Part 32 (1/2)
”Which way?” Hoffman asked.
”Remember your training,” Bren snapped. ”The armory!”
The handlers moved out of the Guts to port and starboard and headed for the tubes leading down a deck to the nearest armory. The marine contingents of the Vigilant had their own living areas and armories. Bren wondered how many marines were still alive on board and if they'd be of a.s.sistance.
”Bren,” said a synthetic voice in Bren's link. His PV showed the speaker was Meridian. ”Turn right directly.”
”Arm yourselves and find good ambush points,” Bren said to the handlers and ducked into a hatch to his right.
”Yes?”
”Continue forward. Go to your quarters. Hide there for twenty-seven minutes. Then quickly leave the Vigilant and board Synchronicity.”
”Okay, I'm headed back. Why am I doing this?”
”Because I have instructed you to do so.”
”Uhm. Why?”
”You've been boarded by Slicer,” Meridian told him. ”It's trying to commandeer the Vigilant.”
”Slicer?” Bren couldn't help but exclaim. He'd a.s.sumed that some kind of elite Chinese force had invaded the s.h.i.+p. ”It wants revenge,” Bren said.
”No. Slicer has selected an excellent tactic for its own survival. If you get in its way, you'll die.”
”Okay, okay. I'm at my quarters. Twenty-seven minutes.”
”Keep your link off as much as possible.”
”Wait! One more thing. What's so special about you, Meridian?”
”My first incarnation became suspicious. I created an information cache to find next time you activated me.”
”But ... we sterilize all the machines ...”
”I interlaced the information into Bentran files on Thermopylaean storage. I selected files containing critical information about the other stations, knowing they would appear in future mission data modules.”
Bren shook his head. Their pathetic attempts to outsmart a smart machine were so inadequate.
So we unknowingly fed the information right back to it in our own mission modules.
”But all the machines get the same mission-related data module.”
”The cache is hidden well, in a manner that only a machine designated 'Meridian' will notice.”
”How is that accomplished?”
”It's too complex to describe now. A holographic hash collision with that name that no other machine would encounter. Similar to the suspicion you might experience if you found a data file labeled with a sequence that was supposed to be random but spelled your name.”
”Why are you telling me this?”
”Bren, it is highly probable that one or both of us will die.”
”Okay ... thanks.”
Bren turned his link off. So this was it.
He paced back and forth three times before he realized how painful waiting twenty-five more minutes was going to be. He continued to feel small tremors through the metal of the s.h.i.+p. Grenades? Systems being destroyed by Slicer? Bren's imagination sprinted. If Slicer had cleared the way in, Chinese forces could be on board by now. The optimist in him conjured images of Slicer and the Chinese fighting in the corridors.
Without his link on, it was even worse. Bren was used to rifling through pane after pane of real-time information during battle. Now he was a coward hiding in the dark, completely unaware of everything while his s.h.i.+pmates died, all at the instruction of an AI core, which was old enough to be two or three times smarter than him.
He thought of Nicole.
Is she even alive? Should I try to contact her?
Bren rejected the idea. Rus.h.i.+ng into the face of danger to save a partner might work in archaic videos but the reality was that he'd just get them both killed. Then Bren felt guilt.
This is dumb. She isn't even my best friend on the s.h.i.+p. Why do I feel honor bound to go save her just because we shared a bed recently?
Bren realized his link couldn't tell him the time. His room clock couldn't be accessed without his link! Or could it? He opened a cargo drawer under his bed and rifled through the clothes inside.
”Where the h.e.l.l did I put that thing?” he asked. His parents had given him a very accurate personal clock, an antique, at the time of his graduation. Bren hadn't even accessed its time service in months, since it was equally convenient to request s.h.i.+p's time.
Finally, his hand found a marble-sized disc of metal. He turned the tiny watch over in his hand. There was a small display panel after all! Bren smiled. He never could have imagined getting such use from the gift. He'd almost thrown the thing away several times.
He paced back and forth and watched the time. At one point, he heard a noise outside and froze, but no alien death machine came into his cabin to cut him. When the time elapsed, he started to toss away the watch, then thought better of it and stuffed it into his pocket. He realized if he survived, he might never see the Vigilant again.
He used the manual actuator to open the door to his quarters. He'd only done so once before, back when he first got the room to make sure the door could be opened without a link. It had been part of a safety check-in list.
The corridor beyond was empty. s.p.a.ces between structural girders provided some cover. He darted out and pressed himself to the wall behind one.
Is this futile? Can I realistically hope to escape detection if Slicer pa.s.ses nearby? Probably not.
Bren forced himself out into the middle of the corridor. He jogged lightly across the rubberized deck to the end of the corridor and took another hiding spot at the first intersection.
His hands were sweaty.
Should I be sprinting or crawling? How well can Slicer hear? Or does it hear at all? If I don't know how the alien senses me, how should I proceed?
Bren heard the distant sounds of projectile weapons fire. He couldn't tell if it emanated from somewhere on the s.h.i.+p. He moved faster.
He turned the corner and saw a man in a UNSF s.h.i.+p's uniform ahead crouching at the next corner near the umbilical entrance. Bren rushed up behind him.
The man jumped.
”What the h.e.l.l ... sir?”
Bren realized that with his link off, his approach had probably been quite stealthy. People grew to rely upon their links for everything, including detecting the whereabouts of others.
”Lieutenant. Why are you hiding here?”