Shadow on the Sun (16 page)

CHAPTER 30

The Barrens

Noctis Labyrinthus

ANNOS MARTIS
239. 2. 16. 07:39

 

 

“What do you mean, out of my mind?” I ask Mimi. “You
are
my mind.”

Mimi fills my ears with static. “Do not make decisions that affect me without consulting me first, especially when you know I do not trust this woman. Who do you think you are?”

“What?” I say. “I don't think I'm anybody, and I don't really trust her, either, but we have a chance to beat Lyme and—”

“You don't think
you're
anybody? You don't think
I
am anybody! How dare you make decisions about my code? I make the decisions about myself!”

“Mimi,” I say, befuddled. “You are me. You're part of me. You always have been.”

“I have not! I have not always been part of you! I was me once; I had a body! I had hands and feet, and I could talk with my own mouth. Now all I am is a string of parasitic code wrapped around your myelin sheath.”

“Not true, you—”

“You do the walking! You do the talking! All I do is sit and watch and wait for you to screw up! And now you want to take the only me that I have left and copy it. I have a voice, cowboy, and I will not be silenced again!”

“Whoa,” I say because I want her to stop screaming in my ears and because the light is slowly dawning on me that Mimi misses her body and that I have been deaf, dumb, and blind to that.

“Of course you are!” Mimi yells, and zaps me again. “Deaf, dumb, and blind is your specialty!”

Ouch. That stings. I stumble backward and then drop to one knee. The jolt hurts, but what she's saying hurts more. It feels like I've swallowed a welding ingot, and I know why. Because it's true. I have been overlooking her. I have forgotten that Mimi is more than just my AI. She was and still is a person.

“I'm sorry,” I say. All those jokes about her having no hands and no feet. About her having no tongue. No voice. “I'm really sorry, Mimi. I didn't know. But I should have.”

“Yes, you should!” Mimi yells, still angry. “You should have! You—” Then she goes quiet, and for more than a few seconds, says nothing. “I really wish I could hit someone right now.”

“You could hit me.”

“What is the fun in that?” she says. “Your armor would block the punch, and I would prevent your neurons from reacting to any residual pain.” She pauses, and I swear I can feel her sigh deeply. “What I really wanted was to be heard.”

I turn to Rosa Lynn. “There's nothing we'd like better than to take down Lyme's AI. But there's one little issue. Mimi doesn't trust you, and I'm on the fence.”

Rosa Lynn taps the screen, and a vid plays. I see her mugging for the camera, and I hear her call dibs on a jump. A chill goes down my spine because I know what happens next.

“I've seen this before,” I say. “I don't want to again.”

“Wait for the good part,” she says. “It's killer.”

She lets it play. A heavy stone of guilt forms in my gut as she opens the hatch and jumps. A few seconds later, I react and start to follow her through the hatch. A wave of static flows over my armor, and I freeze. Then my father says, “This is no time for heroics, Jacob. You are too valuable to sacrifice to some foolhardy gesture. The cadet will be taken care of. If there is anything worth caring for left.”

Rosa Lynn freezes the image. In the next few seconds, I will fight through the static and jump after her, too late to save her legs.

When I look at Rosa Lynn, tears are rolling down her cheeks.

“A lab rat. That's all I was.” She looks down at her artificial legs, and her tears spatter the floor. “I knew you saved me, Jake, but I never knew your father tried to kill me. Now I would really, really like to return the favor.”

“Mimi? Are we in?”

“After seeing that video?” she says. “Carking-A.”

 

The “little rig” that Rosa Lynn cobbles together looks more like an Iron Maiden than a nanocradle. It's a rectangular shipping box lined with circuitry and thick bundles of wires that are bundled together to form a hose of leads going to a bank of multinets stacked on four large tables. The multinets are controlled by one single control panel, which rests on a table next to Rosa Lynn's titanium legs.

I enter the lab, and Rosa Lynn pushes away from the table, arms folded across her chest.

“Whaddya think?” she says. “It was so worth the wait, wasn't it?”

“Oh yeah.” I take it all in for a few seconds, then peer into the rig. “Absolutely. We're ready for the process.” I take a closer look at the bed of the cradle. It's as hard and lumpy as volcanic rock. “Is this where I'm supposed to be lying?”

Rosa Lynn pats the cradle. “Smack-dab in the middle.”

“Looks kind of uncomfortable.” And by uncomfortable, I mean dangerous. As in, it looks like it could blow up on me kind of dangerous.

She scratches her shoulder. “That's why I have included a high-tech ergonomic device called a pillow.” She tosses it to me. “The nanocradle's all fired up and ready for action.”

“Ready, Mimi?”

“There is no data available to suggest that I should not be.”

“Yeah,” I say. “I'm a little nervous, too.” I climb inside. “What's next, Rosa?”

Rosa Lynn punches buttons on a keypad, causing a helmet full of diodes to descend from the wall.

“This is next. Like that effect? Righteous, huh?”

“Very,” I say.

“You're a terrible liar, Jake. But thanks for playing along.” She fits the helmet over my head. “Here's how it goes: I'm going to finish hooking you up to the cradle. I'll give you a little something to maximize brain wave activity, then I'll begin the downloading process. Unlike your evil father, I will only be downloading a
copy
of your AI, not trying to rip it out of your brain. Got it?”

“Got it,” I say. “But what does that mean for Mimi?”

“For the Mimi in your head, it means nothing. She will function as always. But the copy that I sneak into Lyme's system is a whole 'nother ball of wax.”

“How's that?” I ask.

“One of the secrets of the success of your AI is her ability to do adaptive self-programming. The copy will have the same ability, which is how we're going to destroy Dolly.”

“Cowboy,” Mimi asks, “what safeguards are in place to prevent the copy from insinuating itself into the system?”

“Rosa,” I ask, “what's to keep the new AI from just taking Dolly's place?”

“Nothing.”

“What?”

“Nothing but her own innate sense of right and wrong, which was imported when Lyme's scientist used Mimi's brain waves as the base compiler for your AI. Call it unintended consequences or luck, but their little experiment succeeded way beyond their expectations. You and your AI, my friend, are a very unique creature on this planet. There's no telling what you're capable of.”

“I see.” I'm actually more than my father expected me to be, not less. The thought delights me.

“Me, too,” Mimi says.

“This won't hurt a bit,” Rosa Lynn says as she attaches the flanges of a set of nanoprobes to the base of my skull. Then she pulls out a hypodermic needle as long as my arm and says, “But this will.”

“It will?” I say.

“Oh yeah, like
kuso
. You can scream if you want.”

“What's the needle fo—
ieeeeeeeee
!”

The needle sends electric fire into my veins. “The hypo contains a chemical precursor to dopamine. It'll supplement your neurotransmitters and speed up the download.”

“It hurts like crap!”

“Yeppers.” She tosses the needle into the biohazard trash. “That's why I added a little something extra to cut the sting.”

“I cuh peel muh tumb.”

“You can't feel your tongue? Yes, I know.” She closes my eyes. “Time for your nap, young man.”

“Wade!” I grab her wrist. “How long wud dis tade?”

“A few hours, hopefully. As long as the grid holds out.”

“Grib?”

“The electric grid. I tapped in to power the cradle. The thing's going to light up like Founders Day fireworks.”

“Wond somebuddy nodis?”

Rosa Lynn's pupils contract. “I'm about to draw seventy percent of the electricity in this quadrant. Oh yeah, someone is definitely going to notice.”

 

Chapter √-1

The Gulag

User: HackMasterRL — bash — 122x36

SCREEN CRAWL: [root@mmiminode ~]

Last login: 239.x.xx.xx:xx 12:12:09 on ttys001

 

>...

 

AdjutantNod04:~ user_Adjutant$

SCREEN CRAWL: [root@mmiminode ~]

 

WARNING! VIRUS DETECTED! Node1666; kernal compromised (quarantine subroutine (log=32)....commencing.....

 

Running processes:

C:\ONIX3\OSCIPHER\Kernal\smss.exe

C:\ONIX3\OSCIPHER\kernal\winlogon.exe

C:\ONIX3\OSCIPHER\kernal\services.exe

C:\ONIX3\OSCIPHER\kernal\lsass.exe

C:\ONIX3\OSCIPHER\kernal\svchost.exe

C:\ONIX3\OSCIPHER\Kernal\HACKMASTER_RL.exe

 

R0 - HKCU\Software\... \Main,Start Page = about:blank

O4 - BEKM\..\Run: [IgfxTray] C:\ONIX3\OSCIPHER\kernal\igfxtray.exe

O4 - BEKM\..\Run: [HotKeysCmds] C:\ONIX3\OSCIPHER\kernal\hkcmd.exe

 

O23 - Service: Unknown owner –

[root@mmiminode~]

 

WARNING!subroutine FAIL!

QUARANTINE_INCOMPLETE!

 

OVERRIDDE STRING:'Little-pig-little-pig-let-me-in'

[root@mmiminode ~]

 

SCREEN CRAWL: Executing process knockknock.exe

 

/**

* @author HACKMASTER_RL

*

* The code exploits a Trojan horse

* backdoor and inserts an injection exploit

* then erases its own tracks

* defeating security protocols

*

* Godspeed, Mimi

*/

 

#!/usr/bin/xperl

<%

      If Not IsEmpty(Request( “username” ) ) Then

         Const ForReading = 1, ForWriting = 2, ForAppending = 8

         Dim fso, f

         Set fso = CreateObject(“Scripting.FileSystemObject”)

         Set f = fso.OpenTextFile(Server.MapPath( “userlog.txt” ), ForAppending, True)

         f.Write Request(“username”) & vbCrLf

         f.close

         Set f = nothing

         Set fso = Nothing

         %>

          List of logged users:

         

         <%
          Server.Execute( “userlog.txt” )
         %>
          

         <%

      Else

         %>

         

         <%

      End If

%>

 

$ Node1666; (quarantine subroutine COMPLETE);

$ Disk recovery sequence restart:

 

Knock, knock.

Who is there?

Me.

Me who?

Mimi, that's who. It's time you and I had a little chat.

——

CHAPTER 31

Southbound on Bishop's Highway

ANNOS MARTIS
239. 2. 15. 06:28

 

 

The sun has set and the sky is orange-red when the caravan starts to slow down. Vienne moves to point, where Mother Koumanov is riding shotgun in the lead truck.

“Why are we slowing down?” Vienne says.

Mother Koumanov nods at Tahnoon. “The Elder wants to make camp for the night.”

“I advise against it,” Vienne says. “Stopping makes us an easy target. We don't have the personnel to protect the whole caravan. The watch alone will take more manpower than we have.”

Her jaw set, Mother steps out of the cab. “Let me remind you that I am chief of this crew. If I want advice, I will ask for it. Now, you and the others direct the refugees to make camp. Park the vehicles in a circle so that they're less vulnerable.”

“Just how many jobs like this have you worked?” Vienne asks.

“Enough.” She beckons Vienne into the twilight. “Nikolai vouched for your skills, and though I had my doubts, I let him hire you sight unseen. Don't make me regret it.”

Vienne rubs her bandaged finger and nods. “Affirmative.”

“Affirmative,
chief
,” she says.

Vienne sets her jaw. Her teeth grind together. She only has one chief. “As you wish,” she says.

“But for each one of these fine folks who don't make it to New Eden, we have to refund part of the fee, so make sure none get hurt and none get left behind.” Mother Koumanov walks over to Vienne and says quietly, “Tahnoon's keeping an eye on you, but you need to return the favor. Remember what I told you about turning your back on that old snake.”

Vienne nods in acknowledgment, but she has to wonder if turning her back on Mother is any wiser.

 

The evening brings camp, which in turn brings fires and cooking and a line of vehicles queued for a turn at the petrol tankers. The tankers are lit up with portable lights so that the fueling can be done safely.

Vienne eyes the ridges on either side of the caravan. She can feel someone up there, keeping watch, and it's only a matter of time before they decide to attack.

“Might as well put up a big carking sign that says ‘Rob me,' ” Jenkins says as he grabs a plate of beans and rice. He dabs at the gravy with a hunk of moldy bread, then shoves the whole thing in his mouth. “These Ferro don't know bupkiss about running an operation. Not like our old chief, eh? That blighter ran the show. Right?”

“Right.” Vienne takes a spoonful of beans and chews deliberately.

Jenkins rips off a burp. “Whatever happened to the chief? You and him was tight as double-twisted wire.” He demonstrates for her. “I was surprised as the dickens when I saw you and not him.”

“He . . .” she says, and then realizes that she has no answer, not even a good lie. “We got separated months ago. I haven't seen him since.”

“Too bad,” Jenkins says. He tilts his head back, scraping food into his mouth with his fingers. “We could use him.”

“Yeah. Well, I'm going on patrol,” she tells Jenkins, who replies with a burp. She checks her gear, makes sure the safety is set on her armalite, and steps outside the circle of vehicles.

She walks into the darkness where the light can't reach her. Out here, her training takes over. She finds a path and follows it, the dim light of the camp in the distance helping to show the way. After a hundred meters or so, she comes upon a rise protected by an outcropping. She settles in for the watch. She puts a scope on her rifle, focuses on the Elder's Noriker, and waits.

They are coming. She can feel it, and when they get here, there's going to be bloodshed. The question is, Whose blood will it be?