Up Against It - M. J. Locke [98]
“Well?”
“Backup life-support systems are coming online,” Tania reported. “We won’t know full status for a bit, but so far the critical ones seem to be OK.”
“The sapient?”
“It’s gone—from our systems, at least. I’m awaiting confirmation from the Upside-Down team, but I’m reasonably confident we got it out of theirs, too.”
Michaela, the Upside-Down team leader, flickered into view even as she spoke. “Phase Three complete. It’s gone.”
“You’re sure?” Tania asked.
The woman nodded. “The copy up here never reached full sapience. We’ve deleted it all, and they are wiping and reinstalling from backups to make certain it hasn’t buried any bits or pieces that are going to give us trouble later.”
Tania sagged with a sigh. She saw Jane looking at her, and gave her a salute. “One feral sapient removed from the computer systems, as ordered.”
Jane clapped her shoulder. “Good work.”
“Upside-Down’s data is trashed,” Michaela told them. “They’ve lost nearly three days’ worth of ‘Stroiders’ material and they’re pretty upset.”
Jane replied, “Don’t worry about it. That’s my job.”
“That’s why they pay you the big bucks,” Tania muttered.
Jane chuckled. Speaking of big bucks: “Did we capture it alive?”
Tania replied, “I’m about to check. Thondu is supposed to be finishing up with the captive version. Care to join me?”
* * *
The trap system was only a few hand- and footsprings down the shaft. On the way they dodged trash, globules of unidentified, dirty liquid—probably unprogrammed assemblers—and debris that swirled gently skew-wards in the microgee air currents. Zekeston had stabilized at an orientation to Phocaea’s gravity such that “down” in this sector was actually about forty-five degrees off of the down they were used to. Jane thought again of Xuan and the clan, and prayed they had reached safety.
They entered. Thondu was wrapping up his harp, clinging to a wall cord, because the room was bare of webworks or Velcro strips: of everything, in fact, except a suspended tank with a cluster of interconnected biocomputers inside. He looked like hell: sweat-drenched, clothing askew, face gaunt, eyes sunken with exhaustion, shoulders hunched. His hands were claws; his fingertips bloodied.
“Well?” Tania said, gesturing at the processor globes. “Is it in there?”
He puffed out his cheeks, eyeing the tank. “It’s not answering.”
“No…” Tania looked aghast. “Are you sure?”
In answer he pulled out his harp, brought his Tonal_Z interfaces up again, and plinked out a rough melody.
Info: I = MeatManHarper. Query: BitManSinger, you = at-place what, at-time this? That’s all.
The difference in the quality of his playing now versus the first time was striking. He winced with every pluck of the strings, and left red smears on them. Jane felt a twinge of sympathy.
Once finished, he stilled the strings and they waited. Seconds ticked by. He repeated the query. No response. He tried a different musical phrase: Command: BitManSinger, respond! That’s all.
Still nothing.
Urgent Command: BitManSinger, respond! That’s all.
After a minute or two, he gave Tania a regretful look.
“We must be missing too many of the proper linkages. Or perhaps some small but crucial module was overlooked.…”
“Maybe it’s just in shock,” Jane said, “or hiding.”
Thondu shook his head. “Ever since the connection with the larger system was severed, this copy has been inactive. It couldn’t maintain its identity-formation without some minimum level of activity. It’s gone.” He spread his bloody hands. “My regrets.”
Tania turned away. Jane rubbed her eyes, which burned with fatigue. Her own doom lay before her, tomorrow, in her meeting with her boss.
“There’s still a chance,” Tania said. “Still a chance that we can recover enough information from the Upside-Down team’s work to get it going again.”
Jane could tell from the look in her eyes that she did not hold out a great deal of hope.
“How long?”
“Let me get back to you on that.” Tania paused. “I’m sorry. I know you were counting on a live extraction.”