Cyber Rogues (18 page)

Krantz leaned forward toward the screen and spoke in a voice that lowered itself instinctively.

“Are you alone there . . . any open doors nearby?”

“No,” Dyer said. “It’s okay. What’s happening?”

“Linsay’s got things organized to the point where it’s time to integrate the scientific team with the rest of the Janus population. It’s all fixed. You and your people will be moving out to Fort Vokes in one month’s time. You’d better start thinking about packing toothbrushes.”

“The final garrison on Janus will be in the order of five thousand personnel selected from Army, Navy and Air Force volunteers of both sexes in approximately equal proportions.” Krantz sat with his elbows propped on the table in front of him and spoke quietly over his loosely interlaced fingers. Dyer drank in silence as he listened from across the corner, It was still early evening and the only other customers in the bar were grouped over by the far wall, well away from them. Chuck’s radar had told him that the conversation was private and he had disappeared into his office at the rear of the premises.

“They will perform all the duties and activities normally carried out by a normal colony population,” Krantz went on. “In addition there will be a small number—a hundred or less—civilian specialists to take charge of operations that the military aren’t specifically trained to handle—energy production and control, manufacturing, agriculture and things like that. In addition we’ll have a few groups and individuals conducting specialized tasks analogous to your own scientific team—psychologists, observers, sociologists and so on—even some newspeople.”

“Newspeople?” Dyer’s eyebrows knitted in surprise. “I thought this was strictly not for the public?”

“For now it isn’t. But if anything newsworthy does come out of it we’d like to have professionals around to record it all properly. Oh, you needn’t worry about them. They’ll all be selected people who can be trusted. They won’t blow anything to anybody until it’s all over and they’ve been given the right clearances to do it.”

“What about the psychologists and so on?” Dyer asked. “What will they be there for? Are you worried we’ll all be in danger of going crazy or something?”

Krantz gave a short laugh and shook his head. “You and your team will be there to study how the computers react in a situation that will be unlike anything that’s ever happened before—a deliberate confrontation between men and machines. But don’t forget that a lot of people are very interested in finding out how the humans will react too. It’s a scientific experiment and the purpose is to provide data. Well, we intend squeezing every bit of data out of this exercise that we can.”

A jovial middle-aged couple came in through the door and began heading toward the adjacent table. Conversation ceased for a few moments until the new arrivals mercifully altered course and settled down in the far corner. When Dyer looked back at Krantz, his expression had grown suddenly thoughtful.

“What you said just made me think of something.”

“What’s that?” Krantz inquired.

“About having people to observe the people. The scientists are people too. Did you think of having anybody there to study how they react to it all as well?”

“Not specifically.” Krantz looked a trifle puzzled. “I suppose that would come under the normal job of the psychologists . . .” He twisted his face into a mild frown. “I’m not really sure what you’ve got in mind. Do you mean extra psychologists specifically attached to the scientific team or something?”

“Not exactly extra psychologists,” Dyer said in a faraway voice. “More something in addition to the psychologists . . . a different angle.”

“I’m still not with you.”

“Somebody who’d see them as all-around people in a nonspecialized way instead of as psychological specimens. Add a human angle to it. If you’re thinking about how the story might come out afterwards something like that could make a lot of difference.”

“Mmm . . .” Krantz studied the tabletop and rubbed his chin slowly. “Interesting thought, I suppose.” He looked up sharply. “Why? Do you have somebody in particular in mind?”

“I know somebody who’s quite experienced in that kind of job. In fact she’s been doing just that in my unit for some time now. It was something that Vince Lewis agreed on with one of the media companies.”

“She?” Krantz leaned back and eyed Dyer shrewdly. “Pretty, is she?” he asked in a casual voice.

Dyer shrugged. “I guess you could say that. Kinda fun to have around, anyhow.” He tossed out a hand carelessly. “It was just a thought.”

Krantz’s eyes were twinkling.

“If she’s with your unit, why don’t you talk to her about it?” he asked.

“I can’t,” Dyer replied simply. “My brief okayed me to approach members of my
staff.
She’s not even employed by the University.”

“Oh, I see. But if I liked the idea, it would be my job to initiate an approach via the appropriate agencies. That it?”

Dyer pursed his lips and nodded as if the thought had occurred to him for the first time.

“Yes,” he said. “Now you come to mention it, I guess it would.”

“But I’d only do that if you made a specific recommendation,” Krantz pointed out.

“That would depend on whether you liked the idea or not, wouldn’t it,” Dyer told him.

Krantz thought for a moment longer, then grinned and drew a viewpad from his inside jacket pocket.

“Okay,” he pronounced. “I like the idea. So why don’t you give me some specific details.”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Three weeks later Laura appeared at HESPER Unit and announced that this would be her last visit. She explained that something unexpected had turned up that would have to take precedence over her assignment at CUNY. It was a shame, she said, especially since she had just begin to get to know them all, but with Dyer and most of the staff due to leave for training with ISA anyway, maybe it was just as well. She hoped they’d all have a chance to pick up again where they had left off, maybe sometime next year. After making a round of the unit to say a personal farewell to each of the staff, she eventually found herself back in Dyer’s office to round things off.

“So where are you going?” Dyer asked her. “Is it so much of a secret that you can’t tell us?”

“You won’t believe it,” she warned him.

“Try me and see.”

“China, of all places. We’ve got a documentary being made there on a tight schedule . . . all about the emergence of the post-Communist culture. One of the people involved got sick suddenly and I was told to drop everything and get over there.”

“China, eh?” Dyer fought to keep a serious face. “Where exactly? Is there some way we can keep in touch?”

Laura shrugged helplessly. “As far as I know it’ll mean moving all over. All I can suggest is using Zeegram as a mailbox. They’ll be able to pass anything on.” Her voice softened as she smiled. “You know, that was a nice thought. What made you say that?”

“Why not?” Dyer said. “Friends should keep in touch. We’re friends, aren’t we?”

“I guess we are.” Laura sighed. “What have we had—a few nights out, some nice dinners and a lot of talking. We were just getting to know one another and then this happens. You’re off to ISA and I’m off to China. Sometimes I think we might get along fine given enough time. It’s not fair, you know. All good things have to come to an end, but this one never even got started.”

“That’s life,” Dyer offered with a shrug.

Laura regarded him quizzically for a few seconds, evidently expecting something further. When that failed to materialize she sat back in her chair and shook her head. “You really can be a callous bastard at times,” she said candidly.

Dyer made a face. “Why what have I done now?”

“Nothing! That’s the whole point! Look . . . For Pete’s sake . . . I’ve
enjoyed
going out together. It was fun. It meant something.”

“I enjoyed it too. What else do you want me to say?”

“Oh hell! I want you to say it’s a shame.”

“It’s a shame.”

Laura rested her chin on her fingers and studied him with a mixture of exasperation and open disbelief.

“Six months from now you’ll be on the Moon, I’ll be anywhere between Hong Kong and Outer Mongolia and that’s all you’ve got to say. Mightn’t it just occur to you to be bothered about that in some tiny way?”

“Not really,” Dyer told her. “For all we know China and the Moon could turn out to be the same place. Then what would there be to get bothered about?”

“What kind of crazy talk is that supposed to be? Ray, I don’t follow you. You’re talking in riddles again.”

Dyer toyed with a pen on his desk for a moment and then looked up.

“It was just another way of saying I figure we’ll bump into each other again somewhere before very long,” he replied.

“Oh. And what makes you so sure of that?”

“Call it a premonition,” he said.

“I thought you didn’t believe in that kind of thing.”

“I don’t, except when they’re mine,” he told her. “When I have them, they’re always right.” He tossed the pen down in front of him, looked up and winked. “You wait and see.”

PART TWO

BATTLE
PLAN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

The three-dimensional image being projected onto the stage in front of the audience looked solid enough to touch. It was an image of a torus, about six feet in diameter and somewhat less than a foot thick. Its inner side, facing the center, seemed to be made from black-slatted Venetian blinds while the outer side was a uniform, featureless aluminum gray. Six equi-spaced spokes, each about two inches thick, converged from the torus into the thirteen-inch-diameter sphere at the center.

The spokes passed through a second, inner ring of mirror-clear reflecting plates surrounding the sphere at a radius of a foot and a half. This second ring was in the form of a hollow truncated cone with its surface intersecting the plane of the spokes at an angle of forty-five degrees. A confusion of metal latticework and assorted engineering structures occupied most of the space between the inner ring and the central sphere.

A long tubular construction appeared to pass right through the sphere perpendicular to the torus, projecting a short distance at the top and over four feet at the bottom to give the whole structure a vague resemblance to a wheel connected to its axle with the other wheel missing. Two more spheres, each the same size as the central one were located at the middle and near the lower end of the axle. Each of these spheres carried a six-inch-diameter parabolic dish mounted on a pylon of tubes and lattices, both aligned in the same direction, which was to the left as viewed from the auditorium. The middle one of the three spheres was connected also to a two-feet-square sheet, which looked like a black-on-gray waffle iron and projected to the right to extend downward like an enormous flag.

Completing the picture, a second object floated detached about two feet above the torus, well beyond the shorter projecting end of the axle. It was a disk-shaped mirror nearly as large as the torus, hanging in the air above with its plane inclined to the torus’s central axis.

Were it not for the hole through its center, the mirror might have suggested the opened lid of a can that had somehow become detached.

Captain Malloy, U.S. Air Force, stood to one side while the image rotated slowly to allow everybody to study it from all angles, and then moved back towards the front of the stage to resume his lecture.

“Here is a model of it all to sum up the things we’ve been talking about,” he said. He was a broad, square-built man with tangled eyebrows that met in the middle and a solid bulldog jaw. He stood firmly, his feet slightly apart, and addressed his listeners in a loud, clipped military monotone.

“This is where we’ll be going just under three months from now—Microplanet Janus, formerly intended to be the Icarus C colony and solar station. Let’s recap again on some of the major details. Outside diameter of Rim? Davies.”

“Eight thousand feet,” a voice from the back responded promptly.

“In miles?”

“One point five-one-five.”

“Correct. Inside diameter of Rim? McClusky.”

“Six thousand, one hundred feet. Ah . . . one point one-five miles.”

“Correct.” Malloy nodded curtly. “Rim rotational speed? Seeton,”

“Zero point eight-two revs per minute,” Chris called out from where he was sitting beside Dyer. “Or if you like, just under a tenth of a radian per second.”

A flicker of surprise rippled across Malloy’s face and changed abruptly to a stony, narrow-eyed stare. He looked at Chris for a few seconds and then replied in a grating voice. “Cor-rect.”

On Dyer’s other side Kim put her hand to her mouth and caught her breath sharply as she fought to suppress a laugh. He turned his head and grinned. She still managed to look sexy, even in the drill fatigues that they had all taken to wearing as standard since coming to Fort Vokes six weeks earlier. On the stage, Captain Malloy pointed at the mirror floating above the torus and continued with his summing-up.

“The main solar reflector. Sunlight is deflected downward onto the secondary reflectors . . .” he indicated the inner ring, made up of the conical strip of reflecting panels inclined at forty-five degrees to the main axis “. . . and from there outward to the inner face—the roof—of the Rim. The panels of the secondary reflector can be tilted independently to illuminate portions of the Rim selectively, thus affording variable day-night circles as required. The roof comprises the tertiary reflecting grid, variable thickness scatter-layer and Inner Shield. Any questions?”

There were no questions. An ISA engineer had already explained the function of the tertiary reflectors. The roof was composed of countless reflecting slats of right-angle cross section assembled in a complex interlocking fashion to beam sunlight down into the torus not directly but via millions of parallel dog-leg paths, through the cosmic-ray absorption shield. The arrangement took advantage of the fact that radiation of optical wavelengths was reflected by mirrors while the much shorter cosmic-ray wavelengths went straight on through into the material of the shield. On emerging from the underside of the shield, the light passed through a layer of crystal laminates which produced a scattering effect comparable to that of Earth’s atmosphere but which could be thinned down where required to produce an acceptably localized solar image. Looking up, the inhabitants of Janus would see a passable representation of the Sun and a real blue sky.