Rogue (9 page)

‘So tell me, Professor,’ Nero said with a tired sigh, ‘what is so urgent that it could not wait until the morning?’

‘I believe we may have found what has been causing the problems with H.I.V.E.’s systems,’ the Professor said, looking anxious.

‘Really?’ Nero said. ‘I take it that it is something that I need to be concerned about.’

‘Yes,’ the Professor replied. ‘I’m afraid an aggressive program appears to be attempting to build new code within our system. Miss Brand has found sections of code very well hidden within the network, very well hidden indeed. The problem we have now is that neither she nor I can determine exactly what it’s designed to do or who is responsible for concealing its presence in such a devious way.’

‘Is it a virus?’ Nero asked, secretly hoping that this would be one of the occasions when the Professor explained things without going into too much technical detail.

‘Not really,’ Laura said. ‘A virus is usually designed simply to replicate itself, to spread, just like an organic virus. This almost seems like something is being constructed from scratch. It’s not making copies of itself, it’s
growing.

‘I’m afraid the distinction is rather lost on me, Miss Brand,’ Nero said, sounding slightly impatient. ‘I assume that it is something hostile, judging by the disruption it has been causing. Certainly we need to stop it before it can do serious, lasting harm. Thus far it has been little more than an inconvenience. I do not wish to wait until it becomes something more sinister. Can you remove it?’

‘That’s the most worrying thing,’ the Professor said with a frown. ‘We’ve tried to, but every time we remove any of the mystery data it simply reappears somewhere else on the system. If I did not know better, I would say that it’s behaving intelligently.’

Nero felt a sudden cold chill run down his spine.

‘Are you saying that the code in question is
aware
of what you’re trying to do?’ he asked.

‘It rather appears that way, yes,’ the Professor replied. ‘The code being built is more complex than anything either I or Miss Brand have ever seen before. I may have had a hand in designing artificial-intelligence systems in the past, but I was merely building upon the work of others. This is all rather beyond my experience.’

‘I see,’ Nero said, rubbing the bridge of his nose. ‘Thank you for your work on this, Miss Brand. You appear to have been most helpful. I think you should return to the accommodation block now. It’s very late and you have classes tomorrow.’

‘But, sir, I –’ Laura began.

‘It was not a request, Miss Brand,’ Nero said calmly. ‘I am sure that the Professor will keep you updated on any developments.’

Laura looked for a moment like she might be going to argue, but then thought better of it.

‘Yes, sir,’ she replied with a sigh before leaving Nero’s office.

‘I do not like the sound of this, Professor,’ Nero said as the door closed behind her. ‘What’s our next step?’

‘Well, what we really need is an expert in designing and controlling AIs, and no one on the island has that kind of experience,’ the Professor replied with a frown.

‘Actually, Professor,’ said Nero, looking slightly uncomfortable, ‘that is not strictly true.’

‘Doctor Creed,’ the young technician sitting at a nearby workstation said, ‘I think I’ve found something.’

‘What is it?’ Creed said, walking behind her and peering over her shoulder at the display.

‘Here,’ the tech said, pointing at the three-dimensional image of a brain on the screen, ‘near the stem. It’s so small and well concealed that we missed it during earlier scans.’

‘What is it?’ Creed asked, examining the tiny ovoid deformation in the normal structure of the brain.

‘I have no idea,’ the technician replied honestly. ‘It appears to be organic, but it also seems to be shielded somehow from our normal scanning techniques. I’ve never seen anything quite like it.’

‘Curious,’ Creed said, frowning. ‘Can we remove it?’

‘Not without killing the boy,’ the technician replied. ‘It’s fully integrated with his brain tissue, almost as if it’s a natural structure. That’s probably why we missed it during our earlier scans. If it is artificial, then someone has gone to extraordinary lengths to conceal it and to ensure that it cannot be tampered with.’

‘Overlay the scan of Animus penetration of the brain tissue,’ Creed said, and the technician typed a series of commands that displayed a new layer on top of the original image. This new layer displayed a veiny black web that seemed to have penetrated every cubic centimetre of the brain tissue. Everywhere except for one small area – the exact same area that the mysterious object occupied.

‘There,’ Creed said. ‘See how the Animus has penetrated completely throughout the cerebellum but has avoided that area.’

‘Why would that be?’ the technician asked, sounding confused.

‘Your guess is as good as mine,’ Creed replied. ‘Let’s try something,’ he went on. ‘Activate real-time scanning and give the Animus explicit instructions to attempt integration with the object.’

‘It’ll take a couple of minutes,’ the technician said as she started to tap away at her keyboard.

‘There,’ she said eventually. ‘Bringing up real-time scan.’

The display changed to a zoomed-in view of the Animus penetration around the object as several of the tendrils of the black fluid crept towards it. Creed’s eyes widened as just a moment later he saw the Animus shrink away from the object. It was impossible to say whether it had been driven back or had recoiled voluntarily, but it was at least clear why this tiny part of Malpense’s brain had remained free of Animus. Unfortunately it left them no closer to understanding what the object was. That would require an invasive, almost certainly fatal surgical procedure and Creed knew there was no way that Trent would authorise that.

‘Neural activity is increasing,’ a technician on the other side of the lab reported. ‘I think he’s waking up.’

‘Excellent,’ Dr Creed replied. He did not know if their attempt to force the Animus to integrate with the mysterious object was related to Malpense’s sudden revival, but it seemed like rather a coincidence.

The doctor walked over to the bed in the centre of the lab and looked down at the boy as his Animus-darkened eyes flickered open.

‘Welcome back, Mr Malpense,’ Creed said as the boy focused on him. ‘I trust you are feeling better.’

‘What happened?’ Otto asked, his voice croaky.

‘You suffered a period of unconsciousness during your last mission,’ Creed replied. ‘You have been asleep for some time.’

‘Did the targets escape?’ Otto asked, frowning.

‘Yes, I’m afraid they did,’ Creed replied.

‘It will not happen again,’ Otto said, looking suddenly angry. ‘Such weakness is unacceptable.’

He sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed.

‘Not so fast, Mr Malpense,’ Creed replied. ‘I have some tests to run before I pass you mission fit again.’

‘Then get on with it,’ Otto said impatiently. ‘I want to get back to my work.’

‘Of course you do,’ Creed replied with a faint smile.

Otto lay back down on the bed as various technicians busied themselves with analysing his mental and physical condition. As the work continued Creed observed the boy and saw that his eyes followed everything. Creed had seen many bizarre and chilling things over the course of his career working for H.O.P.E., but there was still something about this young subject that he found deeply unsettling. He knew that he would have to report all the details of the boy’s condition to Trent, including their discovery of the strange object hidden deep within his brain. Creed also knew that Trent would be less than satisfied with his inability explain to its purpose and origins.

Raven watched the painstaking and delicate work of the surgical team through the observation window. They had already been working on Darkdoom for the best part of an hour. She knew it was foolish to blame herself for his condition – indeed she’d almost certainly saved his life. The sniper in Sydney had been going for a head shot and only her swift action had prevented his instant death. That, however, was not the way her mind worked. Instead she found herself wondering what would have happened if she had moved just a fraction faster, reacted slightly more quickly.

One of the surgeons made her way out of the theatre, pulling off her blood-smeared latex gloves and removing her surgical mask as she walked over to where Raven was standing.

‘How is he, Doctor?’ Raven asked as the woman approached, not taking her eyes off the scene beyond the glass.

‘It is too soon to say,’ the doctor replied. ‘He has a collapsed lung and the bullet grazed his heart. He lost a lot of blood on the journey. It would have been better to have taken him to the nearest hospital instead of bringing him here.’

‘That was not an option.’ Raven’s voice was calm.

‘I’ll take your word for it. Still, you did a good job of stabilising his condition. You probably saved his life.’

‘I think it is perhaps a little too early for congratulations,’ Raven said with a sigh. It was not the first time that she had been grateful for the emergency medical training she had received as part of her tuition so many years ago.

‘Let me look at that,’ the doctor said, gesturing towards the deep cut left in Raven’s shoulder by Ghost’s wrist-blade.

Raven shrugged. ‘It’s just a scratch. You have more pressing concerns.’

‘Doctor Scott does not need my assistance with this stage of the surgery,’ the doctor replied, ‘and
scratches
do not, generally speaking, look like they need quite so many stitches.’

‘Maybe later, Doctor,’ Raven said, picking up Khan’s laptop from the seat behind her. ‘I need to get this to Professor Pike now. It may provide us with a clue that will help us to find the people who did this.’

If it did, the best medical care in the world would not be able to save them. She intended to make quite sure of that.

The black limousine pulled into the abandoned warehouse and several men in dark suits got out. They were all carrying compact sub-machine guns and they scanned their surroundings with practised efficiency. The driver of the car walked to the rear door and opened it, giving a courteous nod to Lin Feng as he stepped out.

‘I’m glad you could make it,’ Carlos Chavez said, emerging from the shadows nearby, flanked by two of his own guards.