“Tomorrow we inform the board that the Order of Eden has splintered. We have to force the perception that they are not a division of this company and that we didn't fund the development of the Holocaust Virus. Everything has to rest on the Order of Eden and the personnel we brought on from Vindyne. Gather evidence.”
“Most of the evidence eventually points to us.”
“Then destroy it!” The President snapped so harshly that Lowrey flinched. “Have our best people forge evidence to the contrary and then have them killed in some anarchist group bombing! Use our news networks to paint this Order of Eden as a crazed group of zealots!”
“The Order of Eden already owns the Hart News network, the dominant network in those sectors.”
“Then expand our networks!”
“It'll take time sir.”
“If we don't cover this up they'll have us in front of a tribunal so fast legal won't know about it until the verdict is handed down. Hell, the board would probably hand us over themselves to offset any blame. Get on damage control, I'll get ready to present to them in the morning. Maybe we can make a long term war out of this and see our way to a solid profit.”
There it was, the shining light of hope. War would please the board, leading to opportunities for effective propaganda, a profitable manufacturing boom, an increase in military recruitment and most important of all; a way to come out of the situation with his annual bonus intact. Vice President Lowrey sighed and started to put a plan together in his head. “Thank you, mister President.”
“Oh, and one more thing.”
“Yes sir?”
“Buy into the Order of Eden.”
“I will. Should I do the same for you at the same time?”
“I sent my hundred thousand a week ago.”
The Silkstream IV
The paperback novel was an antique, at least in concept, and seldom seen but ever since Jason's psyche advisor told him to start reading plain text to retrain his mind to focus on one task at a time he always had one with him. The act of reading one or two pages at a time, being forced to flip pages, they were all pacing and concentration devices. Old science fiction and fantasy novels were his favourite, with murder mysteries holding a close third place. The more noir and cheesy the more he enjoyed them.
Lacy Campbell was standing in the rain, her bright red silk gown was soaked through. She looked down the sight of her. 35, blinking water out of her eyes and grinned Cheshire like. “Thought you could get away with the brass ring, didn't ya hon?”
The dinner jacket weighed on Carl Smith like a lead blanket. There was no hiding it, so he just stared back, his shoulders drooping like over cooked pasta. It wasn't what he'd pictured when he headed out to the big cityyears before. In Jersey he was small time, the takes were slim and he wanted more. The dock boys didn't cut you in large if your name didn't sound Sicilian. The rackets block to block were worse, so when he headed for the Big Apple, where the big timers played, he thought he might find his way into some big fish's pocket, or some well to do dames' bedroom. The last thing he pictured was this; being held up at the wrong end of his own gun by a tall blond stunner. Boy oh boy, this dame sure isn't from Jersey either. He thought to himself as he eyed her from head to tow. “I'll give it to ya. Just let me walk on outta here.”
“I've seen a lotta men walk out Carl, maybe I'll let ya go out of habit, or maybe I'll just plug ya and find the rock myself.”
He had one chance, and he intended to make good on it. Carl let the big diamond slide down from where he had tucked it into his sleeve and drop into his hand. “Here it is Lacy,” he said as he flicked it towards her.
She pulled the trigger-
The Silkstream IV shook violently and alarms sounded. Jason dropped the paperback and looked at the main status display. It looked perfectly normal. Jason checked the secondary display and caught sight of his command unit. Alarms were sounding there as well, the back of his hand was flashing red, trying to prevent a forced download from the Silkstream.
He folded an artificial flap of skin away from the back of his hand and didn't recognize the names of the files being added. “What is this? Worst fear day?” he muttered to himself as he pulled a tool from the maintenance belt hanging off the other seat. With no hesitation he pressed the end of the energizer against his command console and turned it up to full. “Oz! Get up here!” he called out as he activated the tool. Energy burst into his command and control unit and burned the flesh it was built into. The nerves there were less sensitive, but he kicked his feet and bit his lip at the deep burning sensation as the tattooed circuits fried. “Last time I get that installed,” he said as he shoved the small emitter rod back into the tool belt.
Oz rushed to the cockpit and looked around. “What are you doing?”
“I think there's some kind of software attacking the ship.”
“You had to burn yourself to figure that out?”
“Strange download happening on my command unit, it was already past my security systems, you should take yours off just in case,” he flexed his fingers and was relieved that he hadn't done any nerve damage. The pain was already down to a persistent throb. A high pitched whining filled the cockpit. “Can you check that?” He shouted.
Oz turned and ran into the main cabin as he dropped his own command and control unit on the floor. “It's the hyperspace emitters! They're overheating!”
“What? They're operating at half tolerance!” Jason replied over his shoulder as he tried to access the main computer.
“I have to disconnect the main power lines. Manual cutoff isn't working.” Both the travellers could feel the small ship rumble as Oz activated the emergency deceleration thrusters at full burn.
“Do it! There's something blocking me from accessing main systems.”
Oz waited for the shuttle's speed to reduce below the speed of light, then for a while longer as he listened to the engines roar, wondering if anyone had put such pressure on those systems before. When they had slowed down enough he yanked the main power lines leading to the particle emitters. Energy arced between the couplings and he was once again thankful for the insulation built into his black vacsuit.
Outside the cockpit window the distortion from hyperspace travel and simultaneous wormhole travel dissipated and Jason saw nothing but stars.
“Okay, looks like we're in the clear. The power plant shows normal. It was outputting between four and five times what the emitters could handle,” he said as he walked up to the cockpit. “Good thing particle dispersion was equal or we would have been torn to shreds. Any luck with the computer?”
“I managed to restrict the AI from main systems, good thing too. It was after life support.”
“What? Is that some kind of security backup?”
“No, our AI is infected. Do you have any kind of AI on your command and control unit?”
“Just a predictive filter, I don't play well with artificials.”
“A good thing too. This is some kind of virus that nests in the emotional center of artificial intelligences. Good thing the AI was an afterthought on the Silkstream. Our hyperspace emitters are blown though.”
“That'll slow us down some.”
“About an eighth the speed, maybe less. We'll never make it in time to rendezvous with the Triton. ”
“Where did we pick up the virus?”
Jason looked for it in the transmission logs and found it. “It's from the Enreega system.”
“It chose a good time to rear its ugly head.”
“Well, that's just the thing. This virus is different, it sort of convinces an AI that it's an improvement to its software and starts making modifications, but if there's no AI the virus doesn't have anything to do and it just waits for the opportunity to transmit itself to another system.”