Subtle Weapon, page 14
part #2 of ShadowTech Series
“And stuck in the corridors.”
“I know my way around.”
“Enough to get through sealed doors?”
“I have pretty good access.”
“Had.”
“What?”
“You had good access. You think they won’t pull back all privileges? First locked door we come to, we’d be trapped.”
“Might be other ways round.”
“Sure. We can squeeze through doorframes.”
“What about air vents?”
Brice pointed to the thin grille above the door. He shook his head. “Even if we did get free, what then? Patrols in the forest, a rock wall around us. And don’t forget that they’re watching us all the time. The minute we disappear, they’d come down hard.”
Her face fell with each sentence he uttered, and her shoulders slumped. When he’d finished there was only her heavy breathing.
Then she looked up, her head to one side. “You think we’re that important?”
“Important?”
“That they’d pull out everything to catch us?”
Had he let something slip? “They’ve got us locked up. Doubt they want us getting out.”
“Sure. But if we did, would they bother with us? Don’t know about you, but I reckon I’m a pretty low priority.”
He shrugged. “They remove problems. We’re both still alive. That has to mean something.”
“So we’re stuck here.” She sighed, looked to the bucket. “After that fine room service, think I’ll use the facilities. Turn around.”
Brice did, followed her movements with sound alone. And it felt wrong, having his back to her. Not that he should be watching what she was doing, but that…that he couldn’t trust her. He didn’t know her. He only knew what she’d told him.
And her words had planted a seed. He didn’t want to get his hopes up—couldn’t afford to be unrealistic—but what if there was a way out?
Piran
“You’re in early again,” Casey said as she breezed into what Piran now thought of as his office.
“Thought I’d go to a party last night, come in late with a hangover, but they’re a bunch of old fuddies round here.”
“Oh, we know how to have fun when we want to.”
She headed to the dispenser, brushing past him. Felt like a finger trailed across his shoulder, but that had to be his imagination.
“Any progress?” She carried two flasks back to Piran’s desk. Cha, by the smell—lemony and sweet. She leaned against his desk, her back-side almost touching his palmie. Had tight trousers on today.
He forced himself to look up at her face. Yeah, would’ve been a vision a few years previous. Not bad now, to be honest. Especially when she smiled.
“It’s old stuff, isn’t it?”
She gave him a feigned look of surprise—but playful too. Piran shifted in his seat.
“Old stuff?”
He coughed, reached for his desk-terminal, pulled up some of the code. “This whole section—interface routines. Variables relate to matrices of neuron-build systems, same root in lattice tech, basic pulse tracking and stimulus.”
She tilted her head. “Interesting.”
“I thought so. Correlates to some of the more open lat-code, too close to be chance. So I reckon this is the root.”
“Yep. But that wasn’t what I meant. Interesting that you use symbols. Direct correspondence to alpha-numerical?”
He frowned, looked at his work, realised that he’d become accustomed to it.
“Old text-code substitutions, combined with ancient tribal markings. Easy to format, easy to parse. Like a different language.”
“So you’ve translated the original and the current into a third.”
“Something like that.”
“May I?” She reached a hand out, finger extended. Hadn’t painted her nails today.
“Sure.” She was the boss, after all.
She swiped through his data. Didn’t alter anything, and it wouldn’t matter if she did—he had back-ups of back-ups, wasn’t going to lose any of this.
She made appreciative noises, and leaned over. Wore some kind of scent, mingled with the lemon from her drink. Probably seeing someone later.
If they allowed that kind of thing down here. Sensors everywhere. The company, spying on people’s private moments. Not in showers and the like, but everywhere else.
A thought crossed Piran’s mind, and he filed it away for later. Sensors all filtered into the central system, so they should be accessible to anyone with a bit of know-how.
He’d have to get the right sensors, though. Didn’t want to end up seeing that Macklyn guy in a compromising position. Even the thought of it turned his stomach.
“Nice,” Casey said when she’d finished looking over his work. “See what you mean about patterns. Really show up this way. Could be onto something here. Might have to develop this further, you know.” She sat up, flashed him a smile that lit up her eyes. “I’m really impressed, Piran.”
“Thanks.”
Was that all he could think of to say? No witty comeback? He could—what, say he wanted half of any profits from marketing his system, or…or that he’d give her a private lesson if she wanted. Yeah, that would work. Private lesson, that evening. His place wasn’t up to much, so might be better at hers. Could be a long session, so get some drinks in.
But the moment was gone. She brushed down her trousers, straightened her back.
“So you’ve identified the root code. You know what that means?”
Piran frowned. “If this code is old, and it matches—ninety-five percent in places—existing code at the base of the lattice, that…that the lattice itself is based on old code. If this isn’t some test, some kind of set-up.”
“Oh, it’s a test. But it’s also genuine. Don’t let incredulity cloud your mind. Old tech, in an old language, that formed—forms—the basis of our current lattice. So, extrapolate further. Give me a deeper meaning.”
Deeper meaning? “Sure. Confirms the rumours—lattice is based on Ancient tech.”
“Big leap. Care to expand on that?”
“No problem. I’ve run through base lattice code—part of training, right? Looked a bit further, too. Got to know the code pretty well. And the stuff you’ve given me—it’s a close match. Not perfect, but there’s enough correlations to suggest one came from the other. And as this Ancient stuff has been around longer, doesn’t take a genius to figure out which way round it is.” He smiled at her. “That good enough?”
“It’ll do.”
“Still don’t get how they extracted the original data, though. Don’t suppose they used a standard interface. It’d be like trying to run a…a Proteus on some old ratchet crank. Incompatible tech and mech. Unless these Ancients happened to use exactly the same data storage methods we use today. Which is bloody unlikely, right?”
“Totally agree. Had the same thoughts myself, when I started on this project. Then I looked into the history of it. Here, I’ll show you.”
She glanced at his terminal, and the screen he’d been using shrunk, replaced by a tree-file. She flicked through nav-menus, lattice-tapping until a floating image filled the screen.
It was a box. Old, obviously, and made of metal. There was no scale to judge the size.
“That’s the original artefact. They call it the Pandora, and it came from a dig to the north, some place called Cinnea. Small dig at the time, subsidiary of the company in charge. They reckoned there was more to the Pandora than a hunk of metal, so they had experts check it out. Found some kind of pulse signal—won’t go into details, can pass the file over if you want.”
“It involve much reading?”
“Could have it read to you, internal. Bedtime story, when you’re all snuggled up. Anyway, they traced the pulses, realised it held—or it was—some kind of storage device. Managed to pull binary from it—again, too many details to go into now—and then spent seven standard years deciphering it.”
“Seven years?”
“Yep. Team of about twenty, working full time on this single project.”
Piran grinned. “And I figured the bit you showed me in a couple of days.”
“Yeah, yeah. You’re smart. And you had the lattice code as a comparison. Easy to see roots in retrospect.”
“Easy?”
“Relatively. Two days to seven years.”
“Fair point.” A thought rose. “They find any more of these boxes?”
“Think a few have turned up. Nothing as ground-breaking as this.” She paused, and grinned like a maniac. “Until now.”
“Now?”
Her head bobbed in an excited nod. “Told you this was a test, right? Well, you passed. So you get to play with the real stuff now.”
The image of the Pandora swiped left, replaced by another box. This one looked more battered, with scratches and stains all over it. Piran guessed it was a different kind of metal.
It also wasn’t uniform in shape. There was a tube at one end, and what could be a handle at the other. It looked like it had a purpose. Definitely didn’t look like anything he’d seen before, though.
“They’re calling it the Caduceus—no idea where they get their names from. Unearthed a couple of weeks ago, this dig site.”
“As in this place? The crater?”
“That’s the one. Some kind of mech/tech stuff inside, far as scans go. Also loads of data—easy to spot, as it’s on a similar hard-board to the Pandora.”
“So more old-guy’s tech.”
“More than that. They reckon it’s some kind of weapon.”
“Weapon?” He stared at the image. “Looks like a gun, I suppose. Bit of a small barrel.”
He grinned when he said that, and she rolled her eyes. But she smiled too.
“Not the size that matters,” she said. “The Pandora basically gave us the lattice, most powerful tech/mech combo around. This thing—well, some of the higher-ups are already letting their imaginations run riot.”
“They want to use it, right? What, destroy anyone they don’t like?”
“Sure some think like that, but no. They’re thinking more protection from outside forces.”
“Aliens?” Piran laughed. “Few small bugs, but nothing else. The big mystery, right? Spreading out to other planets, other systems, but still the only intelligent life-form around.”
“And in some cases semi-intelligent.” She shook her head. “You should see some of the meatheads they have doing thug-work round here. Have problems walking in a straight line. Anyway, they reckon this thing’s a weapon, and they want to know exactly what it does. There’s a whole load of code in it, so that’s our job.”
Piran frowned, looked around the office. Three desks, but so far he’d been alone. Or with Casey.
“Just us?” he said. “They don’t have a larger team?”
“Have a crew in another room, think they’ve sent data copies off for others to pour over. Big group effort.”
“And I’m stuck in this room on my own. I mean, with you.”
“Not sure if that’s complimentary or an insult.” But she smiled again, and Piran shuffled in his chair. “You’re a new addition to the team. Your profile says you work best solo. That’s what they’ve told me, anyway.”
“Not solo if I’m with you.”
“I’m supervising. Liaison. This stuff?” She waved a hand vaguely at the terminal. “Not my speciality. Know more than the average drone, but I’m nowhere near your league. My speciality’s…encouragement, let’s say.”
Did she lean closer when she said that? He caught her scent again, stronger this time. Pleasant.
She pushed away from the desk. “Anyway, files are all transferred to you—raw data, some of the progress others have made. I’ll let you get on.”
She walked out, the door closing gently behind her. Piran felt the data through his lattice, pulled it up, started scanning.
And her perfume remained, like a haze.
He didn’t realise how much he was smiling until his face started to ache.
Ryann
Ryann had to admit, Macklyn was right. The work was mundane, and with so much of the dig site buried in shadows it wasn’t the open air and sunlight she preferred, but it got her out of her room, gave her an opportunity to interact with others.
Most of the time she worked alongside Moyna. The woman was no-nonsense, didn’t give a hoot about the company, but cared deeply about her work. Ryann had pushed her, gently, on topics such as the Ancients and Kaiahive’s use of their technology, but Moyna would either dismiss the question or go into so much detail that Ryann was soon lost. Then Moyna would smile pleasantly, shake her head, and suggest they get on with their work.
It wasn’t as dusty as Ryann had feared. Moyna explained, something to do with water seeping through the rock, and the lack of air-flow. The reasoning confused Ryann, and she simply accepted it for what it was—scraping away at the rock wasn’t dusty or damp. In became quite meditative after a while.
Most of the time, Ryann and Moyna were alone. Occasionally another person would turn up to remove any finds, and Moyna would converse with them. She seemed on good terms with everyone.
Ryann was polite, and she gently pushed, familiarising herself with the traces of these people. And when she walked back to her room, she mapped where they went.
Not that she could follow them, of course. Sensors monitored everywhere, and she had access to only a few doors.
They worked in chamber six, and Moyna explained that most of the others were resting. A few had minor work going on—mainly clearing up—but chamber five was looking positive. Moyna had a couple of girls working there, Inese and Kyria, with someone called Cole supervising. From the way she said the man’s name, it was clear Moyna had issues with him.
Ryann asked how long she expected to be working this dig, and was surprised when Moyna said she could be here for a good ten years. The volcano was riddled with tunnels. If the Ancients used all of them, a full exploration could take a lifetime.
“Ten years for the main sites,” she said. “And if we come up with anything else important, I’ll requisition more teams. In the company’s own interest, right?”
“Anything else important?”
“Yeah. First chamber, found a stunner.” Moyna’s eyes shone. “Passed it on to research, but definitely important. Had the same feel as the Pandora.”
“You’ve seen the Pandora?”
“Fascimile. That dig was before my time, and the original’s kept under tight lock-down. Tried finding out where—research—but they’ve smothered the records.” She shrugged. “Typical of the company, right?”
“Right.”
“And I reckon we need to get that batch up to the lab.” Moyna pointed to the sealed trays, tiny pieces of what Ryann thought were rocks but that Moyna said were possible finds. She’d mentioned signs of bots in the rock itself. “You want to take it?”
“You don’t want to wait for a courier?”
“Schedule’s been altered. They’ve pulled some of my team onto other projects. Won’t be another today. But you can take it, right?”
“Of course. I don’t know the way, though.”
“Not a problem.” Then she sussed. <You’ve got a contact point, right?>
<Of course.>
Ryann felt the data enter her lattice, and pulled the file onto her lenses. It was a simple schematic—not an accurate map, but a stylised route-plan. All she had to do was follow the directions.
“What about sealed doors?” she asked.
“Permissions come with the file. Limited time—can’t grant anything more. Gives you an hour. So no need to rush. Stretch your legs, enjoy the scenery.”
The trays slotted together, and came with a shoulder strap. They weren’t as heavy as Ryann expected.
The route-plan sent her past chamber five, and Ryann hesitated, then decided to test the accuracy of the locator. She stepped into the cavern. It was twice the size of the one she’d been working in. The three workers—two girls and their supervisor—were over the far side, where bright arcs smothered them in light, and they couldn’t see Ryann. They could feel her, though, and the man’s trace flared as he tracked her.
The route-plan flashed a warning. Yes, it was keeping track of her position. Ryann returned to the proper route, and headed into the main dig corridor, then along to a stairwell. The door opened for her, just as Moyna said it would, and Ryann ascended.
She experienced a momentary rush of adrenaline—this was somewhere new, somewhere she’d previously not been allowed. She was still on a leash, but she paid attention, concentrating on her surroundings and the traces that filled the air.
Most people used the lifts, so it only took a short while to differentiate the ten traces in the stairwell. She analysed, and stored her results. The traces were lattice-strong, as she’d expect, and one stood out.
So Macklyn preferred to use stairs. It fit his character—contrary, and eager to prove himself physically capable. He’d been promoted, but Ryann thought it likely he still looked after his body.
He was the enemy. She couldn’t underestimate him.
She reached the top of the stairs. Macklyn’s trace ran to the left, but the route-plan directed Ryann to the right. Others had passed through this corridor, and Ryann took her time, drawing in as much information as she could. Some of the traces were heavy and multiple—those who worked in the area, she assumed. Others were thin, almost faded.
And one trace stuck in her throat.
She stopped. For the sake of any sensors watching she coughed, and bent over. And she tightened her focus.
Yes. She’d know that trace anywhere.
Piran.
His trace came from a corridor to her left, passed her position, then turned right. Ryann walked to the first turning, but his trace faded into the distance. Did the dampening field reach this far underground, or was there something else blocking her?
