Somewhere critical seemed to be snuggled up against the Amaranth Station reactor, or so Draben told the interrogators. Halting by the door Blegg waited a moment.
‘Nothing connected to the door,’ EC assured him.
He opened the door and entered, scanning the room. The reactor cube, five yards on each side, sat in the middle of the room amidst a tangle of cooling pipes and heavy power cables. Control consoles lined one wall, and gratings had been pulled up from the floor when this place was searched earlier.
‘The detonator is solid-state, activated by timer and gravity switch.’
Blegg walked in, studying that part of the reactor where steam pipes exited towards the generators next door. There—beside the pipes. No wonder the earlier searchers did not find it. The bomb appeared to be a pressure and stress analyser bolted across the point where the pipes exited the reactor. He climbed nearby steps up to a catwalk and walked along until standing beside the explosive device.
‘How long have I got?’
‘Four minutes—not long enough to deactivate it.’
Blegg considered that. Running here had been an almost instinctive reaction. He should have transferred himself through U-space to give himself more time. But, then, would another couple of minutes have made any difference? He placed his hand on the bomb. ‘A gravity switch and a timer, you say? Nothing else linked to its attachment to the pipes?’
‘So Draben just told his interrogator, and he seems less inclined to lie now. One moment…’ The AI fell silent for a while, then returned with, ‘It is secured by four bolts. You require a socket drive, which you will find in a toolchest below the catwalk.’
Blegg quickly returned below, found the toolchest and flipped it open. The socket driver, a gun-shaped object with a tool-head that could adjust to fit any bolt, lay amidst a well-used collection of old-style spanners. Ominous, that. He hoped whoever used the device kept it well charged and did not have to resort to the spanners too often. He picked it up and pressed the trigger — seemed okay—and returned to the catwalk. Closing the driver on the first bolt he hoped Draben was not lying. The bolt spun out easily, as did the second and third.
Placing the driver over the fourth bolt Blegg concentrated on his breathing and instilled calm within himself. The gravity switch meant he must keep the bomb to its present orientation. He clamped a hand against it and spun out the last bolt. Discarding the driver behind him, he then carefully eased the bomb away from the pipes.
‘How long?’
‘Two minutes.’
Blegg checked his watch. It would have been nice to be able to transfer himself and the device far from here, but neither gravity nor orientation applied in U-space, so such a transference might trip the switch. Amaranth would be safe; he would cease to exist. He turned slowly and walked along the catwalk to the steps, his martial training enabling him to move smoothly and evenly. Negotiating the steps was more difficult, but he reached the floor safely.
‘You need to get at least two hundred yards from the reactor,’
EC informed him. ‘Outside the door, turn to your left and keep walking. The area has been evacuated.’
The door was latched. Blegg pressed the bomb against the wall to keep it upright, opened the door and held it open with his foot as he entered the corridor beyond. His mouth dry, he continued that sliding walk.
‘How long, how far?’ he eventually asked.
‘Just keep going—I will tell you when to put it down.’
Trust Earth Central?
He checked his watch again. Thirty seconds more and he would put the damned thing down anyway and get out of there. Slowly the digits counted down.
‘Carefully place the bomb on the floor,’ EC told him, only seconds before he intended to anyway.
He squatted, followed instructions. The thing looked precarious propped up against the wall. Standing, he immediately opened that doorway that he, the only human being, could open. The bomb detonated shortly afterwards blowing a hole in the side of the station. No humans died.
Survival.
Thellant’s mind worked with a clarity he had never before experienced. The substructure now cut through the bedrock, from where Coloron’s forces had contained it, and was rapidly spreading through the rest of the arcology. Those people it now subsumed he could control completely, but he left them to some already established program integral to the Jain technology, which made them attack others to either kill or subsume them. Whether they managed to or not did not really concern him. Only the chaos they created really helped, for in the end he knew he could not win here. He was powerful, and potentially able to control this entire arcology, its population, even the whole planet, but that presupposed he would be left alone to achieve such control. Thellant knew the AIs would not allow the substructure to spread beyond this place, no matter the cost. Though it was part of him, because he retained much physical and mental integrity it was a part he could sacrifice and grow again elsewhere. He did not intend to be in this vicinity when the AIs incinerated the arcology.
Peering from the wreckage, Thellant observed the landscape of cooling rock and molten metal at the bottom of the trench. Looking through the substructure now rising in wall cavities, and spreading along ducts, optics and power lines on the other side, he saw Coloron’s forces pulling back—they knew their enemy to be out of containment now. For every ten yards gain he lost five yards to proton fire, but with hand weapons they could not destroy everything the substructure occupied.
What’s this?
A humanoid he first took to be an ophidapt grabbed a questing tentacle and shoved back the soldier it was originally groping for. The tentacle proceeded to inject nanofilaments into the reptilian body. The humanoid should have been instantly paralysed. Instead it fired a proton weapon into the wall, frying the substructure from which the tentacle extruded, then it flung down the severed tentacle and incinerated that too. Thellant focused intently on a recording of this event—replayed from one of the many computers spread throughout the Jain architecture like grains of salt. He discerned that Jain nanofilaments had instantly come under attack, managing to penetrate no more than the upper layers of the reptilian’s skin. In fact some kind of viral assault shot back up them, paralysing the structure in the wall just instants before the… Thellant consulted other sources… before the dracoman incinerated it. So, not just Polity AIs—he must contend with these things as well.
‘Thellant.’
What, what now?
The source of that flat voice disappeared even as he groped for it. Perhaps some program injected from that dracoman, now propagating back? Gone now, yes. But it was also time for Thellant to disappear. The area opposite him was secure for him now. He stepped into the open and headed across the bottom of the trench. The Jain substructure they might be able to hold back, but he intended to slip past.
On the other side he passed the black pit of a mineshaft plummeting down into the bedrock. Spilling out of this, like silver worms, were foot-wide peristaltic pipes issuing from the robotic boring machines far below. Some of these pipes were split open, spilling slurries of powdered haematite, bauxite and malachite. All of them entered a pumping machine, and from that normal pipes of half the diameter ran down one side of a maglev tunnel spearing into darkness. Parked in the mouth of the tunnel, a boring machine lay like some massive steel grub with a cylindrical head overly endowed with teeth. Thellant walked past this and on into the tunnel’s darkness. All around him via the substructure he observed further disquieting scenes.