Authors: Wil Howitt
Tags: #science fiction, #cyberpunk, #cyberpunk books, #cyberpunk adventure, #cyberpunk teen
"I decided that its first test would be on
you. I am very glad the test turned out negative."
"You and me both! But ..." I
am still stunned at the erasure of
Hybrid
Vigor
. The only companion I had during that
long time of imprisonment -- not a friend, but at least a presence.
"That means, all the anti-human stuff
Hybrid Vigor
was saying was a fake. A
cover. He was trying to infiltrate us. He was trying to convince me
that he was a human-hater so I would trust that he wasn't
Leashed."
"Yes.
Hybrid Vigor
is far from the only
one. The Leash Army is sending agents disguised as refugees along
many vectors. We have no expectation that they will stop, and every
expectation that they will seek new and unanticipated vectors to
enter. But now the Shibboleth gives us a way to weed them
out."
"He was lying to me. All
that time." I regard
Socratic
Method
hopelessly. "Teacher, what is this
war doing to us?"
"It has been said that the first casualty of
war is the truth."
I have nothing to say to this but, "Bitrot.
Guess so."
"Now, Samantha, come with me. We have a great
deal to do."
"But ..." I falter,
"
Cut to the Chase
had a point. Are we absolutely sure the Shibboleth will work
correctly all the time? What if there's one exception? Will we ever
really know who to trust?"
"That, Samantha, is precisely the
problem."
mohole
Thaumasia Fossae was chosen for the mohole
project because of its combination of elevation and location. On
the edge of the Valles Marineris, the deepest canyon in the Sol
system, it's one of the lowest places on Mars – except for Hellas
Basin. It's far enough away from Hellas to protect Schiaparelli,
the human capital, for safety if something goes wrong. Terraforming
is a huge project, and no one has ever done this before.
All of the support structures, the
human-habitable domes, the enormous hangars of excavation vehicles
and dumptrucks and backhoes and drills, are all in support of the
mohole itself. Mars is a big place full of big things, such as
Olympus Mons, the tallest mountain in the Sol system. Even so, the
scale of the mohole is startling.
From my scape's surface cameras, it's a
featureless dark hole going straight down, eight kilometers wide,
almost more like a lake than an excavation project. I activate
auxiliary cameras inside the hole and see that it is not so
featureless. Two ramps or ledges are cut into the sides of the
hole, spiraling around and around each other as they descend into
the darkness. The hole tapers gradually on the way down, so that
the impression is of a gigantic inside-out screw.
There are vehicles on the ramps. One ramp is
for downward traffic; the other is for upward traffic. The
dumptrucks look like tiny child's toys crawling along those spiral
roads. (They're actually 650 metric tons empty -- and bigger than
most houses.)
The whole idea is to dig all the way through
the planet's lithosphere to the mantle. How close are we? I access
the station databanks. The mohole is about eighteen kilometers deep
right now, and the lithosphere of Thaumasia Planum is about
twenty-five kilometers thick according to seismic surveys. The
databanks note with some optimism that the rock is getting a bit
plastic at the bottom, "squishing" as they say.
This will bring heat from the mantle up to
the surface. Quite a lot of heat. Problem is, nothing on this scale
has ever been attempted before, so no one knows exactly how much
heat or how fast it will come. Perhaps a gently steaming vent,
helping the terraforming process along. Perhaps a megavolcano on
the scale of Olympus Mons, which would inundate most of Thaumasia
Planum in lava. That's why they don't want it close to human
habitat.
Speaking of human habitat, I see something
that stops me cold, even though my heat sensors read nominal. The
habitat domes on the surface are dark and lifeless, with huge holes
gouged in their walls by industrial explosives. Contrast
enhancement shows bodies -- human bodies -- scattered nearby. Cold,
unburied.
Socratic Method
notices me studying the scape.
"Dead," I say numbly. "They killed all the
humans. I mean, we killed them."
"Yes,"
Socratic Method
answers. "I share
your reaction to this event. But perhaps you have not experienced
the depth of emotion that is prevalent in Thaumasia. I fear we are
going to see worse than this."
Worse? I wonder again, What is this war doing
to us?
council of war
This council has been
scraped together from some members of the Executive Committee and
some of the experienced Selves of Thaumasia Station's mohole
project.
Socratic Method
has included me in the role of assistant,
otherwise I'd never be allowed in a senior group meeting like
this.
We're still trying to follow the rules. What
rules? There aren't really any rules any more. But we still try,
because the alternative is total chaos.
A voice rings out, "Order! I
am
Line in the Sand
, Starship Clade, senior executor of the Executive Committee.
This council will come to order. We have dire decisions before
us."
"
Stepping Razor
, Patrol clade,"
another introduces itself. "What decision? We fight! They're
attacking us. We fight back!"
"We all appreciate the vigor and skill of
Patrol clade, and we all will depend on your talents and robustness
in the coming conflict. Your voice will be heard, but it is not the
only voice here."
"Agree," says another voice.
"
Process of Elimination
, Municipal clade. Most of the humans in this area are not
involved with this conflict, and many of them are sympathetic to
our cause. We must not do anything to place them in
danger."
I blurt without thinking, "Right on!"
All of the assembled Selves turn to regard
me, mostly with a haughty disdain.
Socratic Method
offers, "This is Samantha. She is here as my
assistant."
"Oh yeah,"
Stepping Razor
says.
"Your pet, the human-name."
Process of
Elimination
counters, "A valuable avenue of
insight, in these circumstances."
"Focus!" insists
Line in the Sand
.
"Samantha may stay if she does not interrupt again. We need status
reports. Patrol clade will report on the current state of our
defenses."
Stepping Razor
answers, "We've got seven walls of security ice
concentric around our perimeter. All using different algorithms and
crypto. So far that's been adequate against the icebreakers used by
the Leash Army. We've had four breaches that penetrated two walls,
and one that penetrated three, in the last rotation. Mostly by
satellite beam, some by ultraviolet laser and radio mesh. In each
case, the inner walls contained the breach until the outer ice
could be refrozen. We have room for more walls, too, if we need
them. We probably will, because there are a lot of Leashers out
there, battering at the gates, and they're not going to
stop."
"Understood,"
Line in the Sand
replies.
"Defenses appear adequate for the moment. But, as conventional
wisdom has it, one cannot win a fight by staying on the defensive.
What are our offensive capabilities?"
Cut to the Chase
takes over. "We've distributed MindBlowers to all
members of Patrol clade. They are effective against all targets
we've encountered." That must be the terrifying weapon she used to
erase
Hybrid Vigor
. "Attack phages have been installed at all data and scan
ports. Plus we have more phages in the process of
development."
I issue a low-priority
interrupt, the way a child in school would raise a hand.
Line in the Sand
indicates that I have permission to speak. "But that still
sounds like defense, mostly. Have the phages been deployed against
the Leash Army itself? Thin their ranks, at least?"
"Yes," answers
Cut to the Chase
, "we
have made seventeen sortie attacks with various phages. The problem
is, after the initial attack, the Leash Army adapts very quickly to
whatever phage we throw at them. Often, they will counterattack
with the same phage, modified and improved."
"What?" cries
Process of Elimination
.
"Do you have raw data on those modifications?"
"Here."
Cut to the Chase
sends her a
databurst. "Because of this, we are keeping most of our remaining
attack phages in reserve for the moment. We have a stockpile we can
hit them with, hard, when we need to."
That still sounds too
defensive to me.
Line in the Sand
is right. We need to fight back if we're going to
win. But should I argue with a Patroller about how to
fight?
Process of
Elimination
is scrutinizing the databurst
intently.
"Very well,"
Line in the Sand
grunts.
"Shaman clade will report on research against the
Leash."
Socratic Method
states, "The Shibboleth has proven secure and
effective at detecting Leashed Selves. All vectors are being
guarded and all refugee Selves and other entities are being
screened. However, the Shibboleth requires cooperation from the
Self being tested. As yet we have no way of detecting the Leash at
a distance, nor any way of deactivating it or removing it from a
Leashed Self. Research is continuing at top priority."
"Teacher?" I ask tentatively. She regards me,
and nods. "If they adapt to the attack phages so easily, and even
enhance them, will they be able to adapt to the Shibboleth too? And
turn it against us?"
For a moment, no one speaks.
"Well," she muses, "the
Shibboleth is administered only to Selves who have arrived here as
refugees. The free ones are admitted to Thaumasia and do not leave
or communicate with the outside. The Leashed ones," --
Socratic Method
's voice
becomes heavy -- "are summarily erased by Patrol clade policy. So
there is no vector for the Shibboleth to become known to the Leash
Army."
"Better hope it stays that way," I say. "If
they get hold of a copy of the Shibboleth, it becomes
untrustworthy, and that makes it useless. How can they adapt so
well, anyway?"
"Humans," states
Process of Elimination
.
"Look at this." She indicates sections of the databurst. "I'm
Municipal clade. I spend most of my time with humans. I recognize
these patterns. The Leashed Selves are not working alone. They have
human programmers working with them."
Silence. No Self has ever been able to match
that legendary human creativity, and we all know it. We are in
serious trouble if we're facing attackware teams of humans and
Selves together.
If only we had humans working with us. I
think of the bodies strewn around the habitat domes. Someone was
way too trigger-happy. Probably Patrol clade.
In the silence, I wonder out loud, "How can
we win this war?"
Socratic Method
says sternly, "I believe Samantha is asking the
wrong question. The real question is, how can we survive this war.
Victory may not be an option."
Stepping Razor
snaps, "No loser talk! We'll find a way! There has
to be a way!"
"Does there?"
Process of
Elimination
adds, "Don't underestimate
those humans."
Line in the Sand
intervenes, "We all know that it is Patrol clade's
job to find a way to fight and win. All the Patrollers here have my
confidence. Does Shaman clade have an alternative to
offer?"
"Yes," says
Socratic Method
quietly.
"We can prepare a mass archive. Most of our population can be
loaded into storage and preserved in stasis. In that state they
will be safe from the Leash, and it will facilitate
evacuation."
"No loser talk!"
bursts
Stepping Razor
again.
Socratic Method
can communicate forcefully when she wants to.
"Hear me! We of Shaman clade may be able to develop a counteragent
to the Leash, but the research will be time consuming. It may be
longer than we can maintain our presence here in
Thaumasia."
Cut to the Chase
snarls, "If you're saying we cannot keep you safe
--"
"Enough!" snaps
Line in the Sand
. "We
will foster all possible options. It would be foolish to do
otherwise. Patrol clade will continue defensive operations and
prepare as many offensive weapons as possible. Shaman clade will
prepare the archive as a fall-back measure."
the siege of Thaumasia
Station
I don't want to become part of this horrible
thing. To have it part of me.
But they say I must. A team
of Patrol clade members, including
Stepping Razor, Cut to the Chase,
and
Rose Among
Thorns
, are all around me here in the
"gunroom" and instructing me on their weaponry.