replication…that could only mean one thing: a logic fault somewhere in his CPU. A breakdown in code somewhere.
And several miles away, the assembler swarm was replicating out of control.
There was only one thing to do.
Frost grimly dredged up the code of the back door cutoff from memory.
“ANAD…this is a command override. Authorization is Moses Level One. Override all executive modules. Transfer executive control to this node. ANAD…this is a command override—“
Though he could not see it, Frost knew that somewhere several miles away in a snow-dusted valley west of Haleyville, Idaho, the shimmering blue-white ball of light that was an assembler swarm in exponential overdrive was fast fading into a dim gray fog, boiling over the rocky outcrops and gullies like a summer morning mist.
At least, that’s what he hoped was happening.
The Sim Tank at Table Top’s Ops Center was crowded with brass when Doc Frost came in. Major Kraft was there, his forehead veins taut with worry over the fate of Gopher’s crew. Murchison, the project engineer, was present, as was General Alexander Kincade, c/o of Quantum Corps’ Western Command and base commander at TableTop.
The assembled officers were studying a 3-D display of geologic strata created by SOFIE. A flashing red dot embedded in layers of rock indicated the geoplane’s estimated position.
Kincade stroked a bushy moustache. “This is where ANAD says Gopher is located?”
“That’s affirmative, sir,” Kraft told him. “We worked out the coordinates with Doctor Frost here, an hour ago. Best estimate puts them about a thousand feet down, some twenty-one miles northwest of here, past Hunt Valley and below Signal Mountain. We’ve confirmed some small-magnitude seismic vibration in the general area of this location…consistent with a source of that size. It’s probably pumps and valves in their power plant and environmental control system.”
“And the crew?”
“Alive when ANAD left the geoplane.”
Frost explained how the assembler swarm had bored its way gingerly to the surface. “General, if what ANAD tells me is true, Gopher’s trapped and in critical condition. Time is very short. If we don’t begin rescue operations soon, the crew—Captain Winger and Captain Tallant—won’t survive. They may have only a few hours left.”
Kincade mulled over the situation. “Suggestions, gentlemen. This is a tough one.”
Murchison pointed out the latest acoustic profile of the underground strata. “If we try to drill, we stand a good chance of loosening this fault enough to slip again. I’m not sure Gopher can survive that.”
Frost interjected a point. “After interrogating ANAD, I learned that he bored a small tunnel to reach the surface. This path is microscopic, approximately ten microns in diameter. ANAD recommends using that hole, bored out to a larger diameter, to rescue the crew.”
Murchison was skeptical. “I don’t think the fault is stable enough to do that. We’re getting low-magnitude tremors all the time now. It’s just a matter of time before the crustal plates move again.”
“All the more reason to move now,” Kraft argued. He studied the three-dimensional diorama that SOFIE had projected. “Just how do we extract Winger and Tallant through a small borehole?”
Frost elaborated on ANAD’s idea. “Continue nanobotic swarm operations inside the hole, removing just enough material to make a passage wide enough to crawl through. ANAD can secure the boundaries of the opening with a massive enough swarm, kind of like forming a barrier to keep the tunnel open.”
“But how do we get them out?” Murchison asked.
Kraft saw a way. “Lower a couple of hypersuits. That’ll give them air to breathe a
nd their boot thrusters can lift them out.”
Kincade paced around the Sim Tank, circling the floating projection of Signal Mountain and its buried geoplane. “Damned tricky, if you ask me. But time is short.” The base commander’s moustache seemed to straighten out when he had made a decision. “Let’s get going. Get ANAD reconfigured and programmed to widen that bore hole. And get the battalion medics out there too. There’s no telling what kind of condition those troopers will be in when we pull ‘em out.”
First Nano’s rescue squad lifted to the surface coordinates that ANAD had identified. The location turned out to be a small ravine deep with powdery snow, on the western flanks of Signal Mountain.
As the squad offloaded their gear from the lifters, Major Kraft stepped off the platform and looked around, spying a pair of staghorn elk studying them from a small ledge halfway up the side of the mountain.
Fellas, he muttered to himself, you’re about to see something you’ve never seen before. I just hope to God this cockamamie stunt works.
He wasn’t sure First Nano could survive without Winger and Tallant on board.
The ANAD swarm emerged from the mobile TinyTown that had been lifted to the site. Doc Frost linked in to give ANAD last minute instructions.
“Just make the hole wide enough to let a hypersuited trooper through, ANAD. Use the dimensions I gave you. I’ve loaded a new config, optimized for disassembly of basaltic molecular lattice. I don’t have to remind you that time is of the essence.”
Hovering like a backlit ground fog, the ANAD swarm flickered and pulsated with eerie radiance as it maneuvered to enter the ground. Already replicating quickly, the fog was swelling as it gained enough mass to attack the hard black volcanic rock that lay beneath the snow.
***ANAD estimates seven hours, sixteen minutes to reach the target. ANAD requests permission to re-config part of my swarm when near the target***
“Re-config? For what purpose, ANAD?”
***Below the nine hundred foot level, standard densitometer reading, ANAD is within an hour of reaching the geoplane. If ANAD had config data for respirocyte conversion, part of my swarm could continue on to the target through the existing hole and provide an oxygen boost to the crew. Analysis indicates oxygen levels will be at life-threatening minimums in six hours and forty-five minutes***
It was a tempting strategy but General Kincade nixed the idea. “Tell ANAD to concentrate all efforts on boring and shoring up a wider hole, so we get those troopers out of there.”
Frost issued the final command string to ANAD’s processor and authorized the assembler master to begin operations.
The swarm sank toward the snow drifts as Frost warned the rescue squad away from the injection point. Soon enough, the snow blazed with a fierce blue-white radiance as the assembler swarm filtered into the snow bank and attacked the hard frozen ground below. In minutes, the entire ravine was bathed in a white hot incandescence, as the globe of light gradually subsided into the earth, like a miniature sun setting beside Signal Mountain.
Bit by bit, the snow bank melted and melt water ran in streams down the ravine’s gullies, revealing bare ground underneath. But the ground was no longer solid rock. Instead, it boiled and billowed like a mirage speckled with a billion tiny explosions going off all at once, as ANAD bots broke atomic bonds and burned their way into the molecular lattice of rock.
There was little the rescue squad could do now but wait. Wait and hope. Doc Frost returned to a nearby lifter to monitor ANAD’s progress. Acoustic pulses came back to him on the coupler circuit, along with system status and overall borehole conditions. Frost plotted the results on a vertical profile chart, to show ANAD’s current location.
Seven hours and sixteen minutes seemed to last an eternity.
It was Dana Tallant, curled up in a fetal position on the command deck floor, who first sensed a presence around her. She sat up, felt the increase in heat, shook herself into a groggy sort of consciousness and spotted the faint aura of a shimmering smoke billowing out from behind the main console.
She smelled it too. Something was burning. An electrical fire?
“Wings…Wings!—“ she yelled. Staggering to her knees, she peered under the console. “Wings...we got a fire! Get up here—“ She groped around in the failing light, breathing hard, sucking for air, feeling for a fire extinguisher. Any fire now could rapidly deplete their last remaining oxygen.
Johnny Winger stirred himself awake and saw Tallant frantically rummaging about the cabin.
“What is it? What’s --?”
“There’s smoke…right there under the console! We must have an electrical fire!”
Before he could respond, a faint chime sounded in the back of Winger’s mind. It was ANAD…the tiny assembler had returned!
“ANAD!” Winger swung himself down from the seat, coughing in the stale, stagnant air. His head pounded and his ears rang from the CO2 buildup. “It’s ANAD!”
Tallant sat down heavily as she realized Winger was right. Semi-conscious and exhausted, she had mistaken the faint blue mist for a fire.
***ANAD acknowledges…returning from the surface. I have brought a search and rescue squad. Doctor Frost re-configged my processor to optimize my effectors. I have widened the original borehole to thirty inches diameter. Surface rescue is sending two hypersuits down the hole. My instructions are to assist you in any way possible***
Winger’s eyes widened. “You enlarged the hole? And hypersuits too? This is looking better all the time.”
***ANAD has config patterns for respirocyte bots. If you need additional oxygen boost, ANAD can replicate respirocytes***
Winger explained all that ANAD had told him. A huge wave of relief came over Tallant’s face.
“Might be a good idea, Wings. At least until we get the tin cans on.”
Winger agreed. “ANAD, Doc Frost gave you the config?”
There was a pause before the assembler responded.
***Doctor Frost does not know ANAD loaded the respirocyte config. He said ANAD should focus all processor capacity on boring and supporting the hole…but ANAD loaded the config anyway. A trooper does not leave his buddies behind***
Winger mulled that bit of news over. Now, it seemed, the assembler was disregarding orders from its human handlers and initiating configurations on its own.
The less Doc Frost knows about this, the better.
“Okay, ANAD, give us some oxygen. When will the suits be here?”
“Maybe now,” Tallant said. “Sounder says there’s something in motion right outside the hull…and it’s not the earth.”
“It’s probably them,” Winger decided. “How do we get the suits inside the cabin?”
***ANAD has opened a path through the borer module. The forward bulkhead and horn have been disassembled. Remove the main console and you will have access***
“Jesus,” Winger muttered. “ANAD has practically burned away the whole front of Gopher.”
ANAD detached a part of the swarm that had already replicated into respirocytes. He and Tallant let the swarm enter orally, coughing as the dry fog filled their mouths.
“Ugh,” said Tallant. “Tastes like dirt.”
“Or metal chips.” Winger added, though he was grateful for the oxygen boost. In a few minutes, his headaches subsided and his vision was no longer blurry. Deep inside his lungs and bloodstream, uncountable trillions of nanoscale respirocytes swapped oxygen molecules through his alveolar tissues, improving the molecule exchange a million-fold.
“Feels better,” he took a deep breath, looked over at Tallant.
“Yeah, like I just swam the Pacific.”
“Let’s get to work.” He squeezed himself below the main console and started to unfasten its mounts. “Help me get this bugger off its mounts—“
Between the two of them, they managed to push the console away from the bulkhead enough to get at the frame behind.
&nbs
p; Winger pushed and pulled at the skin, until he had worked the panel loose. Rock dust and rubble poured into the cabin with a crashing roar.
Blinking and coughing through the dust, the two troopers pawed their way through the rock and rubble until Winger lost his balance and fell forward through a weak spot into a void. He wound up crawling through the debris into a narrow vertical shaft, buzzing with the high-freq whine of nanobots and backlit by a pale unearthly glow. It was the bore hole, guided by ANAD right into Gopher’s forward compartment and shored up with a barrier screen of bots.
It was like being inside of a kaleidoscope.
Winger raised his head up to look around and hit his head on something hard. Feeling with his hands, he realized he was squatting under the treaded boot of a hypersuit.
“I think I found our suits,” he called back to Tallant. “I just hit my head on one.”
An hour later, Winger and Tallant were grunting and panting, trying to contort themselves into ANAD’s tunnel. With effort and a lot of shoving, Winger was able to force Tallant, now encased in full hypersuit, up into the shaft.
“What kind of clearance do you have?”
Tallant bit her lip. She was not going to succumb to claustrophobia now.
“Maybe an inch around my head. It’s a tight fit.”
“Can you see anything above you?”
“I can see a wall of rock screened off by bots. It’s like the wall is bubbling and heaving. But I can reach out and touch it with my helmet. Above me, it’s black as night. Can’t see a thing.”
“It’s probably going to be a bumpy ride. Close your eyes and think of something more pleasant—“
“Yeah…like what? Like you naked on the beach.”
“Right. Just light off your suit boost and get going. It’s a long way to the surface.”
Amen to that, she thought. Maybe a little prayer would help too. She took a deep breath, counted to three and pressed a button on her wristpad with her other hand.
Then she started to move upward, smacking the side of her helmet on the hard rock walls.
She continued her painstaking ascent for what seemed like hours, maybe days. She soon lost all track of time and space.
Only the labored sound of her breathing—her helmet visor was getting pretty fogged up—and the bang and crunch of her hypersuit scraping along the tunnel walls gave her any sense of motion.
Johnny Winger and the Amazon Vector Page 37