CHAPTER 9

  UNIFORCE Headquarters

  Paris

  August 10, 2110

  1130 hours UT

  For Ryne Falkland and Major Lucian Bridges, the suborbital hop from the U.S. East Coast to Paris CDG took only ninety minutes. The sun was just coming up over Runway 15 Right when the hyperjet touched down and kissed the tarmac, then braked hard and taxied smartly over toward Terminal A and their UNIFORCE escorts.

  The briefing at UNIFORCE Headquarters was set for 1400 hours. Falkland had spent weeks trying to get a meeting with the brass in Paris, hounding Bridges day and night, in an attempt to push Project Phoenix forward, to demonstrate that the Assimilationists were wrong and that it was possible to de-construct a living being and re-assemble it good as new. All you needed were the right configs, the right algorithms... and a willing subject.

  That’s what he had come to Paris to impress upon the project managers. The project had come to an impasse and what was needed now was a human subject, a live human subject.

  Major Bridges knew this one needed to be kicked upstairs.

  They made it to the Quartier-General in good order and after being scanned in, Falkland and Bridges were escorted to a waiting room on the seventieth floor, outside the briefing deck. Word was that they would be meeting with CINCQUANT himself, General Johnny Winger. Winger was something of a legend around UNQC and Northgate University. He’d known old Doc Frost well and had spent weeks at a time at the Autonomous Systems Lab, while the Doc was perfecting his early ANAD devices. Winger knew bots and what you could do with them as well as any man alive.

  The briefing deck was a circular theater-style facility, multi-level with screens and displays wrapped around the entire room. An oval of baize-covered tables held center stage with workstations at each location and a spherical display unit was mounted like a statue in the middle.

  Falkland and Bridges had only a few moments’ wait before CINCQUANT came in, surrounded by staff aides, signing off directives and orders as he took his seat. He shooed the underlings out and greeted Falkland and Bridges, returning Bridges’ salute briskly.

  “At ease, gentlemen…sit, sit…” Winger pressed a few buttons on his keyboard and the screens at all stations flickered into life. “GENGHIS, would you bring UNSAC on-line, please?”

  GENGHIS was the commandnet AI, running all displays and systems in the briefing deck. “Of course, General Winger. The Security Affairs Commissioner welcomes all participants and expressed his wishes for a productive and effective briefing. All stations are active and on-line.”

  “Very well,” Winger said. “Dr. Falkland, I couldn’t help noticing you’re packing a containment pod…you must have brought along a small friend of yours.”

  The General doesn’t miss much, Falkland thought. “That’s true, General…it’s the Doc III swarm…I believe you’re familiar with that series.”

  Winger smiled broadly. “Indeed, I am. I hosted the first iteration…Doc II that was…on the Jovian Hammer mission. It was like having your conscience constantly blabbing in the background. We had an—“ he struggled to find the right word “—interesting relationship, you could say. I trust he’s well contained.” Winger knew perfectly well that UNIFORCE policy never permitted uncontained swarms at the Q-G. The pod would have been thoroughly scanned and secured at the main gate.

  “Doc is a very capable lab assistant for me, General. I brought him along to help me demonstrate what we’ve accomplished at ASL in the last month.”

  Winger indicated the animated avatar of UNSAC scowling down from all the screens. “The Security Affairs Commissioner expects to be present momentarily. He asked that you go ahead with your demonstration with his avatar in the meantime.”

  “Of course. I think you’ll be impressed with what we’ve done. I’ve worked with Major Bridges here and the project staff to keep everyone here in Paris fully up to date.” Falkland extracted a vid clip and loaded it into GENGHIS’s nearest port. “This is footage of the last few experiments we ran…I used some experimental animals in these. Actually, they were my pet dogs at one time—“

  The vid ran, showing the assimilation and not-quite-complete re-assembly of Falkland’s Shih-Tzus, Jiggs and Simon. Falkland narrated.

  “We were using a new technique—Major Bridges has sent along the details, I believe—“

  Bridges nodded in agreement.

  “—it’s something I call a ‘memory field.’ Kind of a new config pattern emitter and buffer. Plus we’ve tweaked the algorithms. The whole idea is to perform a normal disassembly, then the resulting atomic debris is held in a special containment field that keeps the relevant atoms in close proximity. The field maintains a ’memory’ of the original configuration. This memory field is a completely new design, in which all the original atoms and molecules and their bond energies and geometries are stored and used to re-construct the original.”

  Winger leaned forward to watch the vid. “I don’t see the original subject being re-assembled, Dr. Falkland. From what Bridges here told me, you’ve had some problems.”

  Falkland agreed, nervously fiddling with the control studs on his containment pod, which lay on the desk next to his tablet. “That’s true, General…a few glitches. Actually, perhaps, I could use Doc III to help me explain?”

  Winger waved him on. “Please…proceed, Doctor. I’d like to see this.”

  Falkland pressed the control stud. Immediately, a sparkling smoke trail began issuing from the pod. The smoke thickened and rose into the air, twinkling and fluorescing before them as it began to take shape.

  Winger was thoughtful, studying the process. “You’ve tweaked the replication cycle, Doctor. Doesn’t take as long as before. You’ll have to show me what you did…I like this. Our combat nano forces can use this technique.”

  “Anything for our nanotroops, General.”

  The swarm collected itself into a passable likeness of the head and shoulders of Dr. Irwin Frost. Textures and resolution had been improved. The swarm smiled down on Winger like an old friend.