Here We Stand, page 16




“You’re going to get bored listening to all that. You might be stuck on it for years.”
“I’m an AI,” Solomon said. “I never get bored. Shall I set up your relay now?”
That was a hint to get on with it. “Yeah, let’s do it.”
The door locked with a click. “Just so you’re not interrupted,” Solomon said. “I’m not sure how some people here would react to being allowed calls.”
“Dan and Chris know.”
“I thought they might.”
Marc sat down on a bench and contemplated the alien weapons while he waited. He knew he wasn’t worrying half as much as he ought to about the problems that would flow from telling Tev about Opis. Tev was rock-solid and understood OPSEC as well as Marc did, but his family weren’t army. They were regular civilians, and all the issues about an information blackout were exactly the same as the one they’d dealt with by shoving the Ainatio staff through the Caisin gate without warning.
Shit, there was never going to be a right way to do this until everyone on Earth knew the whole story. Until then, Marc had to make sure Tev and the people he cared about were safe. Marc could test his priorities pretty easily. If Tev got killed or captured, he’d never forgive himself.
No contest.
And now the silence was killing him. It probably wouldn’t make any difference to Solomon if he talked because the AI could handle multiple streams of information, but it was a hard habit to break.
“There, all done,” Solomon said. “You can use your screen now. Unless Tev’s screen is compromised, the call can’t be intercepted, either.”
“Thanks, Sol.” Marc could have written a message, but it was safer to call to make sure it was Tev receiving it. He tapped the icon on Tev’s last message and waited. A woman answered.
“Bula, dairy,” she said, or at least that’s how it sounded.
Marc didn’t know Tev’s family and he didn’t know how much Tev might have told them about him. It was also odd to leave your screen for someone else to pick up calls. Marc proceeded cautiously.
“Hi. Have I got the right number for Tevita Josepha, please?”
“This is the dairy.”
Marc ploughed on. There was no way Solomon would have got the wrong number. “I’m his army friend, Marc. Marc from England. I’m checking to see if he’s okay. I haven’t heard from him for a couple of months.”
There was a brief silence. “He left.”
That didn’t sound encouraging. Marc played the baffled card. “But is he okay? I’m worried about him.”
“He told me you’d call one day,” the woman said. “He said to tell you he had to leave with his family.”
Marc prayed they hadn’t been picked up by APS intelligence already. “Do you know where he went? Did he go back to England?”
“He just said they had to go somewhere. He said to tell you he went fishing.”
Marc couldn’t think what that meant right then, but at least it sounded like Tev had left of his own accord.
“Did he leave his screen with you, then? Sorry, I called what I thought was his personal link.”
“This is the dairy. The convenience store. He used to come in and use the public comms link here.”
“Okay. Thank you. If he comes back, tell him Marc called and that I’ll find him.”
Marc sat looking at his screen for a few moments, trying to work out the fishing reference. Tev’s son Joni had a fishing business, so maybe it was a proper trawler or something, big enough to move a whole family. How many islands were there around Fiji? Hundreds. Marc would have to think harder.
“I’ve traced the address,” Solomon said. “I can confirm it’s a small grocery store on Viti Levu, in a resort on the west coast. So that’s genuine. Presumably there are plenty of places to go to ground in an archipelago of that size. Does Tev have ties to any other islands?”
“Not as far as I know,” Marc said. “He’d never been to Fiji before. His mum was English, he was born in England, and the nearest he got to being properly Fijian was rugby, the church, and the local ex-pat community. Even his ex-wife is third-generation British. He’ll be relying on his kids for local knowledge. They moved out there with Becky when they were little.”
“But he’s as skilled as you at keeping a low profile, I assume.”
“Oh yeah. He’ll blend right in. Even if he doesn’t know the dialect, they all speak English.”
“We have time to search further, then,” Solomon said. “But if you can work out the message he left you, that would help a great deal.”
“I’m on it, Sol.”
Marc tried to be positive, but Tev had uprooted his family for a reason. The last time he’d been in touch, Tev had said some local official came to welcome him when he arrived and check he had everything he needed. It might have been legit: Tev had been flown in by APDU, so they might have thought he was some VIP. But Marc always planned for the worst and worked up from there, so it could easily have been someone checking him out on Pham’s orders.
“Sol, have I missed any news about Tim Pham?” Marc asked. “Has he sunk without trace now?”
“No appearances on the news, and no references to him in the media, but his image and departmental information still appear on the official APS site.”
Pham would keep out of the public eye anyway, seeing as he still thought more like an intelligence agent than politician, but he’d also inadvertently brought Abbie and her plague to Korea, and that couldn’t have gone down well with APS. Was there anyone big enough to make him pay for it? From what Kim said, he was a law unto himself, and he’d managed to commandeer an aircraft carrier for his raid on Ainatio without many people noticing, so maybe not. The only question that mattered was whether he was still a threat to Nomad.
“Do you think he’s told anyone he saw the Caisin gate?” Marc asked. “Not that he knew exactly what it was, and Chris said he was going on about it being a secret British plot, but he knows there’s exploration technology to be had.”
“I would suspect not,” Solomon said. “He’ll want more intel before he risks humiliation, and if the first technology grab was off the books, this will be as well. I agree that his goal was plundering Ainatio for Australia’s benefit, not APS.”
“You know what pisses me off? He believes in something. The first principled politician I’ve ever known and the bastard’s on the wrong side. It’s not about money or personal power, it’s about serving his country. Anyway, thanks for sorting the comms for me. I’d better get on with some work.”
“Are you taking those weapons with you?” Solomon asked.
“Not yet. I’ve got to ask Fred for some training. The beam cutter is the thing I’m interested in. It’s silent. Fred said its range is more than six feet, too.”
“I see. You’re preparing for a gate insertion behind enemy lines.”
“To be honest, if I’m in one place long enough to need to use the cutter, I’ve failed. Maybe I’ll stick with firearms this time.”
“Well, it’ll be a good test run for entering Kugad.”
“How much access do you have to teerik data now? You’re working with them on engineering and comms, so you must see a lot of stuff. How much control do you have?”
“Are you asking me how much access I’ve made sure I have in the event of some disaster befalling the teeriks, enough to complete the FTL conversions, maintain them, and perhaps operate and maintain Caisin gates?” Solomon asked.
Marc had to smile. Sol was a crafty bugger. It was just as well he’d always be on Nomad’s side. “Yeah. Something like that.”
“The answer is sufficient.”
“Aren’t you going to overload your memory sooner or later?”
“No, I’m fine. I’m not the AI that does the calculations and code, or works out how to translate Jattan. It’s like plugging in extra brains when I need them. I’m just the manager. My job is to help different systems talk to each other, have enough access to do their jobs, and be able to call me for help if something goes wrong. I’m not designed for their specialisations. I could learn eventually, but delegation works better.”
“And your core is your own brain. The bit that moves around.”
“Yes, but I normally leave part of my eyes, ears, and motor functions in the network when I do that. Except when Erskine’s trying to kill me, of course.”
“I can’t wait for that reunion.”
“I can.” Solomon actually made a sighing sound. Marc had never heard him do that before. The AI’s pauses were timed as well as an actor’s, but he’d never gone in for sound effects. “If you’re going to ask me if I’m building our own capacity to use teerik technology because I don’t trust them, it’s more about the long-term supply. We have to ask what happens when members of the commune age and die, which also means we have to consider whether this group can reproduce. Fred’s daughter sometimes expresses worries that her sons won’t have mates because there are no other teeriks around.”
“That sounds like an unusually personal chat for her.”
“I was eavesdropping, actually.”
“In Kugal?”
“The linguistics AI has to learn somehow, and they do still speak some Kugal to the children.” Solomon had his own rules on preserving others’ privacy, but he only seemed to apply them to his protected humans. “Whether Turisu’s worried or not, we can already see we need to plan for the future. Parthenogenesis as in Caisin’s case isn’t the answer. Offspring like Rikayl aren’t going to be much use to us. We still have no idea what went wrong there.”
Nomad was already handcuffed to the teeriks indefinitely because they now knew almost everything about human military capability. Their genetic memory would preserve a lot of that in their children, including the location of Earth. But Marc knew he hadn’t given enough thought to the long term — the Kugin were still dependent on teeriks, according to Fred, because nobody could even reverse-engineer most of their stuff.
“Even if we can learn their engineering skills, maybe we can’t innovate like they do,” Marc said. “So the question is how far we can fall behind progress in Kugin technology or anyone else’s before we’re back to being the slowest-moving targets in town again.”
“That’s the question, and we only have partial answers so far,” Solomon said. “Levelling the playing field requires keeping up with the neighbours, or destroying the playing field for everybody.”
“Acquiring all the teeriks, or something else?” Marc asked, but he knew what the something else was.
“If we can’t have them,” Solomon said, “we might need to consider living within our previous technological constraints and making sure nobody else can have them either. I think that’s a conversation we’ll all have to have one day.”
“We already have.”
“Only about terminating them humanely. Not about willingly forfeiting their technology. I have to find a way to bridge that competence gap.”
Marc couldn’t argue with that. Somewhere in Kugad, a defence select committee or whatever passed for one in Kugin politics was probably having that same discussion, in case their teeriks had now fallen into the wrong hands with all their skills and secrets. If they had any sense, they’d assume they were completely compromised, along with their allies and customers, and it was time to panic.
“We’re talking about teeriks as if they’re animals,” Marc said. “We can’t get past the fact they look like birds, can we?”
“It’s not that, Marc. I’d make the same decision about humans if they happened to have technology we relied on and their situation was uncertain.” Sometimes it was hard for Marc to listen to Sol and not see him as another Tom on the radio net, lying in a shell scrape somewhere, flesh and blood like himself. “Remember that I’m not here to save Earth, your government, or humanity in general. I’m here to save you.”
Like Marc, and like everyone Marc had ever served with, Sol was fighting for the bloke next to him. It was hard to see Sol as anything but a human who just happened to be lacking a body.
* * *
Main building, Nomad Base: 0715 hours, October 7, OC.
For the seventy-eighth morning in a row — slightly overcast today, but still pleasantly warm — Ingram began her day standing on the roof of the main building, drinking a mug of tea while she surveyed the base below.
The habit that started with her need for a better view of construction work had turned into a ritual, and it hadn’t passed unnoticed by those who worked in the centre of the base. Ingram suspected it made a statement that all was well. As long as the CO could stand up there like an easy target, calmly drinking tea while keeping an eye on everything, then people were reassured there was nothing to worry about.
It also seemed to indicate that she was available for a chat, though, because they would sometimes make their way up to the roof to corner her, knowing she had no escape.
Today it was Logan Haine. She could hear him singing tunelessly to himself as he climbed through the roof hatch. He stood beside her, folded his arms, and joined in the general surveying. He seemed to be back to his old self, in public at least.
“Want to see something absolutely fascinating, Bridgers?”
She braced for something graphic. “Does it involve the intricacies of a corviform alien’s internal organs?”
“Actually, yes. Well, technically not the offal component, but it’s peripherally involved. If you want to examine it for haruspicy purposes, though, I’ll put it in a bowl for you. How did you know?”
“I just thought of the last thing I needed to see after enjoying my lovely poached eggs.”
“You don’t need to actually see it, but if I start explaining it without imagery and props, your eyes will glaze over. When you’re ready, you’re invited to join us in the med lab.”
“Very well, as soon as I’ve done my rounds, I’ll be there. As long as it’s not a practical joke involving raw teerik.”
“I swear this is purely pushing the frontiers of science.” Haine peered into her face. “Have you been on the razzle again? You look hung over.”
“I stayed up late listening to the Jattan comms net. It’s all simultaneous English translation now, albeit with lots of gaps. The AI’s learning fast.”
“Anything interesting?”
“Allowing for misunderstandings of nuance, they have an impenetrable bureaucracy, some admiral’s vessel wasn’t shown the correct courtesy by a junior commander’s tub so heads will roll, and someone’s been sent a fleet’s worth of the wrong spare parts. There’s a lot I don’t understand even when it’s translated, but overall, lots of scenarios not unrecognisable to any human matelot.”
“Isn’t that marvellous?” Haine looked delighted. “I realise circumstances have dulled the shine, but… aliens. We’re spying on aliens, having lunch with aliens, doing PMs on aliens, and we’re the first humans who ever have. This is the most scientifically exciting event since Palaeolithic man realised he could get rat-arsed on decaying fruit. Rejoice in it, Bridgers. And I’ll expect you to join us later this morning.”
Haine disappeared back down the hatch, leaving Ingram to finish her tea and contemplate the frustrating lull she found herself in after the recent crises. The base was no safer than it had been when Gan-Pamas arrived, but everyone was now in a state of quietly watching and waiting — waiting for the Kugin or the Jattans to make a move, waiting for news of home, looking for lost friends, producing food and upgrading equipment in preparation for the unknown day. It was slack water with no way of knowing if and when the tide would turn.
Ingram was trained to hunt the enemy, not wait politely for them to find her. She wanted to get stuck in. But that didn’t necessarily mean it was the wisest option.
She went on her way, trying to get her focus straight again. What needed doing now was the essential, routine stuff that didn’t get the adrenaline flowing. Food production, reconditioning more land for farming, and getting on with a tough engineering schedule now came first. Before setting off on the bike for her daily inspection, she sat in the saddle for a while studying her base map, tapping on features to get the latest status reports.
Solomon had added an orbital layer for the convenience of Cabot personnel so they didn’t have to switch to another screen to see the state of play with the ships, but it looked like he’d now added a Dal Mantir space layer as well, showing the planet in its star system with the spy freighter’s position marked.
The transparent layers were getting too cluttered for Ingram’s taste so she pulled up the orbital one on its own. Eighty per cent of Cabot’s engineering section were now working on the ships in orbit, spread over three watches, along with the teeriks and dozens of bots. With almost all the remaining bots on the ground occupied by expanding arable land and building bomb shelters, resources were now as stretched as they’d been during the evacuation. The bots could make more copies of themselves as they’d done for decades, but that meant diverting some from urgent jobs. It was a fine balancing act. Solomon had already worked it out and implemented it.
“Sol,” Ingram said. “Are you sure we shouldn’t pull some bots back for reproduction? Keep a permanent breeding colony, so to speak.”
“We could, Captain, but as you’re aware there’ll be a loss of productivity while they replace themselves.” Solomon repeated his position just as she repeated hers, a war of polite attrition. “But if you want to deploy them in drive engineering, we’re limited by the working space available. Crudely put, there’s not enough room for more of them to work.”
“I was thinking of getting bomb shelters excavated faster.”
“If that’s what you want,” Solomon said.
“What I really want is a Caisin gate generator, in a bunker, underground. Somewhere the Kugin can’t get at it.”