16 - We Can Be Unlimited
The Wreath; Below Hept Two-East
Udeav Minor
Colonial Space
Midnight
One week later.
Ketumat's best had hung onto their ride-on submersibles as long as they could.
The repurposed watercraft weren't reliable even in ideal conditions. And, without proper technicians overseeing their use, even testing the little bastards had been downright dangerous. Rao Timoteus had warned his volunteers that there was a significant chance that they could all have drowned before even reaching their target.
Fortunately for them, Timo had estimated the distance about as well as he could have.
Forty-seven kilometers from the icy baywater of Aramyr, the closest landmass to the wreath. The pieces of shit they rode on were rated to fifty, but the platform had run out of battery about ten minutes earlier, a one-way journey into the gray swells on the frigid corners of Udeav's great sea.
And a long backstroke. Timo chastised himself, his chest still pounding from the journey.
He was glad to have demanded strong swimmers; as they'd tread the last two kilometers on their backs, bagged gear corded to each scout dragged in tow. Some of the earlier 'applicants' for this mission had lied, and Dalia had 'screened' them herself in the drainage reservoir behind the ranch.
It was fortunate, really. The well-meaning liars would have jeopardized the mission, as they'd have been dead twenty minutes ago. As usual, the snow-white cat's stubborn insistence had paid off. He collected himself.
Six scouts, all accounted for. Timo noted, staggering warm breaths into his cupped, numbed hands. A couple scouts lay on their backs, panting, chattering and rubbing their sore muscles on the first level underdecking. The occasional ice-cold wave commingled among them, shocking them closer to readiness.
Now, they rallied on a floating wave-breaking extrusion on the base of the wreath. The textured rubber lattice of swaying panels offered some grip, but it was clear they hadn't been intended to support more than the occasional maintenance foot traffic. Every errant step soaked the scout's frozen feet further.
They'd not been spotted yet; a miracle to say the least. The dual-drone patrol had just passed, and they weren't monitoring the fishing lanes they'd taken in. Two sublevel camera's monitoring their ascent path had been dealt mortal blows moments earlier. One from a six-millimeter carbine Timo had now ditched into the seas. The other from a dangling microtorch on one of Rao Zeouna's old pocket drones.
Timoteus and Dalia were the only ones standing. Both strained their stiff necks, heads lifted and surveying the convex, metallic behemoth before them. The young Rao pulled a laser rangefinder clipped to his gear and aimed it at the summit.
East Hept Two. Timo determined, recognizing they were only slightly off course. Roughly opposite of the main landing bay on the two Western hepts. Lower than average manning, a reasonably climbable grade.
The wolf depressed the ranging key firmly with his thumb, the tip of which was still trembling from the cold. Near-instantly, the infrared beam bounced back.
Two hundred fifteen meters. Taller than the estimates, but not too tall. Timoteus thought, hesitating to consider himself overly lucky just yet. This was the easy part.
As expected, the rest of the scouts started moving on their own, no orders required. Yuki, a jet-black felid, cracked open one of their buoyant cases they'd dragged ashore and handed a modified grenade launcher to her section's leader, Fitzgerald. The two grunted and grimaced as they heaved the modified charge and hookline into its grooved barrel, a tight-fit. The duo then prepared their clip-on automatic climb-assistance harness to the accompanying two-hundred fifty meter rope line
Timoteus had used these before with Rao Zeouna. The harnesses wouldn't carry them up, but it would make the ascent feel more akin to a briskly weighted jog once the hook was tensioned properly.
Rao Timoteus approached the unnatural cliffside first. It was his duty to lead, and the wolf had no intention of sending someone else up top before him. So without further delay, he clipped his rigbelt onto the harness and readied himself.
With a quick approving glance from the Wolf, Fitzy pulled the safety-pin on his modified line-launcher. He aimed it skyward, zeroing its sighting gradient for two-hundred and fifty meters. Give or take.
Timo lay on his back, the heels of his feet planted against the eighty-five degree wall in front of him as seawater permeated the decking and sent chills up his spine. His knees were already shaking with hypothermic adrenaline, and his shallow, staggered breathing soon joined the now-routine symphony of anxiousness.
Before anyone could say anything, there was the hollering resound of a foghorn from the top of the hept. It blew in three deafening, staccato blasts, echoing down the canyon. Timo bumped the back of his head on the rubberized surface in shock.
Dalia trudged across to the edge of the rubber outcropping and studied the horizon. She was taken aback as the floating platforms they stood on fell a few meters with the waterline.
Timoteus felt it too, as he felt his heels slide lower off the side.
Waterline receding.
After a few moments, she turned back to the group, her yellow eyes wide with panicked realization.
"Rogue Wave!" She screamed to the group, clamoring back to her own gear.
"We need to move, Now!"
Time was always of the essence, but only now did Timoteus feel the clock ticking.
The soaked wolf slammed his head back and witnessed a ten meter swell on the edge of the horizon quickly grow to twenty meters as it rebounded. The scouts went to work. The zipping sound of ropes tying and the bare-metal clanging of steel clips indicated everyone knew it was time to go.
Fitzy depressed the trigger on his target. A compressed charge detonated from the tubular launcher, sending the belted line and hook aloft in a black spiral
On his back, Timo watched the nylon line ascend against gravity. He saw the braids of nylon unfurl and straighten-out as they fell. If anyone was up top, they would hear the clanging of metal as the four sided hook caught and wrapped-round the fencing. They'd be searching for answers. Timoteus had no intention of leaving them waiting.
Fitzgerald's aim and estimate was true, and the nylon assembly landed beyond the fencing. The squad's auto-rappeler did the rest, as it rocketed the line to the proper degree of tautness; catching the hook on its intended target.
Timo didn't wait for a word, he let the sudden grip on his boot's soles do the thinking for him.
I want this. He thought, as the shivering doubts in his mind quieted.
With unlimited resolve, Timoteus leapt forward and began sprinting up the side of the Wreath. It was jarring at first. His rucksack dangled beneath him. The blood poured out of his head and extremities as he ran. The mechanical assistance pulled him up the slick surface so hard he could barely keep his balance. A not-so-delicate balancing act; If he leaned too far forward, he'd smash himself teeth-first into the side. Too far back, and he'd crack his skull.
The foghorn sounded in triplet again as the rest of the party clipped in. The rogue wave was approaching three klicks now, and would scatter anyone left behind to death on the aluminum behemoth.
One-hundred meters up, his heart pounded and his lungs burned, but he didn't stop or look back. The rappeler kept him balanced as best it could, but if he tripped it would stop everyone behind him. He focused on what mattered.
Keep fucking going! He thought, slamming his way up the line. His fury was provoked by every additional step.
Below him, Dalia had just finished rigging her own two bring-alongs and their gear up. She tapped her last man; a canid mutt named Tucker, and sent him charging as fifth-in-line for the squad. After, she unzipped the last duffle and began to configure her own rappeler.
The see-through plastic container opened. Everything was what it seemed at first.
She was thorough. Always was. Never skipping an inspection where one was needed. Dalia quickly realized she drew the short straw. The white-furred cat gawked as the flywheel whirred uselessly on her harness; the arrestor gear was stripped.
Death. The incoming breaker was now at least forty meters in height.
Rao Timoteus was nearing the top and could see the hook wrapped around the lower outrigging of the quad-barred safety fence lining the edge. Though Fitzy had hit the perfect mark, it would take precious time to reach the summit. That's all the lead time an alert sentry or drone would need. His options were to take it slow and potentially lose the last scout on the line or rush into the top and risk being killed immediately. To his personal shame, he committed to the former.
Second luck of the day; he was glad he had. Below the summit, gasping for air as quietly as he could stifle himself, he listened for a moment; and was greeted to a vibratic series of sensory sensations.
It wasn't directly above him, maybe a little off his right shoulder. He heard a set of footsteps, a zipper, before the strong scent of cigarette smoke and a steady stream of urine wafted his way. He didn't ruminate on his exhaustion or disgust for long; he felt the rope tussle about as Yuki barrelled up right behind him.
Another fog horn sounded right as the massive rogue swell slammed into the lower decks. The freezing violence below them crashed into the Wreath. Seafoam curled its way to Timo's altitude, as cream-coloured bubbles floated down around him. Timo moved, there were other lives at stake.
I can't wait. I want this!
He sidled right, gripping the concrete as hard as he could in free climb. He bouldered until he saw leg. Remorselessly, Timo pulled himself half-up, greeting the wide-eyed canine with his blade; a single stab to his upper thigh. The larger wolf used all his might to drag the vikrmen in by the foot. The Vikrmen yelped and clawed at the decking fruitlessly. Timo pulled himself over, managing to remove and apply the serrated knife directly to the terrified animal's throat.
Yuki completed her own summit just before Timoteus drew his knife across the animal's neck.
The man gasped once, dying, but Yuki wordlessly ensured he was dead before carelessly pushing him two-hundred meters into the sea.
Timoteus and Yuki each took a corner, hoping he had a minute before someone realized their friend was missing. There wasn't much services activity on this heptwall; just bare security and drone launch facilities mid-shift change.
One-by-one, the others rose. Two scouts and Fitzgerald plummeted over the railing, unclipped and slammed prone on the decking. Their waterproof kit in duffel bags up five seconds later.
Everyone except Dalia.
Fitzy had been the last, and immediately looked over the edge, distraught at how still the line behind him had been during his climb.
"Can you see her?" Timo yelled, trying to get the cat to take a lower profile.
"Where's Dalia?!"
He didn't answer with words, instead looking back to Timo with nothing more than a look of agonized exasperation. All he saw was a nylon line to the sea and some bags strewn about.
"Cut it!" Yuki yelled to her superior over the roar of the raging seas, "She's gone! Any second longer and we'll be seen!"
Fitzy's eyes went black before rejecting the advice. "I can't leave her!"
Fitzgerald leapt forward and started pulling on the line, using his legs and back to heave his comrade up from the depths. Timo joined in seconds later, barking orders at Yuki to regain some semblance of control.
"We're not cutting it!" Timo screamed with a furious grunt. "Guardhouse one is yours now. Step up! Go, now!"
Between pulls, Timoteus signaled toward the two-man patrol emerging from the security box one-hundred meters down the Hept. On Smoke-break.
Yuki nodded, sending herself and Dalia's surplus scouts to do butcher's work. They could handle whatever was in this Hept's security box without two tired, grieving animals slowing them down.
Fitzgerald and Timoteus hauled their comrade's body up as fast as they could. Timo prayed his friend was among the living, but he knew Fitzy would be devastated. Timo knew they were close.
As for Dalia; it turned out she'd been the luckiest of them all.
"I can see her!" Fitzy exclaimed, a twisted laugh indicating his mood improved. "She's moving!"
Timo peered over. The tough cat had been rattled against the decking, nearly drowned and was probably freezing hypothermic; but, she was wriggling uselessly on her harness! Alive!
Upon seeing this, Timoteus fell onto his backside and bellowed out an exhausted sigh of relief. He pulled his wetsuit's sleeve back to check his watchmount PDA.
Here they stood. Exhausted, freezing, and stranded in the heart of his enemies. But, ten minutes ahead of schedule.
He looked to the sky to witness the gathered moons. He pleasantly greeted all three, a traditional omen of good luck for some. As for Timo, he only hallowed one in particular; Kivi.
Dalia was pulled over the edge, emitting an alien, guttural groan. It was a mix of relief, realized terror, and dread for the coming hours. Fitzy probably had a dozen one-liners he could have belted-out, but he ignored them all. He pulled his counterpart off her line, unclipped her harness and held onto her tightly.
"You're good," the gray cat said. "We got you."
All alive. Timo thought. The third miracle of the day.
The Wreath; Subterráneo
Udeav Minor
Colonial Space
Midnight
Jonny Huynh was always terrified to be down here.
The cavern echoed with the patter of each puddle he stepped in.
Everytime he took the lift this far down he was reminded of it. This tunnel, carved into the rocks beneath silicate and sediment, was seemingly like all the rest. No facade. No bullshit. Just a sturdy deck suspended by laser-bored beams through slick igneous caverock. The occasional droplets and accumulated pools of seawater weren't reassuring on its watertightness.
The context of his fear was justified. Here was over three-thousand meters below sea level.
Here was what some of the Katinian work crew aptly declared Subterránio; the vast web of maintenance shafts and inspection corridors for the Wreath's many anchors into Udeav's crust. Although, calling them 'corridors' was being generous. They were mostly caves lit dimly by sparse incandescent sconces mounted along rudimentary walkways.
He tried not to think about it. At this depth, exposure to the water would reduce him to a grinded-up slurry of monkey meat in nanoseconds. But, in the safety of the air-pockets built on his employee's backs, he was subjected to only a modest increase in air pressure. Some nasal blockage and windedness. During construction, engineers assured him the layers of face-hardened steel and rock would hold; they even broke down the math for him. But, it never made Jonny feel any safer.
No sooner than these remnant terrors occurred to him, there was a very gentle quake beneath his feet. Some tiny, wet pebbles bounced off his forehead. Tremors in the mantle. Normal, too, they'd claimed. Jonny shuddered.
I just wish it'd stop rumbling so often. He thought, as the green orb he knew as Zekial authenticated his entry into the Wreath's most unassuming area. The hexagonal, watertight door opened in a star-like pattern and he was greeted with harsh white light.
Jonny's secret.
Well, Neurlink's secret.
Research, experiments and the initial production; all completed here. No organic witnesses other than himself and-
"-Sir!" A chipper voice immediately called out as he entered, breaking the simian from his thoughts. "We didn't expect to see you down here this late in the evening."
Jonny nodded and smiled, before traversing the pure white plastic tile and entering the bird's sterile lab environment.
Doctor Elias, the sole breathing occupant of Jonny's production line, was ever comfortable in loneliness. A golden-feathered avian, he stood before Jonny in his midnight best; well-worn medical scrubs and a lab coat. He was electrically grounded to the table, of course.
The bird's puzzling use of we referred to his small army of self-maintaining virtual assistants. He couldn't do it all. There were quantum calculations to be made that know animal-input model could process; so he merely guided his VI compute-banks to train other VI's for him; a cross-Lylat banned research method. Too much bias, they'd said; training a virtual intelligence to find solutions to a limited consideration of problems in an artificial way.
The single conductor to Huynh's NeurLink Symphony placed his tablet PDA on the steel-lined table. He kept it all running, an army of virtual Intelligence's chained together to respond and calculate the birds incredible, and unorthodox, breakthroughs.
Despite the avian's self-imposed isolation, he always appeared to be so happy, Jonny Huynh noted. Unencumbered.
The dodgy ethics of Elias' work on applied consciousness may have resulted in his million-credit grant being yanked away by the Cornerian science academy, but for Jonny that was just pocket change. So, the tycoon fished the desperate boffin out of the gutter; an unrepentant scientist back in the lab. When the emergent Huynh first noticed Elias' penchant for cold observation; he knew he'd found the right animal for the right moment.
"It's morning," The monkey corrected. "You know I don't sleep well lately, Elias. And, you know I don't trust anyone who can."
The simian approached from behind and slapped the yellow-feathered bird on his right shoulder. A compliment, though he seemed to shudder at the first animal contact he'd had in weeks.
A canary in a coal mine. Jonny mused to himself, unsure of the meaning of that arcane phrase that had popped into his mind. Maybe it was the whispers again. He shuddered again.
Things hadn't always been so solitary down here.
There were the dig teams, of course. And, Elias had helpers and colleagues once, but his belligerent annoyance at their sloth and frivolous sociality had seen them all depart. The rest of his companions had resigned, one-by-one.
Perhaps, Jonny thought while manipulating a silicone NeurLink implant chip off the table, it was the stress and pressure that got to each one. It was easy to get lost in the magnanimity of their discovery.
He fingered the two-by-two centimeter plate, admiring its refined simplicity.
Self-sabotage was forgivable, Jonny reckoned. Terror in the realization of their achievement. Their minuteness in the new order. A hollowness to those captive to their ego.
What was less forgivable was their desire to speak out about what they'd seen, heard and felt. This would not do. The discovery itself had its own implications of privacy that had to be rigorously enforced; permanently. So, they ceased to exist. Entombed by the very intelligence that had captivated them.
Unbeknownst to him, Jonny's eyes had dwelled back on the meter-thick vault door beyond the distant transaluminum 'glass' antechamber's canopy.
Ground Zero. Tungsten, the whole damn containment area. The only thing that held back the whispers.
Doctor Elias noted Jonny's non-scientific display of emotion and couldn't resist but opine.
"The integrity of the specimen has not been compromised by our tests," he advised a bit haughtily. "I expect it has reduced itself into a sort of stasis. A power-saving state."
The bird laughed briskly. "It's harmless!"
Jonny couldn't help but laugh alongside his co-producer; a mechanism to cope. Elias in his classic coldness. Downplaying their discovery to a simple 'specimen'. A cold shiver running up his spine. There was a reason they'd cordoned off this whole area and labeled it as a drainage outlet in the architectural plans.
There were none left from the original dig crew: All dead, vegetated, or otherwise reduced to an indecipherable, babbling madness. The second didn't fare much better, but had to be culled on the good doctor's orders anyway.
Jonny hadn't prayed a day in his life, but nearly chanted to the Lords, Ladies and all Else that there would be no more mistakes. Not at that scale.
Three living beings and a small army of VI assistants were all that knew. Himself, the good doctor and, of course, Vauquelin.
Vauqs. The initial discoverer. The last, elusive co-conspirator. He had wanted to destroy it. To blot it out! Jonny had barely snatched that idiotic idea from the jaws of defeat. The fool hadn't blabbed about it yet, but he would if threatened directly.
So. Soon it would just be two. The shrewd simian thought, remembering that the wretch's wick was flickering shorter everyday. Jonny's entire chest of useful tools was hard at work unraveling the elusive fraud's many cover stories and hiding spots. All unknowingly, no less; Distracted by thwarting Jean-Starkly's folly.
Vauquelin wouldn't have Vikr's ear for much longer. Only a rage-blinded Jean-Starkly. And once that was done? Well, what was one more, isolated, mistake?
Doctor Elias stepped into his view, waking Jonny Hunyh from his internal monologue.
"So. As you specified, we have the fifty samples ready for the demo. Forty without implant, and ten with for those brave enough."
Jonny nodded as a formality. He'd read the memo five times over the moment it had been sent.
"Inspired," Jonny corrected. "Inspired enough."
"We delivered them to the media booth this morning," The bird stated proudly. "Checked, re-checked. Under lock, key and guard."
"Excellent," Jonny said. The boredom in his tone made the young doctor's head tilt with curiosity. The purpose of his benefactor's visit was clearly something more than mere congratulations.
"How many extra pairs do you have?" Jonny asked.
The bird's eye twitched. He hated surprises. Had it been anyone else he might have lost his feathers at the suggestion of deviating from carefully laid plans.
"Mr. Huynh," The tech started with trepidation, butchering the surname's pronunciation. Nails on chalkboard.
"Jonny," The monkey insisted, "Continue to call me Jonny, please."
"Jonny," Elias resumes uncomfortably. "Given the newness of our field, wouldn't keeping the assigned test groups intact be the politically… safest course of action?"
"It is safe," Jonny imposed, more forcefully than intended.
"Undoubtedly! Of course!" The Bird recoiled.
While exuding wrath over his cohort was never Jonny's intention; it was convenient to get to the point.
"I only meant that small minds aren't ready for it," Elias confessed. It was the valid opinion of a thrice spurned visionary, and his passion shined through. "The technology is beyond reproach. We have fail safes for theoretical problems that aren't even possible yet!"
"We can't sit on this forever," Jonny said. "You said it yourself Doc. The whole point of this is evolution. To end suffering. All of it."
Jonny walked toward the atrium, facing the very synaptic revolution's source. Superpositional relativity unlocked. He turned his white-tufted head to his captive prodigy.
"To transcend."
He beamed at Doctor Elias, who always seemed to be impressed with Jonny's ability to ad-hoc confidence.
"You're ready. It's ready!" Jonny admired. "Your place in history is already written. Doctor Elias, you'll live long after people say 'Jonny who?'"
"You made this happen. Let me carry you to the next phase."
Birds couldn't blush, but Elias looked as inspired as Jonny had ever seen him.
"I couldn't have done any of this without your generosity," Elias said.
"Imagine, please," Jonny replied. "No one ever needs to say those horrible words you just said to me ever again."
Jonny marched back to the table and held up the silicon implant at Elias' eye level, shaking it for intonation.
"We've evolved past the need for charity. We don't need the generosity of a few rich men."
"It was just money. You've made something beautiful," Jonny complimented. "I understand why you're scared, but…"
"Evolution isn't made in a laboratory."
They were both quiet for a moment, the hum of the VI databanks beyond two climate-sealed doorways was all that filled the air. Jonny let it all sink in before explaining further.
"We can be unlimited."
"Only, we need to try."
It was a declaration, an honest one. Though it served a purpose, Jonny had been truthful throughout his entire rant. Elias wasn't a mark; maybe he was the closest thing Jonny had to a real friend.
"I only need the one," Jonny reassured, his hard-sell complete, "An implantless pair, no less."
The bird sighed, but seemed to soften. What was one more?
"Who did you have in mind?" The bird asked, waving his secured tablet awake.
"A special guest of mine," Jonny explained. "Send a memo to event staff and have her seated in the media booth."
"I see," The bird noted in his PDA. "I'm going to add her to the full demo."
"No, no. I'd like to show her around myself," Jonny insisted.
The bird's eyebrows raised and a crescendo of joy overwhelmed him
"Beta test?" He asked.
"You know it."
He could barely contain himself, and began to type furiously.
"Name?"
Jonny thought their first conversation had gone well. She was everything he'd hoped she'd been. There was no need to be unrealistic; she would likely never be interested in Jonny. It was worth the effort. What he hoped for was a miracle.
Maybe this was their moment. Where she would see his worth.
He stared at the tungsten vault once more. Wondering if there was anyone listening beyond the vacuum sealed double-carapass. It had been awhile since he'd heard its whispers.
"Jana McCloud."