Aquagorgon

Chapter 1

Blood cell receptor sites are very small. The robotic android attached to this one was substantially smaller than the blood cell it was riding on. It wasn’t riding idly, or on vacation. It was sent to do a very specific job. Its only function was to prevent the invasion of others like itself.

Sub-cellular nanobots had been around for centuries. They’d cured a wide variety of illnesses and wiped out various threatening viruses. They’d killed off other bacterial species too numerous to mention, even some unknown to human creators. But this nanobot was directed to do ONE thing. Its single-minded focus was to detect and eliminate enemy nanobots. And lately it had been busy.

Benton Howard owned and operated the single most productive nanorobotics firm in the Solar system. Howard Industries produced every variety of nanobots, but their primary focus was in developmental electronics -- robots that mapped and manufactured electronic circuits on a very small scale. They could also detect circuit breakages and repair them.

The nanobots in Benton’s body were specially made by the bioelectronics division, and were the latest model anti-invasives. Generally they floated around Benton’s body attempting to sense nano-robotic byproducts. Some bots used benzene, or hydrazine as a power source. But biological invasives had to derive their power from sources readily available in the human host. And when they took their power, they invariably left something behind. The bot on this particular cell had been unable to detect the newest attack. Someone had design a new version of the invasive nanobot. The invaders used cutting edge materials, and sophisticated techniques to mask themselves. These bots derived their energy the same way the human body did. They would have plenty of fuel. The usual signatures did not occur to provide Benton’s system with any warning.

These new enemy bots were good, their mission two-fold, a complex mission when dealing with mere molecules. Their first mission was to wipe out the protective anti-invasives. Once that had been completed, their job was to kill the host. It might take days or weeks. But it would happen.

The protective bot in question, riding its blood cell, now traversing a lower extremity, had still not detected the enemy, but it had instead detected a blood-borne message, chemical signature from another bot that had detected the attack.

The nandroid protector was better than average, the best even. It read the messages indicating the impending threat and sent out its own molecular messages to spread the word to its co-protectors. With heightened sensitivity it set about recording the process of the attack. Foreign bodies in the blood were catalogued as well as a continuous analysis of naturally occurring substances. The collected data was recorded as a string of silicon nodules typically excreted through the urine. Individual strands of information might easily be caught inside a single cell, never making it out of the body. But the defending bots would print off hundreds or thousands of the little tags, like a storm of beneficial spam across the web.

In addition to the warning system it would use the information it received to attempt to self-design, construct and utilize new receptor platforms to detect and attach to the invading mechanisms. It would continue to record its messages, and continue to send them, and could pass on clues to the next nanobot in the chain. The population of nanobots could gradually mutate an improved response, slowing the rate of spread of an invading bot or biologic organism possibly even curing the host.

But homeostasis never required just one such microbiological event to alter it forever. Instead it relied on statistics. Hopefully enough nanobots sent enough messages that enough would be excreted that at least one would be detected and retrieved while the host still lived. A response team might obtain and examine the infiltrator to derive its origin and a tactic for combating it.

In this case that would never happen.

The host bot had recorded and sent messages many times before being identified by an enemy bot. The bad guy was different from any the good guy had ever seen before, which had made it all the more difficult to detect. The enemy had found the friendly, and then systematically filled all its receptor plates with ionized reactive goo, one molecule at a time. It didn’t actually destroy the poor thing, but it prevented it from ever functioning again. The advantage of leaving it intact and encased was that the protector would not go missing and raise any alerts. Thus the invaders could complete their initial work before starting their second mission.

But the invaders couldn’t remove the silicon threads from the blood stream. And the history of this attack might still someday come to light.

The battle raged on, incessant in Benton’s bloodstream. Gradually the invaders conquered the last of the defending nanobots. As they circulated throughout his body, destroying the functions of the last of the bots, they also collected Potassium ions. The surface of each invader could attach to as many as fifty individual ions for later delivery. And they were nearing the stage when they’d need them.

The chemical signal traces of the attack faded and each attacker migrated to the site of the next operation. Like an armada, they flowed into and around Benton’s heart. In minutes all were inside targeted tissue and prepared to culminate their vicious mission. But they waited. Even now, if they attacked too soon, help might arrive in time to save this man. So, they waited. They lingered, dormant, awaiting the chemical pattern progression indicating sleep. They did not have to wait long.

Almost simultaneously they self-destructed. Each bot disassembled into compounds that could not be traced, and this included the release of all the collected potassium ions.

Normally potassium is regulated by the kidneys. They can collect and eliminate potassium in gradual amounts, excreting it in the urine like the silicon messages created only hours earlier. But in large amounts, potassium promotes the electrical firing of the cells that cause the heart to beat. In this case there was enough to cause nearly instantaneous heart failure. The first cells to misfire caused a barely detectable signal to travel through Benton’s body in the form of his erratic pulse. Erratic enough to auto-activate his Ai companion AiHelix.

Before three abnormal beats of Benton’s heart, AiHelix had alerted an emergency medical squad to report to Benton’s quarters. Ai signal alarms were going off in Benton’s head and he began to regain consciousness. Barely aware that something was wrong, he could not move. Realizing his risks, Benton simply relaxed, and closed his eyes, prepared for what was about to come. And the bots continued releasing their elemental agent of death.

In the next few beats of Benton’s slowly failing heart, AiHelix had attempted communication with Benton’s onboard nano-protectors. This would go on for hours, but to no avail. All but a few of the protectors were frozen, incapacitated by the hatred of a man they would never see and the machines he had spawned for just this attack.

But along with AiHelix’s attempts at communication, AiHelix activated every recording channel built into Benton’s skull. Every thought, every sensation of these last moments was being recorded via multiple sensory channels. And if Benton lasted only a few more minutes, much more could be recorded as well. About then the last of the bots released their potassium.

Benton did not have minutes. On the eighth beat since the bombots had popped, his heart went into an unrecoverable fibrillation. The blood in his body ceased to flow, and Benton began to die.

The response team was quick. They had drilled for such a response many times, and they were the best. As they arrived in his quarters, AiHelix turned on all the lights and opened all the doors facilitating their quickest possible entry. Still, two minutes is a long time to be dead. Nonetheless, the techs began CPR, they intubated him and began breathing for him. His body tried to respond, but the fibrillation continued unabated. Benton would die. The techs had little doubt of this. But they proceeded as ordered. The blood flowed, and eventually the O2 content began to rise again, making metabolism a possibility again. Then began the slow process of refrigeration, dropping Benton’s body temperature to just below 31 degrees Celsius. AiHelix continued to work as well. The techs didn’t know what he was doing, but he too had orders to fulfill in this circumstance.

Benton’s body was collected, still undergoing treatment of various kinds. He was stabilized and transported to the Habitat medical facilities at point one G. Here his body would continue to function at a base and unconscious level as doctors attempted to both save him and/or ascertain his cause of death. Machines would keep his body functioning like this for many days. It was fruitless of course, for all purposes save one. After ten days Benton Howard’s body underwent cryogenic preparation and subsequent freezing. His body would be kept in storage for up to one year depending on the wishes of his heir.

***

Janus Howard had not been surprised to learn of his uncle’s death. He was after all nearly three hundred years old. No one would have guessed he’d die of heart failure. Janus was not the only one who thought there might have been foul play, but no evidence could be found.

No public evidence that is.

Also suspicious was Habitat’s security chief Adam Haywood. Chief Haywood stood one point nine meters in normal gravity. He seemed taller somehow in zero G. He was one of the few on Habitat to have a tan. His short cropped dark hair gave him the serious look his job demanded. And his attitude was serious too. He was a professional who knew his job, and he hated having unsolved crimes in his files.

Chief Haywood had begun his career in security as a Downland guard for Howard Industries. His exemplary success in the North American division supported his quick rise through the ranks there, including additional training reserved for only the very best. Subsequently he’d been transferred to the Antarctic labs to run immigration security there. It was during his stint down south that he obtained his degrees in engineering and biology. Benton Howard had arranged this opportunity. Adam’s aptitude scores had indicated a potential that few people could accept at face value. Adam’s skin had been very dark brown, and his tribal tattoos gave away the dark side of his past life in the Americas. Benton had expected the best from Adam, and Adam had not disappointed. His dual degrees were completed in just over six years while also working full time in immigration.

Some companies would view an asset like Adam as something to covet and cherish. A product to use, and maybe abuse. Benton Howard did not run his companies that way. In Benton’s view, human assets are always short lived. No one person should have the right to limit or monopolize the gifts of another. He suggested Adam lead the security service for the Antarctic operation despite recommendations to the contrary from his Downland managers. Again, Adam had not disappointed. His success at this level had been impressive, but short-lived. He trained his underlings to excel, as Benton would have himself. He trained them so well they were able to do most of his job. It was just two more years until Benton suggested that Adam Haywood move on, that his skills would be better valued somewhere else. Somewhere like Habitat.

Most humans in space were pasty white. Spacers weren’t white by choice, and white did not imply Caucasian. Racial differentiation among the middle and upper classes had been virtually eliminated hundreds of years earlier until everyone was light brown. Regardless of heredity, lack of intense sunlight meant everyone in space tended toward the pallid appearance.

But the poorest of people on earth were still segregated from the general populations around the world. They weren’t starving anymore, like they had during the famine years. And they weren’t displaced anymore, like they had been when sea level rose faster than predicted, but they did not have the higher education or worth to justify moving into space. They fulfilled other goals on Earth like terraforming the deserts and farming the oceans, constructing the islands that floated on the oceans, and building towers that would someday reach clear into space.

Adam Haywood had stepped beyond his destiny and had entered space as a dark skinned man unique on the Habitat station. This gave him an edge. This huge dark man gave the average spacer pause, so he had excelled in his post as Habitat chief of security. He no longer worked for Benton, but neither did they share any animosity.

Janus had arrived from Downland only ten days after his uncle’s death. He had suspected the scope of his inheritance, though Benton had been cryptic about just how much there was. It would be some time before Janus fully grasped what all Benton had invested in, and why. It might be many years before he could fully take advantage of it. That is, if the vultures didn’t take advantage of the situation first.

Upon his arrival Janus had navigated to Benton’s private quarters. He’d been there before, but it had taken seven days to acclimate to the rigors of microgravity and coriolis. This time it only took five days to shake the incessant dizziness and to recall how to alter one’s movement depending on the simulated gravity on that level of the station. He knew he’d be moving slowly for a few days, and his uncle’s attendants were never far away in case he needed anything. So it was that Ally Sexton had escorted him to his uncle’s bedroom, the scene of the possible crime.

The bed was large, as were the quarters in general. Not overly large by Earth standards perhaps, but extravagant by any spacer standards. Even the director of Habitat did not have the luxuries included here. The walls were covered in burlwood, stained reddish, as much of Benton’s home and office were. The effect was somewhat Earthy. The expense was extraordinary. Shipping wood from Earth was illegalized a few hundred years prior, so the monetary value of these panels alone was staggering. There was also wood flooring all throughout the quarters, wooden cabinets in the living spaces, carved wooden artifacts everywhere. Benton had once said it symbolized a return to Earthly values as well as a sense of power, bringing Earth into space.

Janus turned to Ally, How long did you work for my uncle?

Ally was very polite, "My parents worked for a Howard Industries subsidiary on the Asteroid Belt. I was four when my father was injured and the company had us relocated here.

So you grew up here?

Yes, and when I graduated, the company paid for my education here. Officially the company. My mother intimated that Benton Howard was our benefactor, but she was never really clear about it.

And they both still live and work here, right?

That’s right. My father works in the very low G labs and Mother runs recycling and greenhouse production. But Father is on temporary duty on an L4A59.

Temporary duty?

Yes. Mr. Howard sent him to supervise final hollowing and preparation for zero G lab use. The mineral content was exhausted, and often such asteroids provide shells suitable for habitation. L4A59 has a solid shell and mostly empty center. Mr. Howard purchased the futures for its use as an enclosed labosphere. Father is completing the sealing and habitation installation.

If Benton had sent him, it was likely there was more being installed than just habitation. What are your thoughts on my uncle’s death?

I’m not really qualified to have an opinion on it…

Sure you are. You knew him better than most, I’d bet. I’m sure you have your impressions of what happened when he died just prior.

Well, Mr. Howard. I guess I think there must have been something threatening in his work. Threatening enough for someone to want him dead.

Any idea what kind of something? Or who might have felt threatened at that level?

She thought a moment. No. It’s difficult. Most of his duties were managerial, so his business contracts will proceed on track even without him to supervise. His personal contacts were mostly congenial, so, it’s a bit of a mystery who might want him dead. Perhaps some sort of Terran political group?

Janus continued examining the personal effects in the bedroom. Yes, I got much the same evaluation from Chief Haywood. The Chief seems very skilled, but a bit standoffish.

Many people think that of him. He’s an imposing figure by any measure.

He wasn’t sure, but he thought he heard a tone of appreciation. Do you know him well?

She was thoughtful again. By Earth standards I’d say yes, I think so. Up here though? There aren’t many opportunities for privacy. I’ve heard it said that spacers are much like a big family.

He’d heard that before, but he suspected there was more. His gaze continued around the premises. Let’s leave everything as is for a few weeks. You never know what might happen.

Yes sir. Will you be undergoing implantation soon? She was referencing the installation and transfer of Benton Howard’s personal Ai, AiHelix.

I’ve been told to wait a few weeks for that as well. Something about final disconnect from my uncle’s brain systems. I’ll be speaking to AiHelix out loud for the time-being.

Very well. Is there anything else I can do for you Mr. Howard?

No Ally. Thank you for your time.

Of course Mr. Howard. Please have AiHelix page me at any time if you need something. Also, my parents both send their condolences.

He was lost in thought as she exited the compartment.

It was easy to believe that someone wanted his uncle dead. He’d upset many people with his business dealings. He flaunted orbital financial benefits, circumventing the limitations of research on Earth.

And Benton was competitive. With OraCom especially. Malcolm Koch could have a hand in this, or maybe both hands. Malcolm detested Benton, both for his beliefs and his business sense. But murder?

Perhaps a radical arm of the world government had finally had enough. Or, as unlikely as it was, perhaps Benton had mysteriously died a natural death.

In any case, Janus was in for a long ride. He had some idea of the variety of Benton’s business dealings both on Earth and in Solar orbit. He wasn’t privy yet to the extent of dealings beyond the Solar system. But did he really want to fill his uncle’s shoes? He’d been groomed for just that, but he had his own interests as well. Besides, he wanted to make his own mark in the universe, not just perpetuate someone else’s legacy.

And he disagreed with so many of Benton’s policies. Benton was decidedly prejudiced against Downlanders. Like most spacers. He had told Janus once, Those ignorant bastards should stay on their little ball of god-forsaken dirt until they either die, or wizen up. This seemed strange coming from a man born on Earth. And Janus didn’t share the view. Nonetheless, he’d be implementing the policies his uncle had put in place, at least for time being.

On the other hand, Benton Howard had pursued deep space exploration to an extent beyond anything imaginable by Earthlings. Instant communication and FTL drives had provided an opportunity for nearly infinite expansion, if you could stomach the adventure. He’d always told Janus that even as a youngster he could tell that Janus was destined for something beyond Earth.

What held Janus’ attention most, though, was the mysterious project that Benton was most lately involved in. It could provide a motive for murder. No one seemed to be fully versed in the exact nature of this secret project. What had his uncle intended to do? And who would benefit from the project’s demise?

Chapter 2

Polly was led into Malcolm Koch’s office by his secretary Bonnie. Mr. Koch will see you now. He was the executive director of OraCom. He stood and greeted her, shaking her hand politely. He was darkly tanned and bald. It was a stark contrast to her loose black hair and atypically blanched face. Good morning Polly. Pleasant to see you again.

And you sir. She hid her nervousness well.

I understand your experiments have been going quite well?

Yes sir. Mapping is underway on the last major cognitive center. I expect we’ll be done with it in a few days. Of course he knew all this. There was probably very little he didn’t know. But then again, he was a very busy man.

I was sorry to hear about your father last year. How have you been coping?

He and I weren’t very close, so, it hasn’t been too difficult. I’ve tried to make sure it hasn’t interfered with my work schedule. She was concerned a bit, wondering what this was about. Meetings in this office tended to end either very well or very badly.

Yes, you’ve done quite well. We’re very pleased with your work. I’m sure you know Alexi Potofsky? He indicated she should sit, and he followed suit.

Yes, of course. He and I started at about the same time. We’re both graduates of Carnegie Mellon. Ok, now she was intrigued.

That’s right. Both up and coming scientists. Both very promising. We were lucky to contract you both. And we had a hard time deciding which projects to put you on. You’re both qualified to be section leaders in your own right. So, we did our best in assigning you the way we did. As I remember, your adjustments to the cellular emulators allowed very quick progression toward completion of the Cognitive Mapping Project. It’s proved indispensable in the treatment of brain damage and sclerotic conditions. Isn’t that right?

Yes, but the work wasn’t all mine. I just provided direction to the team that was already close to attaining those levels of performance.

I think you are being modest Miss Bergen. Much too modest.

He was acting fairly formal. It boded well, she hoped. Well, I’m glad in any case, to be part of such a successful project.

We’re all glad of that too. Quick successes usually translate into big profits, and further advances. Without your adjustments we’d be years away from mapping the cognitive centers. As it stands the CMP is almost complete after only four years. You might say that puts you near the top of a short list of very successful group leaders. He let the praise sink in a bit then continued. And the benefits are not only biological. The Digital Cognition Division has already integrated some of your discoveries and improved processing substantially.

Thank you sir. I hope we can continue to produce similar results as we complete the project.

That’s why I’ve called you here, of course. I know, as we all do, that the mapping project is of monumental importance. It will begin a new era of cognitive science with some unknown implications, much as the genome project did in the last millennia. I’m sure you’re very excited.

Yes sir, of course. To be the lead on such a project has been quite an honor.

And you’ll receive due credit when it’s completed. I assure you. However, I have some concerns I hope you can help me with.

Uh oh, she thought, here it comes.

I’m familiar with your assistant lead. Very capable woman. You worked well together. Are you satisfied with her performance?

What the hell was he getting at? Yes. Very satisfied. She’s a real team leader. Helps keep everyone focused. On track. Is there some kind of problem?

With her? No. I just want to verify my own feelings on the matter. It’s my feeling she can continue the project without you. That she can lead the team to completion of the mapping project on her own? Do you agree?

Are you firing me? What on Earth could she have done wrong?

"No, on the contrary. I need your help. But, before I ask, I need to know, are you a team player? In the corporate sense of the word I mean?"

Of course I am. I’ve never done anything to jeopardize the company, or any of its projects.

Yes, yes, I know. Please, don’t be offended. What I’m getting at is, even given the somewhat blurred lines in the nature of our projects, you’ve always seemed to plow ahead. Do you ever have qualms about working in these, shall we say, complicated areas?

"You mean illegal don’t you?"

Well, yes, in some areas we feel the law impinges on our research a bit too far. It forces us to do things differently. More carefully. Or in places which make the research more difficult, like here in our Antarctic labs.

Polly thought for a moment before answering, I’ve always felt the same way, or I could not have kept working here. I trust my legal interests are covered by company policy?

Definitely. Should any questionable behavior on your part come to public light you’ll have the best representation. But, it brings us to our current problem.

Which is? She couldn’t decide whether she was pissed or just curious. Why couldn’t he just get to the fucking