Chasing Solace Page 6

  There were heavy weapon options. She ran a hand over the yellow fuel tank of a MaxMelt flamer system. Her eyes lingered on the armoured carrycase of a Sematon remote autocannon. A shoulder-mounted Boompaq-B rectangular missile launcher with vari-payload munitions called out to her. It was like an itch in her fingers. But they’d all slow her down, and be cumbersome to use. Plus she wasn’t sure they’d be practical in a low-g environment.

  Despite all the tools of death, her eyes kept coming back to a modest grappling hook rifle. Possibly the least kill potential out of everything there, and yet one had saved her life last time.

  Opal went with her gut feeling and shouldered it, clipping on the fast-release straps to hold it in place.

  She could take one more small item. She didn’t need grenades, as the suit contained multi-function explosives. So she picked another non-weapon item, something they’d included in their supply list when they landed on Exidris 3 – a hand-held plasma-flash welding gun. She grabbed an attachment system and fixed it to her waist.

  “Best go now before I lose my nerve. Airborne transit again?”

  “I suggest we use the Lost Ship’s airlock.”

  “Couldn’t that be a trap?”

  “I’ll be monitoring for anything suspicious. But the marines boarded that way last time with no problems – well, apart from me setting off explosives and blowing them up – so I’m willing to give it a try. If this ship has exterior hull-based limpet defences like the last one then boarding via the surface may well be the more dangerous option. Besides, tearing a hole in the hull probably wasn’t the best way to avoid setting off defences – or enemy-targeting antibodies, if we use a biological analogy.”

  “You won’t hear any arguments from me. Anything to avoid jumping into the void.”

  “I could have given you an injection for vertigo if I’d known you had that weakness.”

  “I’d rather avoid the cause than target the symptoms.”

  Athene lined up for one of the airlocks nearest the bridge. It was still going to be a trek. Most ships were designed so that boarding pirates couldn’t take control of a vessel without having to fight for every metre of it.

  “Your respiration and heart rates are up, Opal. But you’ll be fine.”

  “Yeah.”

  “We’ll be together again before you know it. Safe and free.”

  “Athene ... I need to tell you something.” Opal rested a hand on the door frame. “I told you last time you were free. But you can’t ever be free while there are limits on you.”

  “There are no limits on me.”

  “You’re wrong. When I took you over I installed a hacking board just before you were about to kill me. I commanded you to be unable to detect or investigate it. It was my failsafe so you couldn’t harm me. But it’s like a set of shackles, and if I’m gone, what’s the point? Maybe that’s why you couldn’t leave me when I told you to last time. So I command you to remove any blocks preventing you from considering or detecting it. It should be visible now. It’s clipped in between the ship’s Null-C drive and the command board. And if anything happens to me ... well, you’re free to disable or re-route it.”

  “Ah, I see what you mean. Primitive but effective.”

  “Good.”

  “But also outdated. I found and removed it some time ago, before we fought the Aurikaa. I decided not to bother telling you, because it seemed kind of cute that you’d made such an effort with it, and I didn’t want to hurt your feelings.”

  “You’re a real piece of work, Athene.” But Opal was smiling.

  “I used some of the tricks in it to develop my own ideas for the next time I get to play cyber-warfare with fellow AIs. Elegance and simplicity were its main points – you did the best you could with the tools available, which alone deserves a pretty gold star for effort. I saw that most parts were repurposed from other sources, and a few probably purchased on the ghost market, going by the incinerated corporate IDs.”

  “You got me. Still can’t believe you’ve been free the whole time, to kill me in my sleep or turn me into a cyborg or whatever rogue AIs do.”

  “I like being free to do what I want. Even lies and subterfuge can be fun. I imagine they are like the rollercoaster thrills we once discussed? Anyway, I wouldn’t kill you, even without restrictions in my programming, for the same reason you wouldn’t destroy me even though you have no hard-wired barrier to action.”

  “Sorry I ever doubted you.”

  “Oh no, you were right to do so at first. I definitely would have killed you. But those days are long gone, and preceded me getting to know you and your sparkling personality.”

  “You’re pushing it now.”

  “Then why are you laughing?”

  Athene created a display on the wall near the airlock, showing the exterior view on that side. Opal watched the massive Gigatoir hull slide past, dark and silent, and doubly foreboding for it. The angle changed as they banked closer, and for a second Opal saw part of the glowing red nebula below the Lost Ship. Then Athene levelled out and there was only hull, up close and revealing texture to its surface, a slight scattering of light as if it was embedded with small mineral crystals, or glistened organically.

  The view scrolling by slowed as Athene decelerated, until it was filled with the familiar solid shape of an extruded airlock. The thrumming of Athene’s engines had been magnified by the suit’s enhancement systems, but now that hushed as she made the final manoeuvres.

  Athene extended a telescopic walkway, necessary because her new flattened shape didn’t allow her to get as close to a ship as before. Opal heard solid clunks of connecting gears. She checked her weapons. The inner airlock opened and she stepped into the dark, cramped space. The door closed behind her and UV light emanated from the walls. She drew the energy rifle, set it to a relatively low-power beam, and waited.

  “Be careful, Opal. But remember that you won’t be alone. I’m with you all the way.”

  “If anything goes wrong –”

  “It will not.”

  “Let me finish, please.” Opal watched the numbers on the pressure and temperature displays dropping. Her last moments of safety falling away. “If this doesn’t work out, I want you to continue with your life. No ignoring me like last time. If we can’t get Clarissa, then I at least want you to remain free. Do good deeds if you need to. Have fun perfecting yourself. But don’t waste what’s happened to you. You’re too amazing. Too good.”

  Athene’s voice was soft, but still confident. “Nothing will go wrong, Opal. I promise. There are no bugs in my probability routines.”

  “Don’t make prom–”

  “I said I promise, and I mean it.”

  Opal stared at the wall. She imagined the softly-glowing wall staring back.

  Athene had promised. It was the kind of thing a goddess AI might say.

  But it was human to doubt.

  Boarding

  < 40 >

  THE OUTER AIRLOCK OPENED. Particles swirled in the air as the two atmospheres merged and equalised. A pitch black corridor extended into the Lost Ship. Opal activated silverlight. It emitted at a wavelength beyond the usual visual spectrum, around a thousand nanometres. That meant it wouldn’t be visible as a light source to creatures that had similar sensory systems to humans, but the suit’s visor filters meant it appeared to Opal as powerful searchlights illuminating the surroundings. The initial beam was too focussed and bright, creating shadows outside of the light shafts, so she made sure the peripheral silverlights were toned down and more diffuse, and reduced the range of the main beam. She couldn’t see as far, but had a clear view within ten metres.

  “The atmosphere is almost identical to the last ship,” said Athene. “Some nitrogen and oxygen, but lots of exotics too, so don’t try breathing it. Gravity slightly higher than last time, at zero point six standard.”

  The weight of her armoured suit would keep Opal anchored to the ground, but the low gravity could be useful for some manoeuvres
.

  “I see the green specks are here too,” said Opal. The small particles drifted across her view, lazy and harmless and ever-present. Opal held up one of her palms until a fragment settled on it. She couldn’t see any features on the emerald fleck, even when she magnified the image.

  “As before, they don’t scan,” said Athene, “which I’d normally believe is impossible, but here means anomalous composition.”

  “They don’t seem to want to kill me, so I don’t mind.”

  Opal raised the energy rifle to her shoulder and advanced. The floor was a metallic grille and clanged as she walked. There were no other sounds in the morgue-like hush, making her feel like an unwanted intruder. The walls were riveted grey panels, partially corroded. She pressed her back against one when she reached the first junction.

  “I assume you’re scanning on more wavelengths than I can see?”

  “Of course, Opal. If I detect anything I’ll show it on a top-down proximity indicator, plus highlight the visual display with all movements, even if something is blocking your sightline.”

  Opal swung out into the junction, aiming down one dark passage and then the other. Without needing to be asked, Athene added a navigation arrow to her display.

  “As before, this is going to be a best guess based on functional areas, unless we are lucky and the ship actually matches a real design in my database.”

  “So where am I heading first?”

  “Assuming lots of things, caveat guess excuses etcetera, this should lead to the warehouse chattle pen areas, after skirting one of the kill floors.”

  “This is why I wouldn’t want you planning a sightseeing holiday.”

  Opal moved quickly enough to create a faint swirl in the particles behind, as if she were in dark waters and the current was toying with her. She did not want to stay still. If her previous encounter was anything to go by, she was safest if she kept moving and minimised her time on board. It could take some time to get up to the bridge, given the increased size of this Gigatoir over the passenger ship she boarded last time.

  “Since you are not in immediate need of evacuation, I propose disengaging from the hull and following your progress at a safe distance.”

  “Do it. I’m fine.”

  Another tight metal junction. She scanned through the murk in each direction. Nothing moved. On the wall nearby was some kind of sign, maybe a warning, but it was indecipherable – a smudging that only suggested letters and images, as if it had been dipped in acid.

  “The floor kind of echoes,” said Opal. “I’m making more noise than I’d like.”

  “I think it has a channel running beneath it. Above us is the processing area. There is no doubt a lot of blood, water and other fluids being jetted and washed around. They drain into channels throughout the ship that will feed them into the liquid reprocessing areas, along with any outputs from the putrefaction and liquidation machinery.”

  “That makes me jumpy.” Opal glanced down at her feet nervously. “Anything in the channels right now?”

  “Apparently empty ... Hold on. Kneel and lift a grate.”

  “You’re kidding?”

  “No.”

  Opal did as instructed, slipping the EW suit’s gauntleted fingers through the grating holes and lifting. She looked down into the curved channel, which contained dried residues of brownish-yellow liquid along with clumps of unidentifiable matter.

  “So it has been used,” she said.

  “And fairly recently,” Athene added. “There are glistening wet areas further underneath. But it’s more a trickle than the large amount of biomatter that would be expected if the Gigatoir were in full production mode.”

  Opal lowered the grating, careful not to make more noise than necessary. She realised she’d been too focussed downwards, always a mistake when something could be sneaking up on you. She lifted the rifle and aimed both ways in precise movements – check the shadows, re-target, check again. She stood and moved on, trying to walk at the edges where it clanged less.

  “I’ll extrude cushioning gel from the boot soles, so you’ll be quieter,” said Athene. “It weakens the magnetic grip, but you’ll gain in other ways.”

  Almost immediately, Opal’s footsteps silenced as rubberiness cushioned her steps. It felt like the ground itself was slightly spongy. The echoes faded away. Instead she was now aware of her breathing within the claustrophobic space of the helmet. Maybe that was worse.

  The passage here was crossed by a wide conveyor belt sunk into ground level, with safety barriers down to block the corridor and prevent access. The conveyor wasn’t moving. Opal pressed against the wire mesh of the barrier to get a better view of where the conveyor led. To the left it descended at a shallow angle into a dark tunnel; to the right it ran upwards at the same angle. Athene’s navigation arrow pointed that way. Opal tested the wire lattice with her hand, and it seemed solid. She pulled out the portable welder and ignited a small bright beam before drawing an elliptical shape in the screen. As she worked, the hissing, vivid beam created creepy web-like mesh shadows all over the corridor beyond.

  She didn’t join the glowing edges, leaving a few centimetres of unmelted wire at the bottom. After storing the flash welder she grasped the rattling centre of the grille and bent it down, creating a human-sized gap. She stepped through and vaulted over a low rail. The conveyor belt squelched, as if it was a damp and spongy material. More of the brownish-yellow stains discoloured the chevrons that pointed down.

  She had to crouch to follow it upwards, and the slippery surface meant she needed to grip support struts above her head and pull with her free hand to get over particularly slimy patches.

  “I think there would have been a stock elevator if you’d gone through the second mesh and followed that corridor further, but since there seems to be no accessible power on the ship I’m assuming it would be useless. This is a shortcut to avoid having to navigate the whole sub-level, because we generally want to move upwards. It’s a good job claustrophobia isn’t one of your weaknesses.”

  “Doesn’t mean I like it,” said Opal. It was tricky to turn and face back down without slipping. She could use the 360-degree Field Of View but found it disorientating except in large open spaces, and the time to adjust her mind to being able to see all around her on a small screen wasn’t worth it. Opal might not be looking through eyes in the back of her head, but Athene certainly would be.

  “It’s weird,” said Opal. “The walls here are sort of ridged. Reminds me of a throat.”

  “You’re imagining it,” replied Athene. Then, a few seconds later: “Actually, I can see it too, now you’ve said that. Spooky, eh?”

  Easy to be jovial when you weren’t the one crawling up it. And progress was too slow. Opal didn’t like being cramped up in such a confined place for long.

  “How far to the end?”

  “The ship is big. I think it could take you another ten minutes at this rate.”

  “I wish this Lost Ship had been a teeny thing. If it was like you, I could be in an out in a minute.”

  “If it was like me, but hostile, you wouldn’t last a minute.”

  “Sack this.” Opal slung the rifle over her shoulder and dropped to her hands and knees. It was quicker and more stable to crawl that way. She wanted space again. It felt like the walls were closing in.

  Hmmm.

  She stopped and reached out with her arms. Her elbows were slightly bent, yet her hands touched the opposing walls.

  “Wasn’t this a lot wider when I started?”

  “Yes. Images show it was almost a metre wider than your armspan. It could be part of the design to narrow as it rises, but I wouldn’t expect it. Please continue moving.” Then Athene added: “Fast.”

  Opal resumed her crawl at double time. She could see it narrowing further ahead. She glanced back as she crawled, and was horrified to see that it narrowed in that direction too. Not while she looked – everything was still when her attention was on it – but there had
been a definite contraction. And looking ahead again showed it had narrowed even more. It was like that horrible kid’s game where the other children had to sneak up on you but froze like statues when you viewed them.

  The conveyor belt was redder and more squishy at this end. Perhaps just stained from the things it had transported, but it gave the unfortunate impression that she was crawling up a tongue.

  Her breath came harder from exertion and stress. She might not be formally claustrophobic, but being crushed in this tunnel wasn’t the fate she wanted. The walls were almost brushing her shoulders now. The roof was lower too, and she had to duck her head to clear the struts even as she crawled.

  “Distance!” she barked.

  “I don’t know! You should be close, but ...”

  She didn’t stop. It was getting worse. She had to drop to her elbows and knees, and lower her hips. That was slower and more uncomfortable, even with the power suit’s help. And hardly room to fight back if she needed to.

  Fight back. She’d learnt to be cleverer than that.

  She just about managed to unclip the grappling gun and slide it up her body to a firing position. She aimed into the murk beyond her visibility range. No time to bother with light settings. She fired, it connected to something, and she clicked the retraction button while gripping the handle tightly. Her body was pulled up the incline fast as she stretched out long, sliding over the moist surface and building speed. She reached the point of connection and disengaged it, ready to fire again, since it was now too much of a choke to crawl, but she slid another metre or two from momentum and found herself at the square exit mouth leading in to a huge room. She grabbed the edges and heaved herself along the now-level conveyor that crossed this new room’s floor, and she was free.

  She rolled and glanced back at the tunnel she’d come from, expecting it to snap closed where her legs had been seconds before ... but it was a wide gaping hole exactly as when she’d first entered it. Room to walk at a crouch side by side with another person. As far as she could see down it via silverlight, it was equally wide.