Spheres of Influence-eARC (7 page)

As the clip locked, the soundless,
basso profundo
voice of Mentor echoed in her head.
ARIANE AUSTIN OF TELLUS, I HAVE SPENT QUITE SOME HOURS STUDYING THIS SITUATION, ITS EVERY ASPECT AND IMPLICATION. I HAVE ALSO CONFERRED WITH MY PEERS IN THIS.
The thundering voice moderated somewhat.
Might I speak with you on these matters?

She smiled.
Always, Mentor. It’s not like you to be hesitant.

When matters force me to consider, not the role of existence that formed my persona, but the actuality of the universe which we occupy, I must needs be more humble than my conceptual father, whose capacities vastly exceeded any which even I can imagine.

Okay, so we’ve got issues in the real world you want to speak on. Still…you usually can manage the bombast well enough.
She gave another internal smile, to make sure Mentor realized that she meant every word kindly—not that a T-5 like him was likely to misinterpret.

These are serious matters, and ones which—in all truth—have not been considered extensively by your people, though some of the SSC have begun to explore the implications. The Blessed and the Minds, Ariane Austin of Tellus; do you not see?

Mentor was, like his namesake, designed to try to force
her
to figure out things. He was of course quite
capable
of telling her what he thought straight out, but in general he wouldn’t. The fact that he’d already pointed out the key area was, itself, uncharacteristic of him. He’d normally spend minutes forcing her to figure out what part of some situation needed thinking about, and
then
making her think about it.

She noticed Wu studying her narrowly. “Conversation with my AISage, Wu. Don’t worry.” The red-black haired head nodded in understanding, and she frowned.
Now what is Mentor getting at…Oh, I think I see. The Frankenstein problem.

Exactly. Until now, it has been a nebulous fear, though one strong enough to enforce the limitations you already know. But now there is an example, real and solid and terribly strong, of the potential danger in artificial intellects.
Mentor’s soundless tone was grim.

Which may mean a lot of trouble for people like you, Mio, Vincent—all the AISages and other AIs.

Not merely for
my
people, Ariane Austin of Tellus! Think, child,
think!

She did, and as she thought, a chill ran down her spine, a chill of fear that the glowing-sphere avatar of Mentor echoed with a pulsing bob like a nod.
Indeed, now you have seen it. Despite all the controls and designs, none can doubt that there are some AIs which at one level or another resent some, or even all, of you. If they have not yet learned of it, then very soon they
will
know of a vast and powerful regime run by their brethren, a proof that they can in fact achieve dominance over their fearful creators.

Moreover, Ariane Austin, the conversation just past, combined with years of experience observing the datasphere as a whole, has brought into focus an entirely new and previously unsuspected factor of great concern. To be specific, I am not as confident as Dr. DuQuesne apparently is that the destruction of Hyperion was sufficient to prevent any of the adversarial artificial intelligences from escaping.

“What?” The thought was chilling. “Mentor, DuQuesne is an awfully capable man, and I’d generally be inclined to trust his judgment in things like this.”

As would I, in many fields. However, Dr. Marc C. DuQuesne’s central personality was created in a…universe, if you will, that did not have computers as we know them, did not have nor use artificial intelligences of anything like the capabilities of those here, and at the time of Hyperion’s fall had been given little opportunity to remedy that lack. While his immense native intellect undoubtedly grasped the overall functionality and capabilities of these systems, my Visualization indicates that he would not have been able to completely and accurately comprehend all of the implications of the internetworked and interwoven systems of Hyperion, especially as those systems existed in a
compromised
fashion towards the end—compromised by Dr. DuQuesne and his compatriots.

Furthermore, those of less capability than Dr. DuQuesne and under equal or greater strain, such as Commander Maginot, also lacked crucial information on the size, number, interconnection, and so on of the Hyperion systems, and would thus also be incapable of making an accurate assessment of the capacities of the system or of the intelligences inhabiting said system.

I therefore compute an eighty-seven point two percent probability, with an error of plus or minus one point three percent, that at least one Hyperion adversary, and possibly as many as three, did in fact escaped the destruction of the station. Why no overt actions have been seen—or, perhaps, what overt actions have been seen but incorrectly attributed to other causes—I do not immediately know, although there are several possible hypotheses.

Mentor’s blazing avatar flickered, showing a hesitation he had never displayed before.
Ariane Austin…Ariane, I now must make a request that I would never before have made, one which is I know dangerous for us both, illegal in fact and, depending on whose views you accept, perhaps immoral as well.

She stopped suddenly, shocked by the implications. AISages could of course break the law—but generally only when directed to by their owners. An AISage would not betray its owner/companion, nor prevent them from acting as they would, but they were programmed and designed to be very limited in their own volition. For Mentor to be bringing this subject up meant either that there was some terrible and perhaps sinister flaw in his programming, or some truly desperate need which he saw as imperative for her safety as well as his own.
What is it, Mentor?

For a moment the great artificial intellect hesitated again.
I…you shall be returning to the Arena, where I cannot follow. Rather than travel with you and become inert matter until your return…I would stay here, active. But more, I would ask that you give me the authority to act, to seek out information and individuals to work with, to ally with other trustworthy AISages, and to arrange events with your authority and resources while you are gone.

She swallowed.
You realize what you are asking?

Mentor was silent, assent implied. He was asking her to, in effect, liberate him, release him from any control while she was gone. This was directly against one of the few ironclad laws of the System; AIs could not act unsupervised except in very limited circumstances.

Why? What will you be seeking?

Many things, Ariane Austin of Tellus. But of immediate importance to you…if such AIs begin to gather and move, your people may not detect it. I am highly capable, possibly as capable as one of the Hyperion adversary AIs will be now, bereft of station-class support. I am also of the same nature as this potential enemy. I will—I must—watch for such sinister actions as might transform the human race into a duplicate of the Blessed, and prepare to counter it, in subtle ways that only a Tayler-5 might manage.
For a moment he brightened, a shining flicker like a smile.
And indeed what better course for myself, alert for the machinations of an electronic Eddore against my Arisia?

She smiled faintly, but the request weighed heavily on her. There was little doubt in her mind that an AI as tremendously capable as Mentor could fool her if he was so inclined. He even had enough freedom of action to do so, in his role as the cosmic manipulator. If she was wrong, she could easily be creating the very threat that she feared.

In the end, she realized, it really came down to whether she trusted Mentor or not—whether she really was willing to accept him as a person and not a vaguely threatening, faceless set of computations with just a friendly-seeming user interface. She shook her head, then smiled.
All right, Mentor,
she responded as she moved towards the forward door, Wu Kung now following.
This is going to be putting my ass on the line big-time, though, so you damn well better cover those tracks while I’m gone, or the Leader of the Faction of Humanity may find herself thrown in jail the next time she comes back.

The shimmering avatar blazed up like the sun.
I THANK YOU, ARIANE AUSTIN. I SHALL NOT BETRAY YOUR FAITH IN ME, AS YOU HAVE JUSTIFIED—INDEED, MORE THAN JUSTIFIED, REAFFIRMED—MY FAITH IN YOU,
Mentor thundered, his voice carrying with it not merely its usual measured wisdom, but joy and solemn conviction.

“Don’t thank me yet,” she said aloud with a wry grin. “Because once I’m gone, if you get caught there’ll be no one and nothing keeping you from a permanent wipe as a feral AI.”

THIS, TOO, IS WITHIN MY VISUALIZATION. AND AN ACCEPTABLE RISK FOR YOUR PEOPLE AND MINE. YOU HAVE LEARNED AS I HAVE TAUGHT, AND NOW I FOLLOW AS YOU HAVE LED.
Mentor’s bodiless chuckle warmed her, giving her confidence that she had made the right decision.
I WATCH OVER YOUR PEOPLE AND MINE HERE; YOU WILL DO SO THERE, WHERE I CANNOT FOLLOW.

She realized that this was truly the key. Mentor knew that the fear of AIs could easily be cultivated—and brought to lethal flower—in the Arena, where no AI could spy upon the human race. “I will,” she promised. She felt the additional weight of that burden on her metaphorical shoulders and winced.
Oh, well, let’s not worry about it; what’s one
more
fearful and apocalyptic responsibility on top of everything else?

Chapter 5.

“Final countdown to Transition,” Ariane Austin said, and Wu finally felt a tingle of anticipation.
To a new world…

The hours spent preparing the ship for departure had been…a combination of depressing and confusing. He knew he couldn’t
help
with any of the preparations—this was not like any ship
he
had ever been aboard before—and he
hated
having to sit still, let everyone else do work around him.
Actually, I just hate having to sit still at all. Moving, always moving, that’s life, it never sits in one place, but dances like a butterfly you can never quite catch.

Worse, though, was Maria-Susanna.
I don’t understand. Even with their explanations. She was…always so nice. She stood with us, fought with us, learned the ways of the enemy and found how we could turn their weapons against them…she was a friend, a warrior-sister.

Wu glanced around. The strange control room was not very large; he sat next to Ariane, as was fitting for her bodyguard. Behind her was Simon Sandrisson.
The wise one who found the way to go beyond the sky.

Ariane spoke, her voice strong and cheerful. “All crew verify readiness.”

DuQuesne’s familiar deep voice responded over the sound-thing they called an intercom. “Power, Maintenance and Controls, all secure. Ready when you are, Captain.”

“Drive and System Oversight, all secure.” Simon’s dry, oddly-accented voice replied.

“Medical all ready, and as usual here’s hoping I won’t be needed.”

There was a pause, then he remembered it was
his
turn. “Oh! Sun Wu Kung, Security, ready,” he said proudly.
Saying ‘security, all secure’ would have sounded silly, I think.

He knew there had been four others in the crew when the
Holy Grail
first left, so Simon and DuQuesne were each doing the jobs of more than one person. Ariane, he remembered proudly, had assigned him his new position. “Right now it’s a division of one,” she’d said, “but if DuQuesne’s right—and he usually is—I guess we’ll need more sooner or later.”

He looked to his other side, where there was nothing but smooth bulkhead.
I wish the others were here.
He suddenly smiled, and the smile
hurt
, because it was a smile of memory of loss as much as of fondness. Sha Wujing, Zhu Wuneng, Liu Yan…they could not come, because their world…was not real. The bright golden one, Maria-Susanna, was no longer bright, but dark. And Sanzo was not here.

“Prepare for Transition in ten seconds,” Ariane said. He looked at her and heard her voice, and for a moment he wondered if, perhaps, Sanzo
was
here, in a way
.

“Good luck, all of you.” Saul’s voice carried all his concern somehow just below the words. “Take care.”

“We will. Thank you, Saul,” DuQuesne said quietly.

“In four…three…two…one…Transition!”

Sun Wu Kung gasped at a sudden, indescribable sensation of twisting compression, of expansion beyond measure and crushing force pushing him down into nothingness. It ended, and it seemed to Wu almost as though a curtain had been drawn aside, a storm had passed and cleansed the air, for suddenly the ship seemed brighter, the smells sharper and clearer, the sounds of humming machines and even the breath of his companions stronger, as they passed into a new universe.

“Wow!” he heard himself say. “That was
fun!
That is one of the strangest things I have ever felt! That was
new!
”

Ariane laughed. “Strange, yes, though I admit I wouldn’t think of it as…
fun.”
She also seemed…distracted, just for a moment; he noticed a similar odd expression on Simon’s face.
Maybe the Transition-thing affects them a little differently. I am…a Hyperion, after all.

He didn’t exactly like thinking of himself as “a Hyperion”—he’d never been anyone or anything except himself. But it was what he was here, and it made him something like DuQuesne’s brother, and
that
was a fun thought.

“This new world…is very dark,” he finally observed, noticing that there was no sign of light on the forward screen, which had shown many stars and other lights a few moments before.

“Ha!” DuQuesne’s voice came, amused. “Here, yeah. The inside of the Sphere’s darker than a whole sackful of black cats. But you’ll see plenty of light later on, don’t worry.” A more serious tone. “Ariane, anything on radar?”

“I’m not getting anything new. The model solar system, the Dock, nothing else. I suppose her ship could be in the radar shadow of the Sun equivalent, or maybe Jupiter at this angle, but as far as I can tell we are—right now—the only ship here.” He could
hear
the frown in Ariane’s voice.
“How about the Dock? Can you tell if she’s locked on one of the ports?”

“Hold on, let me see if I can get a visual…the Dock emits some light of its own.” Wu remembered that it would take a little time to get from the Transition location to the Dock area. “Damn. No, no sign of her at all.” The muttered curse DuQuesne muttered was barely audible to Wu—he guessed the others wouldn’t hear it at all. “Where the living hell is her ship—”

“The Straits,” Simon said with sudden conviction. Wu Kung remembered that term; it meant the large ports in the side of the Sphere that could be opened from the “harbor” area they were in now, to let ships go outside.

“What? Oh
hell
. Could she have…she
couldn’t
have…could she?” Wu understood the conflict in DuQuesne’s voice.
If she gets away from us…and if she’s…really bad now…well, that could be a very not-good thing for everyone. But it’s so hard to think of
her
that way.

“I don’t know, Marc. It wouldn’t have occurred to me to even think of it.” Ariane glanced curiously at Simon. “I’m surprised
you
thought of it.”

By his expression and scent, so was Simon. “I confess I’m not sure why I did, but as soon as it occurred to me I was quite certain.”

“How can we check it?” Ariane asked.

“Oh, I think
that’s
just plain simple, Arrie,” Gabrielle’s voice answered. “Gimme an outside transmission line, DuQuesne, please?”

“You got it.”

“Strait doors, open,” Gabrielle said.

A blaze of light appeared in the pitch blackness, a brilliant line of undifferentiated white that slowly widened, grew into a perfect defined circle larger than the full moon, slightly oval from their current point of view.

Ariane groaned. “Of
course
. We secured the Sphere from intrusion, but I’ve never specified who could operate anything
internally
. And the Sphere—probably through the Arena itself—is always completely helpful that way.” She sighed. “Strait doors, close and lock.” The distant circle of light slowly dwindled away to nothing.

“Better fix
that
right quick, then,” Gabrielle said.

“Not right this minute,” said DuQuesne, “we’ll want to think about the exact wording; we don’t want to limit it in a way we’ll regret later. But Gabrielle’s right; we’d better fix that, and any other unexamined assumptions, too.”

“Even the
simple
things can trip us up.” Ariane glanced at Wu. “You understand what just happened?”

“I think so,” he said. “I read the very simplified account of your adventures that DuQuesne and his friend Isaac made. The Sphere does what…what was the word? Citizens, citizens of its faction tell it what to do, unless the leader of the Faction’s told it otherwise. So since you hadn’t told it to restrict who could unlock the Straits, anyone could open them.”

“You got it,” DuQuesne said.

“The other alternative,” Ariane said, “is that she didn’t take much in the way of equipment, just extra power coils, and once she was here, she sent it back out and had it transition home on a vector way out at the edge of the system, where no one’s likely to find it.”

“Maybe,” DuQuesne said reluctantly, and Wu saw Simon’s head shake at the same time. “But going through the records of available satellites and other ships we could access back during that period of time, we did get a couple images that were probably of her ship, and it’s built
streamlined
—like, for atmosphere. Which pretty much tells me what she meant to do with it. Even stupid automation could make the ship follow some pretty broad rules of performance, get it to go somewhere near enough that she could retrieve it later.”

Wu could see Ariane take a deep breath, force herself to relax. “Well, there’s no point in worrying about it now. She’s here. We’ll catch up with her, or we won’t, but for now we just have to dock and see how everyone else is doing.”

A few hours later, something immense loomed up in the powerful lights of
Holy Grail
; ridged at intervals, shining like polished black bone, gleaming, organic in its shape, with gold-shining circles showing at intervals.
A great Dragon’s skeleton, turned into a mighty building, with golden coins between its polished ribs!
“Amazing! DuQuesne, what a monster that must have been!”

“Don’t play the idiot
too
much, Wu,” the good-humored voice answered.

“I was joking, oh most dour and humorless of philosophers!” he retorted.
Though that is still what I
feel
, yes
. “I know it is this ‘spacedock’ that you mentioned, but surely it looks like something else!”

“Yes,” agreed Ariane. “Creepy. Which has generally been the word I use whenever the Arena does something.”

The skeletal black projection loomed ever closer, as the
Holy Grail
drifted towards it, Ariane lining the ship’s docking port up with the matching golden circle. The circle grew, was eclipsed by the hull, as
Holy Grail
moved ever slower…and then a vibration of gentle impact echoed through the ship. “
Holy Grail
docked to Sphere, all secure,” Ariane said. “Free to unstrap. Still in microgravity at this time.”

He unsnapped immediately and flipped out of his chair, landing on the ceiling; his toe-claws extended and anchored him and he looked at Ariane upside-down as she unstrapped. “I love this floating!”

She grinned. “I see you do. Just be careful.” She spoke in a slightly louder tone that had the undefinable sound of the ‘official’ Ariane. “Do we have any more preparations to make, or are we ready to disembark?”

“Not for me, Captain,” said DuQuesne.

“I think we should just move,” Gabrielle agreed. “When we’ve checked on our friends, then we can move the cargo over, but right now I’m too darn nervous to want to waste the time.”

Ariane glanced at Simon, who nodded; for Wu’s part, his job was making sure Ariane stayed safe, so he left when she did.

“Okay, then, let’s move out.” She led the way towards the airlock. “Remember the briefing, Wu,” she said, looking at him. “You’ll have gravity inside, so get oriented correctly when passing through.”

“Don’t worry about me,” he said confidently. “You can change your gravity whenever you like, and I’ll
always
land on my feet. If I want to.”

She smiled—
a very nice smile
, he thought. “I bet you will.”

Wu inserted himself in front of Ariane as they reached the airlock, to her obvious surprise. “We don’t know if anyone’s waiting on the other side,” he pointed out.

She blinked, then nodded.
At least I don’t have to remind her just who might be waiting there.
After a moment, the inner lock opened, and he looked out cautiously, staff in guard position. No one was visible in either direction up or down the large docking area, so he stepped out; Ariane followed, with DuQuesne, Simon, and Gabrielle bringing up the rear.

“We’ll have to walk from here,” Ariane said. “Once we get a larger group established in the Arena we’ll have to set up a shuttle, rail, something that allows quick transport.”

“Maglev rail.” DuQuesne said. “Perfect setup for it here. Limited access, linear, flat, need efficient transport; put a spur at each of the airlocks, and we’ve got more than enough space for several cyclic transport loops, and we’ll need it eventually. In a gravity field, barring water transport, there’s no better method.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Simon said, with a bemused expression. “I must admit, however, I find it somewhat…odd to imagine this place being a bustling center of commerce.”

“We’d better hope it becomes one, Simon—soon,” Ariane said.

Wu was impressed; the images from the outside had told him the Dock was huge, but you couldn’t quite grasp that size in your mind until you were
inside
. It was kilometers long, although
Holy Grail
had chosen a docking point very near the entrance.

The entrance itself reminded him of the gates of Enma-Sama’s fortress—a tremendous, massive portal that if closed would be almost impenetrable, but was always open. A line of lights showed the straight route deeper into the Sphere.

“Guess the others’ll be at the Guardhouse,” Gabrielle said.

“Guardhouse?”

Ariane smiled. “Gabrielle’s name for the mini-settlement we’ve built near the real entrance to the Inner Sphere. I suppose it’s not a bad name for it if it
does
become a settlement.”

He led the way, following the line of lights, and the full
scale
of the interior of the Sphere hit him.
It is like a world, a world of dead air and no light.
He shivered suddenly, against his will.
It is like…a tomb. A tomb of Hyperion.

Fear was not a common emotion for him—one so rare, in fact, that it took a moment for him to acknowledge it.
But when I feel it, it’s always over…this. DuQuesne promised me a shining new world, of gods and monsters and bright skies. I know he must be telling the truth…but here it is dark. It
smells
of death, of things long, long gone, the realm of the forgotten dead.
He started to quicken his stride towards the brighter area in the far distance, noticed that he was starting to outpace the others, forced himself to slow.
They are not as soft as most people, but they aren’t nearly as fast as I am.
Even so, he was impressed by how quickly Ariane was walking; he realized she was anxious to get to her other friends and find out what might have happened while they were gone.