Redemption Protocol (Contact) (63 page)

Tyburn waggled the hook. Stone’s throat contracted in a silent scream.

“You need to open your mouth, Son! Or the hook will push up into your brain! We don’t want that. Come on, now. Open up.”

Stone opened his mouth wide, crying and helpless, trying to appease the monster. Tyburn patted him as he fed the hook up and out of the front of his mouth.

“Good boy. There we go. Well done.”

Stone gagged again as hot blood poured into his throat. He swallowed to stop from choking, gulping down his blood and mucus. Tears streamed out of his eyes. He hadn’t known pain like it.

Tyburn cuffed his wrists together behind his back and nudged him to the edge of the platform.

Stone was in shock, his mind still trying to deny this was real. The wind howled around him as he was balanced on the lip of the void. He looked out over the abyss and was gripped by fear. He couldn't function – he could barely observe what was happening to him.

> No, Tyburn. Please.

Tyburn put his arm round his shoulders as he held the hook up in front of his face. The pain was excruciating. Stone felt like a fish on a line as he gagged and choked. He screwed up his face in agony as he tried to push back from the edge. He had no leverage. He might as well try and push back the tide.

> What do you want me to do? Please tell me.

Stone struggled to grasp reality as he tottered on the edge of the abyss with a hook through his face.

> Please, Tyburn, don’t.

He sobbed in pain, praying to God that Tyburn wasn't going to lower him on the hook.

 151. 

Weaver progressed methodically, level by level, improving her sequence solving skills as she searched through the carousel. Eventually she found the pyramid, a riddle buried in a maze of enigmas.

With the tingle of entering the unknown, she accessed the information.

The pyramid was a prison. That she already knew.

It was detachable. That's why it was positioned on the surface – it could be jettisoned into space. This was a sobering prospect.

Architectural information spun in front of her. Corridors, obelisks, layout and topology. Layers of security. Some kind of energy architecture.

She realized she was accessing information about the pyramid’s structure rather than its inmates. She searched for information about the residents.

She finally stumbled over the link as she worked her sequences, sternly tested but within her limits. The coded link to the information that she wanted gleamed like a jewel nestling in the earth. It was high power level and high danger. Not quite as high as Fournier had accessed earlier but close enough. Far higher than she was comfortable with, that much was certain.

The link sparkled at her, uncaring.

Should she go for it?

Was it worth it?

She thought about what had happened to Kemensky and felt sick.

 152. 

Nmr Qátl Mourynho checked the feed showing the diplomats bustling on the eastern side of the pyramid. He muttered a prayer and walked through the western entrance field.

He felt honored to be selected for this divine task – nothing less than the rescue of the Glorious Redeemer Himself. He was a dedicated and fanatical warrior, brutally trained since he was a boy. There was nothing that would stop him from achieving his mission but death.

He felt silence envelop him as he passed through the entrance field and emerged into the darkness beyond. All the communication from outside cut off as Arzbad-Framander Zuelth had said it would. He was truly alone now, with his God, his faith and his training.

“God all seeing,” he murmured.

In front of him was a wall of formed foam – replaced since his five brothers had failed to pass this way before. It was time to find out if the Arzbad-Framander’s access codes were a trick of the infidel or a pathway to salvation.

He touched the formed foam and streamed the first access codes into the infidel's 'smart material'. Almost immediately the wall softened to his touch. He pushed his hand into it. It was chalky and brittle. He thought he would have to break his way through. The final stage of the reaction completed and his helmet was showered with heavy dust.

Mourynho felt himself illuminated by targeting systems from further ahead. He streamed out access codes. Mines confirmed deactivation and weapons stood down. They hung limply, impotent.

Mourynho’s eyes widened as the seal of the infidel dissolved before him. Truly, God was on his side.

The way ahead was open.

 153. 

United Systems: Top Secret, Compartmentalized 5

Coding Frame: XWTHVQ TransSlipkey: 202-SKSLA

[Full key omitted]

Timestamp: #661-439-301-959# (
Recent-1
)

Origin:
Scarlet Barracuda

Status: Assumed
Secure
, Agent
Intact

[no deception flags raised]

Coded transcript: Complete, follows

[streaming authentication omitted]

US handler>
We detect ORC walkers recovering alien energy systems at the shaft.

Scarlet Barracuda
> There is a fleet inbound to prevent the ORC recovery.

US handler> That surface fleet is being interdicted from orbit by the AV
Intrepid
.

Scarlet Barracuda
> That is beyond my control.

US handler> Stop the
Intrepid
interdiction. Prevent the ORC recovery of the energy systems.

Scarlet Barracuda
> Negative, that is beyond my control. I am proceeding to the lift out location.

US handler> We will have to delay your pick up to divert resources south if you do not stop the
Intrepid
interdiction. You have one minute. Good luck.

 154. 

Jafari walked down the pyramid’s long entrance hallway as Abbott outlined his grandiose vision for humanity.

“This is a historic opportunity to reach out across the universe and join hands with another species. We humans could proceed with traditional Realpolitik but I ask you, is that truly the way for humanity to join a universal culture and become richer in the process?”

Jafari winced inwardly. He knew Abbott's powerful intellect and diplomatic skill. Abbott was hard-headed and adaptable, as pragmatic as anyone he'd ever met. Jafari found the 'let's all join hands around the universe' dialogue emerging from Abbott's mouth disconcerting at best. He considered at what point he’d have to declare Abbott code orange. He sighed. He should have done it already.

The foreign diplomats paid lip service to Abbott as they took in the massive obelisks towering over them. The People's Republic Ambassador gestured at the row of fallen obelisks on their right.

“What nature of creature did you battle for these gigantic sculptures to have been swept aside?”

Jafari thought that if he said 'boo', the People's Republic Ambassador would probably launch into orbit.

Abbott smiled, taking the comment in his stride.

“A small accident, nothing more.”

The People's Republic Ambassador looked back at the fallen giants. He didn’t look convinced.

When it was apparent that Abbott’s disquisition had stopped, at least momentarily, the United Systems Ambassador, in reality more of a military liaison, spoke up.

“So if I understand you correctly, Ambassador Abbott, you are saying that you invite us into dialogue with this... alien, but you do not expect any, shall we say, consideration, as a result.”

Abbott threw up an arm as he strode down the corridor ahead of them.

“It is humanity’s destiny to make friends with our newly discovered neighbors and inspire them with our own harmonious co-existence.”

Jafari grimaced. The People's Republic Ambassador looked nonplussed – a reasonable reaction given Tier-1 relations hovered on the point of war. The United Systems Ambassador, on the other hand, seemed completely relaxed about the whole thing. He smiled and nodded as if he was on a tour of a museum. Jafari thought that either the United Systems Ambassador knew a lot more than the People's Republic Ambassador, or a lot less.

Maybe both?

 155. 

Yamamoto stood by the targeting table, opposite Whittenhorn and his two advisers. She worked her way methodically across Havoc's vehicles as they crawled over the surface of Plash, highlighting them in turn with a dab of her targeting wand. She moved the wand toward the next target.

Stephanie's voice burst out, transmitted to everyone on the command deck.

“Whittenhorn, what the hell are you doing?”

Whittenhorn blinked, obviously startled.

“What do you mean?”

“Do not attack Havoc before you consult with Abbott.”

“What?”

“Do not take Havoc out. If the ORC threat is real, you are condemning this mission to disaster.”

Yamamoto hovered the wand over the next target. She looked to Whittenhorn for confirmation. Whittenhorn glanced down at the targeting holo, his face uncertain.

“Where is Ambassador Abbott?”

“He's in the pyramid. He'll be out within the hour.”

“We don't have an hour.”

“It's your neck, Whittenhorn, if you ruin this mission.”

“Do we have drone communication with the Ambassador?”

“We're working on it.”

“Oh.”

Yamamoto slowly shifted the wand to keep track of the small dot creeping across the surface of Plash. She looked over the holo at Whittenhorn.

“Do you want to override that? You are the mission lead...”

 156. 

Weaver decided that the information about the alien prisoner was worth the risk. She took a deep breath, grasped the plinth and committed to the gleaming link.

The structure of the prison spun in front of her, segmenting into different areas. The amphitheater glowed in the center. Weaver selected it and the prison records appeared in front of her.

There was only one inmate.

The sequence hit her hard, stunning her with its difficulty. She struggled, juggling six sequence streams at once, scrabbling as if she were trying to sprint on ice.

Now that she was confronted by the brutal reality of real time problem solving, particularly given its deadly consequences, attempting Fournier's metaphor idea seemed too ridiculous to contemplate. Fournier might not worry about failure, but Weaver was petrified by visions of her own blackened corpse. If she went for the all-or-nothing meta-solution and failed she would burn up and die. She’d seen what had happened to Kemensky. She retreated to what she knew and used brute force to tackle the streams individually.

She immediately fell behind with the second stream. The light intensified. She fought to catch up. If she slipped too far behind she would never recover. The difficulty was intense and the pressure was relentless. She could never be fully caught up on every stream when solving them separately.

She felt like she was spinning plates. Every plate needed exquisite care, continuously, in parallel. Each plate was oddly shaped and unevenly weighted, requiring total concentration. If she dropped even a single plate, she would die. If she did get all the plates spinning well enough then in a moment that scarcely existed she could snatch a chance to do her research. But if in doing so for one single instant she neglected her plates and failed to keep them spinning, her brain would immolate, her eyes would ignite and she would burn to death.

The exit beckoned her. She could leave now and get to safety. It was madness to stay here. Trust yourself, she thought, fighting panic. She pressed on, redoubling her efforts. She didn’t try and solve the meta-solution that she could sense the shape of, instead she fought down in the trenches, taking each sequence stream in turn, operating at her absolute limit.