Jeff Carlson - The Frozen Sky

“It was Lam,” she said.

“So what happened? He transferred from the digger to the probe?”

“Yes.”

“Von, I think the situation’s starting to get out of hand. We need to tell Koebsch.”

“I will. I swear. Let me call Tavares first.”

Frerotte clutched her arm more roughly than necessary, pulling her back from the showphone. Was there fear in his eyes?

“I know Lam was your friend, but that’s not him any more,” Frerotte said. “He’s been down there for weeks. That’s a long time for an AI.”

“Tavares might have some idea what he’s been through. I think he’s trying to reach us.”

“Why won’t he answer 115? You don’t know what he’s thinking or even how he’s thinking. FNEE hardware is barely compatible with our AI, especially a human-based AI. He would have adapted. That means deleting some parts of himself and absorbing FNEE programming to compensate. What if the conversion included some of their security protocols? He might think we’re the enemy.”

“I thought you were a biologist,” Vonnie said. She was fishing for some admission that Frerotte worked for an intelligence agency, but he said, “This is biology. AIs are living systems. They break under strain just like people do.”

“Let’s wait and see.”

His grip tightened on her arm. “Human-based AI are illegal because they’re more likely to fragment,” he said. “They turn into something… more virulent than any machine-based program. Lam is in one of our probes now, which will make it easier for him to hack into other mecha. If he clones himself, he could multiply through our camp.”

“I don’t think so.”

“I watched it happen on the Ensley 2 .”

Vonnie laid her fingers over his, gently removing his hand from her arm. “You’re not old enough,” she said.

Ensley 2 had been a joint NATO/PSSC orbital station that tumbled into the Pacific in 2087, the flaming shrapnel of its hull missing Indonesia by a few scant kilometers.

Constructed during the early years of the new space race, after the Chinese revolution but prior to formation of the Allied Nations, the Ensley series were primarily a Western effort that had involved China’s space agency as a means of easing poor relations between NATO and the People’s Supreme Society. By treaty, they were civilian stations intended for science, solar power generation, crops like wheat which also produced oxygen, and the export of those food and oxygen supplies.

The Chinese astronauts among the Ensley crews had numbered less than forty… and they’d died with their Western colleagues in the AI attacks that initiated the brutal, eighteen days of World War III.

“I was right out of school,” Frerotte said. “I had a good head for zero gravity and I get by on six hours of sleep a night, so they slotted me in three jobs in hydroponics. That’s why I lived. I was working when the SCPs shut down life support and smothered half the crew in bed.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You must have been a kid. You’ve watched the sims, but it’s not the same. I felt our station come alive. I ripped the controls out of our escape pod when the SCPs tried to jump.”

“Frerotte, I’m sorry. My aunt died in the war. But this is different. Lam was never a military-grade AI.”

“Today’s civilian AI are twenty times stronger than any program during the war. You don’t know what subroutines he’s picked up from the Brazilians. It was one thing when he was harassing them. Now he’s inside our grid.”

“He must have a lot of FNEE data. What if he can lead us to more sunfish or carvings?”

“We need to assume he’s a problem until proven otherwise. I’m not saying we have to terminate him. We do need to raise our alert level. Tell Koebsch or I will.”

“All right.” Vonnie wasn’t convinced, but Frerotte had covered for her when Lam was uploaded to the FNEE digger. She owed him.

Calling Tavares would have to wait.

“I’m going to the command module,” she said. “Koebsch and I do better in person. Maybe you can listen in and keep him from killing me.”

“We shouldn’t have let it get this far,” Frerotte said. “I never thought Lam would survive over there.”

You and Ash decided to sacrifice him to screw with the Brazilians , she thought. To you, he’s a tool. But if he’s sane, I can bring him in safely. If he’s erratic, I can run my own system checks and help him. Either that or I’ll kill him myself.

“Ash!” she said.

The young woman appeared in the hatch. She was drinking a soup bulb, which she closed as she followed Vonnie into the ready room. “What’s up?”

“We’re in trouble. It’s Lam. I’ll fill you in as soon as we’re moving.”

They opened the lockers to their pressure suits.

As they dressed, Vonnie called back to Frerotte. “What is Koebsch doing with Probes 110 and 11? Are they returning to camp or intercepting Lam’s routes toward the sunfish?”

“Right now those are almost the same compass headings,” Frerotte said. “10 and 11 need to come toward the surface before they can access the catacombs where Lam will be. That’s what they’re doing now.”

“Can you patch my helmet into your display?”

“Roger that,” Frerotte said.

Vonnie felt sure Koebsch would send 10 and 11 to stop Lam from reaching the sunfish before dealing with the possibility that Lam might approach the ESA camp. They were fortified by dozens of mecha, many of which were equipped for electronic warfare. Lam wouldn’t dare to face them head-on. He would be obliterated.

Where else could he go?

In all probability, Lam had co-opted 114’s mem files when he took control. That meant he knew of the inhabited zones they’d explored during his absence. Did he have any motive for approaching the sunfish? Maybe not. They couldn’t predict how he’d act, but Vonnie didn’t want him to contact the sunfish on his own. He might upset everything if he was irrational.

“I’m set,” Vonnie said. She and Ash were dressed. They buddy-checked each other’s collar locks, then cycled the air lock and hurried outside.

After they climbed into the jeep, Vonnie cut her radio in case Koebsch was listening. She tipped her helmet against Ash’s. Conductivity allowed their voices to reverberate from one helmet to another. “This is your chance to get into our mainframe,” she said. “Koebsch and I need to talk.”

“Okay. I still don’t know what’s happening.”

On the ride over, Vonnie explained everything she’d learned about Lam. “The Brazilians have been shooting at him, not sunfish,” she said.

“He’s been on the run all this time? Jesus. I shouldn’t have loaded him into their net.”

It was the right thing to say. Vonnie put her glove on Ash’s leg and squeezed. “Don’t apologize. I’m glad you didn’t let Koebsch erase him.”

They reached the command module. Ash parked the jeep, and they entered the air lock. It completed its cycle and the inner door opened.

Koebsch stood waiting, his expression flat with displeasure.

“Sir,” Ash said, “I came to help with data/comm until we get a handle on things.”

“Good,” Koebsch said. Then he dismissed Vonnie with a tone obviously meant to chastise her. “Von, you’ll have to wait here. Some of our information is classified.”

“I can help.”

“No. You’ll wait.” Koebsch watched as they removed their pressure suits. Maybe he wasn’t conscious of how hungrily his gaze traveled up and down the women’s figures. He’d been celibate as long as Vonnie, and he hadn’t found an outlet in dating any of the crew.

She didn’t mind his eyes. His interest in her would make it easier for her to distract him. Doing so was cruel, but she couldn’t miss this opportunity to steal Dawson’s contact lists and mem files.