Fall of the Core, page 1
Table Of Contents
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
The Frontiers Saga: Fall of the Core
Copyright © 2015-2021 by Ryk Brown All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to locales, events, business establishments, or actual persons—living or dead—is entirely coincidental.
CHAPTER ONE
From Arielle: Pay attention! The text message flashed in Hanna’s personal visual space, ironically across the face of the very man who was boring her to death.
Reply: I am, Hanna thought. The neuro-digital implant at the base of her skull converted her reply into a signal and transmitted it back to her producer.
From Arielle: No, you’re not, her producer messaged back. I can see it in your eyes, and so can he… and so can the viewers.
Hanna squinted and cocked her head a bit, trying to look interested as she stared at the man sitting across the desk.
“Digital viruses have been used for centuries,” the man continued, “since the dawn of the Internet.” He paused, looking expectantly at Hanna for her next question.
Message: Oh crap, I’m lost, Hanna thought.
Her producer was one step ahead of her, as usual, her reply floating in the air in front of Hanna as it filled her visual space.
From Arielle: If this particular virus has been around for so long, then surely there must be a way to protect our systems from it? Without missing a beat, Hanna immediately asked the question.
“The problem is that this virus is quite adept at disguising itself. It changes its structure with almost every instance, making it particularly difficult to detect. In nearly every confirmed case of the virus, it was not discovered until after it had already begun to affect the target system. Hence the name, ‘Twister’, as it constantly twists itself into new, unrecognizable forms.”
“Unrecognizable?” Hanna asked. “But it’s computer code, right? Lines of characters on a screen telling the computer what to do.”
“When you look at as much computer code as we do, day in and day out, you begin to see patterns. It’s like learning a foreign language. Once you become fluent, you no longer translate it in your head, you simply…understand.”
“Even with computer code?”
From Arielle: You’re straying, her producer warned.
“So if the Twister virus is impossible to recognize, how are you going to neutralize it?” Hanna asked.
“Not impossible,” the man corrected, “just difficult. Extremely difficult. However, just because it’s difficult to recognize doesn’t mean we can’t protect ourselves,” he explained calmly. “The question we should be asking, though, is why?”
“Why?” Hanna echoed. She looked to her visual space for another cue from Arielle but saw nothing.
“Yes. Why are they doing this? What is their end goal?” he questioned, more to himself than to her. “We believe the authors of this code are still in the testing and verification phase. That’s why they’ve been so random and widespread in their attacks. They’re not only testing their virus, they’re testing our response to it. Eventually, they’ll begin targeting bigger, more critical systems. If we are not more aggressive in our defense, Twister could create more trouble than it already has… A lot more.”
From Arielle: Coming up on ten minutes, the next text message informed Hanna. Let’s wrap it up.
“Professor Dantmore, will your organization find a way to identify the Twister virus before it strikes and neutralize it before any damage is done?”
“Eventually, yes. We have more than one thousand of the Earth’s best security programmers working on the Twister project. We will find a way to stop it. We always do. It’s just a matter of time.”
Hanna sensed one of Barry’s imaging orbs hovering past her left side, her good side, signaling the end of the netcast. She smiled politely at the professor. “Thank you, Professor Dantmore.” Hanna turned to her left, facing the floating imaging orb as it hovered at her eye level a meter away. She dipped her chin slightly, positioning her head to the flattering angle that her videographer insisted made her look both sexy and intelligent.
“Is Twister a major threat, or is it just another digital nuisance like so many others in the past? Many have argued that we have become too dependent on technology, and that makes us vulnerable. Yet, because of our technology, starvation, disease, and even war, are all distant memories of days long past. Perhaps annoyances like the Twister virus are just the price we pay for a better life. The good men and women here at the Dantmore Institute are trying to reduce that cost… for all of us.” She paused for a moment, changing the angle of her head as Barry had instructed in the past, before closing out an interview. “I’m Hanna Bohl, reporting from the Dantmore Institute for Digital Security.”
* * *
Gifford floated on the edge of consciousness. He knew he was alive. He could feel air going in and out of his nose, his chest rising and falling. But there was nothing but darkness, and the only sound was a low hum that seemed to surround him.
The next thing he realized was a floating sensation, and there were gentle tugs at his chest, abdomen, legs, and arms. Straps of some kind…holding him in place.
Stasis.
His eyes opened, slowly at first, fluttering a bit, as if they were almost stuck.
Eye boogers. The one thing they had never solved about stasis, at least not for everyone.
He forced his eyes open, turning his head slightly and looking around, confirming he was inside a stasis chamber. “Ria?” he asked, his voice scratchy and weak.
“Yes, Captain,” the AI voice replied over the speaker in his stasis chamber. “How do you feel?”
“Like crap.”
“Your vitals are stable, and your metabolic functions are normal. You are dehydrated, but that is to be expected.”
“No kidding,” he groaned as the lights outside his chamber flickered on. “Where are we?”
“Two point five light years from Earth,” Ria reported. “All systems are functioning normally, and all decks have been conditioned for habitation. Shall I begin waking the crew?”
“Just Maggi,” he instructed. “I don’t want a repeat of the last waking.”
“Understandable. Are you ready to exit your stasis chamber?”
“No, but let’s do it anyway.”
“Activating artificial gravity,” the AI replied as Giff’s stasis chamber began to tilt upward and open. He felt himself settling back onto the padded bed of the chamber as it tilted, finally laying on his back at a forty-five-degree angle. “Let’s start with fifty percent.”
“Of course.”
Giff’s restraints disconnected and retracted into the sides of his stasis chamber. He hated this part. The first attempts at moving were the worst. Nothing worked right. Every movement required concentration, as if his brain was not aware of his own extremities. Luckily, it didn’t last long, and soon, he was sitting upright, as if leaning against a counter.
Giff looked around the stasis room, noting the other eleven pods in the compartment, only five of which were occupied. The pod of his med-tech, Maggi, was the only pod glowing orange around the base, indicating that her wake cycle was in progress. In ten minutes, there would be competition for the nearest bathroom.
Time to pee, he thought, struggling to his feet.
* * *
“And we’re out,” Barry announced from the corner of the room as the red light on the primary imaging orb hovering in front of Hanna went dark. He pressed a button on the control pad, and all six orbs flew over, returning to the docking station on the floor.
Arielle leaned closer to Barry as the last orb landed in its cradle. “Replace that dazed, disinterested expression she had on her face with something more perky. You know where I mean, just before the professor said the same type of virus had been around for centuries.”
“No problem,” Barry replied as he bent down to close the lid over the imaging orbs. “I’ll head back to the hotel and start the preliminary edits.”
Arielle nodded in agreement.
Hanna glanced nervously at Professor Dantmore as she stood, embarrassed.
“It’s quite alright, Miss Bohl,” the professor reassured her as he looked up. “Most people find what we do quite boring.
“Why don’t you use them?” Hanna wondered.
“There’s just something wrong with using artificial intelligence algorithms to study other algorithms.”
“But aren’t the AIs faster and more accurate?”
“Yes, but they still lack the instincts that humans possess. Even after three hundred years of using artificial intelligence, the closest we have ever come to achieving the instinctual nature of the human mind, in digital form, are the human consciousness uploads, which as you know, come with their own set of problems.”
“Now that would have been more interesting to talk about,” Hanna grinned as she reached out and shook the professor’s hand. “Unfortunately, that wasn’t my assignment.”
“Professor Dantmore?” a colleague called from the doorway.
The professor looked up, then turned back to Hanna. “It was a pleasure, Miss Bohl,” he said, excusing himself.
Hanna watched the professor and his assistant move to speak in the hallway just outside the door, noticing not only the worried expression of the assistant, but of the professor himself. Once they left, she turned away, walking over to her producer. The expression on her face was completely different, more like that of a disappointed mother. “For the record, I was paying attention. I was just considering my next question.”
“Uh-huh,” Arielle muttered skeptically.
Barry called over to the technician standing to the side of the room, ignoring the exchange between Hanna and Arielle. “You guys have point to point?”
“Of course,” the technician replied.
“Mind if I use it?”
“The terminal is in the next room,” the technician said. “Follow me.”
Barry turned to Arielle, who had a curious expression on her face. “If I upload the raw file to the client from here, it’ll save us the cost of the point-to-point link later.”
“What about the edits?” Arielle questioned.
“I can send them the edits as a macro after we finish the final cut. It’s a tiny file that we can send through the public net.”
“Sounds good,” Arielle looked back at Hanna. “Next time, you might want to do your pre-interview research before you leave the hotel.”
“Right,” Hanna replied, ignoring her suggestion. “Did you see the look on their faces just now? I think something happened.” She looked back at her friend. “Maybe we should poke around a bit?”
Arielle shook her head and sighed. “At least you’re using the angles that Barry told you about.”
“Seriously, I think there may be more here.”
“We get paid to do the interview,” Arielle reminded her. “Not to poke around.”
“But…”
“We don’t have the budget, Hanna,” Arielle snapped, cutting her off. “You never listen.”
“Hey, I listen!”
“Since when?” Arielle wondered with a laugh. “I’ve known you for ten years now. If there’s one thing you’re not good at, it’s listening to the advice of others.”
Hanna rolled her eyes as she grabbed her bag from the chair. “That was the old Hanna. You’re looking at the new, improved Hanna.”
“I see,” Arielle conceded, picking up her own bag. “And is the new, improved Hanna Bohl finally going to land us a cushy, full-time gig with one of the major news-nets?”
“Of course,” Hanna insisted as they headed out the door and down the corridor, “but not if you keep lining up these snooze-fests.”
“Hey, they pay the bills. This one even put a few credits into our savings.”
They turned the corner and headed across the lobby toward the main entrance.
“We wouldn’t need to put credits into savings if we uncovered a story on our own.” Hanna argued. “That’s how we land a cushy gig.”
“That savings account kept us from being on the streets when we got stuck in Philly last year… or did you already forget about that little fiasco?”
“How could I, with you always reminding me,” Hanna retorted as they exited the building.
Hanna paused a moment, taking in the city. Automated electric vehicles of all shapes and sizes packed the streets in an endless flow of traffic. Buildings towered in the afternoon sun, casting long shadows to the east. Elevated walkways stretched between buildings and around every intersection on the second, fifth, and tenth levels. Monorail trains cruised overhead, transporting passengers from the elevated platforms at the second levels. And finally, above it all, countless shuttles flitted about on invisible pathways in the sky, ferrying their privileged passengers from one building top to another. Hanna loved the feeling of being in a big city. To her, it meant endless possibilities.
“Are we going to have time to visit our parents?” Hanna asked, turning back to Arielle.
“Not this time, I’m afraid. We have to be in Boston the day after tomorrow.”
“Then we have plenty of time,” Hanna concluded.
“Not if we’re going to take the train.”
Hanna’s head fell back slightly as she moaned in discontent. “Twenty-four hours on a train again? For once, can’t we just take a shuttle?”
“We can’t afford it, Hanna.”
“Then can we at least take the tube?”
“We can’t afford that either.”
“Let me guess…because we have to put credits into savings.”
“In case you pull another stunt like the one in Philly. We can’t live on what the pop-nets pay, Hanna. You know that.”
“We could if we weren’t leasing all that extra FI gear,” Hanna argued as she started down the street.
“You know damn well that all the major news-nets want full immersion now,” Arielle reminded her as they headed up the stairs to the monorail platform, “and that equipment is expensive to lease.”
“We could make just as much money doing the tabloid stuff using simple hi-def minis. We could pick up a three-pack for half of what we pay Barry per week.”
“We agreed,” Arielle reminded her. “We’re real journalists, not pop-goons. I’d rather be working as a junior production assistant in some snippet clearing house than doing the tabloid stuff.”
“There are crossovers, you know,” Hanna insisted as the next monorail train came to a stop and its doors opened. “Lara Knox, Blaze Hunter, Michael Benat…”
“All pretty faces and no substance.”
“Pretty faces that get all the best stories,” Hanna added, “and ride around in private shuttles instead of taking overnight trains between coasts.”
“The deal is until we hit thirty,” Arielle reminded Hanna, “and we’re not there yet.”
Hanna looked at Arielle as they stepped onto the monorail train and grabbed hold of the overhead rail. “Ten months.”
“And for those ten months, we continue with the plan. You, me, and a videographer… with full immersion gear.”
“I know, I know.” Hanna gazed out the windows of the monorail as it pulled away from the platform and made its way to the next stop. While it passed between the buildings, she caught a glimpse of San Diego bay in the distance. She had grown up not far from downtown, and this city had always been one of her favorites. “What’s next?”
“Epidemiologist in Boston,” Arielle replied. “He’s an expert in the Klaria virus.”
“Sounds like another snoozer to me,” Hanna groaned, rolling her eyes.
“People are dying from the Klaria virus, Hanna.”
“Yeah, I know,” she grumbled as she gazed out the window of the monorail, “but if we don’t have anything new and interesting to tell them about it, the viewers don’t care.”
“It’s your job to make them care, Hanna. That’s why you need to do your pre-interview research before you actually arrive at the location.”
“Yes, mother,” Hanna replied.
* * *
Gifford entered the Rhianna Lokken’s galley, data pad in hand.
“What’s the word, Cap?” Donny asked as he picked at his plate of food. “Any news from home?”
“Still too far out to pick up public broadcasts, but I’ve got two years of comms messages for everyone,” the captain replied, dropping his data pad on the dining table.
