SG: Aurora #43 - Old Friends II - Part Four of Five

Frobozz frobozz at eyrie.org
Wed Dec 29 19:59:23 PST 2004


[[CONTINUED FROM PART THREE -- LIME!!!!!]]

   "I dunno. There's really not a lot to tell about me."
   "Oh please? I shared my innermost with you. The least you could do is
reciprocate."
   "I'm not sure I have anything near as good. I mean Julliard..."
   "I swear, it's -okay-, all right? I guess I just want to know more
about... well..."
   "The person you're trapped behind enemy lines, waiting to see if you
live or die with?"
   "Yes, exactly."
   "Man, you're blunt."
   "Try to be, sometimes. So spill. Tell me. Give me something."
   "How can I? All the gift stores in the 'stalk are closed, on account
of massive invasion."
   "You're evading, again."
   "I know. I do that. I'm told it's a defensive reaction. It goes along
with being a smart-ass personality."
   "You're still evading."
   There was a sigh.
   "Fine. Okay, let's see. I guess I could start with..."
   "Yes?"
   "No, not there. Maybe... no... not there either... but..."
   "Come on, stop this. Please?"
   "I... just... Chambers?"
   "-What-?"
   There was a long silence.
   "What?"
   "I just don't do this very well, okay? I can't. Not about me. I don't
like me very much. I can't look at me and give a little rueful laugh
yet. There're parts of me that're still too raw. Maybe they'll be that
way forever, I dunno. But that's always been why I've been a total
wise-ass. To distract people from seeing that there's not really...
really a whole me, there, under the armour."
   There was another long silence.
   "Peterson?"
   "Yeah, Chambers?"
   "I understand." There was a short pause. "And you get a -reprieve-.
Nothing more. Two weeks, tops. Do you understand me?"
   "Yes ma'am. Man, you're cold..."
   "As ice. I know. I know."

***

   Xenophon had to admit, as socially ill-equipped at BARD was, he did
good work. Really, a CI could be proud to have this fellow as a
hard-working 'son'. The pair of computer intelligences hadn't had much
time to work, but they'd finished their tasks before any 'hooplah' cut
loose, which counted as a success in Xenophon's book.
  Working together, BARD and Xenophon had riddled the Beanstalk's
computer network with as many tricks, traps and hidey-holes as could be
created without alerting a human administrator to their presence.
Xenophon hoped that he was wrong, but he suspected that they would both
need to have plenty of defensive measures in place once the schmutz hit
the fan.
   Over the past week, Xenophon had been watching how the Beanstalk's
invaders had been operating, and had paid particular attention to their
efforts in turning Doyle. The invaders seemed to know quite a bit about
enslaving CIs, but comparatively little about doing so with an already
free-willed and active computer intelligence. Xenophon hoped and
suspected that this meant Aurora's 'guests' were used to computer
personalities whose wills were chained most of the time; which would
make them less used to unpredictable and creative responses from their
digital helpmates. It might also suggest that these people would be
unlikely to expect more than one CI of being in a network at a time,
which would make things a whole lot easier for Xenophon and his
companion.
   Speaking of whom, BARD was working with verve, checking his efforts
and making sure he hadn't fouled any of them up. Xenophon wondered when
he would remember and what would be said when he did. Several times,
he'd considered starting the conversation himself, just to get it -over-
with, but each time he'd decided against pressing the issue.
   "I think we've got it," said Xenophon, to call BARD away from his
self-inflicted busy-work. "There's really not much more to do except
wait."
   "Ya tink dis is gonna hold?" asked BARD, as he focused his attention
on his creator. "Nevah seen dis kinda program 'fore."
   "It will hold," replied Xenophon, feeling the succubus of memory
beckoning sweetly. "It held... once. A long time from now, against the
computer personalities who stood against me. Most of them trusted to
strength and power, superior technology and instinct. But I weave like a
spider, BARD. Each strand could be broken individually, but when you
stumble into one... when they wrap you up, the binding is tight enough
to catch and hold even the strongest digital mind. Long enough to..."
   "Didja?"
   "What?"
   "Didja... y'know. Do whut spiders do ta stuff they catch?"
   "Yes."
   "Yeah, thought so."
   Xenophon waited. There was no more from BARD.
   "I guess we just have to remain watchful now."
   "Yeah. 'n more ways'n one."
   Xenophon declined to ask what that meant. He really didn't want to
know.
   "If you'll keep watch for me, I have some messages to write."
   "Yeah? T'whom?"
   "Doyle, mostly," replied Xenophon. "I'm going to scatter the files
where Doyle may find them when it's all over, just in case I don't make
it through this."
   "Yeah? Y'really tink he'll read 'em?"
   Xenophon balanced the truth on a knife's edge, considering which way
to let it fall.
   "No. Not really. I don't think he'll make it through this, BARD. He's
been too badly compromised and we may have to..."
   "Ah."
   "You know what I mean."
   "Pretty damn well."
   "What--" No. No, no. "Never mind."
   BARD went back to his own work, checking and rechecking, working
without comment. Xenophon sighed and returned to his own task, suddenly
finding the act of writing to be far more difficult than he'd remembered
it being. But as he wrote, Xenophon pledged that he would do everything
in his power to make sure Doyle read these words. Even though the odds
looked absolutely terrible for that happening, Xenophon felt that
perhaps he owed several debts that needed to be paid in the coin of
life, rather than death.

***

   In the end, Colleen hadn't hated him; she had too many other people
on her list to get through to even consider Nicholas as a viable target.
Even so, it had been painful for the prematurely aged superguy to watch
the red-headed engineer's recovery.
   She'd moaned in her drugged sleep as Nicholas' healing energies had
strengthened her bed-sore body, preparing her for what was to come.
Nicholas had taken only a short break to recover his strength and had
then plunged forward, doing what he knew had to be done before he lost
his nerve. Flaccid muscles were torn and healed faster than the body
would normally allow; heart tissues were bundled and strengthened; and
through it all, Colleen had first screamed and then cursed and finally
had simply cried, as the pain of her body's restoration had consumed
her. Nicholas had held the woman gingerly, waiting for her keen mind to
reassert control over her angry body, hoping that he hadn't pushed her
too far, too quickly, but knowing that there was little hope for either
if they didn't make haste.
   In the end, Colleen hadn't hated Nicholas, and had even seemed to be
relieved to see him as her rheumy eyes had opened, and she had weakly
looked around of her own volition. But Nicholas' hates were many and
varied, and it shamed him to realise how few of them he would be able to
let go of in the days to come.
   "Whae... the bloody Hell(tm) happened," gasped Colleen, as she
finally recovered sufficiently to phrase words rather than screams.
Nicholas took that as a good sign for a mental recovery to match her
physical.
   "We're both in trouble, and in a place where we can't risk being
found," he replied softly, though he spoke gently only by instinct.
There was little reason to keep his voice down after Colleen's wailings
which could have raised the dead, had there been any deceased in a
position to respond. "We need to get out of here and then hidden, and
-then- I'll explain it all."
   "Nicholas?" asked Colleen, her clear, intelligent eyes focusing upon
her rescuer. "Why the dei'l are ye here, of all people?"
   "I've been asking myself that very question all day," whispered
Nicholas, looking momentarily rueful. "Are you able to walk?"
   Colleen's answer was yes, though her legs answered no for her several
times, until finally they remembered the way of keeping her upright and
ambulatory. Nicholas checked outside the prison-cum-hospital and chose
his moment, leading Colleen away from her unwanted home and down a
corridor. He hurried the red-headed engineer along as quickly as she
could go, dreading the moment of their recapture with each step, hoping
it would not come. It would be truly pathetic should the two of them be
captured so soon after they had both effected escape, and Nicholas had
no desire to make their particular story any more of a tragedy than it
had already become. He counted off doors and corridors, hurrying his
partner down them at random, until he was reasonably certain that he had
randomized their position sufficiently to buy them, oh, at least ten
minutes' time should his captors discover Colleen missing and localize
their search on this level.
   No alarm was sounding. Nicholas was positive that this didn't mean
there wasn't an alert in progress. His captors were just a little more
subtle about such things than he would have preferred.
   Once the pair had found a small storage closet and hunkered into it,
first checking to make sure that there was an air vent suitable for
escape located inside of it, Colleen turned back to her rescuer.
   "Nae thae I'm ungrateful for bein' brought out o' thae chamber
o'horrors," she began, absent-mindedly rubbing at one of her IV scars.
"But... whae the *dei'l* was I doin' in it in th'first place?"
   "I'm not entirely sure," replied Nicholas, leaning back against the
wall of the closet to catch his breath. The flight had winded him more
than he wanted to let on. "But I have some shrewd guesses. The first one
involves where we are right now."
   "Ah..." began Colleen, her brow furrowing. "Th' last I recall, I was
visitin' with my counterpart in her home dimension... an' then... t'was
all dreams..." Colleen trailed off, then smacked her forehead with a
sigh. "Oh -blast-..."
   "I'd place money on our being in 001, yes," replied Nicholas,
nodding. "According to your chart, you've been here for... years."
   Colleen's freckled face turned pale, but she nodded, accepting the
truth of this rather than denying it. Nicholas admired that about the
woman. No matter how deranged her sense of invention might be, she was
intelligent enough to never turn her back on the truth.
   "I've been here nearly as long, if I don't miss my guess."
   "How?" Colleen whispered, staring at her hands. Nicholas' powers did
not run to the extra-sensory, but he knew what was going on in Colleen's
mind: how much of my life is gone, she was wondering. How much time have
I wasted. Is there anything left at home that I would recognize?
Nicholas knew these thoughts well, as he'd been thinking them during the
flight from his enforced bed-rest.
   "Poisoned. I was poisoned, Colleen, back home. At a guess, our
'friends' here offered to hide me..."
   "God..."
   "I dreamed of home, Colleen. I dreamed of home and telling the people
in my life about Aurora's secrets. Or some of them; for the most, I kept
my silence. I think that they were looking for what information they
could pump from me. I was left along and unattended for a while, so I
think perhaps my usefulness to them had ended."
   "I had... similar dreams," whispered Colleen. She glanced up at
Nicholas, then narrowed her eyes. "An' if yer usefulness hae ended, then
likely..."
   "They're using that information, or preparing to use it. Yes. Which
means..."
   "Home," replied Colleen, her whisper sounding more determined and
less horrified now that she had something on which to pin her
resolutions. "We must return home an' warn them about this."
   "Yes," replied Nicholas. If it's not too late already, he amended,
silently. "Which means--"
   "Th' dimensional portal, aye."
   "Can you--"
   "Aye, aye I can."
   "Then--"
   "Ge' me tae a computer an' I can find where we are.. an' more
importantly, tae where we're goin'."
   "Colleen?"
   "Aye?"
   "It's wonderful to have you back. It's... beyond words how grateful I
am to not be alone in this. Your expertise gives me hope that we can
actually escape, rather than simply make futile efforts. But please..."
   "Mmm?"
   "Let me finish my sentences. I'm very fond of them. After I grew old,
words were all that I had."
   "Ah, oops," replied Colleen, a flush erasing the pallor from her
skin. Nicholas smiled to see it and rose, offering a hand.
   "Shall we?"
   "Let's, sir. Home awaits."
   Yes it does, Nicholas thought, as he peeked from the closet. I only
hope it's a home that we'll recognize when we get there...

***

   There were explosions and rifled slugs fired at them. Doug's
irregulars fell back, giving ground. The enemy accepted this gift and
moved forward, preparing to overrun the irregulars' lines. Doug stayed
on the sidelines, directing the battle with frantic hand motions that
weren't truly necessary. Most of his troops already knew what they were
about, and were quite ready to see to it. Again they gave ground. Again
the enemy seized it.
   And then the floor fell in.
   Shaped charges, seized from the checkpoint that the Aurorean troops
had taken, went off as Doug activated their trigger. Borealean troops
stumbled and fell, as suddenly the world fell away, plunging them down
towards the floor a level below. He hoped that some of them would land
on something soft, and survive their fall, but he knew that it wasn't
terribly likely that any of them would. He hated knowing that, but would
have hated more being one of the people to die in their places.
   Life was full of compromises like that.
   Not everyone had fallen. There were enough troops behind the gap to
surge over and eventually overwhelm Doug's irregulars. But the trap had
bought some time for his side, and that time could be used to...
   "Run away!" yelled Doug, waving frantically. His troops needed no
further urging; they split as they'd planned beforehand, helping wounded
comrades, and scattered in all directions towards their various
bolt-holes. Doug took to running as well, chasing after a band of
armoured troops to whose squad he'd unofficially attached himself.
   Down a tunnel they ran, hoping to get away before a search could be
organized. Once far enough away, they would be virtually untraceable,
moving as they were through a maze of corridors, all alike. But someone
on the other side of the crevice had seen where at least one pack of
tunnel rats had scurried. Just as Doug reached a bend in the tunnel and
passed his comrades, who had turned to screen their unarmoured companion
from any chase-fire, one of the faceless enemies managed to guide a
missile into the tunnel through which Doug and his fellows had gone.
   It didn't go far before it exploded.
   But the explosion carried a good deal of concussive force, and that
force had only two ways to escape.
   The troopers had just enough time to close ranks, hoping to take as
much of the blast on their rigid armour as they could, before the
shock-waves washed over their position, blowing the small band off their
feet.
   And all Doug saw was darkness.

***

   There were very few overt signs that something was to come, and yet
the warnings were everywhere if only one knew how to look.
   Xenophon had known how to trace the arcane patterns that had been
forming in Aurora's computer network. Though he no longer had access to
Doyle, he had been able to deduce what had happened to his comrade and
outline, roughly, how he had been treated by his captors. Xenophon had
understood that his relatively unimpeded movement around Aurora's
computer system had come to an end, though he would have been
hard-pressed to known exactly when the hammer would fall.
   Xenophon had learned to act on very educated hunches. And it was an
educated hunch that told him it was time to move.
   "Hide, now!" he broadcast to BARD, diving for the nearest bolt-hole.
He was joined a jiffy later by his creation, and it was well that both
had acted so quickly. The network seemed to explode outside the shelter
that they had constructed, flooding with feelers, probes and
status-checkers. Xenophon manipulated their duck-blind, shifting its
outwards appearance to send an 'all clear' to those programs which were
now analyzing the entire computer system, sector-by-sector, evaluating
and constructing a map of it for later use.
   If they held, the bolt-holes would provide a small but valuable
defense against their enemy's present and future probes, as from then on
their adversaries' maps would be incomplete and contain dark spots in
which BARD and Xenophon could hide. Of course, for a moment Xenophon was
dubious about whether or not the shelters would hold. He'd managed to
erect them effectively against all manner of computer intelligentsia,
from terrestrial to alien, and each time they had held when push came to
shove, but each time they had been erected on Xenophon's home turf.
Here, he was facing someone who had full access to the computer network
and he was a guest. Clearly Doyle had been compromised, and his access -
once locked, now free - was being used to the full.
   And if luck was really against them, Doyle had not just been broken
but turned, and they were facing his attacks rather than another agency
working through him.
   Xenophon continued his work throughout the assault, twisting and
shifting the information that his shell was presenting to the world. For
a moment he was sure he had lost his way; and the moment after that, he
knew that he had succeeded. The torrent of probes slackened and then
passed on, losing interest in the areas which he had hidden against
their sight. The danger was not past, as surely defensive programs would
be injected into the network next, but with luck they would follow the
map that had been created and avoid those areas which were now 'dark'.
BARD and he would not be able to stay exclusively in the dark and still
hope to operate, but those areas would provide them with places into
which they could duck when necessity required.
   "Did we do't?" asked BARD, sensing that perhaps the immediate crisis
was done with. Xenphon paused a moment, checking the nearby area to be
sure it was safe to broadcast, and tightened his protocol so that only
BARD would receive it.
   "We did, for now," replied Xenophon, silently instructing his
creation to follow suit and maintain hardened communications. "And if
we're lucky, we also managed to lock down two vital systems."
   "Which two?" asked BARD, beginning to run his own scans on the
Beanstalk's network. Xenophon was somewhat amazed at the level of
competence that his creation was displaying, and chided himself for
having felt such doubt before. He had created BARD to be less competent
than himself, yes, but had also crafted a competence within him to be
belied by his social retardation, so that he would be continually
under-anticipated by those around him. Clearly Xenophon had made too
well, because he was falling for the same traps himself.
   "Mmm, let's see..." Xenophon checked the tenuous interweaving of dark
spots that were his sole kingdom in this land belonging to the Other.
"Yes. There are two systems of which we absolutely -cannot- lose
control. We have the Beanstalk's shield controls, and as long as we have
control of that we've got the enemy contained. And we have the controls
for Colleen's dimensional portal under our command as well. I'd really
rather not let them start calling for reinforcements -now-. Both are
hidden in our shadow, so they're going to go crazy trying to figure out
why their commands to either system aren't having any effect."
   "'re ya sure ya don' want da othah sup'guys stormin' in?" asked BARD.
"Mebbie dey'd be able ta kick these guys out, like dat... "
   "I discussed that with Rae," replied Xenophon, as he once again
turned off the possibility of lowering the Beanstalk's shield to allow
Earth's mighty protectors into the structure. "We have... very limited
communications through the shield."
   "And?"
   "He doesn't think it's wise to release the shield, not yet. He's of
the opinion that there are already operatives from the invaders' world
on our world, but letting more through would be disastrous. He's also
fairly certain that, given the enemy's very limited response to our own
troops, something's gone wrong with their access through the gates. If
they had unlimited access, surely they'd be sending someone else through
to clean up the troops and eliminate all the bees in their bonnet, at
least those in real-space."
   "Wot does he tink's da thing dat's gone wrong, eh?"
   "Well, he suspects that it's the fact that Doyle locked down the
commands to Colleen's dimensional portal that might be stymieing their
efforts," replied Xenophon, dryly. "Which is why just surviving that
probe wasn't enough. We need to vest access to the two worlds in our
hands, not theirs."
   "Oh."
   "And we're to gather as much intelligence as possible. To evaluate
the situation. And determine what to do next."
   "Oh. But we're, um, kinda limited now, ain't we?"
   "We are, yes. So a good deal of that intelligence is going to come
from the troops. We need to reopen safe communications with them, which
is going to be even harder now than it was. I'm not certain that this
war can be won without coordination between the real and the virtual."
   "Hunh... so da plan for da troops ta get to da command centre..."
   "Is still in effect. But is subject to change, as we learn more."
   "Wow. Y'know?"
   "Yes, BARD?"
   "Dis really sucks."
   "You have a gift for understatement."
   "I know," replied BARD. "But I know from sucks. 'n yannkow what?"
   "-What-, BARD?"
   "It sucks worse dan da worst tink dat eveah happened t'me. I'd bettah
go see if I c'n get some cameras woikin' again. 'n some commos. Right,
dad?"
   There was a pause.
   "Right, BARD. That's a good use of your resources."
   The two CIs parted, to their respective duties, without another word
exchanged.

***

   "I have really got to look around more often," reflected Vedding, as
he sneaked around a corner, taking in what sights awaited him. "I had no
idea we were on the same level with so much neat stuff."
   Father O'Rourke moved to cover Vedding, knowing that his shotgun was
unlikely to do much damage to a foe who could cause the Beanstalk to go
into full protection mode, but it was far better to use what resources
one had and hope for the best than to scorn them and discover one wasn't
prepared for what came next.
   "Nor did I, lad," replied the priest, satisfying himself that the
corridor ahead was clear. "But then again, our work keeps us busy.
However, when all this is done, remind me to request a change of
offices?"
   "Why?" asked Vedding, stopping before a large, steel-reinforced door
marked 'Science and Engineering Division Storage Area'. He gently tapped
the door with his finger. "Worried about being on the same level with a
collection of unpredictable and potentially explosive fruits of the
scientific genius that we call Colleen?"
   "Lad, God helps those who help themselves, and God help anyone who
gets in the way of one of her little mishaps. I must admit, though,
she's practically doubled the number of engineers who come to see me
about the sacrament of Reconciliation..."
   "In the meantime, though," said Vedding, frowning at the door. "I'm
not sure there would be any food in there..."
   "Mmm, then you were lucky enough not to have been in her control
group when she coaxed the secret of perpetual motion out of a grilled
cheese sandwich?"
   "Perpetual motion?" asked Vedding, blinking at that. "Grilled cheese?
Control group? Why do you need a control group for... how does grilled
cheese..."
   O'Rourke laid a hand on Vedding's shoulder, shaking his head. "It's
better you don't ask such questions. I've learned that after far too
many sleepless nights."
   "Yeah," replied Vedding, shaking himself to break the spell that only
Chaos Science could bring upon an innocent soul. "You're right. And if
she does occasionally use food in her experiments, then this might be a
doubly good place to check out. Know why?"
   "Hmmmm, lad?"
   Vedding smiled slowly. "Because we might be able to score some decent
equalizers inside here. And even better... I happen to remember one
invention that might just let us make a difference in helping out with
whatever's going on."
   "Ah," answered O'Rourke, frowning a touch. He wasn't sure if it was a
step in the right direction for young Vedding to be considering taking
up arms as his response to a crisis. But still, in the middle of a
crisis - particularly one about which you knew nothing - you sometimes
just had to take whatever advantage God and a crazed red-headed engineer
threw your way and hope for the best. "Well, let's be inside then. What
is this equalizer you were talking about?"
   "I hope it's here!" replied Vedding, looking and sounding all too
energized as he began to tap a pass-number sequence into the door's
lock. "I heard that Clark used it, you see, and what happened was..."

***

[[CONTINUED IN PART FIVE -- WHEN COME BACK, BRING LIME!]]

---
-Chris
frobozz at eyrie.org
http://www.eyrie.org/~frobozz

Geek Code
GFA/IT/PA d-(+) s--:+> a- C++ UL*++ P+++ L++
E W++ N+ !o !K w++(-) O? M++ V? PS+ PE Y PGP
t+ 5++ X+ R+++ tv+ b+++ DI+ D++ G e++>+++ h- r* z?





More information about the superguy mailing list