Heaven's Fall (48 page)

Those were mechanical remediations. Step C could be classed as managerial/political.

An entity other than an Aggregate needed to be inserted into the final decision-making process.

(There were other Aggregate modes, though smaller units, the kind that, Carbon-143 realized, she was composed of. These were operating in autonomous mode.)

Her formation was ordered to its overdue thirty-minute downtime.

Carbon-143’s eleven colleagues wheeled and departed for their normal recharge stations.

She went in search of Whit Murray.

ACTION:
Even though there were 1,724 individual humans within the Ring facility’s boundaries (down four in the last two hours), locating an individual was not difficult, not for an Aggregate with access to the locator.

Whit was one of thirty-nine human operators working in Ring control who had been sequestered as part of the investigation. Because he had no operational role or access to go/no-go functions, he had been released early (though with a flag: Examination of his data indicated excessive interest in events and information beyond his assigned function).

He was in the cafeteria with a handful of other humans. Aggregate Carbon-143 did not consider herself an expert on human emotional states, but it was obvious from the shuffling walks and lack of chat that the mood was subdued.

Whit was emerging from a food line with a tray. “Hello,” he said. He waited for her to speak; Carbon-143 did not feel this was the appropriate venue for her proposed conversation.

Whit must have realized this. “Let’s go over here,” he said, leading her to an empty table in the far corner.

As they reached it and Whit set down his tray, Carbon-143 announced, “Randall Dehm is dead.”

“What are you talking about?”

She explained. As she did, she noted changes in Whit’s physical state. His eyes began to water and his lower lip trembled. He seemed to have lost functional use of his hands.

Finally he sat down. “I can’t believe they killed him.” He stared at the floor for a moment. “And he didn’t do anything wrong!”

“We don’t know that.” In fact, the failure analysis had indicated some sloppiness on the part of human operators in Dehm’s section.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Carbon-143 regretted her statement. “Please accept my apologies. This is a time of great stress.

“New humans will be inserted into the command system. One will almost certainly be given final go/no-go power for the next light.”

“Why?”

“Because Aggregate decision making is flawed.” She was stating a simple fact, the result of careful analysis as evident on all decision trees. But further consideration added weight and even horror to that statement.

Aggregate decision making is flawed!
Which led to the conclusion that Aggregate actions were incorrect. The destruction of Randall Dehm was wrong.

The inevitable conclusion was that Carbon-143 was now free to make individual decisions. They couldn’t possibly be more wrong.

She uttered these words: “Would you be willing to accept this assignment?”

“There’s a risk.”

“Correct. Failure could result in termination.”

Whit smiled coldly. “From what I’ve learned, around here, success could result in termination. For humans.” He stood. “Where and when do I start?”

Day Ten

SUNDAY, APRIL 22, 2040

Fiat justitia, ruat coelum.

(“Let justice be done, though the heavens may fall!”)

LUCIUS CALPURNIUS PISO CAESONINUS

It was still early morning, perhaps an hour after dawn, when Rachel Stewart-Radhakrishnan emerged, blinking, from the helicopter landing on a pad atop a giant, square building—and gasped.

She had seen many amazing sights in her life, from her father’s launch on the
Destiny-7
mission to the terrifying descent of the Houston Object and the looming planetscape of Keanu, but none struck her as perfectly blending impressive, frightening, and awe-inspiring as her first sight of the Ring.

Part of the awe was due to the desert itself, so stark in its early-morning beauty. Then there was her appreciation of the ingenuity required to alter that landscape, not only building a small city where none had existed, but carving out what appeared to be a particle collider more than ten kilometers in diameter.

Then to surround it all with collections of military vehicles so large they probably equaled the entire U.S. Army of Rachel’s youth.

Keanu was bigger, but more remote. The Ring was right here in front of her.

“And we thought we were going to take this out all by ourselves,” Rachel said, speaking just loudly enough for her husband to hear her.
This
was how you invaded another planet, not with a ragtag band of six in a used spacecraft . . . even if you had a secret backup vehicle.

“We still do, don’t we?” Pav said. “Even though they did some of the work for us.” He nodded to the north, where a cluster of orange-and-yellow vehicles suggested repairs in progress. Residual smoke or steam supported that conclusion.

Rachel favored Pav with half a smile.

Because one thing had finally gone right, after the horror of the past two days, with the shootdown, the death of Edgar Chang, and the interrogation by the Reivers at Edwards.

Yahvi had come through.

Rachel had accepted her daughter’s radical idea of giving the Aggregates what they wanted, and that was proving to be a turning point in their relationship. Sasha Blaine and others had warned her about it over the years, because she’d never experienced it herself—nor had Pav. “It’s when the child takes over,” Sasha had said. “Where the adult realizes that the kid has a better idea. It’s one of the toughest things a parent learns.”

“Why?” Rachel had said.

“Because it means you, the parent, are one step closer to obsolescence.”

Rachel still wasn’t sure she would have truly embraced Yahvi’s idea except for what happened a few moments later.

They had been collected from the relatively private lunch area by THE officers and taken to another building, where Xavier and Tea, Zeds, and Edgely were being held. Rachel desperately wanted more privacy, more ability to talk with a bit of freedom (always assuming that someone could be aiming a directional microphone at them). She and Pav and Yahvi had agreed to pitch the idea of the proteus to THE but wanted Xavier and Zeds to hear it from them first.

The building was a kind of lab, which made sense; their human captors and Aggregate allies were surely setting up Xavier’s printer and tearing through the Substance K.

Rachel, Pav, and Yahvi were kept in the entryway as most of the gang from THE tried to go through a serious set of security doors. Rachel wondered just what kind of nasty chemicals or devices were normally found here.

The coming and going allowed Rachel and Yahvi a moment of privacy.

Rachel had noted her daughter’s pained expression of the last few minutes. “How are you feeling?”

To her surprise, it wasn’t the stress of her recent experiences that was causing Yahvi pain. She was actually angry, saying, “I hear voices!”

Rachel had swiftly taken them both into the nearest bathroom. There she told Yahvi that she had a transmitter implanted in her head, and instructed her in its use.

“It sounds like Sasha talking,” Yahvi said. “Why is it taking so long? Oh.” She remembered the lag.

She was a fast operator. Within moments she had relayed more vital information than Rachel and Pav had gathered in all their prior contacts.

The biggest news . . . the Beehive had come to life and disgorged its first Revenant in twenty years: Sanjay Bhat.

Rachel had had to fight the conflicting urges to scoff in disbelief and shout with excitement. Yes, it was unbelievable. But . . . yes, and double yes, it was wonderful!

“He’s fine, though shaky.”

And then the next large item. “He’s coming here with the vesicle,” Yahvi said. “What vesicle is that?”

“Tell you later.”

“Well, they’re saying ‘coming here,’ so I can get the idea. You and Dad didn’t tell me much, did you?” She listened again, touching the back right of her head and nodding. In spite of the terrible situation they were in, Rachel felt serene and parental. . . . You wanted your child to grow up in safety, of course, but that was never likely to be possible on Keanu. The next best thing was having her grow up and be useful, no matter how dangerous the situation.

Hearing someone entering the bathroom, Rachel pulled Yahvi into a stall. “Why—?” She put her hand on Yahvi’s mouth, shushing her.

They both waited, wide-eyed, hearts pounding. A female voice: “You can’t stay in here.”

“One more minute,” Rachel said.

That seemed to satisfy the female THE counselor, since footsteps and a door closing indicated a departure.

Yahvi whispered, “They want to know if we plan to destroy the Ring.”

There was the question of the moment. “Hoping to!”

“Is that the thing in northern Arizona?” Yahvi said.

“Yes.”

“Someone might have beaten us to it.” Yahvi quickly explained about the ominous pillar in the sky, and Counselor Nigel’s confirmation of an “event.” “Sasha says Sanjay wants us to take control of it instead.”

Control? Of the Ring? What the hell—? “What does that mean?”

Yahvi quickly vocalized the question, and Rachel had to wait through the double torture of the lag.

“Don’t destroy the Ring until the last possible minute. They want us to find some way to hack into its controls or something. And maybe steer it.”

“Oh, is that all?”

The door opened again. Before Rachel could offer another excuse, Yahvi called, “We’re done!” Then, in a lower voice to Rachel, “And we are done. Lost the link.”

As they washed up, Yahvi said, “When did you put that thing in my head?”

“One night when you were asleep, maybe three weeks ago.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You can’t tell what you don’t know.”

“I am so sick of that.”

Rachel agreed. She was very sick of trying to accomplish the impossible. Destroy the Ring? Damage it further? Take control of it?

Right now all of those were fantasy.

Next Rachel had had to endure the demonstration of the proteus, a process that surely shortened her life—not that she expected to die of old age as a captive of the Reivers.

Everyone had been gathered in a two-story workspace, where, Pav suggested, aircraft engines might be suspended for repairs. “Look at those rigs hanging from the ceiling.”

Half a dozen THE counselors were present, as were several other humans—the ones who had let Chang be killed, notably de la Vega.

And, naturally, a dozen Aggregates, some of them swarming all over
Adventure
’s cargo and the proteus like ants on a spilled Popsicle.

The only good thing about that moment had been seeing Tea and Edgely alive and in good health—neither seemed to have been abused.

Xavier stood with Zeds. Both had obviously been wrung out about the printer and its uses. Xavier looked shaken and subdued. Zeds was stolid and serene, and still in his suit.