Blade, page 24
part #4 of Inverted Frontier Series
“No,” she said at last. “That is not true.”
She had seen too much, knew too much. The behavioral virus that had burned through the Hallowed Vasties was ancient beyond reckoning. It had been a scourge of the Chenzeme, who had endowed their murderous warships with the imperative to destroy any potential host of the Communion virus within a region overlapping the edges of human expansion. No, Kuriak had merely created a fiction, told itself a convenient story so as to justify the genocide it intended.
But she did not challenge the rogue DI with this conclusion, offering instead a gentler argument based on obvious fact: “If that were true, our telescopes should have picked out evidence of Invention settlements among the ruins of other star systems. But we have not.”
Kuriak replied, “In time it will happen. This successful colony will reproduce itself just as their IRKs do, and they will spread unless we act to stop them. I do not have the means to nullify the invasives, but you do. The two smallest outriders within your fleet, standing off but shadowing the Labyrinth—I have seen such things before. I know what they are, and what they can do. The invasives don’t know, do they?”
*It’s talking about the sentient missiles, Jolly said privately, an edge to his words.
Clemantine felt chilled, and not just by the suggestion of genocide. Kuriak had witnessed the fall-out of the Communion virus: a state-change, a re-engineering of what had been human to create the melded mindspace embodied in the cordon. Kuriak had also witnessed the cordon’s collapse. It had watched oblivion blossom in the form of untethered blades, over and over and over again, consuming the past, leaving only fragmented ruins behind.
Clemantine knew her shock must be eloquently visible on her face; she hoped Kuriak was not adept at reading human emotion.
Jolly caught her gaze from across the room, cold anger in his eyes. He said, *It wants us to use the missiles against the Inventions.
She nodded.
Shoran alone had the composure to calmly answer Kuriak’s question. “Your guess is correct. The Inventions seem to regard the missiles as observational platforms like the outriders and we have not enlightened them.”
“Two such weapons are insufficient for the task,” Kuriak said. “More will need to be manufactured. At present, I cannot do this for you as I do not possess the technology. But once you share your library, I will supervise the operation for you.”
Clemantine clenched her teeth to block a furious retort; she half-closed her eyes, fighting to suppress a shudder. In that moment of vulnerability, a bitter conversation re-echoed in her mind. Herself, addressing Urban with brutal logic: “In all the histories we know, the evolution of such things”—of sentient machines—“always led to disaster.”
And Urban, challenging her: “So then, what are you thinking? That we should annihilate them?”
That was Kuriak’s ambition. And with a bitter pang, it occurred to her that her dark twin would have shared this ambition too . . . and maybe she herself was not all against it. Not given her long experience of alien aggression.
There was something of truth in the rogue DI’s blank robotic face. Despite its evolved intelligence—what might even be sentience—Kuriak remained in thrall to core programming that reflected the fears and prejudices of its creators. Fears and prejudices all too similar to her own.
She could not—would not—allow herself to give in to such fears. Not even in her most private inner thoughts. On no level would she give credence to the genocide Kuriak was suggesting. Impossible anyway. No one knew how to manufacture more missiles.
A bleak inner voice chided, Not yet.
Her gaze shifted as if she could look up, look out, look at the first moon, where Urban and the Cryptologist fought to rediscover such knowledge.
But while exotic technologies offered speed and efficiency, simpler, more attainable ways existed to destroy. Her thoughts leaped back to her near-fatal encounter with IRKs, and to Tio’s hurried explanation that something had corrupted their programming so that the IRKs attacked the Inventions . . .
She looked again at Kuriak’s blank face and wondered, Had it already begun its pogrom?
She addressed it in a calm, steady voice that gave no hint of the turmoil of her thoughts. “Kuriak, you told us before that your creator, Ona, left you to watch from a distant orbit, where you observed all that followed the onslaught of the behavioral virus that you call the Corruption. But this habitat is not in a distant orbit. Explain this discrepancy.”
It answered without hesitation. “I brought this habitat sunward to better observe the invasives. I used a slow approach, over centuries, to avoid calling attention to myself. I sent spy devices ahead to gather detailed observations. I know much about the invasives.”
“I see. And did you observe the IRKs prior to this sunward migration?”
“No. My move sunward began before the release of the IRKs.”
“Ah, so the IRKs did not visit your habitat prior to the attack? Exactly when was that?”
Kuriak chose to answer the second question. “Twenty-one years, twenty-two days ago.”
A startlingly brief snippet of time.
“And before that,” Clemantine asked, revisiting the unanswered question, “did any IRK visit your habitat?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Three hundred fifty-nine years ago.”
Clemantine reviewed in her mind Vytet’s brief recounting of IRK history. “That would have been just before IRK programming was corrupted.”
“Yes.”
“Did you capture that visiting IRK, Kuriak? Did you study it, and corrupt it?”
“Yes. Its nature proved simple. I re-programmed it.”
“And then you released it and the corrupt programming spread?”
“Yes. But the tactic’s initial success was short-lived. IRKs alone are not sufficient to nullify the invasives.”
Kuriak’s cold focus on extermination induced in her a deep terror, but she strove not to show it . . . unless through this interval of silence?
Jolly spoke on their private channel: *Kuriak knew Tio wouldn’t tolerate this kind of talk—and Tio is dead. That is not a coincidence.
*Tio is not dead, Shoran corrected. *Only his avatar. But I take your point. Kuriak might still control some IRK behavior.
Outrage stirred as Clemantine wondered, Was it so?
Had Kuriak engineered their little drama with the IRKs? Had it targeted Tio on purpose, calculating he could never be persuaded?
She held tight to a cool demeanor and warned the others, *Say nothing of it. Make no accusations and show no dissent. Not yet. Not until we have its libraries. There is still so much to learn from this device.
Bold and bitter, Jolly spoke aloud from across the room. “You promised us your library, Kuriak. But I think there’s something more precious here. I think Ona is here.”
“Ona is not here,” Kuriak replied.
The android still did not move; it did not turn; its flat tone did not change. Yet Clemantine tensed, aware of dangerous ground.
If Jolly shared her anxiety, he did not show it. “If not here, then where?” he demanded of Kuriak. “You said before that she is far away in time, but that doesn’t mean she’s gone from Hupo Sei. There is an archive somewhere.”
A statement easy to deny, if untrue. But if it was true?
Time slipped past—five seconds, ten, twenty—and Kuriak said nothing.
*Send a ghost to Elepaio, Clemantine ordered.
Kuriak had been created to serve as the guardian of Ona’s library; Clemantine knew this through the rogue DI’s own testimony. And by its silence, she now felt sure Jolly had spoken correctly: somewhere within the breadth of that library an ancient archive still preserved a copy of Ona’s dormant ghost. But for good reason, Kuriak’s programming would surely inhibit the revelation of such a fact.
Clemantine sent an updated copy of her own ghost to the archive on Elepaio, and then she sent a message to Dragon, summoning the Scholar.
In the light-speed lag before the Scholar’s arrival, she spoke to Kuriak sympathetically, suggestively, as one might when seeking to draw hidden truth from a reluctant friend. “As I see it, Kuriak, a threat we all fear is losing our autonomy. Better oblivion than waking from an archive into some hellish fate from which we can never escape, not even through death.”
Urban had made just such a choice at the Rock, when he’d first encountered Lezuri, choosing to destroy himself and his memory rather than risk capture.
Clemantine forced a smile, even though she deemed it likely the rogue DI had no real skill at reading human expression. “A brilliant person like Ona would have recognized this danger. When she retreated to her archive, she would have demanded that you protect her from such a risk above all other imperatives.”
This time Kuriak replied: “We understand each other. We are natural allies. We will reclaim Hupo Sei together. We will ensure it is again a safe home for humans.”
Clemantine cautioned Shoran and Jolly: *Make no argument. We need to capture its library before we end this.
*Its library and its archive, Jolly said.
Clemantine hesitated, wondering what obligation, if any, they owed to ancient ghosts—a profound question, deserving of deep consideration and debate. But now was not the time.
An alert arrived.
*The Scholar is here, she announced. *Stand by.
The Apparatchik entered her atrium, residing there as an invisible aspect, an independent entity sharing her perceptions of the physical world.
*Listen, she told him.
Then she turned to Kuriak and spoke aloud, “You have asked to share our library, but we must see your libraries first—both the original library of Hupo Sei and the one you have guarded and augmented for all these centuries since Ona left you with this task.”
Kuriak replied, “Full access to the original library is yours.”
“And the other?”
“I am unable to share all aspects. I lack authorization.”
“I see.”
“May I send you access?”
“Yes. Do so.”
She felt the query. Warned the others, *Do not accept it.
*You have called me here to analyze this library? the Scholar asked.
Clemantine answered on their shared channel. *I want you to capture it. All of it. Get inside and seize both libraries while you can. Kuriak’s goal is the annihilation of the Inventions. It seeks our alliance for that purpose—
*There can be no such alliance, the Scholar broke in, his tone offended.
*Of course there can’t be. But I want those libraries. You understand? You need to take them. Kuriak is an ancient program. It should be no great challenge for you to penetrate its defenses and take control of what’s there.
*Perhaps, though there is risk in such an action, the Scholar warned. *We know Kuriak can and will defend itself. All of you here are vulnerable.
*As is the ancient ghost Kuriak holds in a hidden archive. That is why you must move quickly. Neutralize Kuriak, and eliminate its ability to react.
*Clarify this term ‘neutralize.’
Clemantine felt the sting of accusation in this request. It stirred an unwanted memory of the assault she’d engineered against her dark twin. Guilt tried to rise, but she rejected it. That had been necessary violence. This was too.
In a cold voice, she told the Scholar, *You know what I mean. Isolate it if you can. Erase it if you must.
*But if it is sentient—
*No, Clemantine insisted. *Do not make more of it than it is. It is not like you. It is not an Apparatchik. It is not a ghost. It is only a rogue DI.
*A dangerously uplifted DI, Shoran added. *It should never have been created.
*The Cryptologist should not have been created, the Scholar countered. *Or so I have heard it said.
*Don’t make that argument, Jolly warned.
And he might have said more, but Clemantine cut him off, insisting to the Scholar, *Go.
Chapter
37
The Scholar did not at first fully condone his assignment. Surely the ethics of it deserved full consideration and debate? Yet Kuriak could rescind library access at any time. Given that, the Scholar felt obliged to act, and to act at once, while the window of opportunity remained open.
So he edited his mind. Before, he had viewed Kuriak as an interesting anomaly. Now he re-defined the DI as a ruthless enemy—an easy enough transition, given its genocidal ideations. A greater challenge lay in restricting his own curiosity. He must focus on analyzing the library’s security architecture, rather than the information it contained. Reluctantly, he imposed this restraint on himself; it would be only for a minute. He set the update to roll back automatically after that interval of time.
His preparations complete, the Scholar accepted the access Kuriak had offered and emigrated to the rogue DI’s library. A microsecond elapsed as he scanned the structure behind an immense web of files—poorly arranged, even chaotic, but familiar.
He seeded a flock of simple DIs and set them to surveying and selecting among what was there.
Another microsecond, and a presence intruded. Swift analysis revealed its core structure to be that of a Dull Intelligence, though not a simple one, and its core came augmented with complexities the Scholar had never encountered before. Scanning the augmentations, it struck him that they were derivative of biological minds. Perhaps meant to contain the element of self-awareness? Or to mimic it in the entity that identified as Kuriak . . .
Interesting, and yet irrelevant to his task.
In its turn, the DI sought to analyze him. He allowed it, knowing he would parse as human, or human enough. Proof of this came when the DI—when Kuriak—generated a message of welcome, one that would have been auditory had the Scholar been using that mode. He was not. He emulated human senses only when interacting with humans, the programmatic mode being so much more efficient.
He did not respond to the greeting. Instead, he introduced a tool into the system, one derived from the predator Lezuri had once used to attack Dragon’s network. This, a more subtle version: not a predator, but a worm that burrowed almost without trace, past Kuriak’s obsolete defenses and deep into its core.
Almost without trace.
It took Kuriak nearly a full second to wake to the intrusion. When it did, a new, resource-intensive process initiated within the DI’s augmentations. The Scholar recognized it as a self-check operation, a standard response used to diagnose and correct suspected errors.
Too late for that.
The worm, having found what it sought, returned Kuriak’s credentials, elevating the Scholar to system master. Victory in a few tangles of code.
But now the self-check routine spawned two new processes. The Scholar, utilizing his elevated status, instantly issued dual stop orders. At the same time, he quick-checked the routines. One proved to be outwardly directed. Despite his order, it carried on to completion, triggering an external process too slow to analyze in the moment. The other also rejected his command to stop, instead commencing a blisteringly fast simple-text overwrite of all the library’s computational layers.
Shit!
The Scholar lost a full microsecond to surprise. Then he acted, summoning the surviving DIs in his flock and retreating from the library while he still could—because no credential had the authority to interrupt a self-destruct routine once it had been set in motion.
<><><>
A process initiated in Clemantine’s atrium. Data flooded in with the intensity of a hull breach, then swept out again, gone somewhere as dizziness flooded her mind. She staggered, started to slowly fall in the meager gravity, then found Shoran’s arm and held on, vaguely aware now of the Scholar’s fleeting presence, arriving in and then departing from her atrium. Her chest heaved as she gasped for air, for oxygen. She felt Shoran holding her up; she could no longer stand on her own. And past the buzzing in her ears, she heard a frantic question. “C! What’s wrong?”
Aware now of her racing heart, her mind beginning to clear. “Overload,” she whispered, recognizing that the burst of activity in her atrium had consumed her available biological energy, leaving her brain starved. “Something happened with the Scholar . . .” A whisper that faded as she felt a shuddering vibration in the carpeted floor beneath her feet. A moment later, a deep, distant, guttural roar shook the chamber walls.
“Hoods up!” Shoran shouted over the noise. “Jolly, get over here. We’re evacuating.”
Good idea.
Clemantine ordered her suit to seal. *I’m okay now, she told Shoran. She proved it by standing on her own—easy enough in the moon’s light gravity. With Shoran, she moved toward the gel lock.
Kuriak—or rather, the metallic android the rogue DI had used as an interface—still stood as it had when they’d first entered the chamber, with its blank face fixed mindlessly on the lock.
Jolly gave it a wide berth as he joined them, his hood still down. But then he looked back at it. “Kuriak!” he demanded, projecting his voice over the ongoing roar—not so intense now, but low and steady.
No reply came. The thing didn’t move.
*Jolly, hood up, Shoran urged.
Instead, Jolly stepped up to the android.
*No, Clemantine told him.
He glanced over his shoulder at her, dark brows knit in a defiant expression that reminded her too much of Urban. Then, turning back, he shoved the android in the chest, stepping away as it slowly toppled over with all its limbs locked in place.
He turned to Clemantine again and said aloud, “I think Kuriak’s library is burning. That sound is the sound of fire.”
Clemantine shuddered, knowing fire as the great enemy of every habitat. *Let’s go!
This time he nodded. His hood sealed. They moved together toward the lock. Shoran asked, *Did the Scholar get out?
*Yes. He passed through. Didn’t stay to talk, but he brought a flood of data with him.
*Good. Then he’ll know what happened.
