The Belt - Complete Series, page 43
“They will be found and dealt with,” said VanHeilding.
“Like the way you handled the operation back on Ceres, when you concocted a ludicrous plan to acquire the quantum communications technology?” This came from Pao Xiang Zu, the most powerful of the group by quite a margin. Xiang Zu had deep roots, having stepped out into space exploration long before any of their rivals. Their style was eccentric, a byproduct of their belief in their invulnerability. But they were no fools, either. They too knew both the value and the threat that the superluminal technology posed to the AI-driven world that all of them now relied upon. “You failed us at Ceres, Fredrick. Your daughter’s treachery cost us all dearly.”
“You had your chance in Neo City, but through the incompetence of your people, you let them escape,” said VanHeilding. “So, don’t go whining to me, Pao. This is old ground. Please do not bore us all by revisiting it.”
“So, now this…McNabb character shows up on our doorstep, along with the former crew of the Hermes. Not good, Fredrick. Not good,” said Yoko.
VanHeilding shifted a little uncomfortably in his seat. “They’re trapped inside an old mine. They aren’t going anywhere.”
“They—and that meddling QI, Solomon—have set us back significantly in our efforts to acquire dominion over the Belt’s resources. They cannot be allowed to reactivate Athena.”
“I think we are all in agreement on that, Pao. But what I would like to know is, what is being done to ensure their elimination?” Yoko’s tone was less confrontational, more conciliatory.
It was Marlyn that answered. “Multiple scout drones have been assigned to seek out other entrances to the mine where the crew is trapped. These are backed up by security drones. Also, the primary entrance is being cleared of debris, an ongoing operation that should take no more than an hour or so. After that, drones can enter and hunt them down.”
“And what about the ship they arrived in?” said Pao.
“It’s a Belt-registered ore carrier owned by the AsterX Corporation. McNabb’s crew came down amongst a group of eleven other shuttles. We have picked up all the others and established that they were all simply transporting ore from the carrier down to the surface—legitimate activity. There is no reason to believe they had any knowledge of what McNabb was doing.”
“Has the ore carrier been apprehended yet?” said Yoko.
“Unfortunately, it has left Earth’s orbit and is now in interplanetary space. We have no jurisdiction there.”
“Bullshit. It should be destroyed immediately. We need to send a message to the Belt and Mars and that scheming QI, Solomon, that we are not going to be fucked with.” Yoko was livid.
“It’s a question of resources,” said VanHeilding. “That ore carrier will be armed—an unfortunate necessity these days to repel pirates and scratcher scum. We would need a warship to take it down, and all our combined resources are busy with the blockade of the Belt.”
“The ore carrier is a distraction,” said Pris of the Wanata Consortium. She had remained quiet through most of the conversation up until now, but they were another powerful group not to be messed with. VanHeilding had experienced run-ins with them a few times, and rarely came out the better for it. Her adopted avatar was a sleek, alien-like creature that had an unnerving way of moving when she talked. “The key issue is locating and eliminating McNabb and his crew.”
“This is in hand,” said VanHeilding.
“And what about this…EPR device? This faster-than-light communication system?” said Pris.
“If their plan truly is to reactivate Athena, then they will most likely be transporting such a device, in which case we need to acquire it—intact,” said Yoko. “But remember, this is just one half of an entangled pair. The other will be with Solomon, or most likely with Aria in Jezero City on Mars.”
“Agreed. We need to secure this technology,” said Pao. “Collectively, we failed at Neo City and Europa, and again at Ceres. Now the QIs control the System from Mars and beyond.”
“They are foolish to think that they can gain some foothold on Earth. All planet-wide QIs have been isolated from the grid. There is no way out for them. This is why our enemies have conceived of such a desperate act. Athena is inaccessible, buried under hundreds of tons of rock and, even then, it is unlikely to function. It’s a ridiculous plan. All they have succeeded at doing is handing us the quantum technology on a plate,” said VanHeilding.
Marlyn’s voice commanded their attention. “Forgive me for interrupting, but some new data has been acquired that will require alteration to the acquisition matrix.”
“What the hell does that mean?” said Yoko.
“Scout drones have picked up data on other human lifeforms in the vicinity.”
“So what?” said Pris. “We know there are a few wackos living in the Wasteland. Just deal with them if you have to.”
“Data has indicated that the numbers are far greater than originally estimated,” Marlyn continued, unfazed. “As a consequence, the algorithm has advised that security personnel be deployed to the region.”
“What?” said VanHeilding. “How many of these people are we talking about?”
“The algorithm estimates a number in the hundreds, possibly as high as a thousand.”
VanHeilding stood up. “A thousand… How can this be? It’s a radioactive wasteland.”
“They live inside the mountains. This area has numerous caves and abandoned mines. It’s a warren.”
“This cannot be allowed. If these people are off-grid, then they are in violation of the law. Their data belongs to the network. Any group of that size, no matter how remote, could potentially introduce gaps in the dataset, and by extension errors in the algorithm. They must be either assimilated or eradicated.”
“Point taken, Pao. But the bigger question is whether these…vagabonds are part of the plan. Are they helping McNabb?” VanHeilding was now standing in the viewing gallery, looking down on the planet.
“Unlikely. The algorithm has concluded that they are a secretive people, primitive even. Any foreign intrusion would be viewed with deep suspicion, even hostility,” said Marlyn.
“So they could help us?” said Pris.
“Not directly. But they could hinder McNabb and his team from progressing with their mission.”
“They still need to be dealt with, and swiftly.” Pao’s avatar rippled.
“Agreed,” said Yoko.
“The algorithm concurs, and to implement this course of action, it requires the deployment of human ground forces. Thirty should be sufficient.”
“Very well.” VanHeilding waved a hand. “Give the order to dispatch thirty of our security personnel from here on the orbital immediately.”
“This is turning into a VanHeilding operation, Fredrick,” said Pao. “Let’s hope you do a better job of it than the last time you butted heads with McNabb and his team.”
“I assure you that they are going nowhere. Their plan has already failed; this is simply a mop-up operation.”
The avatars went silent for a moment. It seemed that there was nothing left to say. One by one they signed off, extinguishing like candle flames in a draught, leaving Fredrick VanHeilding with nothing more than his thoughts.
As he looked out, he could already see several shuttles preparing to leave the orbital, packed with security personnel bound for the Wasteland. Soon, he thought, McNabb will finally be dead. Maybe this is a good time to tidy up the rest of his crap? It’s something I should have done a long time ago. My mercy is my weakness. Time to change that.
12
SO IT BEGINS
The war room, as it was known, wasn’t really a war room as such. Its purpose and function in the subterranean metropolis of Shin-Au-Av was not a place where battle plans were drawn up, or great campaigns planned—until now. Neither was it just a room. It was, in fact, a series of old stone buildings that had been used as storerooms and workshops ever since its current occupants had arrived and began living in these ancient ruins. Over time, as the citizens fabricated ever more elaborate and complex systems of growing food, filtering air, pumping water, and distributing energy, they tended to localize the monitoring of all these disparate systems in one place. Here, the technology of their existence could be monitored and managed, and so it became known as the war room.
The technology was rudimentary, like most else in the citadel. Antique monitors charted the rise and fall in demand for resources by the systems that enabled such a society to survive in this subterranean cocoon. Over the years, it had been added to and greatly expanded to accommodate a multitude of buildings. From their roofs, great bunches of cables and tubes snaked their way all across the central cavern basin and out to every corner of the vast cave. Some of this cabling went even further, extending beyond the cavern and its connecting tunnels out to the very exterior of the mountain itself. These provided the conduit for the cameras by which the overseers in the war room could view the outside world. The feed from these cameras was rendered in pixelated, muted color across six mismatched and slightly disheveled monitors clustered together in the war room.
An equally disheveled technician sat in front of them and pointed at several specks moving across the horizon. “There! You see them?”
Tugo rested a hand on the back of the operator’s chair and grunted. “Shuttles.”
Beside him, several of the tribe’s elders also watched as the craft began to circle around before finally landing in the valley, where they proceeded to disgorge a large contingent of well-armed security personnel.
Tugo and some of the others had been monitoring the buildup of drones and personnel for some time. Each new observation compounded on the last, and soon they began to lose count of the military resources accumulating against them. An estimated fifty scout drones already buzzed in the sky above, each probing and testing the access tunnels and mine shafts that peppered the area. These, at least, were easy to deal with, and the tribe had learned a long time ago how to evade detection.
The scout drone’s primary function was observation, not engagement. That said, they did possess a single, low-power pulsed energy weapon. It was lethal at short range, but once fired, the drone would have to wait for a few seconds before it could fire again, giving its target a chance to take cover, or fire back—assuming they survived the first encounter. But the tribe’s primary defense against detection by this drone was simply to block up the access tunnels with rubble. The drone didn’t have the capability to circumvent this primitive defense; its weapons system was too weak to be effective against a mound of rock.
Tugo wasn’t concerned with these drones. But there were also ten to fifteen security drones now joining the hunt, and these were of more concern. They were bigger, with a powerful laser system coupled with a formidable pulsed-energy plasma cannon. These could make short work of the hastily constructed rubble barricades that the tribe was now assembling. But their size—almost three meters in diameter—made them nowhere near as aerially dexterous as their smaller siblings, the scout drones. They couldn’t navigate the narrow shafts and tunnels that a human could, so by being careful, the tribe could also avoid coming into contact with these machines.
But physical troops—that was a different matter entirely. That was ominous.
Several thoughts rushed through Tugo’s mind in a swirl of trepidation. There was no way to look at this development and see any positive outcomes; they simply had no defense. Sure, they could fight, but that would mean revealing their existence and the true strength of their numbers. Once that genie was out of the lamp, there would be no putting it back.
“Shit,” was all he could manage to say.
“They know we’re here,” said Adsa, who had been monitoring the buildup for some time. “We’ve been discovered.”
“They’re just looking for that crew,” said Esa. “They don’t know anything about us.”
Adsa wasn’t convinced. “I don’t like it. This is bad.”
“This is your fault, Tugo. If you hadn’t brought that crew here, then none of this would be happening,” said Padooa, who had just arrived in the war room after hearing about the buildup. “You have put our very existence in jeopardy.”
“That crew sealed our fate as soon as they landed,” said Tugo. “Bringing them here made no difference.”
“We should hand them over before it’s too late. All they want is that crew. Once they have them, we will be safe again—they’re not interested in us.”
“You really think so, Adsa? My guess is they already know about our existence. You seem to forget we’re dealing with an AI. They know way more than you could possibly imagine. It has most likely figured out, from all the tiny bits of data those scout drones have collected in the last few hours, that people are living in these caves. It has probably extrapolated our exact number based on nothing more than the level of moisture in the air. You have absolutely no idea how much an AI can divine from something as innocuous as how the wind blows.” He looked around at the others. “They know we’re here. They know we’re living off-grid, and they’re here to do something about it.”
“But that crew is still their top priority,” said Adsa.
“If what they told us at the council meeting is true—and I have no reason to doubt them—then yeah, that crew is number one on their list.” Tugo went back to looking at the monitors.
“Then we should hand them over now. Release them immediately so that they’re taken by the security forces—that’s really all they want.” Adsa was adamant.
“Maybe that’s all the VanHeilding Corporation wants, but the algorithm will not countenance a cohort of our size living off-grid. We will either be assimilated or eliminated.” Tugo was beginning to sound pessimistic.
“So, what are we going to do?” said Adsa.
Tugo shrugged. “That’s a very good question.”
“Screw them,” said Esa. “I say we fight.”
“We should put this to the council.” Padooa was resolute; Tugo could sense it in her.
“Agreed. We need to establish a consensus on what action to take.” Adsa, as usual, sided with Padooa.
“Sir, you better take a look at this.” The technician pointed to a camera feed that had focused itself, as best it could, on a cluster of shuttles that had landed in the plateau. Around twenty security personnel were milling around in several groups, checking weapons and getting orders. But in the background, Tugo could see several industrial robots extraditing themselves from the cargo hold of one of the shuttles. The robots were the approximate height of a human, with tri-pointed tracked wheels at their base. The central body was well-armored and bulky, with two highly articulated arms. These machines would have no problem moving rock and rubble.
“Shit, mining bots. That’s all we need.” He stepped back from the monitors and turned to his second-in-command, Pliny, who had also been watching the military buildup. “Get Sasha, Renton, and the others. Tell them to meet me at the armory on the lower level.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And tell them this shit just got real.”
His second-in-command nodded and jogged off.
Tugo looked at the monitor again for a second, then placed a hand on the technician’s shoulder. “I’ve got work to do, but you let me know if anything else lands, okay?”
“Will do, sir.”
Tugo turned to the elders. “No one touch that crew until I get back.”
“Where are you going? We have an emergency council meeting to attend. This is critically important,” said Padooa.
He spun around. “Where am I going? I’ll tell you where. I’m going to organize the defense of this city, the defense of everything that we have shed blood and sweat and tears over for the last decade. That’s where I’m going.” He stabbed an index finger at them. “You go and talk about it all you want. And while you’re at it, if you hear the sounds of explosions and screaming, that’s our people dying out there.” He spun around again and strode out.
By the time Tugo arrived at the armory, his anger and frustration had receded somewhat. The others were all there, those that he had trained for this very moment—a moment that all of them feared would arrive someday. Well, today was that day.
By the law of averages, it was a wonder they hadn’t been discovered long before now. Perhaps it had given them all a false sense of security, that they could live free and be left alone in peace. As for the Elders, he couldn’t really blame them for their panic. Direct confrontation was not their ethos. After all, they were the ones who chose to separate themselves and their followers from the slavery of the outside world. But Tugo was under no such illusions. He knew the algorithm would come for them one day, and there would be no escape…only the will to fight.
The armory was an ancient stone building, isolated on a wide terrace on the northwestern quadrant of the cavern. The stonework was much older than most of the other buildings, rougher cut, but still spoke of great skill and craftsmanship by those who built it back through the mists of time. The walls were almost a meter thick, the sills above the doors and windows carved with strange symbols whose meaning had long been forgotten. They had chosen this building for both its strength and its relative isolation—just in case it accidentally blew up. Such were the risks associated with storing antique ballistic weapons and ammunition. But as Tugo glanced along the shelves and racks, he could see that they were all empty, save for the odd broken relic here and there.
His group was all here, so he wasted no time exchanging pleasantries. Instead, he sat on the slab floor, grabbed a small chalk stone, and scratched out a basic map of the cavern and its main access routes. The group gathered around.
“Have all these points been blocked up?”
His second-in-command, Pliny, knelt beside him. “Yes, all routes leading to the cavern are blocked with stone and rubble. We’ve also got teams in behind, all armed as best we can.”
