David Brin - The Heart of the Comet

Dr Oakes spoke to the military man. “Now, Fidel. I’m sure Miss Herbert realizes how essential it is to be discreet about some of the implications of our upcoming actions. Morale is bad enough as it is.”

“I’ll say,” Okudo stuttered. “I hear some crew are even feigning illness, trying every malingering trick in order to get back into the slots.”

I didn’t know. Virginia ’s stomach felt queasy.

Captain Cruz would have been more forthright with us. And nobody would have even considered letting him down by trying to run away into time.

Bethany Oakes contemplated the holo tank moodily, giving Virginia her first real chance to look for herself at the big display.

The region penetrated by tunnels was no larger than it had been a month ago, still taking up less than five percent of the volume of Halley Core, in a warren clustered around the north polar region. A few large chambers stood out, including three where the sleep slots lay buried. And this one, Central, amid a cluster of rooms barely a kilometer straight down from the tethered Edmund Halley.

Thank heavens most of the hydroponics are still aboard the Edmund, Virginia thought. Safe from the native lifeforms we’ve inadvertently wakened down here. If the gunk or the bugs ever got into the main gardens, we’d likely starve in short order. As it is, we’ll probably be going hungry soon anyway, if we have to keep this many awake much longer.

Nearly all the depicted tunnels and shafts were stained, the colors standing for different types of infestation. Only the four main chambers still shone antiseptic, uninvaded white—along with one path to the polar storage yards. And it had taken every UV lamp and half an eighty-year supply of disinfectants to keep just those areas clear.

Most passages glimmered in some shade of green where the only known invader was some variety of the lichenlike growths popularly called gunk . Those routes still held air and heat. For all anyone could tell, they might even be perfectly safe. At least Saul thought they were. He had gone off more than once, heedless of supposed danger, in search of more samples to study.

Maybe that’s one of the things that attracts me to him. Saul wasn’t brave in the flashy way, but in a manner that seemed to say “living day from day has always been a calculated risk.”

Perhaps her love was analytically simple. For Saul did remind her of her father. Anson Herbert had possessed the same sad, gentle wisdom, had shown her more in his quiet strength than other men with all their flamboyant posturing.

Virginia shook her head. Anson had been dead for two years, but she could almost hear him, telling her to quit daydreaming and get to work. There was problems to be solved, and always idiots trying to use hammers to fix clocks.

Lopez was gesturing at the tunnels that had the worst infestations, especially along the ducts where heat flowed from the power plant. Purple, yellow, and red stains showed where more active Halleyforms had erupted, tearing tunnel seals, wreaking havoc on vital machines, and, occasionally, even reaching out with a poisonous grasp after a passing Earthman.

“…Bigger surface mechs could patrol an expanded hallway, here, scraping and remelting the ice at intervals, sealing crevices and removing infested layers for disposal at the surface…”

Virginia couldn’t believe she was hearing this. The plan was lunacy. It was a cumbersome scheme that ignored the seven decades ahead.

“There are still other options to try,” she suggested. “Saul is working on a possible way—”

Lopez sniffed loudly. “Lintz’s death ray , right?”

Bethany Oakes nodded without turning her gaze from the map. “We can hope somebody comes up with something new, of course. But every conventional approach has failed. One thing is certain: If the infestation reaches the sleep slots, we are quite finished.”

She looked at Virginia. “That is why we asked you to join us over here, not only to help convert surface mechs for the struggle below. You…”

The older woman paused, blinking, as if trying to keep her train of thought. Virginia realized with shock that she must be on some sort of drug.

“…You are the only real expert we have on that old subject… artificial intelligence . I am familiar with the traditional proofs, of course, that the real thing is impossible. But a very good, flexible simulant might be enough.” She sighed. “Anyway, we must grasp at any straw. Saul Lintz’s invention, and even robots capable of acting on their own.

“We must come up with a way to make as many mechs as autonomous as possible… and soon. You see… we are losing men and women faster than we are unslotting them.”

Virginia stared. She found she could say nothing at all.

“This is a military secret, Herbert,” Major Lopez growled. “You tell anyone about this and I’ll have your Percell ass.”

Virginia only shook her head, and let him take it to mean anything he wanted.

A little later, by the refreshment center, she nursed a bulb of weak tea and wondered how she might even approach the nearly impossible tasks she had been assigned. It was ironic. I never thought anyone would ask me to work on machine intelligence.

Under these circumstances, it seemed so very wrong to her.

That was when the man she wanted least to encounter floated up next to her with a soft push of nubby legs.

“Well, sweet machine lady.” Otis Sergeov grinned. “I suppose you have heard latest interesting developments, Earthside? Have you not?”

“Go away, Otis,” she said levelly. “I don’t want to hear any more bad news right now, especially from you. What are you doing here, anyway? You’re hall crew.”

The Russian Percell shrugged. His eyelids were still slightly blue-tinged and his cheeks chalky from his recent awakening from slot sleep.

“I just stopped by to grab a look on way to Shaft Three. I go to help your lovers test their new machine to save the world.”

Virginia looked up quickly. “What are you talking about?”

“You know who I mean.” He winked. “Osborn and Lintz.”

Sergeov held out a small slip of paper with her name scratched on the outside. She plucked it up with her fingertips and unfolded it to read the message. Virginia nodded.

“So you’re going to help Carl and Saul test the new beamers. Is that it?”

He nodded.

“Okay, then. Tell Saul I’ll arrange to send him the mechs he needs for the experiment. I’ll scrape them up somewhere.”

Sergeov nodded. “Ah, ways to get around channels. I knew that he had influence with Secret Mistress of all Machines. I must learn his tricks.”

Virginia shrugged. Sergeov had had a reason to seek her out. Now she only wanted his visit to end. “Is that all, Otis?”

“Only one more thing. A personal curiosity. I did underrate you, Virginia. You may be Orthophile, but at least you chose the father—or uncle—of our race for shacking up with. He is still Ortho, but so is anybody over fifty, so if you are so kinky as to prefer old men, I guess you have no better choice, eh?”

She glared at him. “You dirty-minded little.”

“Wait until I get that old Hmmm? Will I then chance have?”

Virginia ’s head whirled. The man said so many infuriating things, each deserving to be burnt down with scathing logic. Oh, why am I so compulsive? He’s not looking for an argument over semantics, he wants to get on my nerves, that’s all.

“Fuck you, Otis,” she said at last.

Sergeov blinked in momentary surprise, then he laughed. His head rocked back and he cried out in delight. “Said well! If only we had you on Earth, day before yesterday! You could have told them.”