T h e P r o t e c t o r (C)Phil Weeks 1993-4 NOTICE: The Protector Series (C)1993-4 Phil Weeks The author grants permission to Megadisk only to distribute this series in their disk magazine provided they include this notice, and reserves the right to publish the same in all other forms of publication, including hardcopy. I regret having to include a copyright statement like this, I hate reading them myself, BUT.... Hope you enjoy this story. If you want more, please write to your favourite sci-fi publisher and get them to buy my other titles for publication. Publishers' enquiries welcome. Thanx. (C)1993/PhilWeeks/38McFieSt/Devonport7210/Tasmania/Australia Phone: (004)24 9173 B.H. And now, back to our story: - = - = - = - = - = - = - = - = - = -  PROTECTOR(C) CHAPTER 5: WHAT PRICE FREEDOM? "Come on, Doc, hurry up!" the Protector bellowed, working fast to connect the console's datajacks into the Guardian's spare sockets. The unconscious persona lay still as death on the CPU floor. "Patience," Dr. Chun soothed, his fingers flying over his own real-time terminal's keyboard. "That is one Samurai virtue which continues to elude you. Strive to master your emotions, or they will master you." "There's a time for patience, and a time for speed, Doc," the Protector snarled at the virtual vid-screen monitor. "Right now the Guardian needs more speed. Patience can wait." "I concur," Dr. Chun murmured, still tapping furiously on the keys as he spoke. "At least about the speed. But you must discern between speed and haste. The first is useful, the last destructive. There!" Only Dr. Chun's triumphant exaltation as he hit the return key stopped the Protector's acrid response. The program entered the mainframe, blue datalines gleaming more brightly as it coursed down into the Guardian Angel's persona. The Protector watched breathlessly as the fallen icon grew in definition and colour. In milliseconds, the Guardian appeared almost normal. But he remained unconscious. "What's wrong, Doc? Why isn't he moving?" "Ah, here we go again," Dr. Chun moaned. "If you will be patient enough to await my explanation, I will tell you." The Protector groaned, and shut his mouth tight. He simply nodded at the face filling the monitor screen. "The Ninja icon tried to kill your friend," Dr. Chun began. "And I've initiated a bio-response program to keep the Guardian alive back in his meat body. It has restarted his heart, and his Matrix persona has regained its integrity." "Tell me something I don't know!" the Protector muttered. "I will overlook that comment," Dr. Chun wagged an admonishing finger at the Protector. "As I was saying, the Ninja attacked with a killer virus. The repair program you uploaded to the Guardian Angel's computer staved off the shutdown portion of the virus, keeping the datalines open to this mainframe. If you hadn't been so prompt, his computer would have disconnected. We'd have never found him out there in the real world in time to save him." "What about his minders?" the Protector wondered. "Why couldn't they keep him going?" Dr. Chun sighed heavily at yet another interruption, then shrugged his shoulders in capitulation. "The Guardian was on a friendly visit. I can only surmise he wouldn't have thought a minder necessary on such a 'safe' virtual journey. He was unlucky to be attacked like that here. "On the other hand, his luck held, what with your quick actions in the SAN. You managed to save his life." "What about his mind?" "We won't know about that for some time. We'll maintain this connection until Browntronix, U.S.A. can be notified. When they have his bio-body safely tucked away, we can let his icon return to wherever it is the Guardian's terminal sits. I'm sure they'll keep us informed on his progress." The Protector looked down at the still form at his virtual feet. The Guardian Angel had only come over to the Hobart mainframe to help decode the cortex bomb wired into the Protector's brain. He couldn't help but feel guilty, responsible for his friend's injuries. The toll was mounting. First his father, killed when AusTechnic tried to reacquire him. Then the people who guarded him, who perished fighting off the AusTechnic mercenaries while he'd lain helpless, a mere torso connected to the Matrix. Now the Guardian Angel. Would it ever end? "AusTechnic," was all he said aloud. "What was that?" Dr. Chun asked. "The Ninja told me that AusTechnic had sent him. Somehow they must've known the Guardian was coming. There's been a leak in security somehow. And I know it's not been on my shift." Dr. Chun remained silent, his lips pursed, deep in thought. After several moments, he nodded slowly. "I fear you are correct. Alert Control. I will report this matter to Head Office at once." "Wait," the Protector held up a restraining virtual palm. "What if your secure line isn't as secure as you thought? Do you have some kind of code for Mr. Brown that only he can unravel?" "At last, a rare flash of brilliance," Dr. Chun smiled. "Of course we have. I should have thought of that myself. What else do you have in mind? I can see the wheels turning up there." "I was thinking that you should also send a clear message to the effect that the Ninja's attack on the Guardian was successful. Let them think they won. That way, you can trace the leak by where the wrong data surfaces." Dr. Chun looked at the Protector with renewed admiration. "Very good, Russel. If only your patience matched your other attributes, you would be truly a Rennaissance Man." "Gee, thanks," the Protector replied with thick sarcasm lacing his voice. "Backhanded compliments I can do without. Do me a favour, will you, Doc? Ring my wife and tell her I'll be late. I want to stay here with the Guardian till his people arrive." "Of course, Russel. Always a pleasure speaking with MRS. Protector. At least SHE is a sensible person, despite the fact she married you." Not for the first time, the Protector had to marvel at how Australian the little Oriental doctor had become. His sense of humour was actually improving. He grinned at the monitor screen and disconnected. * The Protector found the message when he came back on duty the following night. It was coded. He took it to his control console and slipped it with one hand into the virtual disk drive, activating the decoder program with the other. He watched the monitor impatiently until the decoded message began to type itself across the screen. He scanned it quickly, punching in the print-out key on the console. When he had the hardcopy, he deleted the entire chip from memory. Then he reread the message. "Dear Russel, Thank you for your prompt action in saving the Guardian Angel. He is now concious and recovering well, though he has one monster of a headache. He sends his regards and eternal gratitude. We have also managed to find and plug the leak in our commsat link, again thanks to your tracking suggestion. Citicop is presently entertaining the individuals responsible. I take it they are in for a long holiday. Dr. Chun has sent the schematics of your problem to us here. At present we are still unable to disconnect or disarm it. We will continue working on it. The good news, however, is that by the time you read this, Dr. Chun will have your jammer ready. Again, my heartfelt thanks for all you've done. If there is anything else I can do for you, don't hesistate to ask. Sincerely--Martin Brown" The Protector slipped the sheet into the shredder on his console and resumed his patrol of the Browntronix Mainframe, relieved that the Guardian had recovered. His disappointment at having to keep the live cortex bomb at the base of his skull felt managable, given that his jammer was now ready. Soon, he could take Brenda out of the complex. They could dine out at the Casino, or go to a holo film, or to the beach, or anywhere! The more he thought about it, the happier he became. He was still smiling when the azure dataline turned orange, and the soft female compu-voice soothed out the passive warning alert. "Possible intruder detected in local telephone grid connecting SAN. Please investigate. Possible intruder detected...." Whipping out his katana attack program, the Protector glided effortlessly down the datalines to the SAN. Dropping to one knee, he popped his head in and out of the SAN, snapping a quick look. He registered two icons, both in the form of Suits, each carrying a briefcase and waiting patiently, harmlessly. "Yeah, right," the Protector snorted. "It's AusTechnic again, up to more tricks." Raising his Samurai blade to attack position, the Protector leapt through the SAN doorway, landing in front of the Suits, and stood poised, glowering, ready for anything. "You are intruders," he began the standard challenge. "Leave or be deleted." The two Suits recoiled, terror written all over their virtual faces. One raised an empty hand as if to ward off an attack. Very convincing, the Protector thought sarcastically. He stayed on his guard and repeated the challenge, adding, "this is your last warning." "Please, don't hurt us," the one cowering behind his hand started whining. "We represent a harmless religious group contacting all the Megacorps in this area code and leaving pamphlets for your staff to read at their leisure." "Uh huh," the Protector nodded. "On your bike, or your next thought will be that of Citicop unjacking you from your terminals. Get the message?" "Of course," the other one stammered. "By the way, can we interest you in purchasing one of our magazines? Would you say the world is in a terrible state? The crime, the corruption, the pollution?" "I warned you," the Protector threatened. He stepped forward and started to swing his sword. The two icons turned screaming and tripped over each other trying to exit the SAN. It was all the Protector could do to keep from falling into a fit of laughter as they slipped and scrambled their way out of the SAN and back to wherever they came from. Once they had gone, the Protector couldn't hold back any longer. He laughed himself hoarse, as much at himself thinking them from AusTechnic as at their Keystone Cops antics trying to get away. Regaining his composure, the Protector turned to leave the SAN, intending to go back to the console and downgrade the alert. As he reached the doorway, an electronic sizzle made him pause. He knew that sound. The sound of an intruder. With instincts born of a thousand battles and reactions to match, the Protector launched himself to one side and spun to see who it was that tried to breach Browntronix security. To his surprise, he saw the two Suits back again. "What are you doing here?" he demanded, feeling somewhat foolish at having been caught flatfooted by these fanatics. "Oh, we just thought we'd leave you a sample of our literature anyway," one of them replied, calmly opening his briefcase. Too calmly, the Protector thought. He drew his katana once more as the Suit pulled a narcojet pistol from his briefcase and fired it at the chromed Samurai. The Protector only just managed to fend off the shot with his blade, the bolt exploding harmlessly, leaving a scorched smell hanging in the virtual air. The second Suit pulled a similar weapon and joined in on the attack. The second shot went just wide of the Protector's head. He threw himself into a tumbling roll to the left, avoiding more shots that flamed off the SAN walls, sending sparks in all directions. He came up low and swiped at the leg of his nearest opponent. The blade connected with the Suit's knee. He howled as he went down, and dropped the narcojet pistol. As his icon began to disassemble, the Protector could see the hated logo on the weapon's handle: AusTechnic! Before the Protector could lift his sword to freeze the vanishing intruder, the remaining Suit lined him up in the gunsights and fired. The Protector felt the bolt hit him, braced himself for the virus to take hold, reached for his pouch that held his repair program. But nothing happened. The Protector felt as good as ever. His gleaming chromed chest showed no sign of the electronic blast that had just struck him. He looked up at the Suit, astonished. The attacker stood stock still, his own mouth wide open and his eyes bulging out in disbelief. The Suit looked down at his pistol, then raised it and fired again, hitting the Protector fair in the forehead. Again, nothing happened. Not waiting for the Suit to figure out how to rectify his faulty weapon, the Protector slipped forward and lopped off the baffled Suit's head. Then he fired a freeze program after him, regretting that the other intruder had managed to escape. At least Citicop would get one of them. Next time, he promised himself. I'll be quicker next time. Mentally kicking himself for letting the Suits get the drop on him, the Protector left the SAN and reported the intrusion to Control. He left nothing out. And still he wondered why their attack programs had no effect on him. "I have Dr. Chun on the line," Control informed him. "Perhaps he can shed some light on the subject. Shall I patch him through?" "Yes, thank you, Control. And stay on the line. I am ready for any disciplinary measures you feel necessary. I am truly sorry for slipping up like that. I don't know how I let it happen." "Russel, this is Dr. Chun." The medico's face appeared on screen. "Control has passed on your report. Both of us concur that it wasn't your fault. You followed protocol. They left as you demanded. The fact that they returned, no one could forsee, nor that you had any reason to suspect them to be anything other than they appeared. Just be thankful that Martin Brown sent us your jammer in time." "My jammer?" the Protector frowned. "What's that got to do with those Suits?" "While you have been on duty, I took the liberty of installing your jammer chip in your bio-body's cyberdeck. It works beautifully, as you have found already." Seeing the Protector's blank look, Dr. Chun continued. "The Suits apparently fired an attack program designed to by-pass our jammers in the compound. Shot directly into your persona via the Matrix, they would have triggered your cortex bomb, terminating you and making quite a mess of our Mainframe in the process. Your new jammer program stopped their attack cold. Hence, you took no damage. It is the only explanation for what occured." "Of course," the Protector smacked a chromed fist into his other palm. "Now I get it. Thanks, Doc. I owe you another one." "You owe me nothing," Dr. Chun looked somewhat abashed. "Chalk it up to, um, impatience on my part. You see, I was anxious to see how the program worked. We were running diagnostics on it when your attackers arrived. I knew I should wait and ask your permission first, but your vices seem to be contageous." "Don't try to shift the blame to me," the Protector laughed. "Although this time I really couldn't care less. The main thing is that you saved my life." "And my own," Dr. Chun reminded him. "If you had gone off, you'd have taken half of R&D with you. Control tells me your shift is over now. Why don't you go home to your beautiful wife?" "I might just do that," the Protector replied, giving Dr. Chun a mock salute. "I hear and obey." *