Molehunt (4 page)

As the alarm sounded she knew she had only seconds to get out of the room. Indeed, the door behind her began closing immediately. Anneke leapt up, planted her feet against the standalone, and using her mighty leg muscles, catapulted herself backwards through the door, which brushed her ankles as it clunked shut a split second later. She hit the floor rolling and kept rolling, staying low, guessing that microwave stiletto beams were slicing and dicing the air above her. She was right.

A corner of her cape flipped up as she tumbled and she heard the unmistakable sizzle of a stiletto beam doing some unwanted tailoring.

Coming out of her roll, she crawled into the ventilation shaft she had prised open earlier, just in case, and scrambled away on hands and knees as fast as she could. Fifty metres in, the ceiling rose a little and she crab-crawled along, using her locator to find her way. Wherever possible, she climbed. She knew she wouldn't make it out the way she had come in; evidence of her entry would now be obvious. Nor did she want to lead them to her glider. That was her only way out of this hornet's nest.

So she deliberately led her pursuers in the opposite direction.

Somehow, she made it to the roof, but the company police, the hunkies, were hot on her heels. They were so trigger-happy they were blasting at shadows, just in case she happened to be one of them. They had winged her field generator, but that was preferable to being winged herself.

And now here she was sliding down the outside of a building with three kilometres of clear air beneath her heels and half the planet's underpaid, overworked security forces trying to turn her into mincemeat.

She craned her head around trying to spot the air-sub, but it was nowhere to be seen. This worried her more than if it had been right on her tail.

What were they up to? Did they know something she didn't? She looked down.
Oh-oh. Window ledge. Big window ledge! Coming up
fast.

She put the brakes on. The only way to do that was to align the field surrounding her body with the natural quantum field of the wall. She spread her arms a bit wider and squashed her chest against the stone wall. There was no actual contact, but the field density increased perceptibly and her speed slowed.

THUD!

Anneke hit the ledge hard, doing her best to use her powerful leg muscles as shock absorbers. For a second she thought she had miscalculated and the impact would fling her out of the locking field, sending her reeling backwards over the ledge and into space, but the field dampener kicked in and stabilised her.

She gathered her senses, used the generator to blow in the carbon-reinforced window in front of her, and stepped inside. A young couple were in bed. They looked up at her, puzzled.

‘Don't mind me. Just doing a regular inspection and I'm not a private detective for your wife or husband. You guys go back to whatever you were doing.'

Anneke didn't wait for their reaction. She tore through the room, found a corridor, raced down it, blew out the window at its end, and started sliding again. This time she made sure there were no more ledges. She had a clear run.

Anneke signalled the glider, unclamped it by remote control, and synch-locked it with her own position and speed of descent. The glider's simpleminded servo-controller would guide it towards the base of the building she was sliding down. Hopefully, the field turbulence patterns were as fixed as she believed them to be. If not … well she would have a few seconds to think of something else as she fell to her death.

With her arms in front of her, she had a clear view of the dial of her locator. Superimposed on it, and moving slowly in her direction, was the glowing silhouette of the glider. It and the dot that marked her position were converging nicely.

A hail of projectiles thunked into the wall around her. A couple almost reached her body armour before it launched micro-missiles on intercept, the launchers pressing into her ribs. She whipped her head around. A small two person air-sub was careering crazily through the maze of struts and beams that interlocked the buildings together, manoeuvring as it did so as to get a clear shot at her.

Anneke glanced down. She was fifty metres from the base of the building and the top of the repulsor field, a barrier she could cross, but the air-sub and its weaponry could not. Her locator told her the glider was on its way. She voice-commanded it to speed up; to do that it had to go into a partial dive, meaning it would lose height. Meaning her impact speed would be even greater …

From the corner of her eye she saw the air-sub angling for a prime kill shot. She had one second to decide.

She switched off the field generator and
fell
.

Somewhere above her there was a flash of light and a shockwave hit her, tumbling her in mid-air. Then she plunged into the repulsor field. The light dimmed and she felt that weird internal wrenching that told her she was inside a killing field without an anti-static suit. She had only seconds to live.

But where was the glider? She saw it, glowing white in the strange stormy light. The cockpit hatch wide open, the ship was correcting itself every few nanoseconds, faster than any human could. It knew its own position and it knew hers.

She hoped it was better at arithmetic than she was.

In the final moment a gust of wind hit the glider, shunting it aside. Anneke cried out, hit the side of the cockpit and knew nothing more.

T
OO much was happening, too fast. Maximus had failed in his first attempt to hack Oracle, the central AI computer, in order to insert incriminating evidence about Anneke Longshadow. He only just managed to cover his ‘footprints'. The experience left him white and shaking, but he had learnt a lesson: overconfidence could get a guy killed. He was a formidable RIM agent and had already amassed a fortune by, among other things, hacking the quantum firewalls that protected large financial institutions. That should have been way more difficult than Oracle. Still, he
was
only eighteen.

Oracle was a huge computing system the size of a moderate apartment block. Its inner core was full of quantum computers, each with 10,000 entangled ions, but its outer core was made of artificial neurons. Each neuron had two superconductive quantum wire connections to the core and five hundred similar quantum wire connections to other neurons spread around the outer shell of its brain.

Effectively, Oracle could work as a human brain and quantum computer combined. The outer shell's neural connections had ten duplicate channels each for electrical machine language. Sensory input data and a non-binary machine language alphabet were buried amongst 1,500 ‘neurotransmitters'. These signals could be sent along the quantum wires connecting each artificial neuron. This is where Maximus nearly came unstuck. The slower neurotransmitters had attempted to leak a back-up alarm to Oracle's ‘process conceptualisation' folder.

Oracle's AI was also difficult to penetrate, he now knew, because the quantum computing core, stuffed with miniaturised anti and modulated magnets, algorithm-reduction spin glasses and microwave drives, operated as a kind of ‘deep thought' for code making. It sought large numbers and organic/non-organic engineering modelling of quantum effects, while the human-style outer core had back-up security libraries in each compartment of its brain. Luckily for Maximus, even Oracle had to obey the basic tech laws of AI. The AI was not allowed to access private information without human RIM permission, only public information and sensory data from its robot extension was legitimate. This suited Maximus. The only being that should be invading other people's privacy was, of course, himself.

Nobody and nothing beat him. Not permanently. Certainly not a giant data library with attitude and control of its own robot police. Quantum-bit teleportation from Oracle to its robot was extensive, so it might be clunking around nearby.

Fortunately, Maximus had an ally. Kilroy was a former assassin Maximus had found rotting in an outworld dungeon and liberated. Kilroy had been on a fast transit mission to Se'atma Minor. After eliminating the assigned targets on his last ‘official' mission, he had been caught and subjected to a neural lobotomy. But it had an unexpected result: instead of leaving him a happy law-abiding citizen it had removed the last vestiges of humanity from his soul.

This made him the perfect ally for Maximus.

Now Kilroy's mission was simple and twofold. To fabricate an incriminating incident involving Anneke Longshadow, complete with witnesses, and then to kill Anneke Longshadow.

Not necessarily in that order, whatever was convenient.

By the time Kilroy completed the secondary part of his mission, a character time bomb would be ticking away on Se'atma Minor. All Maximus had to do was activate it, utterly discrediting Longshadow, and any allegations she might make from the grave.

Black savoured that thought.

Then he began fretting again. Colonel Viktus had assumed command of the task force appointed to examine Longshadow's allegations. Viktus was Longshadow's uncle and her adoptive father. Nobody had complained about a conflict of interest, and so Maximus did not think it worth the risk.

And if it wasn't a coincidence? What did
that
mean?

Maximus checked himself in the wall length holo-mirror of his cramped cadet officer's quarters. His holo-duplicate straightened his uniform, flicked lint from one barely levitating shoulder epaulet, made his shoes mirror shiny, and turned towards the door.

Then he stopped and turned back. Something was wrong. He peered closely at his own reflection. His jaw tightened. A faint prickle of sweat glistened on his upper lip.

Giveaway!

He lunged forward, twisting his body just so, pistoning out his arm, snap-twisting the wrist, and connecting the holomirror with the hardened calloused edge of his hand. The holomirror control crystal shattered.

He stepped back, pleased, feeling no pain, just grim satisfaction.

The holomirror was there to serve him, not betray him. He felt looser now, lighter. He wiped his upper lip and took a chill pill. It would lower his body temperature by a degree or so, leaving him relaxed and ready.

Then he headed for his meeting with Colonel Viktus.
A hard ass if ever there was one
.

‘Sit down, son,' said Viktus, after Maximus had entered the room and snapped to attention. ‘Relax. This is an informal chat, nothing fancy.'

Maximus let himself relax slightly. He sat down in the chair indicated, keeping his back straight, his chin out. Informality with one's superiors was frowned upon, even when they invited it. Safer to sit there like an automaton.

The colonel would undoubtedly interpret his response as nerves.

‘Cadet Officer Maximus Black. May I call you Maxim? You don't look like a Max to me.' Maximus nodded, somewhat disarmed. He hated being called ‘Max', but didn't mind ‘Maxim'. Maxim sounded tough, ancient Germanic, like someone in authority. Max was just some candy-arse kid. Viktus continued, ‘I want to commend you on your response to Anneke Longshadow's priority one message. It was by the book.'

Viktus casually looked up from the report, as if seeking a reaction to his praise. Or was he looking for something else? Were his words loaded? Maximus could tell the man had uncanny intuition. He had to be on his guard with the commander. Maximus hoped there wasn't any sweat on his upper lip.

‘Tell me, Maxim, what do you make of it all?'

‘Sir?'

‘The allegation that a mole has penetrated RIM headquarters?'

Maximus allowed a tiny shrug. The kind of thing a cadet officer might do, forgetting himself for a moment. ‘Sir, I think it highly unlikely, but in the circumstances we should assume it to be fact and proceed accordingly.'

‘Once again, by the book.'

Was Viktus baiting him? Did he know something?

Viktus went on. ‘As it happens, I agree. You probably know that Anneke is my adopted daughter and while I hold her in high regard she is, after all, still a youth.'