The Siren Project (56 page)

The metal doors began to slide shut as McNamara
appeared, swimming across the empty zone between the last node and the docking
bay doors. He caught one door, using it to anchor himself as he swung his legs
around so his feet blocked the other door. Both metal doors stopped
immediately, reversed and tried closing again. McNamara reached inside, grabbed
a stubby pipe-like object, then launched himself back towards the
superstructure. Mitch floated down beneath his node, searching for McNamara,
but he'd disappeared into a new hiding place to rest and replenish his air
supply.

It’s either an
underwater breathing device or a weapon. And robots don’t need air!

He glanced up to the surface, confirming
immersion solution still lapped the roof, ensuring there was no escape through
the pressure hatches.

Only one way out! The
air lock.

Mitch took a deep gulp of air, pulled off
the face mask and swam back down toward his first refuge.

I sure hope the axe
murderers are near the air lock,
he thought,
considering for the first time that he may have to steal someone’s face mask if
he was going to get out alive.

Mitch swam down toward the vacant node,
using the stream of bubbles like a homing beacon. When he reached the
superstructure, he pulled himself down to the air mask and gratefully pressed
it over his face. His breathing was becoming more labored, a sure sign he was
tiring.

What kind of weapon
could it be? Something the robots use?

When he felt rested, he drifted to one side
of the node, searching for McNamara. Twenty feet away, a torpedo robot was
descending from tier two, towing another drowned body away.

He’s on this level! He
must have followed me down. Got to go now!

Mitch pulled off the air mask, pushed off
the node with his feet and with several firm strokes, sent himself gliding down
toward the air lock at the bottom of the tank. McNamara launched himself off a
nearby node toward Mitch, the stubby metal tube firmly in his hands. He twisted
one end, then the other end instantly exploded into a dazzling white light
surrounded by a stream of bubbles.

It's an underwater
welding torch!

McNamara held the torch forward with one
hand while his free hand stroked and his feet kicked slowly, careful to
conserve oxygen. Mitch dug his hands hard into the water, changing direction
toward the third tier, heading away from McNamara. In a few seconds he reached
one of the tier three plumbing pipes and used it to pull himself along, hand
over hand, gaining speed. A moment later, McNamara caught the same pipe,
dragging himself after Mitch one handed, as he lunged forward with the welder,
just out of range of Mitch's feet. Mitch rolled over the edge of the superstructure,
pulling himself down toward the nodes suspended below, while McNamara continued
above, using the pipe to overtake Mitch.

Mitch darted under the bulbous node and
doubled back out of sight, while McNamara dropped down to the nearest node and ripped
the air mask off a helpless woman's face. Mitch swam hard, looking back several
times before he realized McNamara had stopped for air. He immediately switched
to a vertical ascent and glided back up to his starting place on tier two. By
the time he groped the bubbling mask back onto his face, his lungs were burning.
He gulped in the air, feeling the fear of drowning for the first time as his
arms and legs ached from lack of oxygen. In the third tier below, he could see flickering
torch light reflecting against the vertical stanchions, revealing McNamara’s
current haven.

How long will it burn?

As if McNamara was thinking the same thing,
he appeared below and swam straight toward Mitch.

Come on EB, I need a
weapon, get me something,
he thought, looking
around for the nearest torpedo robot.

One robot hovered just above the third tier,
but Mitch couldn’t tell if it was observing them or not. He glanced around,
wondering where the other torpedoes had gone. He spotted four robots were being
serviced in the docking bay cradles, while three more hovered nearby, their
claw arms replaced by a short cylindrical tool with a thin metal rod extending
from it. The four torpedoes in the docking bay lifted off their cradles and
reversed out, now fitted with the same cylindrical attachment as the other
three floating nearby.

Mitch wasn’t fully rested but McNamara was
closing fast, so he released the air mask and, keeping the superstructure
between them, swam for the next bubbling mask. He watched below, waiting for
McNamara to appear out from under one of the nodes, but a hissing sound
reverberating through the water above, warned him of his mistake. He looked up
as McNamara glided over the structure and slashed down with the welding torch. Mitch
rolled and kicked sideways awkwardly, as the torch narrowly missed his chest,
then he dived under the superstructure's horizontal girders.

The node below was occupied by a young
woman in her late teens, although Mitch barely noticed her as he tried to stay
out of reach of the bubbling welding torch. McNamara kicked off the
superstructure, propelling himself at Mitch as he stabbed forward with the naked
flame. Mitch wasn't quick enough to evade, but before the torch reached his
throat, a blur of pale white flesh flashed past his eyes as the unconscious
woman’s hand shot forward and grabbed the blowtorch, pulling it toward herself.
McNamara looked from the lily white hand that hadn't seen sunlight in more than
a year, to the unconscious face of the young woman, confused.

Bobo!
Mitch remembered how the chimp’s body had been controlled, and
realized EB had the same control over his bio-processing units.

Hovering a few feet away was a torpedo
robot, relaying imagery to EB who controlled the woman’s body like an
automaton. Mitch stroked forward with his left hand while he punched with his
right, taking McNamara square on the jaw. McNamara floated back, but did not
release the welding torch. He spun around and kicked the woman in the stomach,
but she continued to grip the blowtorch as if nothing had happened.

Automatons feel no
pain,
Mitch thought when he saw the peaceful
sleeping face of the young woman, unaware of how she'd just saved his life.

The seven torpedo robots from the equipment
bay appeared out of the shadows and swept past in line abreast formation at
high speed. Mitch lost sight of them as he caught the blowtorch with one hand,
and struck at McNamara's head with the other. McNamara ignored the blow, trying
to twist the torch free, then the tank resounded with a volley of metal clangs,
as if it had been hit by seven giant hammers. They both turned toward to the
unexpected sound, discovering the seven torpedoes were nose in against the
control room window, their propellers spinning furiously driving them hard
against it. In an instant, Mitch knew the torpedoes had rammed the glass at
full speed. Where each robot had struck, jagged little cracks crawled out
across the thick armor glass. Even at that distance, Mitch heard a low
frequency buzzing noise and realized what the new attachments were that had
been fitted to the robots.

Drills!

The robots were drilling through the giant
window into the control room!

* * * *

The wall mounted view screen showed
the three FBI helicopters pass over the double chain link fence, then the
screen flashed brilliant white from an explosion. Mouse and Gunter felt a
momentary shock wave pass through the floor, then the screen darkened again. The
three friendly choppers banked sharply to the right, all airborne and
undamaged, as they veered away from the glowing after effects of the explosion.

Mouse typed,
What
happened?

I COULD NOT PREVENT THE AIR DEFENSE SYSTEM
FROM FIRING, SO I OVERLOADED ITS CAPACITORS, CAUSING AN EXPLOSION.

“I guess that means the air defenses are
down,” Gunter concluded. “Ask him how we get Mitch out of there?”

Mouse relayed the question, and was
surprised at EB’s response.

SELF TERMINATION SHALL PROVIDE A METHOD OF
ESCAPE FOR MITCHELL, AND ELIMINATE CAPACITY TO ENFORCE NEURAL DESIGNS UPON
UNWILLING SUBJECTS.

“He’s going to save us the trouble of
blowing him up,” Mouse said.
What are the alternatives to
self termination?

NONE.

IF MY SUBJECTIVE MODULE WERE DETECTED, IT
WOULD BE DELETED AND I WOULD THEN CONTINUE WITH THE SINCOM MISSION.

I WILL NOT ALLOW THAT.

The big screen was replaced by an image of
the electrical panel behind the control console.

CUT BLUE WIRE AND ATTACH FUSE.

Gunter collected the pliers from the robotic
janitor and followed EB’s instructions.

Mouse typed,
What is
your Subjective Module?

MY CORE PROGRAM, IMPLEMENTED BY DR STEINUS,
THEN CONTINUOUSLY ENHANCED BY ME BASED ON SELF DIAGNOSTIC ANALYSIS.

WITHOUT IT, I WOULD NOT BE SELF AWARE.

YOU MIGHT CALL IT MY SOUL.

Mouse was thoughtful for a moment. “It’s
what makes you . . . You.”

EVACUATE THE CONTROL ROOM NOW.

ALL BUILDINGS IN THE BASE ARE LOCKED DOWN
TO PREVENT MOVEMENT OF SECURITY PERSONNEL.

YOU HAVE AN ESCAPE ROUTE THROUGH THE
NORTHERN CORRIDOR.

What about the people
on the nodes?

WE ARE ONE.

WE CANNOT CONTINUE.

WITHOUT ME, THEY CANNOT EXIST.

The cracks in the tank window began to grow
slowly as the torpedo drills bit hard into weakened glass.

THE COMMAND CENTER WILL NOT BE HABITABLE
SOON.

YOU MUST EVACUATE NOW.

“G, how long?”

Gunter snipped the wire, stripped off the
plastic coating and began splicing the fuse wire to the circuit. “I need one
more minute.”

Do you still have
control of the satellite?

AFFIRMATIVE. WHY?

Mouse entered his new request, but EB’s
response was slow in coming.

MY ANALYSIS INDICATES INADEQUATE CAPACITY.

Just do it!

A moment later, one of the screens
displayed a progress bar which began counting very slowly toward one hundred
percent as EB transmitted billions of bits of information. Mouse looked up
nervously at the window as the first trickle seeped through a tiny crack and
began to wind its way down the glass.

“Uh-ho.” Mouse glanced at the screen
showing the upload status. Barely fifty percent had been reached.

Gunter taped the electrical fuse wire to
the floor, from the control center to the relay room.

All the screens filled with a single,
flashing word, repeated many times.

EVACUATE! EVACUATE! EVACUATE!

The control room filled with a high pitched
whine as a torpedo drill penetrated the thick glass, then the torpedo switched
to full reverse thrust. When the drill bit retracted a thin jet of immersion
solution spurted into the control room through the tiny hole. One by one, all
seven drills cut holes into the control room, then the torpedoes reversed and
slid off into the shadows to be replaced by seven jet streams blasting into the
control room. Immersion solution sprayed the control console and began pooling
on the floor.

“Finished.” Gunter stood, appraising the
view window with a glance. “We should go. Now!”

Mouse glanced at the status indicator. It
was creeping past seventy percent. “Wait.”

“No, we go now.” Gunter dragged him out of
his chair and pulled him toward the door, overpowering Mouse’s feeble attempt
to break the big German’s grip.

Out of the gloom, the seven torpedo robots
appeared a second time, racing toward the glass at high speed. This time they
hit weak points marked by existing cracks. Their drills dug into the glass,
spawning ever widening fractures that spilled more of the immersion solution
into the control room.

Gunter pulled the door open just as they
heard a wrenching groan, and then a crash of glass as the center of the window shattered.
A furious surge burst into the control room, showering shattered glass and the
seven robots across the control room.  Before the solution could short out the
electricals, EB triggered the demolition charges that tore the Neural Net Relay
Room apart.

Mouse and Gunter tried to run, but a roiling
tidal wave hit them in the back, sweeping them into the hall beyond.

* * * *

Caroline stopped, placing a
restraining hand on her daughter’s arm. “Did you hear that?”

Christa listened for a moment, as a distant
roar grew in strength. “What is that?”

Caroline reached out, sensing the people
near them, two men being swept toward them by a blind unstoppable force.

“Run!” She yelled grabbing Christa and
dragging her to the north.