A Rising Thunder-ARC (34 page)

She paused, regarding Rabenstrange steadily, and tasted his slow mental nod, his satisfaction that she was doing her absolute best to be completely honest with him.

“Obviously, we all wish McBryde had gotten out along with Simões. In some ways, it’s almost more frustrating to have the bits and pieces we have—or
appear
to have, anyway—without confirmation than it would have been to remain completely ignorant. Nonetheless, everything we’ve been able to check tests out, Simões believed he was telling the truth, and the gross description he gave of how the nanotech is supposed to work is fully consistent with what I personally saw in Lieutenant Mears’ case.”

“How so?” Rabenstrange asked gently.

“McBryde was a security agent, not a scientist.” Honor’s tone became almost clinical. “He couldn’t explain the actual mechanisms, and, to be honest, we’re all confident he was holding back details he could have given us as bargaining chips further down the road. And as added incentives for Zilwicki and Cachat to get him and Simões out in the first place, of course.” She shrugged ever so slightly. “I don’t see how any reasonable person could blame him for that, under the circumstances.

“At any rate, according to his explanation, the Alignment’s developed an extremely sophisticated, virus-based, organic nanotech. Personally, I think that’s evidence of just how crazy they all are, but that might be the Beowulfer in me, and they, at least, are apparently confident of their ability to control it and keep it from mutating. All I can say is that I hope they’re right about that.”

Rabenstrange nodded soberly, and she continued.

“McBryde said—I’ve seen the recording he provided to Captain Zilwicki, and I’ll see to it you get a copy, as well—that the nanotech has to be specifically engineered for its target. They have to get their hands on a sample of the target’s genetic material, then build the nannies around that material. If McBryde’s right about that, that’s almost certainly the primary reason no forensic examination has turned up any evidence of it. It breaks down almost instantly after completing its function, and it’s all tagged as a legitimate component of the target’s own body.

“McBryde either didn’t know or didn’t say exactly how sophisticated the nanotech’s ‘programming’ can be, but our best estimate based on what he did say is that it has to work something like transferred muscle memory.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Transferred muscle memory.” Honor repeated. “ONI consulted my father as one of the Star Empire’s leading neurosurgeons as soon as they started trying to evaluate McBryde’s claims,” she didn’t add that he’d also been called in because of his personal connection with her and the monumentally high security clearances which went with it, but she really didn’t have to, “and I’ve discussed it personally with him. He doesn’t like the implications one bit, but he says it’s at least theoretically possible. In fact, he thinks there are probably some similarities between the way the nanotech works and the way
this
works.”

She held up her artificial left hand and flexed its fingers.

“When I was learning to handle this, I had to relearn all the muscle memory using the new neural connections—connections which were significantly different from the organic ones I’d always had. Apparently, if my dad’s right, what they do is to use a human…call her a ‘host,’ for want of a better word, to ‘train’ the nanotech pretty much the same way I trained my prosthesis and my own brain. Again, assuming he’s right, they can only train it to carry out limited and probably very specific physical actions. That doesn’t mean the physical actions can’t be
complex
, according to my dad, but that they can probably only put them together in specific combinations, and there’s a data storage limitation—probably a pretty severe one—on what they can actually pack into the nanotech. For example, I’ve viewed the bridge imagery of the day Tim was killed.”

Her voice roughened suddenly, her mouth tightened, her eyes darkened, and she paused again before she could continue.

“I’ve viewed the bridge imagery,” her soprano was almost as clinical, as detached, as before when she went on once more, “and aside from drawing Simon’s pulser and opening fire, he never moved from the instant whatever was controlling him took over. He simply stood in one place, held the trigger down, and swept his fire across the bridge. Looking at the security imagery of the Havenite ambassador’s chauffeur shooting Admiral Webster, you see very much the same thing. He draws his weapon, he opens fire—hitting three other people, not just the Admiral—and simply stands there until he’s shot in turn. No attempt to escape, no effort to take cover or evade return fire, nothing. We haven’t had the opportunity to look at any imagery your security people may have of Colonel Hofschulte, so I can’t say how consistent that is in his case, but that’s the pattern we’re apparently seeing.

“Now, according once again to my dad, there has to be another component, some sort of organic AI, you might say. His best guess is that it probably sets up residence in some corner of the target’s brain, but it wouldn’t necessarily have to be located there as long as it has access to the central nervous system. Presumably the AI is issued with a set of triggering criteria that it looks for before activating whatever ‘muscle memory’ may have been installed in the nanotech. Obviously, the criteria can’t be too complex.”

Rabenstrange nodded again. The ancient cybernetic hope of achieving true sentience in an “artificial intelligence” had never been realized. Enormous strides had been made in crafting “brilliant programs” which could mimic intelligence—hence the continued use of the term “AI,” even though it was technically incorrect—but those programs could react only to parameters the programmer could anticipate. The ability to discriminate triggering criteria in something as complex as normal human interactions was notoriously complicated, unless the programmer had a very specific grasp of the interactions likely to arise or could build in a mechanism the program could use to gain additional information and extrapolate from it. An AI designed to deal with customer service inquiries, for example, or to operate an air taxi, and which had the opportunity to clarify situations and desires by asking questions, could give an incredibly convincing imitation of genuine sentience within its area of competence. Outside that area of competence, however, and without that ability to expand its information base, the situation was completely different. And if Dr. Harrington was right, the AI in this case certainly wouldn’t have the opportunity to ask any “clarifying” questions before it acted!

“At any rate, if my dad’s right about this, the AI only triggers under very specific circumstances. In fact, they probably err on the side of
not
triggering when they set up the original programming, even when that means missing possible opportunities, in order to avoid the sorts of accidents which might have started someone wondering what the heck was going on. And the specific actions which can be triggered are only those which have been ‘muscle transferred’ to the target. So, assuming he’s right, this stuff couldn’t force someone to, say, enter a computer code that’s in
his
memory, not the nanotech’s. And it can’t access his knowledge or make his
conscious
brain do what it wants—force him to make up a lie in order to penetrate security, for example, or come up with his own plan for some assassination or act of sabotage. Daddy says it would probably be theoretically possible to…pre-record, let’s say, a lie, although he doesn’t know whether it would sound like the target’s voice or the voice of whoever provided the muscle memory to the nanotech. But it’s not like…oh, like hypnosis or adjustment. It couldn’t trick its victim into supplying the proper code word response to a challenge—or even force him to respond in the first place—unless whoever programmed it had the proper challenge ahead of time.”

“But if the programmer
had
the challenge, knew the computer code, he could cause the ‘target’ to enter it?” Rabenstrange asked, eyes narrow.

“Probably. Well,
possibly
, anyway.” Honor shrugged. “We’re shooting in the dark, Chien-lu. As you say, we’ve had more time to think about this and more complete information, but without the kind of specifics McBryde either never had or at least never gave us, all of this is theoretical.”

“Understood.” Rabenstrange leaned back in his armchair once more, right hand stroking Nimitz’ spine, and grimaced. “Understood, but it poses almost as many questions as it ‘theoretically’ answers, doesn’t it?”

“You might say that.” Honor smiled without a trace of amusement. “On the other hand, I personally think Dad’s onto something. If they could actually reach into someone’s mind and memories with this stuff, they wouldn’t need assassins. They could simply program people in key positions—like a prime minister or a president—to start doing whatever it was they wanted them to do. Or they could simply have targeted someone else on
Imperator
, someone besides Tim, who had access to a fusion reactor or a hyper generator or any of a dozen other critical systems I can think of right off hand. Someone who could have destroyed the entire ship, not just killed me. But getting anyone into a position to do any of that, to initiate the proper procedures, would have required access to information the programmer didn’t have and couldn’t build into the muscle memory transfer.”

“I don’t know how much confidence I’m prepared to invest in that, but it sounds reasonable,” Rabenstrange said thoughtfully.

“Well, one thing we do know is that treecats can sense the moment in which whatever it is kicks in,” Honor said. “And the ’cats have volunteered to help protect ‘their two-legs.’ I don’t know how well we’d do at convincing one of them to relocate all the way to New Potsdam, though. To be honest, I think separating any ’cat not bonded to a human living in New Potsdam from the rest of his or her clan would cause the ’cat severe mental distress, so I’m not at all sure we could or should ask it of them. On the basis of what they’ve already volunteered, though, I’m confident we could provide a treecat early warning system for any Andermani flag officer or ambassador”—she smiled lopsidedly at him—“here in the Star Empire or serving with our fleet anywhere.”

“I see.” Rabenstrange looked down at Nimitz, still stroking the treecat’s fluffy pelt, and nodded. “Some of my fellow Andermani may have a little trouble with that, I’m afraid. They don’t know any treecats the way I’ve come to know Nimitz, and they’re likely not to understand why Elizabeth can’t send all the ‘pets’ she wants to the Empire. His Majesty, on the other hand, probably
will
understand.”

“You think so?”

“I’m almost certain. I’ve discussed Nimitz with him often enough for him to grasp that treecats are just as much sentient beings as humans are, at any rate. And all well-deserved traditions of Andermani imperial arrogance notwithstanding, we do understand that we can’t always
compel the free citizens of someone else’s star nation to do what we want.”

“I’m relieved to hear that. One of the things I’ve been worrying about, to be honest, was whether or not our ‘refusal’ to send ’cats to the Empire would be seen as some sort of deliberate slight or maneuver. Or as if we’re ‘holding out’ to try to compel the Empire to do what we want.”

“Oh, believe me, it
will
be seen as exactly that by all too many members of our aristocracy!” Rabenstrange snorted. “It just won’t be seen that way by
Gustav
—or Huang or me, for that matter—and to be honest, that’s all that really matters at this point.”

The two of them sat in silence for a handful of minutes, and then Rabenstrange cocked his head at Honor.

“May I ask exactly what it is Elizabeth is planning to propose to me in”—he checked his chrono—“two hours and twenty-seven minutes?”

“I don’t think I—” Honor began.

“Oh, don’t be silly, Honor! Surely you don’t think for a minute that I think Elizabeth is going to make a recommendation to me without having run it by you
first, do you?” He shook his head. “She’s not clumsy enough to do something
that
dumb!”

“Well, I suppose not,” she admitted.

“Then you might as well go ahead and tell me. I’m going to decide to recommend to Gustav whatever I’m going to decide, and I don’t see where letting me get started thinking about it before I sit down with Elizabeth could do any harm.”

Honor could think of several scenarios in which it certainly wouldn’t help
Manticore’s
position, but she regarded him thoughtfully for a moment, then shrugged.

“Basically, I think she’s going to suggest the Andermani Empire should declare its effective neutrality in our confrontation with the League. With the Republic backing us, we shouldn’t need your battle squadrons to deal with Filareta when he gets here. For that matter, we shouldn’t
need
them even if the situation gets significantly worse and we find ourselves in a general conflict with the Sollies. Not until they manage to come up with pod-layers and MDMs of their own, at any rate.”

“I can see where that would probably be true, but there are going to be people in New Potsdam who wonder what sort of Machiavellian maneuver those nefarious Manties are up to this time. Adding the Empire to the pot in an effort to make the Sollies realize their current policy is…ill-advised, let’s say, would seem to make a lot of sense. From your
perspective, at least.”

“If the Sollies were going to make any kind of a realistic appraisal of the actual balance of military capabilities, they’d never have sent Filareta out here in the first place. There’s not much point in making logical arguments to someone who’s already decided to ignore inconvenient truths, so they’d probably never even notice the Empire if we did add it to the mix.” Honor shrugged. “That being the case, Elizabeth and President Pritchart have decided it makes more sense to get you out of the line of fire, as far as the League is concerned. That doesn’t mean they can’t foresee some future circumstance under which might make sense for you to go ahead and sign on to the anti-Solly alliance, assuming Gustav’s willing and Kolokoltsov and the other Mandarins are ready to push things that far. I think what they’re really after at this point is leaving you some freedom of maneuver. For that matter, they could even see some situations in which having you available as a third party—a go-between—might make a lot of sense.”