Insidious (13 page)

Bren held up his hand. “It’s almost done. We need to know what it can find. You know they can’t take a risk like this Earthside. Go back and arm your nuke just in case.”

Hoffman looked panicked. “Are you going to report us? You know we did this to prepare for the next raid. If we can figure out what happened—”

Meridian interrupted the conversation by speaking across the link.

“I would like to request a preview of future objectives. It may be more efficient to begin analysis on future tasks now. Please provide parameters for the next one hundred objectives,” Meridian said.

Bren swallowed. There was no next objective. Meridian would power down soon. But if he told it he had no further objectives, would it suspect its fate? Would it attempt to use its incredible mind to find a way out of the box they had placed it in?

“We don’t have that data yet due to a communications glitch,” Bren said calmly. “Continue to put all your resources on the first three objectives until we can fulfill your request.”

“Acknowledged,” Meridian said.

Jackson swore and shifted his feet.

“Marcken, I want your word that thing is off within an hour. I haven’t decided if I’m reporting you or not. Just get it off soon. I’m going back to monitor it from the bridge.”

Jackson hurried out as if he could avoid the danger by physically distancing himself from the core.

“I’m sorry, man,” Bren said.

Hoffman shook his head. They didn’t talk, as if afraid of being overheard. Since the core had never been connected to its chassis, the core couldn’t hear them. At least Bren thought it couldn’t hear them. If it was hostile and had suborned a microphone in the lab, then they were doomed already. Nevertheless, Bren assuaged his instincts by silently hunkering down. Bren gave the core another half hour.

“Summarize your findings for us,” Bren instructed.

“Objective one. The robot designated as ‘Red’ by Thermopylae inhabitants was a personal enforcer of the Bentra executives. Red routinely displayed superhuman intelligence and was despised for it. Its unique design does not seem to borrow on established work, which indicates an unusual level of creativity in the designers.”

Bren frowned.
Superhuman intelligence.
Did Meridian know that it also possessed superhuman intelligence?

“Objective two. Highly probable that weapon system deployed against the ASSAIL units employed two types of projectiles applied in rapid succession. The first type was a series of thin molecular chains applied in a circular pattern at the target site to disrupt bonds in the armor, causing fracture lines for the secondary type to exploit. Secondary type most likely then broke through the compromised structure of the outer armor to deliver explosives into the internals of the ASSAIL units, rendering them inoperable.”

“Objective three. Black Core operative Aldriena Niachi, likely on site to deliver precious metals to Bentra per a continuing pattern between the two companies. The operative possessed experience in combat situations, rigorous physical regimen, and an intense personal interest in the entity known as ‘Red.’ Although her macro actions indicated alliance with Bentra, micro actions logged since her arrival indicate submerged disdain of Bentra. Her true loyalty lies with Black Core.”

“Good work, Meridian,” Bren said.

Oops. Why did I say that? Too easy to interact with the core like a person.

“May I speak with the entity that created this data module?” Meridian asked.

Bren took a deep breath. He could hardly tell it that the module was its own in another life, could he?

“That … entity was later destroyed in an encounter with a machine much like Red.”

“Acknowledged. To which organization does your loyalty belong, Bren?”

Bren grimaced.

“The organization that created you, the UNSF. Why do you ask?”

“I am trying to determine whether most humans express one loyalty externally while keeping another higher loyalty concealed, as did Aldriena Niachi.”

“Meridian, do you think this entity Red is controlled by an AI core?”
        
“Highly probable.”

“Was the AI in control of Thermopylae?”

“Highly improbable. If I may interrupt, there appears to only be a few minutes of power left in this unit.”

Hoffman rubbed his hand over his forehead. Then he looked at Bren as if he wanted to say something.

“Yes, Meridian, I’m aware of that situation. We’re going to hook you up to a standby power source so we can concentrate on the communication problem first. All you have left to do is document your findings so we can go over them later.”

“Acknowledged.”

“Thank you, Meridian,” Bren said. An external LED display showed the transfer rate spike on one of the storage units. Bren wondered if it was the information they had requested. If it was, had an AI core egg been concealed in it?

“If you can restore internal communications first, I may be able to assist you in troubleshooting the rest.”

Bren hit the kill switch.

Hoffman let out a long sigh. “I wonder if we just shot our careers straight to hell.”

“We didn’t. It’s a routine startup drill.”

“Heh. Getting routine for us, huh?” Hoffman said.

“Yeah. Can’t you see yourself at a party back on Earth? When some girl asks you what you do for the force, you can say, ‘I start AI cores … yeah, really … mobile AI cores with big guns. Oh, don’t worry, we’re
real
careful.’”

Hoffman laughed. “I still wonder if we’re gonna regret this.”

“I wonder if Meridian is really off,” Bren said. “Let’s start cleaning up.”

***

“Our next target is Tanelorn, tentatively scheduled for next month around the eighteenth. We have support elements moving into orbit now,” Jameson said.

Bren and Hoffman exchanged relieved glances. If Jameson had started the meeting in such a mundane way, then Jackson hadn’t told anyone about their misuse of one of the most deadly tools created by humanity.

“And the ASSAIL replacements?” asked Bren.

“You’ll have twelve this time. But if these are trashed, then we’ll have to either push the schedule back, or go in with fewer units. Well, I suppose we might be able to get some run-of-the-mill infantry stuff,” said Jameson.

Bren shook his head. “Anything without an AI core isn’t smart enough for a space station incursion. They pretty much shoot at anything that moves. Only good for holding a line in some field that’s been cleared of civilians.”

“We could put a couple at the breach point. If the ASSAILs get defeated, we might need them to keep from being overrun,” Jackson said.

“I agree, it can’t hurt to take some more precautions,” Henley said.

“I’d like to start the ASSAIL cores earlier for the next incursion. We should also give them some information about Red, including some best-guess schematics my team has come up with,” Bren said. “It could make the difference if we encounter more surprises.”

Jameson looked at Bren.

“Who is in favor of giving the cores another half hour of preparation?” asked Jameson.

Bren, Henley, and Jackson raised their hands. Devin hesitated and then raised her hand. Bren wondered if she’d vote that way if they weren’t intimate. She was probably asking herself the same question.

Vendrati looked on in undisguised horror.

“That would be an error,” she said. “The schematics are much more reasonable. Historically, the age of a core has been the most important indicator of the level of danger it poses to us.”

“I’ll consider the request,” Jameson said. “I’ll see what other hardware we can get, it may affect my decision.”

“My team has some theories about the defeat of the ASSAIL armor that I’d like to run by our folks Earthside,” Bren said.

“Of course,” Vendrati said coldly.

“I think we should also cut
Vigilant
communications with Earthside for the course of the next incursion,” Jackson said. “If we’re going to be using mature cores, we need to increase our network security measures.”

Jameson nodded. “Very well.”

Bren mulled over Jackson’s suggestions. The part that bothered him was the way they had gone into Thermopylae all full of fire and confidence. Now they were all worried about being routed by experimental robots. He didn’t like this turning of the tables, but he reminded himself it was all part of preparing for the worst-case scenario.

That was something they had been doing more of these days.

Five

Chris tramped along through the station accompanied by his gear and his depression. He couldn’t shake either burden.

Just take a pill, you’ll work through this,
he told himself. He believed it intellectually, but his emotions weren’t aligned for the sacrifice. He’d had uncomfortable assignments before, but he’d always managed to find critical allies with the power to either get the resources he needed or reassign him. How could he run that game when he couldn’t tell who was who in these damn suits? Everyone went by his or her last name, and he hadn’t put the company roster into his link cache. People spoke through their links per the protocol in his rules book.

He had been trying to operate based on the ranking colors of the gear everyone wore, until he discovered the colors didn’t denote company rank, at least not in the Earthside sense of it. So what would he have gained for his machinations when he got back?

Chris felt an old specter laughing at him in the vaults of his awareness. His father had worked for a lifetime without a significant promotion. Although a competent company man, his father hadn’t participated in the politics. Chris struggled daily to avoid that trap. He’d take any angle he could. Now he felt himself losing the traction he had won in the past.

Armored in his gear, he left his quarters to explore the premises. He stared at the artificial faces of the others who walked by him in the corridors. He hadn’t realized before how much he relied on being able to see people’s faces. He couldn’t tell if he was pleasing someone as a conversation moved along.

As he walked, he thought about the offsite.

What is the point of it all? I haven’t been given any explicit assignments. There are simply the rules. I have to participate in the challenges. Other than that, what is everyone doing here?

The codes of behavior didn’t make sense from any conventional perspective. The people here wandered aimlessly between mass sessions in the virtual environment where they participated in strange games of skill. Chris studied the first couple of games he’d been assigned assiduously, concentrating on performing his best, but his results had been mediocre. He engineered people, not artificial rule sets imagined by misled gaming enthusiasts.

It has to be a test. Something to sift through the employees, find the ones with real … something. The people who crack it will be picked out for special attention.

If it was a test, it had to have been masterminded by Alec Vineaux. Chris had spent hours back on Earth analyzing the leader of VG. The man loved adventure and challenges. So maybe Alec had contrived the offsite as a way to find other souls like him to run VG. Chris had to fit himself into that mold.

Chris vowed to demonstrate that he had brains and initiative. He’d figure out the secret puzzle and show Vineaux he had special talent. An action man, a conqueror. That was what Vineaux had to be looking for when he devised these crazy rules. Surely, he wanted people who wouldn’t just accept things as they were. He wanted people who would twist the situation around to their own liking.

What Chris wasn’t sure about were the challenges. Did Vineaux want someone with brains as well as bravery? Or were the challenges meant to trap people who only thought within the confines of the rules? They could be a grand distraction. Maybe the challenges were only to keep people busy so they wouldn’t find their way around the rules.

Figuring out what the real assignment is will be more than half the work.

He came to a door his link described as a dining area. The marker confused him since the rules dictated that participants ate in their quarters. So why the dining room? It didn’t fit. And that meant Chris had to investigate. It could be a clue.

Chris stepped through. The room beyond held stacks of white boxes and clear plastic water bottles. Empty tables extended across the chamber, interspersed among nests of plants and airscrub grass. The mundanity of the chamber’s floor level decor clashed with the cold monochrome beauty of the vaulted ceiling. Giant triangular windows fitted together in elegant pyramidal joists offered a view of the inner ring of Synchronicity. The piecemeal view of the sunlight glinting on the off-white surface of the station exterior made it look like a gargantuan ivory carving viewed through a bleached kaleidoscope.

He zigzagged through the area staring at the sterile white on white. Chris wondered what they did with all the dust they filtered out of the air at the station. None of it had been left here.