“Probably forcing him to make it work.”
Pav smiled. “Good luck getting Xavier to do anything he doesn’t want to.”
“He doesn’t really look like a fighter,” Yahvi said.
“You don’t have to hit someone to be resistant,” Rachel said. “Every daughter knows that, right?”
Yahvi was pleased to hear Rachel joking. It meant that she was bouncing back from the depressing flight and capture.
Pav was less amused. “He can be as passive-aggressive as he wants; the Reivers will turn him inside out to get what they want.”
Zeds was captive in another building. “He really slammed a couple of the soldiers around,” Pav said.
Rachel turned to him. “Probably giving you ideas, except that he’s twice your size.”
“I didn’t need his encouragement, darling.” To Yahvi, he said, “They might have fired on him, but I think they had orders to take him alive.”
“You know Zeds,” Rachel said. “He only knocked them around enough to show he could. Then he just backed off and said, ‘Where do you wish to incarcerate me?’”
Neither of them had seen Edgely. “He was pretty subdued,” Rachel said. “I don’t think this is turning out to be the adventure he wanted.”
“And Mr. Chang?”
“They shot him,” Pav said. He did not hesitate, Yahvi noticed.
Rachel added, “That’s why your father fought them.”
“Why did they kill him?”
“Does it make a difference?” Rachel said.
“They probably saw him as our ringleader. Also, he’s Chinese. I think the Reivers really hate and fear them.”
Now that the grim and near-grim updates were over, Yahvi realized how tired and sore she was. And still quite uncertain. “So where does that leave us?”
“Prisoners.” Rachel smiled. “I have to face the fact that I’ve totally fucked up this trip. The only thing we’ve done is stay locked up in rooms or airplanes.”
“What did you think you were going to be doing?” Pav said. “Grabbing a gun and shooting Reivers one by one?”
The idea had a certain appeal to Yahvi, even though she’d never held a gun—she’d barely even seen one. “Do either of you know what these things are so upset about?”
Rachel looked at Pav. “You mean, beyond our presence?”
“The cloud in the east. My THE boy said it was bad news for the Reivers. I think it was some kind of accident.”
Pav sat up straighter. “You know—”
“Oh, shit,” Rachel said. “I overheard one of the humans, not in a black suit, say something about an accident and a facility that was critically damaged.” She glanced around and lowered her voice. “The Ring is off that way!”
“It would be nice to think that someone hit our target for us,” Pav said.
Rachel was shaking her head. “The word was accident, not attack. They probably blew some gaskets. And the Reivers never give up; even if the place burned to the ground, they’d build it right back up again.”
“Might take a while.”
Yahvi saw her opportunity now. “We would still like to get inside it, right?”
“Well, yes,” Rachel said. “You know enough to know why.”
“Even though our original plan can’t possibly work,” Pav said. Yahvi knew that her father meant the poison pill strategy.
“What if the Reivers or Aggregates got the idea that the proteus and cargo could help them fix the Ring?” The idea had come to her between two steps as she was marched down the stairs by the Aggregates. She had to assume that their interrogations had told them everything she knew. And even though her parents didn’t think they had been subjected to Reiver Aggregate torture, it was likely it had been so intense that they didn’t remember.
This idea just seemed right.
“Do we want that?” Pav said.
Rachel was already on her feet. Yahvi knew from experience that her mother thought better when in motion. “No! But we do want to get inside the place. I’d rather take the chance we might be bringing them a tool if it puts us in position to wreck the whole thing.
“Now, who wants to be the one to tell them?”
FIRST LIGHT
+17 hours and counting
FIRE LIGHT
09 MAY 2040 0001:00 MDT
COUNTDOWN CLOCK AT SITE A
CARBON-143
SITUATION: The critical anomaly aborting the First Light test required immediate action from all Aggregate formations.
All test data was frozen, then transferred to a new unit that initiated failure analysis.
The vehicles of the invading force remained on standby in Staging Areas 1, 2, and 3.
Since assembly functions were on hold, Aggregate Carbon-143’s formation was one of those tasked with failure analysis.
NARRATIVE: The order to step back from the assembly station and report immediately to central control caused considerable agitation within the A72 formation, not just with Carbon-143. It was too early in the day for a reboot, and the constant stream of admonitions and encouragements that had been flowing up and down the information trees had a residual effect on every unit: This critical work needed to be accomplished now! Why were they interrupting it?
Carbon-143 noted that her own consternation was shared by eight other members of her formation. This was itself an anomalous condition—a promising one, if one believed, as Carbon-143 did, that the rigid unquestioning conformity of Aggregate existence was not the only or best choice.
As she withdrew from the assembly line, she saw Dehm hurrying past. “Hello?” she said, knowing it was risky. (Suppose the rest of her formation continued on to the control center? How would her late arrival be received or explained?)
“You should stay away from me,” he said. Even to Carbon-143’s senses, never especially perceptive with human features and emotions, Dehm looked shaken. “We’re all under suspicion,” he said.
For a moment Carbon-143 lost precise mental function. Any examination of her data use and activities would label her a failed unit, to be followed swiftly by disassembly.
Dehm must have seen some kind of reaction. “Not you,” he said. “Humans. Every human in this fucking place.”
He hurried off.
Having no destination in mind, Carbon-143 followed her formation to the rest place.
UPDATE: Within an hour, a burst of information informed Aggregate Carbon-143 that four human workers had been suspected of failures in the First Light test. These ranged from late warnings of changing weather conditions to improper coding of mirror convergence algorithms.
No sabotage was suspected. Nevertheless, all four humans had been terminated.
Aggregate Carbon-143 accepted this news calmly. She had been given a warning, after all.
Only then did she see the list of terminated humans and the name Randall Dehm.
For several seconds, and the second time in this day, Carbon-143’s processing functions failed to operate at optimum utility.
She accessed the name again, and received unwelcome confirmation.
She even accessed imagery from the termination.
Four humans, two men and two women, all thin, all dressed in similar white T-shirts and khaki trousers, all nervous, stood in a dimly lit cell. The image was fixed, from a security camera, and while it appeared that three Aggregates were present, none from formations with recognizable designations—like punitive units.
Dehm’s last words were, “Fuck you.”
Then he was struck from behind by a bolt of energy, collapsing in a terminal heap.
Carbon-143 broke the link.
Before she could process the experience, she and the entire formation were informed that they were now part of the failure analysis team.