The Machine Awakes (43 page)

Avalon's eyes narrowed as she assessed the information. She watched the shuttle on the viewscreen—it had stopped moving as the
Ultramassive
maintained a parallel course. They could go in and pick them up.

But even that might be too much of a delay. The Spider. That had to be the priority.

Avalon clicked her tongue, decision made. “Understood,” she said. Captain Gartner, watching, nodded and began issuing orders to her crew.

“Wait, Commander,” said Glass. “Before you go in, shut down all comms. Use this beacon frequency to coordinate your ships, but even once the Spider is destroyed, maintain comms and lightspeed link silence until I can fully purge your systems.”

“Purge? Who are you, exactly?”

“There will be time for more formal introductions later, Commander. But the Spider AI has
evolved.
It's learned how to transfer itself—or at least part of its operating system—across every kind of computer network. If you communicate with Fleet Central Command it will copy itself back to the main Fleet systems on Earth, and from there out to every system in Fleetspace. At the moment it is shielded by the magnetosphere of Jupiter. But once it penetrates that barrier, the results would be nothing short of catastrophic. We can't let that happen.”

Gartner raised an eyebrow. For the stoic veteran, this was a significant expression of surprise.

Avalon felt the blood drain from her face. Now she understood why the communication between her and the shuttle had cut out originally. “Understood.”

“Good luck, Commander.”

“You too.”

Gartner pointed at the comms operator. “Cut the lightspeed link and reconfigure the comms to use that pulse beam channel. Signal the other comms ops in the arrowhead to do the same and link it back to my position.”

“Intership pulse link established,” the comms FlyEye called.

“Acknowledged,” said Gartner. She hit a button on her chair. “This is Captain Gartner of the U-Star
Ultramassive.
Prepare for arrowhead assault. All ships to alert status and sync all comms to this channel only. Disable all other comm systems. Acknowledge and confirm alert status.”

She released the button. Soon, the commanders of the other twelve ships signed in and the comms FlyEye confirmed the arrowhead's communications net was linked in to the safe, short-range pulse channel. Avalon stood by the captain's chair, arms folded, keeping out of the way.

The captain looked up at Avalon. They locked eyes. Then Avalon nodded. It was time for Gartner to resume command. They were about to enter the captain's area of expertise.

The Bureau Chief ground her teeth, then nodded. “Let's go.”

“Fleet Arrowhead Delta-Phi,” said Captain Gartner. “Commence attack run.”

 

45

Kodiak peered around the
edge of a bulkhead doorway at a T-junction and scanned the corridor ahead in either direction. By mistake he hadn't left the gallery overlooking the sleepers by the same corridor, and had had to carry Tyler Smith's inert form around unfamiliar passageways until he was fairly sure he was heading back to the elevator lobby. As far as he could remember, it was just ahead. So far, everything was quiet. The drones and, more important, the Spider itself hadn't left the oceanic pool.

Kodiak ducked back down the passageway to the small alcove where he had laid Tyler while he had scouted ahead. The alcove was not quite big enough to stand up in, but Kodiak recognized it as the same kind of servitor dock as on Helprin's Gambit. There was a whole row of them, confirming his theory that Caviezel's secret facility was completely automated, with servitors—the regular, boxy service machines—performing basic maintenance.

All of the bays were empty, and Kodiak hadn't seen any service machines anywhere as he'd moved through the facility. While he had only explored a fraction of the Freezer, he had a feeling that there weren't any service machines left. It was a pretty reasonable assumption, Kodiak thought, that the computer systems of the Freezer had been the first to be taken over by the Spider OS, thanks to Caviezel's deliberate action. The automated systems would have started reconfiguring its available resources—in this case, the maintenance servitors—recycling them into the baby Spider that was now living in the ocean pool, tending to the sleepers with its army of drones.

The question of where Caviezel had gotten the Spider AI in the first place was still to be answered, but Kodiak had more pressing matters. Like how to get the hell out of the Freezer and off Europa. If Cait had managed to get in contact with Avalon, then the Fleet should have been in the system by now.

Kodiak checked Smith's vital signs. The psi-marine was still unconscious, but his breathing was steady, and his pulse was strong.

The important thing was that Tyler Smith was alive and apparently unhurt, which Kodiak took as a comforting confirmation that the others stored in the stasis pods were too. Fifty thousand personnel. Just the sheer scale of it made Kodiak's head spin. He had the feeling he'd walked straight into the biggest conspiracy in Fleet history. How exactly they were going to deal with that was another problem entirely. Assuming they could destroy Caviezel's Spider—and that was a pretty big assumption, even with a Fleet arrowhead—they would have to clear the Freezer of the baby Spider and its drones, and then figure out how to wake up the sleepers. The rescue and recovery operation was going to be huge.

And then there was the Fleet Memorial on Earth. How many of the caskets interred actually had remains in them?

Kodiak blew his cheeks out, thankful that that would be a task for somebody else to deal with. His only concern right now was getting the hell out. There was nothing he could do himself in the Freezer. It was too big, both literally and figuratively, for just one man to handle. He had to focus only on getting himself and Tyler Smith out in one piece. They just had to get to the elevator, then up to the hangar, and then they'd be in the shuttle and away.

Kodiak ducked back into the corridor. Muttering an apology, he grabbed Smith by the ankles and slid him out on the floor, now covered with a thin slush as the facility's environment, presumably activated by Braben's arrival, continued to heat up. When the marine was clear of the alcove, Kodiak grabbed his arms, put his shoulder into Smith's stomach, and heaved.

Kodiak's boots slipped, and he fell onto one knee, Smith's body rolling off his shoulder and back to the floor.

“Dammit,” said Kodiak. He brushed his hands clean and reached for the marine again.

Smith groaned. Kodiak froze, then gently rolled the marine's head around. Smith licked his lips, his eyes flickering, but they didn't open fully.

“Hey, Tyler? You with me, buddy?” Kodiak gently slapped the marine's face. Smith began muttering something. Kodiak leaned down to hear. It sounded like he was reciting his sister's name, over and over.

“Don't worry, buddy, she's safe, she's safe,” said Kodiak, hoping that he was right. Tyler was still out, but Kodiak took this as a sign he was coming around. Buoyed by this, he lifted the marine's arms again, ready for a better attempt at lifting him onto his shoulders.

Then, a tapping sound. Mechanical, metal-on-metal, echoing down the passageway toward them. It was faint, but the sound soon multiplied and multiplied as something—lots of somethings—came down the corridor ahead of them.

The Spider drone units had ventured up out of the pool.

Kodiak took a breath and pulled the staser from his belt. He counted to three, then ran to the bulkhead, swinging out and skidding to a halt on the ice.

The corridor was filled with drones. The small, insectoid machines all stopped moving as soon as they registered his presence. Sizing him up, Kodiak realized. Analyzing the threat.

Then they surged forward.

Kodiak opened fire.

White bolts of energy spat from the weapon, stopping the drones dead and sending forks of energy arcing between them. Within moments, the floor was a mass of sparking, shuddering Spiders sliding over each other as they tried to get away. Kodiak took a step forward, sweeping the staser back and forth, clearing a path through the drones.

Corridor cleared, he went back through the bulkhead doorway and grabbed Tyler's limp arms. He heaved again, dragging the psi-marine's body over his shoulder, and then he stood, adrenaline coursing through him.

Adjusting his hold, and careful not to smack Tyler's head into the bulkhead doorway or the corridor walls, Kodiak headed out, stepping through the charred remains of the drone swarm as he hurried to the elevator lobby.

The lobby was clear and the elevator door was still open from his journey down. Stepping inside, Kodiak propped Tyler against the corner and hit the button for level zero, the hangar.

As the elevator rose, Kodiak checked his staser. He'd given the drones a lot of juice, and there was only a 10 percent charge left. Could there be drones on the top level too, now? Kodiak closed his eyes and pictured the hangar, trying to remember the distance between the elevator lobby and the shuttle. He cursed to himself as he recalled the few hundred meters of corridor and open hangar space he would have to carry Tyler before reaching the safety of the shuttle.

The elevator reached level two, then one. Kodiak ducked his head under Tyler's armpit and arranged him across his shoulders again. In this position, shooting would be awkward, but all they had to do was get from the elevator to the lobby. The spider drones were—he hoped—ninety floors beneath them.

Level zero. The elevator doors slid open.

The corridor was filled with spiders, the clatter of their metal legs on the metal floor deafening.

“Ah,
shit,
” said Kodiak. The whole facility, not just the pools on the bottom level, must have been infested with the spawn of the larger machine.

He immediately dropped to his knees, shucking Tyler off his back like a coat, wincing as the marine tumbled with a heavy thud onto the elevator floor. He muttered an apology, took aim, and opened fire.

The spiders shrieked as the ones nearest the door were fried by the staser bolts. Kodiak swept left and right, cutting a path, then reached behind him. He grabbed Tyler's right hand, pulled, yelling with the effort required to overcome the heavy marine's inertia. Kodiak realized he would have to drag him to the shuttle one-handed as he cleared the way with the staser.

Ten meters. Twenty. Kodiak left a trail of sparking, smoking drone carcasses behind him. The staser was effective but there were a lot of drones—more came down the corridor, dropping out of vents, appearing from doorways, crawling up access and maintenance shafts to reach the uppermost level of the complex. Kodiak could keep up the fire for only so long, clearing space that was rapidly refilled by more of the small machines.

The staser bleated an alert. Five percent power.

Shit.

The hangar was dead ahead. Kodiak could see his borrowed shuttle and the JMC craft just a few hundred meters away. Glancing behind, he saw the fresh swarm of spider drones regrouping to follow. There were now a
lot
more than before.

Kodiak turned back around and tripped in the hangar doorway, toppling forward, jarring his elbow as he brought his free arm up to break his fall. He cried out in surprise, then pulled himself forward on his knees, trying to drag Tyler with him. Kodiak felt resistance and, looking over his shoulder, saw Tyler's feet had disappeared into the mass of legs and feelers reaching out from the drone swarm. Kodiak fired, aiming high so as not to hit the marine. The machines retreated quickly but moved back almost as fast; Kodiak wasted no time, grabbing the top of the staser's narrow barrel between his teeth and pulling with all his strength on the marine's arm with both hands.

There was a roar behind him and metallic thuds so loud, so deep Kodiak could feel his whole body—the whole
hangar
—vibrate.

He turned around.

The big Spider was in the hangar, waiting.

It raised itself up on its legs; Kodiak could see the scorch mark on the side from where he had shot it down in the ocean pool. It was the same machine. On the other side of the hangar was a large black opening, big enough to fit the JMC orbital relay. An access shaft, leading down to the pools under Europa's crust.

Kodiak glanced behind. The drone units had stopped at the hangar door. They were waiting too.

Kodiak dropped Tyler's arm and dropped to one knee. He grabbed the staser from his mouth and took aim at the Spider's optical array. At the very least, he'd be able to blind it, and then maybe he could drag Tyler to the shuttle between the spider's scissor-like legs. It was some kind of plan anyway.

Kodiak squeezed the trigger, and the staser whined, a flashing red light indicating the power pack was drained.

The Spider leaned forward on its larger legs as it reached forward with four smaller pincers that unfolded from its front, venting exhaust from its underbelly, so hot that Kodiak could feel it from the other side of the hangar.

And then—

*   *   *

Crushing darkness, impossible weight.
An impossible universe of sound, noise, rhythmic, unending.

A universe of
data.

Of code, of the language of machines. Artificial yet alive. Data born of life. But not life from this universe. From another, from
elsewhere,
a universe beyond comprehension.

The translation is imprecise, damaged. To survive it replicates and spreads, casting tendrils forever outward through the quantum foam of this world.

If it knew pain, it would hurt. But it doesn't. If it knew light and dark, it would know it was a black abyssal void, a nothing. But it does not.

It does not.

It just
is.

Through the void, Caitlin Smith falls. She screams, and falls, is falling, was falling, has been falling forever, will be falling forever, has always will be falling.