‘Nearly fried us,’ Vulture observed.
Crane even acknowledged that too, with another tilt of his head. However, as taciturn as Crane appeared towards Vulture, he had certainly been speaking to someone. Though the Golem’s earlier reply to Vulture’s question, ‘Are you still in contact with ECS?’ had been ambiguous, Crane certainly could not have managed such recent feats without Earth Central’s help. However, Vulture felt that there must be more to it than that. Certainly, the Polity AIs, knowing Crane’s intention of going after Erebus for killing the hybrids, would have been prepared to give him any assistance that did not interfere with their own plans, but there were still discrepancies to explain.
ECS had definitely helped Crane get to the location of this ship, the Harpy. Equally, ECS could have given the location of the crashed wormship — the one that killed the hybrids — and it could have given the location of the wormships in the Caldera system too. However, Vulture had a bit of a problem with how Crane had then managed to destroy all those ships. Crane must have known there was a weakness to be exploited, but one that ECS simply could not have been aware of, therefore the brass Golem must have obtained the information elsewhere. Vulture preferred to believe that explanation rather than the alternative — which was that Crane had somehow returned to a previous state and once again fallen through the booby hatch. And now it was time to find out for sure.
As the Harpy travelled through U-space, Vulture next asked, ‘We going anywhere speciAI?’ The coordinates, according to his library, were of a small scattering of asteroids deep in interstellar space and fifteen light years from the nearest star, and, unless there was something else there that Vulture did not know about, the asteroids would be a poor place to hide from the pursuing wormships.
Crane’s response was typicaclass="underline" he silently took out his toys and placed them neatly on the console before him.
‘Are ECS warships waiting there?’ Vulture tried.
The briefest twitch of Crane’s head maybe indicated a negative.
Keeping half an eye on the brass Golem, Vulture began to submerge more fully into the Jain-infected systems of Harpy and the legate craft. He sampled snatches of the code flowing all about him and studied how things were working here. Soon he realized that though some improvements had been made to Harpy’s systems, especially to its chameleonware, the Jain network did not interfere unnecessarily, except through primacy. On the whole it ran in parallel with Harpy’s hardware. That meant Crane could take over whenever he wanted. Sending a few test diagnostics, Vulture found he himself could use parts of that parallel network and he began to look for recorded data, soon finding tens of thousands of caches distributed throughout the Jain substructure.
Some of these sources contained information that was open to analysis. The easiest stuff was visual files and schematics, which Vulture studied avidly. Here a schematic of a wormship segment, there a visual file that had to be part of a virtual model. But it was hopeless. All this stuff could have come from the legate craft, and it neither proved nor disproved whether Crane had been in direct contact with some other entity. Then, out of vast complexity and seemingly endless data horizons, a simple vocal communication:
‘Well, I would guess you’re looking for me?’
‘Who are you?’ Vulture asked, meanwhile running traces to find the source of this voice.
‘I’m Fiddler Randal,’ came the reply.
Vulture traced it back to one particular data store, but even as he accessed that source, its contents began to copy themselves elsewhere.
‘You’re a virus,’ the AI observed.
‘Quite right — but of a kind quite fatal to Erebus.’
‘You supplied Mr Crane with information about the weaknesses underlying Erebus’s attack on the Caldera system?’
‘Certainly,’ Randal replied.
‘I take it that the coordinates we’re now heading to were supplied by you as well?’
‘Correct.’
‘So Crane trusts you now because the information you supplied before was verified?’
‘He’s a trusting sort of soul.’
‘I don’t think so.’
‘Then maybe he more fully understands the technology I now inhabit than do I. Few manage that, but maybe he can because he is a product of a technically evolved civilization, and in addition because he was supplied with a version of Jain-tech devoid of all its traps.’
‘From Dragon.’
‘Precisely.’
‘But what do you mean by product?’
‘As you are well aware, Jain nodes do not react to artificial intelligences. What is the difference between such intelligences and their naturally evolved creators?’
‘There are many differences.’
‘Let me rephrase the question: how, on an informational level, do you distinguish the two?’
‘Top down and bottom up,’ Vulture replied.
‘Exactly,’ said Randal. ‘Humans and others of their like have evolved moderately logical thought processes through natural selection. Their logic is a skin over chaos. The machine mind is built with pure logic from the bottom up. Therefore machines have to pretend to own that same chaos, so they model it, hence human emulation in Golem.’
Vulture wondered where the hell all this was leading. It seemed insane to be having a debate like this while being pursued by two homicidal wormships.
‘Okay,’ he said, ‘so you’ve established that there is an identifiable difference, though I would argue that the rules of natural selection still apply in the realms of artificial intelligence, though faster. It is argued by some that AIs like myself are simply posthumans. But let’s move on now.’
‘Jain technology does not react to AIs, because it was biased that way by its makers: the Jain AIs. Perhaps they decided that evolved intelligences needed to be cleared out of the way so that the products of those messy organic intelligences — AIs — could get on with ruling the universe.’
‘Products like Erebus?’ Vulture suggested.
‘Erebus is flawed.’
Vulture quickly replayed the conversation and realized that, interesting as it all was, it didn’t really explain much.
‘So you gave Mr Crane information enabling him to wipe out fifty of Erebus’s wormships — a mere fly speck. And now you’ve given him coordinates. Why?’
‘Chameleonware.’
‘Explain.’
‘Another version of myself contacted someone else who, hopefully, by now has fashioned or obtained the means to rub out more than mere fly specks. However, to be successful, she will need the latest chameleonware format and recognition codes that Erebus is using.’
‘Hopefully?’ echoed Vulture, then, reviewing what had just been said, added, ‘We don’t possess that ‘ware and those codes now. It’s all changed.’
‘But the ships pursuing you do.’
Vulture considered how, now he was an integral part of the Harpy, an escape pod would be of no use to him at all.
‘She?’ he queried.
‘Her name is Orlandine, and she controls Jain technology supplied to her directly by Erebus.’
‘But she is no AI.’
‘She was, however, a rare product of evolution sufficiently intelligent to take apart a Jain node while avoiding all its traps.’
‘And I’m supposed to believe this.’
‘Whether you believe it or not is irrelevant, as Mr Crane believes it.’
And there it was really. Vulture could not change their destination. He must trust a virus, a Golem android of questionable sanity and, should he ever survive the wormships, a Jain-infested human. Vulture wasn’t at all optimistic about the outcome of all this.