‘I needed to balance the equation,’ explained Coloron. ‘If I turned all runcibles to cater for departure only, the death rate from resulting civil unrest would have risen above the increase in emigration, which incidentally would not have increased sufficiently to require full usage of all the runcibles.’
The Golem, Azroc – head of the MA section of monitor force for planetary security – replied, ‘Yet the increase in civil unrest would have served the purpose of pushing the departure rate higher . . . You note how we are talking in the past tense now?’
‘Yes, but let us continue our present discussion, in the hope that it will still apply. Regarding civil unrest, you have to also factor in the troglodyte quotient.’
‘And that would be?’
‘An agoraphobic tendency found here, and an inability to change. You know what happens: any sign of trouble and citizens retreat to their homes and stay there, hoping it will all go away.’
‘I thought the incentives were changing that attitude.’ The Golem picked up his pulse-rifle from where it leant against a wall, and directed the team nearby to spread out across the park, and then other teams in this section, not visible to him but with whom he maintained constant com, to also take their positions. Coloron listened in on these multiple communications from the Golem. His forces now enclosed a cylindrical section of the arcology, from the lowest levels to the roof, with monitors ready up above in the fields, ensconced in pulse-cannon tanks. No citizens were being allowed back into the enclosed area, and those who came out of it were kept confined prior to vigorous interview and scanning. Five thousand such were now in confinement, of whom only a hundred had so far been interviewed and moved on to holding areas, where they would remain until the crisis ended. It might end – Coloron reminded itself of that.
‘Discord sown by Separatist groups induced a certain paranoia concerning all AI incentives. Urban legend has it that we want to send them out to undeveloped worlds as agrarian labourers. A full one per cent of my processing power has been in constant use scotching these memes and sowing my own.’
‘Plague scenario?’ Azroc suggested.
The AI observed autoguns – mid-level pulse-cannons mounted on four legs – moving in to complement the present forces. It explained, ‘No, anything effective enough to drive the troglodytes out of their caves would also cause a catastrophic cascade. For every citizen departing by runcible, 1.2 other citizens would die. That rate would then rise, when the current Separatist organization took advantage of the chaos, to 6.6. The memes I sowed were more subtle: the occasional news stories examining statistical analyses of human lifespans – how the average length of life here is a mere 143 years while elsewhere in the Polity it is as high as 206 and rising; comparative studies of the suicide rates; and accident statistics. I also concentrated on stories about those who have left here and made a success of their new lives – have become important contributors to the Polity. In that respect I was building the meme that other worlds welcome Coloron citizens because of their superior abilities.’
‘Hardly the truth,’ said the Golem.
‘But a method that would have worked within the requisite time span.’
Would have . . .
Still no return from the one secure optic line it retained for connecting it to the blank area within the arcology – where all its sensors had been knocked out. Not knowing what caused this failure, the AI had immediately isolated the area, setting a physical perimeter a hundred yards back from it. That margin was gone now. It had also instituted many new security protocols within its informational networks: virus and worm defences designed by the AI Jerusalem, and recently distributed to all runcible AIs, also attack-hardened channels and numerous ways of physically disconnecting hardware should that become necessary.
The Sparkind units now arrived and were soon preparing to go in. Earlier the AI had sent in four hundred drones. They reported nothing unusual until five attempted diagnostic analysis of some of the camcoms and pincams. Those five drones immediately went offline, and were observed dropping to the floor. The subversion techniques used to take out Coloron’s eyes and ears within the enclosed area, and to then eliminate those drones attempting to interfere, must be highly sophisticated, but were not yet employed in any kind of direct attack. But eventually something would break, and Coloron entertained a nasty suspicion about what it might be. Then all previous calculations, all those clever plans, all those carefully constructed memes would mean nothing. The AI might be on the brink of losing a planet.
‘I think that time span just got truncated,’ Azroc observed.
‘I require confirmation be—’ Coloron focused attention on the communication link opening directly from Earth Central, and the information package that preceded it.
The package: Hostiles within Polity> Existence of more Jain nodes> Direct link established between Skellor and Coloron Separatist Thellant N’kotno.
Within seconds the AI absorbed the interviews conducted by Ian Cormac, and the evidence collected by agent Thorn and his team. More information became available concerning all the events on station Celedon – it was relevant, but not necessary in order for conclusions to be drawn. Then, in fractions of a second, came absolute confirmation. Through one of its drones, Coloron saw a woman peering up at the drone while she tried to light a cigarette. Something silvery stabbed out of the wall beside her, through her ear and right into her head. Coloron glimpsed her eyes filling with blood before the drone went offline – before all the remaining drones went offline.
‘Main dracomen forces are being dispatched now to MA runcibles,’ announced the Earth Central AI. ‘Thorn and a small force of them will arrive in five hours by ship to assist you.’ While EC spoke, Coloron scanned data concerning dracomen abilities, and most importantly their resistance to Jain tech subversion. ‘Open the MA runcibles to incomers only until all forces have arrived, then out-port to Isostations.’
There was not the slightest possibility that a billion people could be evacuated through just these ten runcibles. Other ships would be on their way, but by the time they got here there might not be anything to evacuate, or perhaps anything it would be considered safe to evacuate. If they did not manage to stop what was developing in that isolated cylindrical section of MA, then millions would die. Coloron reluctantly initiated a satellite it held geostationary above the main arcology, and that satellite’s toroidal fusion reactor fired up.
‘Azroc, pull out the Sparkind and move your forces back radially one mile. Pull out any citizens still within the new zone. Sat strike imminent.’
The AI watched forces withdrawing, then something else caught its attention.
The conventional aug, computer, and gridlink network was supported by two hundred planetary servers, each controlled by subminds. It was a network easily monitored by the AI, and therefore one not used by the more paranoid citizens or those going about nefarious activities. Such types used augs that supported their own server-free networks using encrypted com. Coloron regularly employed eight subminds in the singular task of breaking into those networks so as to track down criminals. The most difficult and widespread network they faced consisted of Dracocorp augs which used hugely variable encryption and protective kill programs to constantly frustrate the eight subminds. The best access these minds ever got to that network was when those in possession of such augs chose to link into the conventional net, but on the whole those doing so were not involved in anything seriously illegal. But just by monitoring the level of activity, Coloron realized something major was happening in Dracocorp network.
Then a view into an interview room. The man being questioned screamed and clamped his hands to his head. His Dracocorp aug seemed to be moving. He stood up, staggered to one side, and fell over. Blood trickled from his ear on the aug side of his head.
Then thousands of similar views of this happening throughout both MA and SA – all around the planet. From Dracocorp augs, viral programs began propagating to the servers. Co
loron shut down these servers instantly, and denied Dracocorp access to all the other servers. However, twenty-eight of those infected would not shut down, just continued to broadcast. But this threat had been prepared for and the AI transmitted twenty-eight distinct signals. Fifteen lights ignited over and above the planet – satellites being instantly vaporized. However, not all the servers on those satellites had been taken over and Coloron lost more than just fifteen server subminds. Seven explosions inside the two arcologies took out the remaining Jain-controlled servers. People died as well, hundreds of them: others lay screaming in corridors traversed by walls of fire.
On a tracking map of the Dracocorp network, Coloron now saw lights blinking out, too. In the first five seconds, nine thousand people died. Then the rate halved after another five seconds, and so seemed set to continue. The man in the interview room did not die, however. After fifteen seconds he staggered to his feet.
‘Where . . . Legate?’
The female monitor who had been interviewing him was herself standing up.
‘Where?’ The man leapt over the desk and brought her down. He began smashing his fist at her face but, even in a prone position, she blocked the blows. It seemed a wild and inept attack. Other monitors soon piled into the room to subdue him. But similar scenes were repeating all around the planet. Thirty-five million people wearing Dracocorp augs, which turned grey against their heads, began attacking others and demanding to know the location of ‘the Legate’. Then the weapons began to appear: personal armament, guns from Separatist caches, guns ripped from the hands of monitors. In a tube station a woman screaming ‘Legate!’ fired a pulse-rifle repeatedly into a panicking crowd.
Coloron initiated every single drone available, and quickly diverted resources to autofactories to manufacture more. Many of these drones carried pulse-guns capable of being set to stun. Pillar-mounted drones began dropping from ceilings or rising out of floors. A ceiling drone finally knocked out the woman in the station, but then a man close by took up her rifle and fired it into her head, on full automatic, before the drone brought him down too. Chaos growing everywhere: fires, mobs . . . panic in the huge runcible complexes. Just in time, Coloron altered the instructions to the drones deployed there, and they turned their weapons away from the armed personnel now pouring through the runcibles.
They swept through the ten MA runcibles in groups of five, at fast, five-second turnover, scaly and ferocious creatures pouring into the lounges and embarkation areas, all of them heavily armed and lethal. This became just too much for the crowds already fleeing those mad individuals who were attacking their fellow citizens indiscriminately. They began crowding towards the exits as the dracomen moved swiftly through the area. Those driven mad by the Dracocorp augs soon began dropping fast under stun fire, till within minutes no owner of such augs remained standing in those areas. And still the dracomen poured through.
A gridlink channel opened – secure ECS coding and direct to the AI.
‘We require sitrep,’ a voice murmured.
Coloron scanned for an identifier but found none. The AI was just about to cut the channel when an information package from EC came through the runcible, explaining that the dracomen minds could operate like gridlinks, and it was one of them that was communicating with Coloron. The AI then transmitted an overview of the present situation, updated every minute, or sooner if something critical occurred. The dracomen responded immediately. Some of them hurtled over the top of the mobs crammed into the exits, stepping on heads and shoulders, others shot reptile-fast along the walls and ceilings above them. Then they were positioned ahead of the crowds, driving them back into the complex.
‘Four minutes to turnover,’ they reported.
Some of the mobs would not turn back right away, but they did once the dracomen shot down the leaders. The resulting crush would certainly kill some, but this was all about speed. Other dracomen grabbed those at the rear of the throng and directed them ungently back towards the runcibles. Still more of the creatures moved beyond all this into the arcology itself, stunning those who had been maddened by their augs, directing the others back towards the runcible complex.
Coloron observed them only for a few seconds more, then returned its attention to the epicentre of these events. Azroc’s forces were still moving back as instructed, but now they were coming under fire. People, some wearing Dracocorp augs, were emerging from the blanked area. Many of these were armed and they seemed organized – following military attack patterns. The monitors kept knocking them down with stun blasts, yet they rose again within seconds, taking up their weapons and coming on. No defence could be sustained like this.
On direct encrypted com to Azroc, Coloron ordered, ‘Shoot to kill.’
Azroc immediately relayed the command, and monitors adjusted the settings on their weapons. Full-strength pulse-fire slammed into the attackers, burning holes through torsos and heads. The attack staggered to a halt, then, horribly, Coloron observed a female casualty standing up, retrieving her short rail-gun, while a nub of pink flesh oozed out to fill the hole in her chest.
Azroc instructed, ‘Sparkind, we need proton fire.’
Proton fire ensued: violet fire and smoke, burning bodies, walls, floors and ceilings collapsing, ventilation shafts and ducts ripped open. Updated on events, the dracomen out in the arcology began to head towards Azroc’s forces.
Turnaround. Now all the dracomen had arrived the runcibles reversed to transmit evacuees to Isostations. The dracomen nearby began forcing them through. Meanwhile Azroc’s forces finally reached a point Coloron considered far enough from the previously enclosed area of the arcology.
‘Firing particle cannon,’ Coloron sent.
The turquoise beam spat down from the toroidal satellite, struck a maize field and turned it into a firestorm, bored down into earth, then through composite layers, and deep into the arcology, precisely down the axis of the affected cylindrical section. In sight of Azroc’s forces, fire blasted from corridors, across urban parks, through shopping arcades, and sports or VR centres. It blew people along with it like burning leaves. The Coloron AI calculated that with just that one blast it killed over forty thousand inhabitants. The tentacular Jain structure began spreading out of the wreckage, fingering out of ventilation shafts and oozing sluglike along split electrical and optic ducts, and this confirmed to the AI that many of them were as good as dead already. The AI watched that growth slow down gradually to a stop, and dared to hope. Then abruptly the Jain substructure waved its spiky fingers to dismiss hope, and surged on.
Coloron broadcast through the remaining server network, and via public screens and address systems: ‘Urgent evacuation order: a hostile alien organic technology is attempting to take over MA.’
On the screens the AI displayed scenes of what was happening. It took it a full two seconds to calculate how best its order should be carried out. Some sections could be evacuated via the runcibles, others would have to make use of the exits around the arcology perimeter. An external zone would have to be set up to quarantine MA from the rest of the planet, to prevent any physical manifestation of this invading technology from escaping, but allowing enough room to get inhabitants out of the arcology itself. Corolon assigned a submind to the vast logistical problem of moving a billion souls to safety, and knew, with mathematical certainty, that those forty thousand dead were only the start.
*
Ten yards above the floor, one set of her assister-frame limbs gripping a rung set into the crashfoam-covered wall behind her, Orlandine studied her latest creation. Precisely in the centre of the chamber, the yard-wide gimbals device was supported within a light scaffold of bubble-metal poles attached to the floor and ceiling. Its outer two rings served to present any facet of an inner spherical framework to three telescopic heads. One of those heads now contained plasmonic lens gear from a nanoscope she had taken apart inside the ship, another came from the nanoassembler, which could also be utilized as a disassembler, and the third was a
submolecular scanner. The Jain node itself was clamped centrally in the inner framework by six equidistantly spaced chainglass points. This whole, the framework and chainglass clamps, made no physical contact with the outer rings, for it was buoyed and rotated by magnetic fields. The two outer rings were also enclosed in a shimmer-shield sphere out of which, even now, the air was being evacuated. Studying the Jain node underneath a nanoscope, she felt to be too dangerous now, for every time she drew close to it the visible activity on its surface increased. Orlandine could only suppose that inside it some additional host-identification program had come online.
There were safer ways to do this, layer upon layer of security protocols, shell upon shell of vacuum and armour, and even layers of automated weapons. She could in fact have automated everything here and studied the node from a few thousand miles away. However, it seemed to her that now its only method of affecting the outside world was informationally via the optic cables leading from the sensory heads, which it could do even if she was a long way away and even if every gun in the Polity was pointed at this thing. But this present set-up was similar to the one she had used back at the Cassius Project, when she accepted that, in studying something like this, certain dangers were inherently unavoidable, and before she got scared, destroyed all her equipment there, and returned the node to its case in her quarters. Orlandine rubbed her two human hands together. Time to go to work.
Rather than go immediately into some virtuality to assess scanning data, she clambered down the rungs to the floor, then stepped over to where skeins of optic cable connected to the computer hardware and screen through which she controlled the nanoscope, disassembler and submolecular scanner – all three now working synergetically. For her initial scans she decided not to connect herself directly to these devices, so instead employed a simple touchboard and interactive screen system. Using the board she called up an image of the node, laid a grid over it, and focused down on one single square. This square then divided into a grid from which she selected another square, then down and down in size until she could see actual molecular structures, then back to reveal the nodal landscape. She next set previously constructed programs to analysing the structures detected. As expected, this was like trying to understand an entire civilization from a pot shard.