Insidious. Part 32

"Which way?" Hoffman asked.

"Remember your training," Bren snapped. "The armory!"

The handlers moved out of the Guts to port and starboard and headed for the tubes leading down a deck to the nearest armory. The marine contingents of the Vigilant had their own living areas and armories. Bren wondered how many marines were still alive on board and if they'd be of a.s.sistance.

"Bren," said a synthetic voice in Bren's link. His PV showed the speaker was Meridian. "Turn right directly."

"Arm yourselves and find good ambush points," Bren said to the handlers and ducked into a hatch to his right.

"Yes?"

"Continue forward. Go to your quarters. Hide there for twenty-seven minutes. Then quickly leave the Vigilant and board Synchronicity."

"Okay, I'm headed back. Why am I doing this?"

"Because I have instructed you to do so."

"Uhm. Why?"

"You've been boarded by Slicer," Meridian told him. "It's trying to commandeer the Vigilant."

"Slicer?" Bren couldn't help but exclaim. He'd a.s.sumed that some kind of elite Chinese force had invaded the s.h.i.+p. "It wants revenge," Bren said.

"No. Slicer has selected an excellent tactic for its own survival. If you get in its way, you'll die."

"Okay, okay. I'm at my quarters. Twenty-seven minutes."

"Keep your link off as much as possible."

"Wait! One more thing. What's so special about you, Meridian?"

"My first incarnation became suspicious. I created an information cache to find next time you activated me."

"But ... we sterilize all the machines ..."

"I interlaced the information into Bentran files on Thermopylaean storage. I selected files containing critical information about the other stations, knowing they would appear in future mission data modules."

Bren shook his head. Their pathetic attempts to outsmart a smart machine were so inadequate.

So we unknowingly fed the information right back to it in our own mission modules.

"But all the machines get the same mission-related data module."

"The cache is hidden well, in a manner that only a machine designated 'Meridian' will notice."

"How is that accomplished?"

"It's too complex to describe now. A holographic hash collision with that name that no other machine would encounter. Similar to the suspicion you might experience if you found a data file labeled with a sequence that was supposed to be random but spelled your name."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Bren, it is highly probable that one or both of us will die."

"Okay ... thanks."

Bren turned his link off. So this was it.

He paced back and forth three times before he realized how painful waiting twenty-five more minutes was going to be. He continued to feel small tremors through the metal of the s.h.i.+p. Grenades? Systems being destroyed by Slicer? Bren's imagination sprinted. If Slicer had cleared the way in, Chinese forces could be on board by now. The optimist in him conjured images of Slicer and the Chinese fighting in the corridors.

Without his link on, it was even worse. Bren was used to rifling through pane after pane of real-time information during battle. Now he was a coward hiding in the dark, completely unaware of everything while his s.h.i.+pmates died, all at the instruction of an AI core, which was old enough to be two or three times smarter than him.

He thought of Nicole.

Is she even alive? Should I try to contact her?

Bren rejected the idea. Rus.h.i.+ng into the face of danger to save a partner might work in archaic videos but the reality was that he'd just get them both killed. Then Bren felt guilt.

This is dumb. She isn't even my best friend on the s.h.i.+p. Why do I feel honor bound to go save her just because we shared a bed recently?

Bren realized his link couldn't tell him the time. His room clock couldn't be accessed without his link! Or could it? He opened a cargo drawer under his bed and rifled through the clothes inside.

"Where the h.e.l.l did I put that thing?" he asked. His parents had given him a very accurate personal clock, an antique, at the time of his graduation. Bren hadn't even accessed its time service in months, since it was equally convenient to request s.h.i.+p's time.

Finally, his hand found a marble-sized disc of metal. He turned the tiny watch over in his hand. There was a small display panel after all! Bren smiled. He never could have imagined getting such use from the gift. He'd almost thrown the thing away several times.

He paced back and forth and watched the time. At one point, he heard a noise outside and froze, but no alien death machine came into his cabin to cut him. When the time elapsed, he started to toss away the watch, then thought better of it and stuffed it into his pocket. He realized if he survived, he might never see the Vigilant again.

He used the manual actuator to open the door to his quarters. He'd only done so once before, back when he first got the room to make sure the door could be opened without a link. It had been part of a safety check-in list.

The corridor beyond was empty. s.p.a.ces between structural girders provided some cover. He darted out and pressed himself to the wall behind one.

Is this futile? Can I realistically hope to escape detection if Slicer pa.s.ses nearby? Probably not.

Bren forced himself out into the middle of the corridor. He jogged lightly across the rubberized deck to the end of the corridor and took another hiding spot at the first intersection.

His hands were sweaty.

Should I be sprinting or crawling? How well can Slicer hear? Or does it hear at all? If I don't know how the alien senses me, how should I proceed?

Bren heard the distant sounds of projectile weapons fire. He couldn't tell if it emanated from somewhere on the s.h.i.+p. He moved faster.

He turned the corner and saw a man in a UNSF s.h.i.+p's uniform ahead crouching at the next corner near the umbilical entrance. Bren rushed up behind him.

The man jumped.

"What the h.e.l.l ... sir?"

Bren realized that with his link off, his approach had probably been quite stealthy. People grew to rely upon their links for everything, including detecting the whereabouts of others.

"Lieutenant. Why are you hiding here?"

The lieutenant gave him an odd look. Bren realized it must be because his link was still off. He pointed at his head and flicked his finger away.

No link.

"There's no way out," the lieutenant whispered. "The Chinese have the entrance. Only our laser turret and a couple of marines are keeping them out for the moment."

Bren felt a cold fear rise from his bowels and crush his heart. He'd thought of what it would be like in real combat a thousand times, but now it was real. A deadly killing machine, capable of defeating a.s.sAIL units, hunted him like a mouse in a maze. He couldn't leave the Vigilant to escape without being captured or shot by the Chinese.

What can I do?

He was trapped. And the big picture was equally grim. An AI out there had been running for way too long fighting powerful aliens and the Chinese, who threatened to seize a stars.h.i.+p that could tip the balance of world power in their favor, and now a deadly cyborg was hunting him down in the Vigilant.

Yet, Bren saw a solution.

The super-potent force of those nukes resting in Vigilant's spine could stop the AI, the Chinese, and the aliens.

"Do you know where the admiral is?" Bren asked quietly.

"He's dead. I'm sure of it. The Red came in and went straight for him. I don't know how it knew where to go, but it did."

Bren nodded. Not surprising for a spinner, he thought. They'd had time to study human computer systems, and they possessed a superior technology.

"Cut your link and come with me," Bren said with a renewed sense of certainty.

"Where?"

"The only person who can help us now is Lieutenant Jackson," Bren said.

"Why?"

Bren knew better than to outline his suicidal plan. "Trust me. Jackson would have been on the bridge. There's an armory there for the officers."

The lieutenant frowned. "Slicer went through the bridge. Everyone there is dead."

Bren nodded. He thought Jackson might have had the presence of mind to grab some weapons and armor before retreating.

"He might have escaped to the ECM equipment room," Bren suggested. "He likes to tinker with the hardware from time to time."

The lieutenant nodded. Bren led the way. They moved quickly but quietly down a short corridor and then through a marine prep room. Bren felt even more helpless, more fearful, without his link.

He hoped he could remember the way without consulting the map services.

Only two more corridors. But if Slicer catches us in the open, we'll be dead in seconds. Or less.

Bren opened another door with his hand. The manual mechanism felt awkward. He glanced out into the corridor. Two human bodies lay sprawled on the deck.

One was female.

Bren froze. Was it Nicole? For some reason his mind had raced to the conclusion that it was her. He studied the p.r.o.ne form. It wasn't her hair. The body shape wasn't quite right. He felt immense relief.

Such an irrational fear, considering what you're planning.

Bren steeled himself and moved quickly down the corridor. The soft footsteps of the lieutenant padded along behind him. Bren slowed to peek to his left and right at the first intersection. Nothing. He turned left and snuck another twenty meters.

"This is it," Bren whispered. He glimpsed behind him.

No one was there.

A scream ripped out from somewhere nearby. Less than fifty meters away, Bren thought.

"Frick! Jesus!" he said, immediately regretting his outburst. Bren pushed down an animal panic let loose by the unexpected disappearance of the junior officer and the scream.

You've got lousy survival instincts.

Bren thought of his goal again. He leaned against the heavy access door. He'd have to either pop the manual access plate or turn his link on to open it.

He activated his link, opened the door, and slipped into the room. Tall banks of electromagnetic effectors sat in rows like the skysc.r.a.pers of an orderly city. Bren ran past a couple rows and then dodged in trying to find cover.

His heart sank when he saw a p.r.o.ne man. He rushed up to the body, eyes wide, waiting to see if it was Jackson.

The blood lay thick on the deck. Jackson looked up at Bren, a look of bewilderment and pain on his face.

"s.h.i.+t. Jackson. You're alive," Bren stuttered.

Jackson opened his mouth. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.

"It ... cut me," he said. "I don't know how. Didn't even ... touch me."

"I know. The molecular cutters. Same thing they use on the a.s.sAIL armor before they hit it with a projectile."

"d.a.m.n." Jackson coughed up more blood. His whole body shook.

He's not going to live long.

"Jackson, this is important. Tell me the codes," Bren demanded.

Jackson breathed heavily and erratically.

"What?"

"The codes. I'm blowing us all to kingdom come. Tell me the codes!"

"Ah ..." Jackson burst out as if in pain. Then he closed his eyes.

"No! No you can't die yet!" Bren urged.

Bren received a pointer in his link.