System Shock Part 28

He had managed to leave the building, stumbling past several undersecretaries and other aides, holding the tattered remains of his face together as best he could. Hanson crossed Downing Street, expecting at any moment to hear a cry from behind, an order for him to stop.

The tarmac was clearly delineated in his improved vision.

He could see the edges of each dirty granule, of each chipping picked out by the street lights, as he kept his head down.

A squeal of brakes; an abusive shout of annoyance. Hanson held his hand to the side of his head as he looked up. A taxi had slewed to a halt just beside him. The For Hire For Hire light was on, and he waved his free hand at the driver. light was on, and he waved his free hand at the driver.

The driver glared at him for an instant, then reached back and opened the rear pa.s.senger door without looking. Hanson climbed in.

The driver's eyes were large in the rear-view mirror as he reached up to turn off the courtesy light. 'Where to, guv'nor?'

Hanson removed his hands from his face. The side of his cheek peeled away, clinging to his sweaty palm. The driver's eyes grew larger still and Hanson could see that his mouth had dropped open. Hanson climbed slowly back out of the cab and pulled open the driver's door. 'Get out,' he shouted.

The driver did not move, so Hanson grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled with all his enhanced strength. The man was hurled across the road, crumpling into a heap on the pavement. The cab lurched forward a pace, and stalled.

The driver was just beginning to unfold and groan when his cab hit him.

Each room seemed much the same. They were unlit, and cluttered with computer equipment. Sarah ran through each, listening for the sounds of pursuit from behind, looking out for potential traps in front. She had done her best to avoid photocopiers, printers, lights and drinks machines.

Even so, she had been buffeted by over-enthusiastic air conditioning, and had narrowly avoided being cut to shreds 247 when a large computer screen had exploded in front of her. She had been lucky, most of the gla.s.s had embedded itself in a chipboard part.i.tion.

But whatever she did, Sarah seemed unable to shake off her pursuers. Several times she got away from them, far enough ahead to be out of sight and earshot, yet they still took the right turning and made the right guesses as they followed. She had smashed cameras, and doubled back where she knew there was now no surveillance.

At one point she had thrown an empty c.o.ke can into a room as she raced past. The can rattled across a table and struck the wall, sounding to Sarah's hopeful ears exactly as if someone had stumbled in the dark. But the Voracians ran straight past without breaking step.

The Sea Kings were old, but reliable. They had been waiting at Hereford for hours, blades ready to start rotating at a moment's notice. Two giant spiders of metal, each carried just ten pa.s.sengers half the possible manifest. But there were advantages to splitting the troops between the two medium-lift helicopters.

The men sat silent and calm, checking weapons and equipment. The pilots' hands never drifted far from the controls.

'Shutdown.'

When the single word came through on the headsets, each of the pilots turned to his pa.s.sengers, gave a thumbs-up, and started the engines. Seconds later, the huge metal machines lifted noisily off their pads. They swivelled on their axes, their noses dipping slightly as they headed south into the night.

Every time he glanced in the rear-view mirror, Hanson saw his torn and damaged face. The mirror was not angled for him, but he made no move to realign it. He could see enough of the road and the vehicles behind. To expend energy in moving the mirror was inefficient.

He frowned, the human side of his brow creasing. The polished metal plate which covered the other side of his 248 forehead shifted position slightly as the skin to which it was grafted stretched at the edges.

The illuminated signs at the side of the road were flashing randomly. Occasionally one gave legible, if misleading, information. A police car shot past the cab, siren howling in pain and headlights flashing in rhythm with the rooftop light.

He took the turning off the M4 without consciously thinking about it. Hanson was aware he was en route to a particular location, but he did not remember exactly where. It was as if the way his brain worked had been rearranged. Instead of information that was related being kept close together, it was organized in a different way. It was like going to a shop and finding everything shelved according to strict alphabetical order rather than by department or usage. Drainpipes next to draughts boards; string next to Strindberg ...

He parked the cab just off the track through Glenlake woods.

His confusion was gone the instant he got out of the car and headed purposefully into the trees.

There was no way out of the room. Sarah knew the Voracians were close behind her. On the evidence so far, they would know she was in the room, and it was already too late to leave by the same door.

The room was large and square, lit by the searchlights from outside. The walls were largely hidden behind desks and monitors. The floor was a jumble of cables. The windows were sealed shut, double-glazed to maintain the air-conditioned environment.

Sarah's foot caught in a cable as she ran across the room, looking for another way out. She stumbled to her knees, the cable pulling tight. As she extricated her foot she noticed that the cable disappeared under the floor nearby, snaking through a round hole cut into the large floor tile. The tile had lifted up slightly, and Sarah could see the edge of the wooden base. She grabbed the edge and heaved. The tile pulled up and out, leaving a dark hole.

There was a gap under the tile. The whole floor had been raised by about two feet to make room for the cabling, the tiles were supported by a metal strut at each corner.

249.

Footsteps in the corridor outside. They stopped at the door.

Sarah gulped, and dropped down into the narrow gap under the floor, pulling the tile back over her head. Just as it slotted into place, she heard the door above burst open and gunfire raked the room. She closed her eyes tight and pressed her head down as far as possible.

The floor above Sarah creaked. She could feel it moving slightly round her as the aliens moved about the room. Their voices were m.u.f.fled by the wood and carpet, but she was sure they were discussing where she could have gone. Somehow they knew she had been there.

It was light. When Sarah opened her eyes, she found she could just about see. Some of the light was coming in through the portholes up through the floor, spilling round the cables and wires that ran into the room above. But there was an ambient glow as well, illuminating the network cables, power lines and communications wires which criss-crossed under the floor in a tangled spider's web.

The glow seemed to come from some of the cables themselves. Sarah eased her position slightly, her elbows banging into support struts, her shoulder hard against the floor tiles above. She was right, the cable itself was glowing slightly, as if lit from within. Sarah knew nothing about fibre optics, but she was grateful for the light. She peered into the gloom in front of her. It was only a matter of a few minutes at most before they realized where she was hiding. She had to use that time well.

Trying to make no noise, and careful not to lift any of the tiles above, Sarah started to pull herself through the crawl s.p.a.ce. If she followed a large bundle of cables, they must lead her through to another room, away from her pursuers and to safety.

The Doctor returned from his chat with Colonel Clark to find Harry waiting for him outside the control van. 'We've lost COBRA,' he said.

'What do you mean, lost?' the Doctor asked with a scowl.

'Gone. The video link's gone down. Off-lined.'

250.

The Doctor's eyes widened. 'So it's started. Systems failure.

We've got even less time than I thought.'

'Doctor?'

The Doctor wrapped his arm round Harry's shoulder and led him back to the van. 'Harry, I want you to isolate us from every external digital communication. No networks, no phones, no nothing. And make sure the SAS do the same. I think Clark understands what he's up against. Just leave the one computer in the control van hooked into the superhighway and InterNet.

That way at least we have a connection if we need it.'

Harry shrugged. 'Well, I'll try. G.o.d alone knows where we start, there are police radios, fax machines, video links, computer hook-ups, the lot. We're running a high-tech operation here, Doctor.'

'Not any more, Harry,' the Doctor said. 'Not any more.'

The disruption spread like a disease. London Heathrow shut down at 4:32 a.m. due to ma.s.sive systems failure. The air traffic controllers talked down the few planes left in the sky.

Most had already come down one way or another as their onboard systems scrambled and gave up.

The newspapers which had survived by investing in technology were finding it a serious disadvantage as they tried to print and distribute their later editions. Only the smaller papers which had remained resistant to change, along with the more unionized parts of the atrophying print publishing industry, were unaffected.

The railway systems had already ground to a halt, though given the time few people noticed. Television and radio went off air across the United Kingdom throughout the night. The last of the network stations gave up at 5:04 when their recording equipment stopped working.

Most houses were without electricity by 5:30. At 5:32 the chief engineer at Nunton tried to shut down the nuclear reactor when the computer predicted imminent containment failure.

Four fail-safe mechanisms failed, and the technicians had to remove the fuel rods manually. Three of them would be dead within the month. None of them knew that the readings relayed 251 by the main computer were completely false and there had been no immediate danger at all.

By 6 o'clock France, Luxembourg and Germany were experiencing similar problems.

Hanson switched on the jammers, though there was no longer any facility capable of detecting the shuttle still operational anywhere in the south-east of England or Northern Europe.

Seated amid the cluttered trappings of Voracian technology, Hanson's last vestiges of doubt and confusion dissolved. He went through the standard pre-launch procedures as if he had done it a thousand times before.

Dawn was just breaking across the eastern sky as the shuttle lifted from its hiding place and leaped to escape velocity.

Stabfield and Johanna were watching Voractyll's progress. A map of the world was displayed across the wall of the main computer suite. Red blotches were spreading like spilled ink through Europe. Most of the UK was already a deep scarlet, and small pockets of colour were spotting across the larger cities of the United States and j.a.pan. Only China and Africa remained largely unaffected, but even there a few specks of scarlet were pinp.r.i.c.king into existence.

'Exactly according to predicted scenario,' Stabfield said. His head was shaking as he watched the map.

Johanna nodded. 'They have to make a move soon, if they are going to. Should we split the hostages up, disperse them through the building?'

'No,' Stabfield said. 'That would also split us up, spread us too thin to operate effectively. Less efficient. Besides,' his face contorted into the closest approximation of a grin that its limited muscles could manage, 'look at the extent of Voractyll's penetration and control. What can they do, alone and isolated. They probably don't even realize we have re-missioned their command and control systems.'

Sarah was bruised and exhausted. Her clothes were clinging to her sweaty body, and the skirt was too tight to allow her 252 enough freedom of movement. She was pulling herself along, reaching as far ahead as she could and trying to gain purchase on the floor with the palms of her hands. She pushed with her toes at the same time. She had kicked her shoes off a long time ago.

She had tried to pull at the support struts which were positioned just too close together to make her pa.s.sage easy.

But they were not fixed, relying on the downward pressure and weight of the floor tiles to hold them in place. The first she had pulled had moved alarmingly, and she was afraid the tiles it supported would fall in on her.

There was dust everywhere, sticking to her clothes and skin; working its way into her nostrils and her throat. Sarah tried not to cough or sneeze there was no knowing how close the Voracians were, or how much the noise she made would be amplified by the makeshift echo chamber she was crawling through.

Most of the time she kept her head down, nose to the floor.

There was just enough s.p.a.ce to lift it occasionally to see where she was going, but to do so jammed the top of her head against the bottom of the tiled ceiling. She felt the bundle of cables to her left to check she was still following their course, and pulled herself forward another few sc.r.a.pingly painful inches. Then she pushed her hands forward again, ready for another pull.

And hit the wall. She scrabbled at the stonework for a second in a panic, then lifted her head to see what was happening.

There was indeed a wall ahead of her. The cables disappeared through a ragged hole about nine inches wide. For a while, Sarah lay still. She sobbed quietly, feeling the tears running down her face and imagining the dusty trail they were leaving. Then she sniffed, contorting just enough to wipe her nose on the shoulder of her blouse, and wriggled round so she was parallel to the wall. If she was lying on the original floor of the room, then she should be able to follow the wall round till she found the door. It would take longer than she had hoped, but her plan could still work. So long as they didn't find her first.

253.

In the computer room above, the Voracian who had been Carlson stood by the wall. He had dismissed the others, sent them to report back to Johanna. His eyes were fixed on the tracker as he watched the tiny red blip begin a slow and uneasy course along the edge of the room.

The positronic circuits below the metal of his cheek and forehead calculated the increased efficiency and saving of ammunition if he allowed the woman to emerge from the floor s.p.a.ce before killing her. It struggled to justify the animal behaviour in terms of observation and intelligence gathering.

The instinctive, organic part of Carlson's mind relished the antic.i.p.ation as he followed his quarry's laboured path towards the door. The oily scales round his jaw slid over each other as they formed the hint of a smile.

Dawn was breaking. The Doctor was standing watching the sun edge into blood-red view when Harry found him.

'I think everything's been isolated,' Harry said.

The Doctor nodded his approval without looking round.

'That a man might know the end of this day's business ere it come,' he said quietly.

'Well, we won't have to wait long to find out,' Harry said.

'The SAS have arrived in force. They're setting up now.'

The Doctor turned. The rising sun behind him threw him into sharp silhouette, the brow of his hat shading his eyes in darkness. 'You should have been a poet, Harry,' he said. 'You have the imagination if not the vocabulary.'

'I don't know about that, Doctor. It's sleep I need, not vocabulary. Friday already my body still thinks it's Wednesday.'

'Wednesday,' the Doctor said thoughtfully. 'Something happens on Wednesday. Something important. I think.' He stroked his chin and turned back to watch the dawn.

'Things will look better in daylight, Doctor,' Harry said.

'Once the sun's back up.'

The Doctor's fingers clicked like a rifle shot. 'Harry, you're a genius. You don't need to be a poet.'

'Oh?'

254.

'On Wednesday, the Hubway systems get backed up. And Denny takes the tapes off site.'

Harry was lost. 'Is that important? And who's Denny when he's at home?'

The Doctor grabbed Harry's shoulders. 'Who's Denny? I don't really know. But he probably is at home. Find him, Harry, find him. He should be on the Hubway staff list. Find out where this week's back-up tapes went.'

Harry was not convinced. 'Well, I'll try, Doctor. Is it important?'

'Important? Harry, those tapes contain copies of everything that was in the Hubway systems. And with luck that includes the Voractyll CD. Of course it's important.'

The two Voracians crewing the main ship were at the entry hatch to meet him. They had monitored the approach of the shuttle, but had maintained communications silence. There was no way of telling who might be monitoring their frequencies, and the plan was at a critical phase.

If they were surprised to see Hanson as he stepped through the airlock, they did not show it.

'Flight deck,' Hanson said. 'I am a.s.suming command. We have to get a message to Stabfield.' His voice was quiet and sibilant. He hissed slightly as he spoke, and his head swayed gently from side to side as he followed the crew through the ship.

There were eleven tapes in all. The data was recorded on to the same sort of eight millimetre magnetic tape as camcorders used. Then it was archived in a warehouse just outside Marlborough. Harry had managed to contact Denny Lucas at home, allowing himself a couple of hasty phone calls throughout which he kept his fingers tightly crossed, and arranged for a squad car to pick him up and retrieve the tapes.

Denny spent ten minutes with the Doctor in the control van identifying the tape of the backups in which he was interested.

Then he yawned, stretched, and demanded to be driven back to his flat.

255.

The Doctor hardly noticed he had left. He loaded the tape and streamed the file structure on to the hard drive of the computer. He took a deep breath, then queried the hard disk for its file listing. Sure enough, there was a compact disc image.

The Doctor loaded the image.

'Here we go,' he muttered.