Song of Darkness

Copyrighted Material Song of Darkness Copyright © 2023 by Variant Publications Book design and layout copyright © 2022 by JN Chaney This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living, dead, or undead, is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved No part of this publication can be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without permission in writing. 1st Edition CONTENTS Don’t Miss OutChapter 1Chapter 2Chapter 3Chapter 4Chapter 5Chapter 6Chapter 7Chapter 8Chapter 9Chapter 10Chapter 11Chapter 12Chapter 13Chapter 14Chapter 15Chapter 16Chapter 17Chapter 18Chapter 19Chapter 20Chapter 21Chapter 22Chapter 23Chapter 24Chapter 25Chapter 26Chapter 27EpilogueGlossaryJoin the ConversationConnect with J.N. ChaneyConnect with Terry MaggertAbout the Authors Don’t miss out on these exclusive perks: Instant access to free short stories from series like The Messenger, Starcaster, and more.Receive email updates for new releases and other news.Get notified when we run special deals on books and audiobooks. So, what are you waiting for? Enter your email address at the link below to stay in the loop. Click Here 1 Calamity. That’s what they were calling the virus chewing its insidious way through the digital architecture of known space. After being deliberately released by Helem Gauss on Adoration, home planet of the so-called Enhancement Empire, it had been unknowingly carried by infected ships to other systems before they could be stopped and quarantined. Now, Calamity had erupted in three different systems, cancerous growths turning whole networks and everything attached to them dark. There weren’t any effective countermeasures, at least not yet. Calamity was an alien AI, one capable of analyzing, adapting to, and eventually overcoming any firewalls or other impediments put in its way. The best digital defenses available had slowed its spread, but nothing seemed able to stop it. Except for the thing now sitting on a console beside Funboy’s workstation in the Fafnir’s cockpit. “Almost 9 grand off the internet,” I said, opening the cover. “The best gaming laptop on the market.” Funboy peered closely at it. “Hello? What’s your name?” I winced. “Funboy, talking to it like you’re a tourist trying to converse with a local isn’t going to work because… well, first, that never works—and second, even if it did, it wouldn’t work here. It’s not voice activated.” “Wait, a computer that just sits there silently doing what it’s told? How do we replace Perry with one of those?” We all turned to the speaker—which had been Perry. He looked back at us. “Hey, just filling in for Icky while she’s, you know, not feeling it.” Torina and I both smiled, but they were sad smiles. Icky had taken the death of Zenophir, the Fafnir’s weapon engineer and general mother figure, pretty hard. We’d taken her back to her father aboard his freelance battleship, the Nemesis, to spend some downtime with him. Torina turned back to the laptop, crossing her arms and casting a suspicious eye over it. “So, you have to press those keys and move that—what’s it called? Vermin?” “Close. It’s a mouse,” I said. “Mouse. Right. You have to wiggle it around to interact with it.” She shook her head. “Seems pretty primitive.” “That’s exactly the point. It is primitive,” I replied. “Too primitive, in fact, to run Calamity at all. Perry and I have configured it to run a modified form of high-end security software—but stripped down so only voice and image data from the comm system pass through it. It’ll block anything else.” “A countermeasure that Calamity could easily defeat in some ridiculously small fraction of a second, except the virus can’t run on this machine at all. It would fill up the available computing resources with inert code, and that would be it,” Perry said. “So it can’t adapt itself to overcome your firewall,” Torina said. I nodded. “That’s the theory. It’s like being chased by a giant, unstoppable killer robot down a wide, straight corridor. Eventually, it catches up and grinds right over you. But put a sudden narrow section in the corridor, one big enough to let you through but way too small for the robot, and all it can do is sit there and glare at you through the gap.” “Anyway, we’ve got this cabled in between the Fafnir’s comm receiver and the console. It should mean we can safely receive voice and video,” Perry went on. “But not data. That’s still a no-no, as long as Calamity’s out there and we have no way of blocking it,” I said. Funboy moved the mouse experimentally, then blinked up at me. “Not being able to receive data is still pretty limiting. It means, for instance, that Netty won’t be able to receive nav or traffic control information.” “Yeah, I know. It’s a bandage over a gaping wound. But better that than just leaving the wound open to bleed, right?” “Not necessarily. Sometimes it is desirable to allow wounds to bleed for a time—to remove local toxins or foreign debris, for instance—” “You Surtsi aren’t big on metaphors, are you?” A slow blink. “We have an entire field of art that is devoted entirely to metaphors, in fact.” “Really?” “Yes. I think it’s a refuse heap of misunderstanding.” I had to grin. “Irony, thy name is Funboy.” The laptop, top of the line consumer computing on Earth, was barely a slide rule compared to the systems that formed a substrate for the likes of Perry, Netty, and Netty-P, but it at least allowed us to talk safely to others via comm. Funboy was right. There was a lot of crucial functionality we still couldn’t risk, but it was better than nothing. We departed Anvil Dark to try it out, calling up Bester on a comm system that had been kept isolated and free of Calamity. His image came through clear enough, though with an annoying bit of lag. “Van, can you—” “Bester, how does—” We both paused. “Van, I’ll—” “Bester,