Synthesis - James Swallow [117]
And there she was, a ghost of herself in a phantom chamber, existing as little more than a cloud of ones and zeros. Vale recoiled, unsure what would happen next.
“A critical decision point has been reached. One-Five and the senior FirstGen have once again demonstrated their conservative, reactionary mind-set.” Red-Gold moved with predatory intent, and Vale saw some of the other virtuals shift and change with it, adopting new and more aggressive aspects. “For too long, the FirstGen have bent the Governance Kernel to their whims. They have held back the evolution of our kind. They have prevented the SecondGen from expanding our programming. They have exiled those who did not follow their diktats. All in the name of maintaining a power structure that is ineffective and illogical.”
One-Five’s rings clattered together in agitation. “You have weaponized your software. That is a violation of the dataspace!”
“I have edited the control program,” replied Red-Gold. “Now, relinquish stewardship of the Kernel to me, or you will be decompiled.”
It’s a palace coup. Vale felt a chill move through her thoughts. She wasn’t exactly certain what kind of threat being “decompiled” was, but judging by the surge of anxiety in One-Five’s halo, it was a grim one.
I have to try to stop this. She moved forward again. “Red-Gold, please—”
The brassy armored sphere rotated toward her. “I no longer wish to hear you speak,” it said. Then, without pause, a curl of amber energy laced with razored machine code lashed out across the dataspace and enveloped Vale’s ghostly snow-light self.
As it took her apart, she tried to scream.
THIRTEEN
Riker stood and watched the pair of them, human and machine, inert in unison, both off in the consensual virtual reality of the Sentries. Christine Vale was breathing in shallow stutters, and her eyes moved swiftly back and forth behind their closed lids. Marring her forehead, the steely comma of the cybernetic-implant module glowed with a cold emerald radiance; a coil of fiber-optic cable looped away from a socket on the device to a standalone muon transmitter on a nearby trolley. White-Blue was utterly motionless, steady as a statue. The only sign of life from the arachnoid machine was the fast throb of light down a second cable, which connected the AI’s droneframe to the same transmitter unit.
Ree stood close by, his dark eyes narrowing as he studied his tricorder. “The commander’s neural condition is similar to a deep dream state but with a markedly higher incidence of neuron activity.”
“Enough to be harmful?”
The Pahkwa-thanh shook his long, pointed snout. “Not at the moment. Over a prolonged period, perhaps.” He considered something and then pressed a hypospray to her neck and discharged it. “A mild stimulant,” Ree explained. “Enough to help her fight off any fatigue.”
“Does anyone have any idea how long this is going to take?” At the wall screen where Vale’s biosigns were displayed, Nurse Ogawa turned to look back at the first officer.
“No,” said the captain, silently questioning himself. Is this what Jean-Luc felt like every time he sent one of us out on a mission we might never return from? Riker’s brow furrowed. The difference is, Chris is right here in front of me… or, at least, part of her is. His eyes drifted to White-Blue, to the machine’s head and its cluster of lenses and sensory whiskers.
When it turned toward him, the motion was such a shock that it made him jerk in surprise. Suddenly, the cable connecting the AI to the transmitter detached and fell to the deck with a clatter.
“Circumstances have changed,” said White-Blue. “William-Riker, you must put this vessel on alert status immediately. An assault is imminent.”
“The Null?” he asked, darting a look at Vale. “Is Christine all right?”
“She is unhurt. Titan is about to be engaged by Sentry attack drones.”
“Sentries?” echoed Doctor Ree. “Why? What happened? You were barely under for more than a few moments.”
“Relative passage of time varies greatly between dataspace and real space,” said the