Gridlinked ac-1 Page 17

  'Yes, I…'

  Movement from the table: a bulging, bubbling, like sprouting mushrooms and a Dragon chess set grew from its surface.

  'Your move.'

  For a moment Cormac could think of nothing else to say or do. He reached down and took hold of a pawn.

  The tiling writhed in his hand, bit him. He yelled and dropped it. On the board it slithered forwards to a tegulate square.

  'There is always a price for power,' said Dragon.

  Cormac swore, then waited for his opponent's move, his confusion growing. What the hell was this? Some sort of megalomaniacal game or a test?

  He hoped for the latter.

  As he thought, he studied his opponent. The draco-man betrayed nothing, even when he suddenly moved and brought his fist down on Cormac's pawn. Cormac was taken aback.

  'That is not in the rulebook,' he said, then damned himself for saying it. He knew what Dragon's reply would be.

  'There are no rules here, just judgments.'

  Cormac decided to react. He brought his fist down and crushed his opponent's king. 'Check,' he said dryly, and watched his opponent.

  The dracoman stared at the board for a moment, then methodically began to crush every one of Cormac's pieces. White gore dribbled off the side of the table. Cormac turned towards the head.

  'Surely by now you have enough insight into basic human reactions? You've been studying us for centuries,' he said.

  'Every human is an individual, as you so rightly indicated,' observed Dragon.

  Cormac was not sure he had done any such thing. He turned back to his opponent. 'I do not like subjective games,' he said, and knocked the table aside. The dracoman went for him with frightening speed. The hands reaching for his throat he was able to knock aside, but he was still driven to the ground. The hands reached for his throat again. He brought his knee up, then flung the clammy body from him. He regained his feet as his opponent did. The attack was still without finesse, and this time, not caught unawares, Cormac used his feet to counter it. The fight was over in seconds, the dracoman gurgling on the shale.

  'Your second-to-last move was the wrong one,' said Dragon.

  'I won.'

  'That is not the issue.'

  'What is?'

  'Morality.'

  'Hah, it is the winners who write history and it is the winners who invent morality. Existence is all the reason for existence any of us has, unless you believe in gods. I think you set yourself up too high.'

  'No higher than an executioner.'

  'You threaten again. Why? Do you have the power to carry out your threats? Do you think that you are a god?'

  'I do not threaten you.'

  'You seek to judge me then - to judge what I represent.'

  'In the system of Betelgeuse there is a physicist working on some of the later Skaidon formulae. I predict he will solve some of the problems he has set himself.'

  'And…?'

  'Within the next century the human race will possess the intergalactic runcible.'

  'What?'

  The ground shook. A vast shadow blotted out half the sky. With his skin crawling Cormac turned, and there, making its ponderous gargantuan way across the rock-scape, he saw the Monitor; long as a city, its legs like tower blocks. Cormac watched it pass, knew its destination.

  'Another threat?' he breathed. 'What is it that you want?'

  The head rose higher and turned in the direction the Monitor had gone.

  'Go back to Cartis. When you have seen what you must see, return here.'

  Suddenly the head dropped down, and was hovering before Cormac.

  'I control Monitor; without me it is mindless, but you know that,' it said. 'I have the power, the power to destroy. Could it be that you know what I mean?'

  'I know the substance of your threat… your warning?' was Cormac's reply. After a pause he glanced down at the now unmoving dracoman. Then he swung his attention to his rucksack, back up at Dragon, shrugged and walked away, random accessing as he did so, so that nothing could be read from his expression:

  Aster Cobra: A planet on the rim of the galaxy.

  Maria had been waiting for him at the two-kilometre boundary. She was panicked, out of her depth.

  'The whole city… Monitor…'

  Cormac silenced her and took her place in the driving seat of the AGC. Halfway back to Cartis she had calmed enough to be coherent.

  'Pseudopods broke through all round the city. I was outside when it happened… No one can escape and Monitor is heading in that direction. It has never done that before.'

  'Dragon controls Monitor.'

  'Why…?'

  'Either it tests us or Darson is right.'

  'Thanks for the comfort.'

  Cartis was indeed ringed by pseudopods, but they parted to allow the AGC through. At the metrotel, Cormac used Maria's intentions and fear to get her to bed. He felt no remorse. She had been quite prepared to use him in any way she could for the Separatist movement. Lying on his bed he listened as the rumble of Monitor's arrival ceased, then he inspected the naked form lying beside him. An affirmation of humanity? he wondered. The question was irrelevant. All waited on him. Careful not to wake Maria, Cormac got off the bed and went to the bathroom. Ritualistically he shaved, cleaned his teeth and dressed. He then sat down and accessed the runcible grid.

  Earth Central.

  Dragon intergalactic.

  Proven?

  To my satisfaction.

  With that he sent all he had learnt and surmised to the AI. It took less than a second. A test. Morality base evident, came the terse reply. Threat/warning?

  Also.

  Obliterate? Not feasible. Obviously has knowledge of device. ?

  Part of the test.

  It is disposable then? As me.

  'Yes,' said Cormac out loud.

  Go back, react, returned the silent thought of the AI. Cormac closed his eyes and closed access. Then, abrupdy, he departed the metrotel.

  The honour guard remained and Cormac was soon back before Dragon. The dracoman was gone, the cave gone, the head a black silhouette against the red sky.

  'Have you seen?' it asked.

  'You can destroy Cards.'

  The head turned. 'I mean - have you seen?'

  Cormac squatted down next to the rucksack he had left. 'Yes,' he said, 'if we are judged and found wanting, what happens?'

  'You have been judged.'

  Cormac waited.

  'I have been watching for twenty million of your years. I have seen every sparrow fall.'

  'Yes… that is enough time to come to a conclusion,' said Cormac dryly. He entertained doubts, then, about Dragon's sanity.

  'You will live,' Dragon said.

  Cormac allowed the rigidity to leave him. 'Cartis… the Monitor… they were the final push, just to see…' he said, fully understanding now.

  'Your AIs are extensions of your own minds, as I am an extension of other minds. Had you destroyed me for the few petty threats of this day, without regard or understanding of what I truly am, every one of your runcibles would have been turned inside out: converted into black holes.'

  Cormac reached across and opened his rucksack. From it he took an innocuous blue-grey cylinder of metal. With a thought he deactivated it, then he put it away again. A similar, if somewhat larger device, had been used in the system of Cassius to demolish a gas giant.

  'Now?' he asked.

  'Now you must leave and I must leave. Your kind will meet mine. My task is done.'

  'How will you leave?'

  'I will not leave this planet.'

  And Cormac knew. He left Dragon, and on his way saw Monitor come and lie down at its side like a faithful dog. Once in the AGC he did not look back.

  Lest I be turned into a pillar of salt.

  A white sun rose over Aster Colora, and hard black shadows were cast, like dice. Cormac later learnt it had been a contra-terrene explosion beyond mere human abilities to generate and contain, as it had b
een contained, in a two-kilometre radius.

  It was Dragon's last message.

  Not a trace of Dragon remained.

  (Solstan 2434)

  When he had finished telling Chaline, Cormac felt lightness in his chest. He leant back. It was a story he had told no human, though most runcible AIs knew it.

  'What was the real purpose of calling you there? It all seems a little… unlikely,' Chaline wondered.

  'Theatrics? Who knows? Debate about Dragon's purpose has raged since it was discovered, even amongst AIs. There are some who say it was too wise for us to understand. And, of course, the likes of Darson, who thinks it was insane… or is.'

  'What do you think?'

  Cormac turned and looked at her. 'First and foremost I think it was a liar and a fraud. I don't think it came here twenty million years ago, nor do I think it came to test humanity. The two statements don't tie up. And I certainly don't think it was capable of destroying us.'

  'Is that all?'

  'No. I don't think it self-destructed after it had served its ostensible purpose. There was not a trace of its body left, even under ground. I think it's out there somewhere, and it's laughing at us.'

  Chaline smiled at that, then stood. 'Another drink?' She held out her hand for his glass. For a moment he considered refusing and heading for bed. He handed her his glass.

  Damn it, I'm human.

  As Chaline returned with the two drinks, he studied her closely. Her overall was wrinkled and sweat-stained, but did not detract from her allure in the slightest. Her face had an imperious beauty, her figure was worthy of note and she had something remarkable between her ears; anyone in her position had to have. Cormac felt something he had not felt with Angelina. That mechanical action had not been in response to any need in him. He had felt wholly cynical about it. When was the last time he had really made love to a woman? Maria Convala was the last, he was reluctant to admit.

  'What's the matter?' Chaline asked him, a tilt to her head and a knowing smile.

  'You're very attractive,' he said.

  She sat down. 'I'm also very tired.'

  Her mein was coy, and it surprised him. He glanced up as a group of technicians walked in after their shift, and he silently thanked them.

  'We could finish our drinks in my cabin,' he suggested.

  Her coyness disappeared and she inspected him esti-matingly. Abruptly she stood again, and he thought he had maybe pushed too hard. She was going to chop him down.

  'I really need a shower,' she said.

  Cormac waited now for the kind rejection.

  'I can't get in your cabin by myself,' she said impatiendy.

  Cormac was out of his seat and exiting the canteen before he even had a chance to be surprised. At the door to his cabin he slapped the palm-lock and entered in a teenage terror at how to initiate things. Chaline dispelled that worry in an instant: halfway across the room she turned, ran her thumb down the centre of her overall and parted it, kicked off her deck slippers and shrugged her overall to the floor. Cormac remembered to close his moudi as she smiled at him, men headed for his shower. We forgot our drinks, he thought, and then grinned. He left his clothes beside hers and followed.

  'You are slow,' she said, as he moved up behind her and placed his hand on the lighter skin at the soapy curve of her hip.

  'Too long listening to AIs,' he said, pulling her to him and sliding his hands round her waist, then up to her breasts. She pushed her bottom back against his erection and slowly moved it from side to side.

  'I hope you haven't lost all your manual skills,' she said, then turned and reached down.

  Cormac pulled her close again and started kissing her neck, and then he found himself on top of her on the floor of the shower room, inside her. From there, to the bed and the night - not one thought about gridlinks.

  12

  Wouldn't you think that with such omnipotent AIs, such advanced security systems, and such dedicated ECS Monitors, crime would be a thing of the past? Think that and you aren't thinking. Our security systems may be advancing every day, but so are the criminals. Between what I like to call the forces of order and of chaos there is a constant 'arms race', and it's difficult sometimes to say who might be winning. Sometimes it is also difficult to distinguish which side is which.

  From How It Is by Gordon

  Briefly there had been a night, very briefly. The sun had dipped behind the horizon for two solstan hours before creeping back. As if this momentary lapse had allowed it through, a green bank of cloud rose from the further horizon and rolled in with pinwheels of lightning scoring its underbelly. Stanton took another bite from the kebab he had bought inside, and wondered just what sort of meat he was eating. What sort of vegetation for that matter. It was after inspecting the contents of his meal for a moment that he looked along the length of the old road. Down the sides of the compacted and fused-earth surface were deep storm gullies. He had heard it could be bad here. What most puzzled him were the square panels set along the road at regular intervals. They were painted black and yellow, and each had a letter and a number. The letter was always a C and the numbers ascended in order. He was staring at these when a woman with a shaven and tattooed skull stumbled from The Sharrow. She was painfully slim in her jeans and padded sea-fibre jacket, and her skin had a bluish tint. Probably part Outlinker, he thought.

  'What are those?' he asked, pointing at the squares when she gave him a once-over.

  She looked confused for a moment, and then waved an arm dismissively. 'Car clamps,' she said, and stumbled off.

  Stanton filed this information under miscellaneous, then looked back up the road in the other direction. The familiar loom of Mr Crane stomping along behind Pelter was not difficult to miss. He finished his meal in a couple of hurried bites, wiped his hands on a tissue and tossed that tissue into a nearby bin. As Pelter drew closer, Stanton saw that something had changed.

  'New aug,' he said.

  Pelter reached up and touched the reptilian aug clinging behind his right ear. Perhaps it was something about the light, the weight of cloud above and the flickering of yellow lightning, but Stanton felt sure he had seen the aug move under Pelter's touch. It was the final step, Stanton thought. Pelter had once been an attractive man; now, with his head made lopsided by two mismatched augs, the optic link in his suppurating eye socket and a face grown haggard and perpetually twisted by whatever drove him, he was ugly. Without a doubt he now looked what he was.

  'A new aug,' Pelter repeated.

  'OK,' said Stanton when it became apparent Pelter intended to say no more. He glanced up at the darkening sky and felt the first slimy drops of rain on his face. 'Storm on the way, and they can be bad here.' He looked at Pelter again. 'The boys are inside. Any luck with a dealer?'

  Pelter nodded and gestured towards the arched entrance of The Sharrow. Side by side they walked through, Mr Crane at their back, a brass shadow.

  'We have an assortment of interesting toys and we have our delivery system,' said Pelter.

  'What sort?'

  'A stealthed dropbird of Polity manufacture. I am told it was stolen piece by piece from an ECS base. It's old, but it will serve. Now -' Pelter looked at him' - did you deal with the other matter?'

  'Jarvellis didn't let out any information concerning us. Neither by aug, her ship computers, nor auto manifest. She had all bets covered, as always. I believe her. She's smuggled weapons successfully for decades. You don't manage that under the noses of ECS without sealing every data leak.'

  Pelter shook his head. 'That doesn't concern me. What about our transport?'

  'It doesn't concern you?… We have to know how the information got through, Arian. We could be walking into a shitstorm here.'

  'It doesn't concern me because I now know.'

  'Know what?'

  'Don't concern yourself. I have it covered. Now, transport?' said Pelter.

  They halted almost in the middle of the room. Stanton glanced round at the raucous drinkers
and saw the looks flung their way, then he looked towards the restaurant platforms ahead of them.

  'Perhaps we should save this,' he said.

  'No,' said Pelter. 'I want to know now what you have arranged.'

  'OK, OK.' Stanton stepped closer and lowered his voice. He saw that Crane moved closer as well, and knew it wasn't because the android wanted to join the conversation.

  'With a dropbird, life support for the six of us, and other supplies not yet detailed, Jarvellis says it'll have to be a full charter. We'll need both holds and she won't have room for any other cargoes. Also, she'll need to service the split seals on the A hold for loading and then deployment of the bird… A straight million.'

  Stanton waited for Pelter to explode, but was surprised and puzzled by his reaction.

  'Fine,' Pelter said, and moved on. 'We'll get rooms in the nearest metrotel while the work is being done. How long will the service take?'

  'Couple of days, solstan… that's the reason for the high price, you see: a lot will go on the maintenance and bribes. They can block you if you don't pay.'

  'There is no need to explain,' said Pelter as they reached the stairs to the restaurant.

  Stanton let Pelter and Crane precede him. He watched the metal stairs bending under the weight of the android, then glanced back across the chaos of the drinking area. The two men and two women who came in dirough the archway were littie different from most of the rest of the clientele. They wore monofilament overalls and were shaking the rain from themselves. One woman was tall and had long black hair, and the other was a catadapt with reddish hair. The men bom appeared quite normal: stock humanity. They were armed, as many here were. All that gave them away was the fact that they did not look in their direction, at Mr Crane. Just about every person in The Sharrow had clocked Mr Crane before turning away again. The likes of Mr Crane you did not often see. Also, the tall woman was classically beautiful and moved with uncommon grace. Stanton followed Crane and Pelter up the stairs.

  At the back of the restaurant the four mercenaries were lounging in a private booth, with their attention directed toward the fight tank. Mennecken had on a virtual glove and face cup, and Dusache, sitting next to him, was laughing uproariously. But Stanton heard no sound from them until they entered the boom with its privacy field and he took a seat beside Pelter.