Kate’s “What the hell is that?” ripped me out of my reverie, and when I opened my eyes I immediately understood it. We were nearing the fortress and on top of the west wing was a big lump. It took me a moment to identify it.
“Ah, it seems we have found the Owl. I wouldn’t have thought that a grav ship can land on a building.” Too bad Ernie had to make trouble, or he could have gotten his ship back right this minute.
Then we drove into the garage. As we were moving into the group area I stopped Kate for a moment.
“Do you want to come with me when I get back to Walker?”
She looked at me for a moment and then asked back: “Do you want me to?”
“Yes, I would like that very much. I… still don’t fully trust them yet. Way too much that can go wrong.”
She nodded. “In that case, yes, I will come with you.”
That eased my mood considerably. “Thank you. You probably can’t understand what that means to me.”
When we entered the mess room only Christine was present, and I made a beeline toward the synthesizer. Christine called me: “Hey, Red. We have a problem.” Of course, that sentence made me flinch, and I felt a sudden urge to punch something, anything. I slowly turned toward her and sighed.
“Please tell me it is nothing serious.” She had a serious expression.
“That depends on your definition of serious. One of the slaves…” She visibly struggled for the right words.
“When we asked her what she would do if we removed the collar she told us she would kill herself. We don’t know what to do.”
That felt like a hit in the stomach. I had hoped that none of them turned violent, that we could help them. Now that…
While I frantically thought about a solution that was not forthcoming I turned to Kate, the Synthesizer, Christine again, and finally to the door.
“Damn. I so don’t have time for something like this now. We can’t… shit… I can’t concentrate on that at this moment. I have to be back at the clinic in 40 minutes.”
With that, I turned back to the synthesizer.
“We can talk later about it, but right now I have to run just to stand still. Kate, do you want something?” The last part I called back over my shoulder.
“No, I make something for myself when you are done. I have more time.” Too true that. I made myself a pretty generic sandwich. Even with all the different flavoring choices this stuff still tasted all the same. The underlying algae paste could maybe be prodded into different textures, consistencies and forms, but the taste… no comment. At least it was nourishing. At time I would have to organize real food.
With the sandwich in hand I moved toward the lab. There I found Darren collaring one of the slavers.
“Hey, Veronica, we have a…” I interrupted him. “Yes, I know, but I don’t have any time right now. I have to get back to Walker in less than 40 minutes.”
I sat down at one of the consoles and began to sort out the programming, schemata, and recipes for nanites and their various medical applications I had, first by generation then by capabilities. At the same time, I send a bot to fetch my nano fab, some empty OPB-drives, had the computer here download the memory of Frankel’s nano fab and wrote a step-by-step manual for Nicolins’ nano therapy on my cranial board, occasionally taking a bite. When the bot arrived with my nano fab I jumped up and had it placed in the utility room of the lab, where I also found Frankel’s fab. I reviewed the download of Frankel’s recipes, while I supervised the bot set up my fab. When my fab was operational I loaded the design for the most versatile nanites I had and started a production run for half a liter of them. That should be enough for three or four weeks. At the same time, I cleared the memory of Frankel’s fab and reinstalled the basic operating system. Then I had the bot dismount it. It was obvious that I would need to bring the material tanks too, so I called another two bots, to help bring the whole system to the van.
Then I rushed out towards the console, and incidentally, my half-eaten sandwich, only to find my way partly blocked. The others, including five of the six slaves and exclusive Kate, were standing there.
“Hey, Veronica, what got your panties in a twist?”
I ignored Mark’s taunt and moved through them to the console.
“No time. Have to rush. Will talk later.” With that, I dived back into the sorting. Now that I had seen what type I had to work with, I reduced the recipes to what the fab could handle, which was sadly not particularly much. After a - very - short contemplation I decided to reduce the lower end too, and have Dr. Schaeffer concentrate on the optimal nanites he could make. I finally finished the manual and send it over to the console, while the bots began moving the fab out of the utility room. While I searched for the user manual of Frankel’s fab somebody exclaimed:
“Hey, what is that?” Without turning around I answered: “That is Frankel’s nano fab.”
Exclamations sounded behind me, as apparently a nano fab really was something special.
I felt a hand on my shoulder.
“Hey, what are you doing with it?” “I will give it to Benjamin Walker's doctor so that he can use it in his clinic.” I grabbed one of the OPB sticks and copied the user manual and recipes onto it. I decided to use another stick for the manual and recipe for Nicolins’ therapy to make it easy to find, even if I wasted nearly four EB doing so, as I found out I had not told the bot to bring me the smallest drives and so it had brought me two of my biggest. Two 64TB sticks would have been more than enough, but I just did not have the time.
I was rather rude turned around, and saw Darren standing above me.
“What do you mean you will give it to Walker's doctor? Do you have any idea what a nano fab is worth?”
I shook my head.
“Honestly? No. But I assume the price is rather inflated. And will be falling hard in the months to come.”
I tried to turn back to the console, but he kept me pointed towards the others.
“Did it not occur to you that one of us might have wanted it?”
What about ‘No time’ did they not understand?
“It is a piece of crap. The only reason I am giving it to Doc Schaeffer and not just scrapping it is that he has none. If one of you wants a nano fab then I will make him or her one as soon as I have made the tools to do so. But for now, I need the space for my nano fab that is six generations newer. And now, as I already told you, I don’t have time now.” I shoved his hand away and turned back to the console. The data was transferred and I inserted the other stick to copy the Nicolins-therapy.
At the same time, I ordered another four dozen bots. A look at the watch showed me that I had just enough time to release the building pressure and then had to move out again.
After I took booth sticks and grabbed a handful of wrist controllers, I nearly walked into the solid wall of the others, who looked rather bewildered.
I suppressed a sigh.
“Ok, short version, I have the opportunity to show Walker what I can do, and in the process save his life. That in turn will make our position here quite secure. But this opportunity is time-sensitive because Walker is dying from CRS. Any minute could be his last until I can get the therapy to him. The rest we will talk about later, as I don’t have time!” I shoved through between Natalie and Christine and run towards the WC, and a few minutes later to the garage. There I found Kate watching the bots secure the last of the load into the van.
“I take it we won’t use the sedan this time?”
“Yup, you got it. We need to deliver this nano fab.” I jumped into the passenger seat of the van, with Kate taking the driver’s seat.
The drive back to Walker’s HQ was no different than the other two drives, except that this time we stopped in front of the clinic.
I took the ½l bottle of nanites in my hand and entered the building, where doc Schaeffer already awaited me.
“Ah, there you are. Are those the nanites for the therapy?” He waved towards the bottle.
I nodded and continued towards him.
“Yes. It should be enough for three, maybe four weeks. I did not have time to set precise parameters yet.” I gave him the bottle.
“If you have some strong men, I have the old nano fab in a van outside. Just don’t expect me to carry it.”
He was looking at the clear liquid inside the bottle with an obvious sense of wonder. Then he looked at me.
“So we don’t really need for you to provide the nanites, right?”
I shook my head and gave a sad smile.
“I would strongly suggest that you use these nanites for the therapy. The nano fab I’m giving you is better than nothing, but it is still only a 2nd gen and not an especially good one at that. It can make you 3rd gen and a few of the simpler 4th gen nanites. What you are holding in your hand are 12th gen nanites. If you use the nanites you can make yourself now for the therapy it will probably reduce the effectiveness of it by 75% or more.”
That shook him up.
“Your fab is so much superior? Would it then not be better to place your fab here?” I had to chuckle at that.
“Depends how you see it. For you and your clinic, it may be better, but honestly, for Mr. Walker, it would be disastrous. I need at least 10th gen nanites for the bio-sheathing to work. Using anything less than 12th gen would increase the time needed for the adaption extensively.” I shook my head a bit. “Also, to be frank, it is my nano fab. I build it myself. And I have an aversion against giving away things I see as mine.” Then I smiled at him.
“Don’t worry! As soon as I can I will build you an 8th gen fab like mine. But for that, I would have to ask for some remuneration. Not as much as a nano fab apparently costs here, but it will still not be cheap. This one is on the house so to speak. Seems to me that if you are fast enough you can sell the 2nd gen for most of the price I would take for the 8th gen. Unless, of course, if somebody spills the beans I can build them. But time is a bit pressing. Would you call Mr. Walker so that we can begin, please?”
“He never left here. I have sedated him a bit more, or he would have gone through the roof.” He laughed a bit.
“You got him spooked. Well, at least he listens now. Before, he just was going on until he dropped.”
That made sense. With only weeks to live and virtually no chance of survival, why bother with going slow?
I followed Schaeffer to the examination room. Walker as well as a few of his bodyguards were there.
I sat down opposite him and studied his appearance. He looked beat, and a bit out of it, but he focused on me immediately.
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“You know that we did not finish the negotiations, right?” Oops.
“Oh… you are right. Sorry, that was totally derailed.” Damn… I hoped that this would not bite me in the behind.
“We can continue now. Good for you that I was the one who derailed it.” I was tempted to continue now, oh how was I tempted. But I decided that in the long run, I would be better off if I did not abuse the situation.
“I am sorry, but I think you are not in a condition to continue negotiations. You are drugged and I am working at saving your life. I fear that if we negotiate now it could sour any relationship we might build later.” I thought a moment.
“How about I pay you a normal tribute for me and my people until I replace your heart and you are out of immediate danger? We can negotiate then.”
He nodded, slowly, before he answered. “You seem to have thought about everything, huh? What if I don’t make it? You thought about that?”
I sighed. “Of course, I have thought about that. It is a distinct possibility. But in that case any negotiations with you are moot anyway. And frankly, with what Dr. Schaeffer knows about your condition if I only manage to keep you alive for four or five weeks I will have proven my worth. Not as much as if I manage to save you but still.”
Then I had to grin.
“You have also to consider that if I manage to fix you that your predisposition towards me will likely be quite a bit more favorable than today.”
That brought a grin to his face too. “Yes, I think that is a logical expectation. You planned on this?”
“Not really possible. Until two hours ago I had no idea you have CRS. But I won’t waste an opportunity like that if I can help it. Now, please accept that I have no idea what an adequate tribute is, so if I lowball it, it’s not intentional or an attempt to insult you. How is 1000 per month and person? Plus 5k for the business?” He thought for a moment and then nodded.
“Until this situation is resolved either way that’s all right. We will negotiate further if I survive this.”
He held out his hand, and I gripped it.
“Now, not to make any pressure, but in your condition any minute is valuable, so we should start the therapy.”
I stood up and turned toward Dr. Schaeffer.
“We need a treatment room with a big console, so I can show you what to look out for.”
Then I turned back to Walker.
“It would be better for you if we knock you out. For the first 30 to 90 minutes every movement is bad.”
He let out a small laugh.
“You can be really bossy, you know that Kitten?”
Kitten? It took me a moment to process what just happened.
“Uh… Kitten?”
He showed a toothy grin.
“Yeah, you are tiny, cute and look quite cuddly. But your tiny teeth and claws are really sharp.”
What the… where did that come from? Cuddly? CUDDLY? And where did he get the idea that my claws were tiny? I think I stood nearly a minute there dumbfounded and watching him grin. Then I got it. Apparently, he was really doped up. I looked at the grinning bodyguards, the equally smiling Dr. Schaeffer and then let my head hang down.
Seems I had just gotten a new nickname. I hoped to hell it would not stick.
“Whatever...!” I snorted disgusted.”We need to get going.”
“No comment on your new name?” He was slowly getting on my nerves.
“Yes, that we should anesthetize you rather sooner than later. Doc, if you would lead us to a treatment room please?” They finally got onto their feet and we all moved out of the office.
On the way Dr. Schaeffer waved me to his side.
“I have to ask, why do we need to put him under?”
“Do you want the short version or the long version?”
He thought for a moment.
“The long version I think. I have to understand why in the future.” At least he was planning ahead.
“Ok, then here's the question. What do you know about nanites?”
He struggled for a moment and then answered me. “They are really small robots that can manipulate things on the molecular level?”
“Mostly correct. The most important point is, that they are measured in nanometers. People had a pretty hard time engineering an energy source and a control system small enough that it fits there. 3rd gen nanites like you can make now has enough internal energy to work for roughly 20 minutes. It has enough processor capacity to either move or use its manipulator, and it has enough memory to keep 10 to 12 instructions. Pretty damn useless in other words. It is also more or less blind as a bat. It has no idea where it is, much less how to get where it needs to be.”
We reached a door and Schaeffer directed us through it. I took one of the wrist controllers out of my pocket and with a: ”One moment” turned towards Walker.
“Here, that will be your constant companion for the next few months. You will wear it if you are working, eating sleeping or showering. Do not under any circumstances take this off. Do you understand?”
He hesitantly took the controller.
“A credled? I already have one. And it works just fine.”
“It was a credled. It has been discovered that these things are optimal for controlling nanites inside a body. The only change one has to make is replacing the OS with another one.”
I looked at Dr. Schaeffer.
“That OS and the tool to install it are on one of the sticks I gave you.”
I returned my attention back to Walker.
The display will tell you if something needs to be corrected. If it is green, everything is all right. Yellow means the nanites need something. What they need will be written on the display. You can either eat it or have it injected. Red means something is wrong, contact me at your earliest convenience.
Blinking red means sending a skimmer to get me. Understood?” He nodded. I looked at the assembled bodyguards. “That is also important for you. He might not notice it blinking. Or ignore it. When you or your colleagues see this display turn red speak up immediately. It can be a matter of minutes if that happens.” I saw several grim expressions and decided that meant they understood.
“OK, that out of the way, where were we?” I thought a moment.
“Ah right, nanites are pretty limited. There are several ways to work around it. They tried it with a big external controller and near-field communication. Problem was that you need a couple of million of these little buggers and any identifier that made the individual nanites capable of receiving orders was so complicated that it left nearly no free memory available for instructions. Also, it did nothing to solve the power and navigation issue.”
I motioned Walker onto the couch.
“They tried it with beamed power. That worked to a small extent. And they got the idea to solve the navigation issue by providing three modulated power beams. The problem was that the subject had to remain motionless for the whole time, and the power beams slowly cooked it. They tried to solve the issue with the nanites harvesting the needed energy out of the blood that surrounded them, but to get enough energy to make this worthwhile the nanites had to get at least an order of magnitude bigger. So much less useful.”
While I prepared the console, Walker put on the controller on his right wrist.
“They tried to solve the control issue by building so-called queen nanites with a much-increased memory and processor to do the thinking for the workers. That worked relatively well, but the queens were, again, bigger by an order of magnitude. Then some genius got the idea to create nav points in the subject to get the navigation issue out of the way.”
Just the OPB cable from the console to the controller and I was ready.
“That worked great, but the other two issues were still bad until they combined the queens into the nav points and build a charging station into it. The stations or depots as they are called are actually visible under the magnifying glass if your eyes are good enough, but they do all the C³ work. So since 3rd generation nanites the first thing they do is set up a depot network. For that the recipient has to remain as motionless as possible so that the nav system can set up properly.”
I turned to Dr. Schaeffer.
“You can put him under now, Doc. And then it will take an hour, plus minus 30 minutes. It is critical that the patient is under medical supervision during that time. The depots should not make any problems, but they have the annoying tendency to set up in… unsuitable places. Most often that is not really critical, as the damage can be easily repaired. But sometimes they insist on setting up in a nerve cluster that, for example, controls the breathing or something like that. Or inside an important nerve fiber.”
I watched while Dr. Schaeffer narcotized Walker, and then prepared the nanites set up. I called up the scan results and then calculated the needed nanites per dose. Hm, 46ml per dose, that was on the upper end of what I guessed. Well, three weeks of nanites were enough for the beginning.
I filled an auto-injector with the doubled dose he would need the first time, and then waited for Walker to be knocked out. Then I held out the injector to Dr. Schaeffer.
“Do you want the honor? This is the initial dose, of 92ml. He needs 46ml every two days.”
He looked at the injector for a moment before taking it.
“Any preference on where I should inject him?”
“It should work everywhere but I prefer to inject them near the controller. In my opinion, it makes the setup a bit faster.”
He injected the nanites into the right arm bend.
“Just so you aren’t surprised, the 3rd gens you can make take significantly longer to set up. Up to 24 hours if the network is complicated. 3rd gens differentiate from 4th and 5th gen only in the energy storage and control systems. They need a much denser network. That is actually the main difference between the generations up to the 10th. There they integrated the valence grabber. Oh, and you have to do it under the scanner, as the feedback system that allows the depots to call back and tell where they want to set up shop has only been introduced in the 6th generation.”
Then it began.
“Ah, you see the requests? The depots ask if the place they are in is all right. If you don’t answer they set up anyway, as the sheer number is simply too big to do anything else. The trick is to only observe critical areas. Everything else can be repaired.”
Then I had my first customer. One depot tried to set up inside the Radial nerve. I quickly negated its request.
“See, that happens in less than a percent of all depots, but they will set up a few 10 thousand inside him. This was not really critical as we could have repaired the damage afterwards, and when I have to divide my attention between real critical areas like the Vagus nerve or any of the other autonomous nerves and some peripheral places like arms or legs I will have to accept that, but now it is not critical.”
For the next half hour we talked about the evolution of nanites. I was not surprised that his opinion of what nanites could do was way above what they could really do. Most don’t even know about the nanites-trinity. Energy, communication and control are oh so boring compared to horror stories about grey goo scenarios or near-magical transformations. But in the end he got it that nanites were useful tools, but hardly in the range of the horror stories.
I stopped four other bad setups when it became really interesting.
“Sorry, Doc, I have to concentrate here now. The nanites are coming into the brain. I use my cranial board from now on as it has a better resolution”
With that, I immersed myself into the controller, and suddenly I found myself in cyberspace. Around me was an approximation of Walker's brain and I watched the bright yellow-white spots move into the brainstem. I was thankful that these 12th gens needed so much less network density than even 11th gen. I would only need a third of the depots. There was one that tried to set up in the medulla oblongata, but I caught that fast. Then the brilliant spots moved out into the rest of the brain. One spot in the hypothalamus caught my attention. It was seriously close to critical parts of the brain. Any failure here could be, well not immediately fatal but very bad. It could leave Walker crippled beyond recovery.
The setup message came forward and I had just begun to inspect its placement when suddenly I felt something grab my throat. I had a feeling of flying and then something hit my back and the back of my head. Hard.
Nearly immediately the cyberspace vanished, and I looked into the face of a giant of a man, who held me by my throat in his outstretched hand. I could hear screaming, from many persons, but I could not quite make out what was going on.
What was capturing my attention was the hand on my throat, squeezing the air out of me. I struggled with all my might, and clawed at that hand, desperate to get to breathe, but the precious air would not come. The man holding me was screaming something at me, but my vision began to dim.
Then he literally threw me across the room, and a sharp pain shot through my right arm and hip.
But the oh so treasured air was flowing into my lungs again. I can’t say with certainty how long I was lying on the floor sucking in air, coughing, and trying to understand what had happened.
The bodyguards had the giant pinned down and two of them and Dr. Schaeffer came toward me. Then I remembered the setup message and tried to get back into cyberspace. Nothing. I was locked out. For a moment I felt panic well up inside me, but I fought it down.
I focused on Dr. Schaeffer and began to talk. “…” Or I should say I tried to talk.
Nothing came out.
I tried to sit up, but touching the floor with my right hand send spikes of pain through me, and for a short while I saw only red.
Schaeffer pried my left eye open and shone a light into it. I struggled to get up and waved towards the console.
Schaeffer pushed onto my shoulder but it seemed my urgency got through to him, as he helped me up. When I put weight on my right leg I nearly fell down again, but with the help of the two bodyguards, I managed to limp towards the console.
Arriving there I found the setup of the depots complete. And no critical placements. I slumped in relief, and nearly fell down again. One of the bodyguards lifted me into his arms and followed Schaeffer out of the room. My head began to pound diabolically and I found it increasingly hard to think. I was placed onto a stretcher and then a soft hum came from all around me. Something above me was circling, and my stomach choose this instant to make its displeasure known. I managed to not throw up, but barely.
Then the stretcher was moved and I saw Dr. Schaeffer with an injector in his hands. A sting at my left shoulder, and then everything turned blissfully black.
Agony greeted me like a long-lost pet when I came slowly back towards consciousness. My head apparently was in the process of slowly exploding. My right arm and leg fought over who hurt worse. And my throat simply burned. The dull ache in both of my shoulders barely registered. When I opened my eyes, blinding light made me close them immediately. I heard voices, loud voices. It took me some time to understand them.
“… should be ok in the long run. The concussion is bad but nothing life-threatening. She will have to take it slow over the next few days. The break is a relatively simple one, and thanks to the nano fab she gave me it should be healed in roughly two weeks. The bruise on the hip will make walking painful for her for a few days, maybe a few weeks, but that is all. What was really dangerous is the throat. If Oleg had gripped her only a tad harder we would have had to do a tracheotomy. For now I have her intubated.” I knew that voice but I could not place it. Another voice came on.
“You said she should be sleeping for six to eight hours?”
I called up the internal diagnostic but got nothing. Something should bother me, but at the moment I was incapable to think about it.
“Yes, no need for her to feel the pain.”
It seemed my audio filters were offline as I was bombarded by several high-pitched sounds. Why was that important? I knew it was, but I could not remember why.
“Well, I think you should dope her again, she is awake.”
The first voice became urgent.
“That can’t be. I gave her enough sedative to knock you out for an hour. With her size she should not…” it stopped, before continuing, “Damn, you’re right. How?”
A few moments later I felt a prick in my left arm. I tried to defend myself, but I just couldn’t get my arm up. Then the voice again.
“That’s… she has already broken down nearly all of the sedative. If I didn’t see it I would think it was impossible.”
Then another prick in my arm. I could still not fend it off, and somehow I could not protest. Then everything dimmed and it got black again.