All Fall Down (4 page)

           
“Admiral Kim?” Kate looked at the holo, confused. She knew Admiral Kim from missions over the past few years. She was a hard woman, cold. Kate had often wondered if losing the capacity for human warmth was what career progression in Military Intelligence meant. Receiving direct orders from an Admiral was rare. Kate clipped her Celtic-hair up in a similar style and asked the computer to begin playback.

The Admiral started speaking in clipped, direct tones. “Commander Leland. Congratulations on a successful mission on Krisa. I understand you are due some R'n'R. I am sorry to have to re-assign you. We have a priority one mission. It is a short mission, less than three days long. And a quick resolution will be useful for your career.” Kate perked up.

“You are on your way to a planet named Fall. It is important that you reach the planet as soon as possible. The planet’s existence is classified. The ship you are travelling in will go into communications blackout the moment you leave the system to maintain secrecy while on mission. This message has all the data files you need encrypted within it. This mission briefing is your last communication before you arrive on Fall.
 
Subsequent communications will go through Fall’s Administrator. I suggest you bear that in mind.

“Fall provides minerals essential to the operation of our Starquake AIs. Your team will consist of the two officers with you now. They will understand the data we’ve sent, and will be able to give you the technical briefing. The supply of these minerals must not be compromised. This is why you're in comms black out. If word gets out about Fall, the supply routes could be compromised. Ensure your consequence planning is centred on this. This is your priority, do whatever you must to keep the minerals flowing.”

Kate made notes on her datapad while the Admiral spoke.

“Your primary mission is to investigate the death of a Military Intelligence scientist. The Colony reported her death some hours ago. It is standard procedure to investigate all deaths on classified installations.” She paused, and her voice dropped, conspiratorially, “Additionally,” Admiral Kim leaned forward in the holo; Kate automatically leaned forward in response, “I want you to find out everything you can about its Administrator. We suspect he is developing an illicit biological programme.”

Kate stared at Admiral Kim’s face, whose frozen eyes glittered with holographic light.

“The Cadre has no other information other than this file.” A holicon blinked into life beside Admiral Kim's head. “It's a coded message from someone within the installation which we received about a week ago. We are of course monitoring SysNet to see if anyone else intercepted the message. Commander Leland, due to the sensitive nature of what we've asked, and in light of your recent application, you are free to act with the full authority of MI. For the mission’s duration you will have a field promotion to General. If you complete the standard mission successfully, and establish the basis of the coded message, your application will be viewed... more favourably. The Central Cadre expects a daily update on the coded channel, with a full report and mission closure within three standard days.” Admiral Kim paused and blinked slowly, “Mission briefing over.” The holo darkened, faded to a standby mode, leaving the Admiral’s head as a silhouette.

Kate tapped her fingers on the desk.
Illicit biological programme
? Did that mean something against the Organic Edict, banning cybernetic modification of humans?

She opened the standard mission briefing. It said the scientist had died due to exposure. A quick review showed the planet to be hostile, its surface deadly. Nothing mysterious there.

Kate opened the coded message. It read simply, “Fall. Human hybrid. Murder. Not human DNA. Help.” Eight words. It used an older coding, one MI no longer used. She'd ask Djembe to look into that. It may provide a clue to the sender.

Admiral Kim would not have made the mission classified or a priority one if she didn't have good reason to. And a field promotion. So finally, Kate had made it. Almost made it. She was tired, but after successfully ensuring the last mission was a success, and stopping the Colony's stupid reports of first contact spreading across SysNet and panicking the rest of the Settled Quarters, she felt confident. A couple of days on mission, some subtle digging around in the Colony's computer systems, and her application would be confirmed. Her field promotion would become permanent: General Leland.

Kate called up the list of documents sent with the briefing. Amongst the technical data files she found one on the dead scientist, Doctor Huriko Maki. She spent a few moments getting up to speed with the Colony and its official biological research programme, and the wording of the coded message. Eventually she decided to brief Win and Djembe and give the bad news about their rest and recuperation.

“Computer, create new case file. Codename: Planet Fall.”

Fall’s Colony was built entirely underground. The colonists lived away from the harsh glare of the twin suns, and the scouring attention of the eternal storm.

There were some surface features associated with the Colony. Scientific instruments dotted the desert floor in geometric patterns, surrounding the Colony and its two outlying settlements. Air filtration units kept them company. Some buildings marked the outlying colonies, long since abandoned to the harsh reality of the surface. There were solar collector farms, generating both electricity and heat. There were also twelve solar channellers, large convex domes around the circumference of the Colony, which directed sunlight below ground for lighting and farming. And directly on top of the main Colony was a docking pad for larger spacecraft, and guiding lights to the doors that covered the shaft to the hangar bay. Checking the instruments, science experiments and maintaining the power infrastructure, air filtration and landing pad were the only permitted reasons for regular surface travel.

Twenty five kilometres north-west lay the remains of Fall’s original Colony, now buried under sand, a mausoleum to its dead.

Below ground, the hangar bay’s volume occupied the upper area of the Colony structure. Beneath the hangar floor was a rock layer, a natural cap over the excavated cavity in which the Colony had been constructed.

From the viewing deck just under this natural domed roof, Daoud looked down, his hands resting lightly on the safety rail. The Colony was built around a central void, a dim barrel of air kept in constant motion by huge fans in the floor. Similar fans in the roof helped pull the air upwards, dragging with it the stale smells of Colony life, which passed out through tunnels to the sub-surface farming pods, which sat under the solar channellers.

Daoud inhaled deeply. He tasted the Colony, a thick, humid diary of the three thousand or so lives on the planet. There was a tang to the air today; the taste of shock. Daoud had released news of Huriko Maki’s death. In such a small place news travelled fast. It was better to control its spread, he thought. Below him, in the dim air shaft, yellow-grey blobs winked into life: colonists causing automatic lights to turn on, as they followed the paths and gantries around the curved walls. The movement appeared to be around the work levels: the end of a day, meeting in the bars and restaurants. The higher levels, near the farm connector tunnels, were generally quieter. The stale air drawn through the tunnels put off most people. But Daoud had grown used to it, and had learned to read the taste, the smell of the air.

As he gazed down into the void, he allowed his eyes to defocus and let his mind run free over the details of Huriko's death. It was supposed to be death due to exposure, a death in a storm. A regrettable accident. But the herald had somehow become involved. The alien presence; the entity. All deaths on classified Colonies had to be reported to Military Intelligence. Sophie had already reported it to the nearest Habitat before he found out what had happened.

It wasn't supposed to be like this.

Things were going to be trickier. The plan might be de-railed. The MI operatives would be on their way by now, and would scrutinise all security recordings. He thought of Sophie, and the plans they'd made over the years since he'd saved her. He had a grand vision for humanity and its place in the galaxy.

Irritated by the turn of events, Daoud keyed his wrist pad. “Sophie, see me in my office.” He left the area and headed through curved corridors to meet her.

           
A bronze sculpture was the only decoration in Daoud’s office. It was ancient, possibly a thousand years old: a genderless figure, frozen in a perpetual forward run, its body flowing behind it, its form pushing ahead, giving the illusion of movement, speed and unfailing determination. Daoud thought it represented everything humanity had lost. It inspired him. He stood by his central analysis table.

           
Sophie arrived and took her place opposite, where recently he'd shown her death and re-birth.

           
“Computer, please play the recording again, full holography.”

Huriko’s death played out in miniature. It was a re-constructed hologram, created from the Colony’s surface and satellite surveillance. The heavy filtering needed to remove the sandstorm left a poor quality, grainy scene; Huriko ghosted frequently, her exact location and shape jumping around in the error margins of the image filters.

“She was supposed to die of exposure,” Daoud looked at Sophie.

“I'm sorry, I didn't know the herald had arrived at that point. It was you who informed me.”

He stared at her. “Get rid of it.”

“Sir, we can't delete anything once it's in the AI's matrix.”

           
“Then bury it. Generate something that will stop the AI registering it. Anxiety algorithms or something. AIs don't like emotions. Verigua won't scan its deep matrix if it senses an emotional outbreak in its intelligence.”

           
“Very well, Sir. There is a risk, though. AIs can become twitchy if they develop emotions.”

           
The sculpture on his desk reflected the holo light in small speckles on the ceiling. The sculpture’s shadow moved, grew and shrank again as the holo played out, lurching in its perpetual movement forward.

Daoud turned to Sophie, sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose “Once the eclipse has passed in a couple of days, it will no longer matter. We only need that time.”

“Very well. Anything else?”

“Do we know who MI are sending to investigate?”

Sophie touched the analysis table. The holos faded, replaced by three heads, one placed slightly above the other two. Arranged underneath were icons indicating biographies and incoming ship specifications. “A small team, just three people on a transport craft, no supporting escort ships. The cover story of death due to exposure has worked well. But I think it’s wise that you review the biographies. The team leader will interest you, certainly.”

“And preparations?”

“Directors and the MI Research Facility are fully briefed. They’re dusting off their procedures. I’ve reviewed security, which is all to standard.” Sophie looked up from under her brow.

“Carry on.”

Sophie flicked her eyes back down to her holo display. “My teams are still at the mines. Security is tight anyway. I’ll send you their reports when they come in, I’m not expecting anything out of the ordinary. I don't foresee any security lapses or scope for criticism.”

“Are your teams asking for eye witness accounts?”
      

“No one saw anything. We should be able to contain it. Shall I carry on?” Daoud nodded at her, “I’ve assigned quarters. Bio-safety protocols are drilled for when they arrive. The twin solar eclipse will affect communications, but as we’re on lockdown anyway, it won’t affect comms going in or out of the system. Your private link out of system might get a little jumpy for a while.”

Daoud shrugged. “You’ve done a very thorough job. Thank you Sophie. This holo,” he nodded at the frozen holo of Huriko meeting the alien presence, “gets buried. Make sure MI don't find it.” He looked around the room, and his voice became wistful, “Remember the vendetta killing here? Shortly after establishment.”

Sophie nodded. “Yes, what..? Ah, I see.”

“In case there are any traces of our friend moving through the atmosphere, I want you to put out a rumour that Huriko may have been the victim of a vendetta killing.”