Realms of Light

Chapter Eighteen

I missed most of the conversation betweenYoshio-sempai and Yoshio-kun, but I probably couldn’thave followed it anyway. They understood each other in a way no oneelse ever could. They didn’t need explanations, they didn’t evenneed sentences-a single word or gesture would carry all theassociations they needed. By the time I got back with the HG-2powered up in my hand, Yoshio-kun was talking to theShinichiro upload over the ship’s regular com channel, negotiatingterms for a surrender.

I knew that surrender wasn’t going to happen,though, not the way they were discussing. It was a decoy.Shinichiro didn’t know we had a copy of the old man running; hethought he was talking to Yoshio-sempai, and as long as theywere talking, the upload wouldn’t expect to find the old mananywhere else.

“Clever,” I said, as Yoshio-kun arguedwith Shinichiro about which members of the family would be allowedto remain in the compound. “But it’s going to figure it outeventually. We need to get out of here, get you somewhere safe. Itknows you shut down those floaters, it knows you’re up tosomething…”

The old man raised a finger. “It is notcertain of the floaters. The ship’s firewall recorded their lastsecond or so of output and looped it, so my false son is stillreceiving transmissions, even if those transmissions don’t makesense. It can’t be sure of what happened; it is receiving errormessages, not silence.”

“That’s clever, too,” I acknowledged. “But itstill controls everything outside the ship; are you planning tolive in here indefinitely?”

“No,” he said. “I am going to take back myhome.”

“How?”

“Mis’ Hsing,” he said, “do you think Isurvived this long without learning to take precautions?”

“I know that whatever precautions you took,that piece of gritware seems to have gotten past them and hackedthe whole place.”

“Shinichiro has indeed compromised the familynets. That can be dealt with.”

“How? You can’t shut off access the way youwould for an outside attack; it lives in the net! And it’snot stupid-it must be distributed all through the place, withback-ups everywhere, you can’t just cut its server out of thesystem.”

“Nonetheless, I can deal with it.”

“How?”

“You will see. I dare not be too specific,lest Shinichiro might somehow overhear. Now, can you spare me someclothing? I prefer to be less recognizable.”

I still had no idea what he was up to, but itwas obvious I wasn’t going to talk him out of it. I decided to goalong for the moment.

My spare worksuit was small even forGrandfather Nakada, and he asked whether perhaps Minish Singh mighthave something he could wear. I explained that none of mypassengers had had an opportunity to pack anything, that all threehad come aboard with nothing but what they were wearing-which wasnothing, in my father’s case.

“Then this will have to do,” he said,starting to pull on the garment.

I left the cabin, ostensibly to give him someprivacy, but then headed to the control deck to talk to Perkins,and convince him to get us the hell out of there.

He listened to me calmly, then said, “I’msorry, Mis’ Hsing, but I take my orders from Mis’ Nakada. If hedoesn’t want to go, then we aren’t going.”

“But he’s going to get himself killed!”

“That’s his privilege.”

“Death isn’t a privilege, you blue-eyedfool!”

“I hardly think racial epithets are calledfor, Mis’ Hsing.”

I glared at him, and was about to saysomething else, when the old man came up behind me. He had Singhwith him.

“What’s going on?” Singh asked.

“You are about to earn yourself a lucrativeposition with Nakada Enterprises,” Yoshio told him.

“He is?” I asked.

“He is. And you, Mis’ Hsing, are about toearn your fee and a generous bonus.”

“How?” I asked.

“By serving as my bodyguards while I put anend to this insurrection.”

I looked at Singh. “Has he told you what’sgoing on?”

“No,” Singh said.

“There is a severe software problem,” the oldman said, before I could speak. “I am going to deal with it. Youtwo are going to defend me while I do it.”

“Defend you from what?” Singh asked.

“Floaters, probably,” I said. “Maintenanceequipment, household security systems, that sort of thing.”

“Precisely,” Grandfather Nakada said. “Mis’Hsing has her own weapon, but I believe Captain Perkins can provideyou with a sidearm, Mis’ Singh. The ship will be using its ownarmament, such as it is, to assist us.”

“It will?” Perkins asked.

“The ship has armament?” I asked.

“It does, and it will.”

Perkins and I exchanged glances.

“My personal floater will also be aiding us,as it has not been compromised,” the old man added.

“You’re sure of that?” I said.

“I am.”

“Where are we going?” I asked.

“There is a service tunnel beneath mypersonal apartments.”

“I’m sure there is. So what?”

“I will show you when we get there.”

Again, I looked at the others, but theyseemed just as unenlightened as I was.

“We should go, before Shinichiro can preparefurther defenses.”

I suspected it had all the defenses itneeded, but I didn’t see any point in arguing. I was either goingto go with the old man now, or I was going to quit entirely.

And I didn’t think it was too late to quit.The Shinichiro upload might let me go; I sure didn’t think my oddsof survival were any worse if I told Grandfather Nakada toflush his job.

But I didn’t. I checked to be sure my gun wasloaded and powered up, and then I said, “Let’s go.”

We went.

Singh and I came out the airlock door first,so that the old man would be behind us, harder to see. He had aholofield up to hide his face, but we didn’t think that would foolanyone for long, especially not in the daylight. The sun was low inthe west, but still brighter than I liked; I blinked. A lot.

There were long black shadows stretchingacross the landing field, looking ominous and alien.

The blue-and-silver floater was waiting forus, and the four of us, three humans and the floater, moved downthe ramp in a group.

The cloud of floaters had surrounded theship; now a couple of dozen of them came swooping around tointercept us. I tried to look innocuous, and hoped the others wouldfollow my lead.

“Hold your fire,” the old man whispered.

“Excuse me,” Shinichiro’s voice said from oneof the larger floaters, one with a red-velvet finish and a singlegleaming, copper-colored hand. “Where are you going?”

“Mis’ Nakada ordered us off the ship,” Isaid. “He told us to go to his quarters and wait there. Care topoint us in the right direction?” I kept walking as I spoke; thefloater turned to keep pace with us.

“Mis’ Hsing, your employment is done,” itsaid. “You should leave.”

“Tell the old man,” I said. “It’s his ship,and he ordered us off.”

“Please identify yourselves. I do notrecognize two of you.”

“This is Minish Singh,” I said, pointing aswe walked. “He used to work for Seventh Heaven Neurosurgery. Andthis is Zarathustra Pickens; he was involved in my little quarrelwith your grand-niece Sayuri awhile back.”

The floater’s camera lens swiveled, and thenthe upload said, “Father, that’s very clever. Who am I reallyspeaking to on the ship?”

The old man didn’t answer it; instead hetapped me on the shoulder and said, “Fire. Then run.”

I didn’t need to ask what he meant; I broughtthe HG-2 up, pointed it at the big red floater, and pulled thetrigger.

I hadn’t had a chance to brace for therecoil, and the gun jerked in my hand as it locked on the targetanyway, so it wasn’t pointing quite where I’d expected and Iprobably wouldn’t have been ready anyway. It knocked me off myfeet. I hit the ground as the floater exploded, and kept rolling.I’d shot the thing at close range, and the HG-2 was designed totake out anything you’d find living in a gravity field up to threegees, so I’d expected some shrapnel, but apparently that floaterhad been carrying something combustible. It went off like a bomb,spraying glass and metal and plastic in all directions.

Hell, maybe it was designed to, as adefensive measure.

The blast left me slightly stunned; my earswere ringing and a sort of blurry after-image had me half-blinded.I rolled until I was on my belly, arms guarding my eyes, and I laythere for a moment while my symbiote started repairing thedamage.

When the rattle of falling debris ended Iuncovered my face and looked around.

The explosion had taken out several otherfloaters, but there were still plenty-but as I watched, most of theones nearest the ship made fizzing noises and fell. I didn’t seeanything, but I felt my scalp tighten and the skin on the back ofmy hands crawled, and I guessed it was some sort of electromagneticpulse from Ukiba.

The blue-and-silver one that was supposed tobe on our side was zigzagging, trying to knock away more.

And Singh had scooped up Yoshio and slung himover one shoulder, and he was running toward the door the old manhad aimed us at. He was holding his passenger in place with onehand, and the other was waving the gun Perkins had supplied, but hewasn’t firing. He probably didn’t know how the thing worked.

There was blood on the plastic surface of thelanding field, but I didn’t know whose. The explosion must have cutsomeone up, I thought, but whether it was the old man, or Singh, orme, I couldn’t tell right away.

The surviving floaters, other than ours,seemed to be disorganized at first, drifting about aimlessly, butas I got to my feet they began to reorient themselves, heading forSingh and his burden.

I took a step while I checked my gun, thenbroke into a run, following the others.

Singh batted a small floater aside, butdidn’t use his weapon the way it was meant to be used. I wasgaining on the big man; he wasn’t in great shape and he wascarrying a passenger, which more than compensated for his longerlegs. I could hear him panting, and I could hear the old man sayingsomething, but I couldn’t make out the words.

A big black floater with a golden badgeemblem was approaching-a security bot. Singh wouldn’t be able toswat that one away. I lifted my gun and said, “The blackfloater.” I saw how close to Singh it was, and added, “Minimizecollateral damage.”

I heard the gun whir slightly as it readieditself. Then I squeezed the trigger.

I don’t know exactly what sort of round thegun had selected, but it was a tracer-I saw the red streak as itpunched a neat hole through the center of the security floater.Then I was sitting on my ass again; the HG-2’s recoil was more thanI could handle while running no matter what it fired. I got back upas the black floater hit the ground; it hadn’t just dropped, it hadveered off at an angle, still under power but no longer controlled.It bounced, hit again, then scraped along, twisting over onto oneside.

Singh had reached the door, but it didn’topen until Grandfather Nakada reached around and did something, Icouldn’t see what. Then the comforting glow of artificial lightappeared, gentler and more even than the harsh glare of Eta Cass A,and I ran for it, hobbling slightly-I’d injured my right hipsomehow, probably from landing badly after I fired the gun.

I caught up to Singh about three metersinside the passage, at the top of a metal staircase.

I hadn’t seen a stairway like that in years,and with my hip not wanting to cooperate I was pretty awkwardclambering down; Singh did better, even with the old man on hisshoulder, and at the foot of the steps he set Yoshio back on hisown feet.

I was close enough now to see that Singh hada long cut on his face, from just above his left eye back to hisleft ear; a piece of that red floater must have gouged him there.Grandfather Nakada had several small gashes, as well.

“This way,” the old man said.

I glanced up and saw a line of four floatersapproaching the steps. I started to say something, then saw thatYoshio had spotted them, too.

“Through here,” he said, pointing at a door.Singh hurried over to it.

It didn’t open. He looked for a panel orsensor and didn’t find one, but there was a round metal handle.

“Turn the knob,” the old man said.

Singh turned to look at him as if he’d gonemad; apparently he’d never heard of doorknobs, or maybe he justcouldn’t imagine he was actually seeing one. I pushed past him,grabbed the knob in both hands, and turned.

It turned easily, actually, and I heard amechanism click, but the door still didn’t open.

“Push on it,” Yoshio said, exasperated.

I pushed on the knob, and the door swung openon hinges. The three of us hurried through, and I realized we’dlost our floater. It was probably still upstairs, trying to blockthe entrance.

When we were through the door the old manturned and pushed it shut, then ordered Singh, “Hold it closed.Lean on it.”

Singh nodded, and threw himself against thedoor, pressing his weight onto it.

Yoshio nodded, then beckoned to me. “Thisway,” he said.

I didn’t need directions; we were in acorridor that only went one way, straight ahead. I followed on theold man’s heels.

We stopped in front of a metal panel in onewall. The old man worked a mechanical latch, and the panel swungopen; he reached inside, grabbed a lever, and heaved.

There was a loud clank, and the corridorabruptly went dark, utterly dark. Then there was a series of thuds,not quite like anything I’d ever heard before, marching away intothe distance.

And after that, the sound-I’d never heardanything like it. All the humming and whirring that was alwaysthere, everywhere I ever went, suddenly dropped in pitch and thendied away completely. All of it.

And there we were, in complete blackness andtotal silence, the most absolute silence I ever experienced.

For half a second I thought I might havedied, but then my eyes adjusted, and I saw the glow from theread-outs on the HG-2. I lifted the gun and checked the statusdisplay.

It was perfectly normal. Whatever the old manhad done hadn’t affected my weapon.

“What’s going on?” Singh called from behindus, his voice unsteady. “What did you do?”

“I cut the power,” Yoshio said.

“To what?” I asked.

“To everything. The entire compound.”

I blinked at the darkness and tried to lookaround, but everything was black. I listened, trying to orientmyself, but I couldn’t locate anything. I could hear my ownbreath; I could hear my worksuit rustling when I moved. Ithought I might even be hearing my heartbeat.

My wrist com still worked, though; it ran offmy own body’s energy, not an outside source, and a glance at itshowed a flurry of red alarm signals-the absence of normal datatraffic had upset it. The HG-2 had its own power source, so it wasstill active, as well.

“This is really creepy,” Singh said, and hisvoice seemed very loud in the stillness.

“The floaters will still be functional,” theold man said calmly, “but they will no longer be receiving ordersfrom the household nets.”

“There’s no back-up system?” I asked.

“Of course there is. I shut that down, aswell.”

“You can do that?”

“This entire compound was built to myspecifications; I had this cut-off designed to stopeverything. Those sounds you heard after I threw the switch?Those were relays, shutting down every circuit and system.”

I couldn’t help myself. “Why?” I asked.

Yoshio sighed, the sound unnaturally loud inthe quiet gloom. “When I came here, more than a Terran century ago,there was some doubt about how artificial intelligences wouldevolve. There were concerns that they might someday rebel, orperhaps merely transform themselves in incomprehensible ways. Thiswas derided as a foolish worry, and given the derisive name‘Frankenstein syndrome,’ and I gave it little credence, but at thesame time, I saw no reason not to take precautions. I hadthis breaker, and the system of relays, installed for such aneventuality.”

My symbiote fed me a referent for the name“Frankenstein.” I was a bit surprised something like that was stillin my data banks. The Shinichiro upload didn’t bear any resemblanceto Dr. Frankenstein’s creation, and it wasn’t exactly an evolvedartificial intelligence, but I could see the correlation.

“I guess they were right to be worried,” Isaid. “I mean, here we are.”

“So you shut down all the computers in theentire compound?” Singh asked.

“I shut down the entire power grid,” Nakadareplied grimly.

I had been starting to relax, but at that Itensed up again. “All the power?” I said. “Then how can webreathe?” I finally made the connection with the utter silence.“Nothing’s circulating the air! We’ll smother in here-if wedon’t freeze first. There’s no heat? No light anywhere?”

“Nonsense, Mis’ Hsing. We can functionwithout machines. Our ancestors did not evolve among generators andcircuit boards.”

“They didn’t evolve on this planet, either.This isn’t Earth.”

“Nonetheless, we will not smother. There isplenty of air in this tunnel to live for hours without artificialventilation. We will return to the surface long before we are inany danger of suffocation.”

“But how will we see? How will we… oh,that’s why the doors work like that. And those stairs… you reallydid plan for this.”

“Yes. Though I had not imagined it would bemy own family that turned against me.”

The old man tried to keep his voice even, andmostly succeeded, but I thought I heard bitterness and anger in hiswords. I considered saying something, telling him that the uploadwasn’t really Shinichiro, but I kept my mouth shut-he kneweverything I might say, and I respected him enough not to try totell him what he already knew.

“What about the floaters?” Singhdemanded.

“You have your gun?” Yoshio asked me.

“Of course,” I said, raising it.

“I doubt we will need it; I expect they willbe paralyzed, awaiting orders. Just in case, though, be ready.”

I checked the gun, and told it, “Fourfloaters. Minimize collateral damage.” Then I pointed it andwaited.

“Open the door,” the old man called.

I heard the click of the latch, and the soundof hinges, and then a faint grayish light appeared, and thecorridor walls were visible again. I peered up the passage, whereSingh was a great black shadow against the gray doorway.

There were no floaters in sight.

Cautiously, gun ready, we moved back up thepassage, through the door, and up the stairs, the light growingbrighter with each corner we turned. Finally we emerged back outonto the landing field, where Eta Cass A had dropped below thewestern horizon, but its light still painted the sky in gold andpink almost as bright as the sky above the Trap. The air was alittle chilly, but entirely bearable, even without any artificialclimate control.

The old man’s yacht was ablaze with light, aswell; someone had apparently turned on every emitter aboard. Adsfor the New York were writhing across the hull. And every floaterthat could still fly was hanging motionless in a neat array aroundit, about three meters off the ground.

“It would seem they got new orders,” Isaid.

“Indeed,” Grandfather Nakada said. “Let us goaboard and see if we cannot give them better ones; I have no doubtthere are a great many frightened people in this place, waiting forrescue.”

I started to say something about the manualemergency releases on every door, then stopped. The Nakadas andtheir employees were inside, in rooms that had gone dark and dead,breathing air that was still and silent, with no idea what hadhappened. Most of them wouldn’t think to use the emergency latches;hell, most of them might not know there were emergencylatches, let alone how to use them in the dark. I remembered my ownmoments of near-panic in the service tunnel, and tried to imaginesomething like that happening without any warning at all, strikingme in my own home, a place I thought I was safe.

They were probably terrified.

“Hurry,” I said.