Shadowprey: A Black Foxes Adventure Read online

  Shadowprey

  A Black Foxes Adventure

  A novel by

  Dennis L. McKiernan

  Copyright Dennis L. McKiernan 2007, 2012, 2014

  ISBN 978-0-9903555-3-3

  Thornwall Press

  Tucson

  The characters and events and locations in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Copyright © 2007, 2012, 2014 by Dennis L. McKiernan

  Cover photo from Shutterstock: “Mysterious Light Blue Vortex,” Copyright: A’lya

  Cover design by Dennis L. McKiernan

  Cover design © 2014 by Thornwall Press

  Thornwall Press is wholly owned by Dennis L. McKiernan

  All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without prior written permission of the publisher.

  Thornwall Press

  2115 N Wentworth Rd

  Tucson, AZ 85749-9741

  First e-book edition, May 2014

  ISBN 978-0-9903555-3-3

  The publisher is not responsible for websites (or their content) that are not owned by the publisher.

  The Mithgar and Faery novels of Dennis L. McKiernan have long enchanted fans and critics alike. And they were equally enthralled with his bestselling science-fiction/fantasy novel: formerly titled Caverns of Socrates but in e-book form titled Shadowprey. And now this gifted author presents us with the sequel to that story, a gripping tale to fire the imagination and make the heart pound. . . .

  The Black Foxes are back in the grasp of the Dark God, and He is seeking revenge

  Nearly one year ago a lightning strike damaged Avery—the artificial intelligence, AIVR—and for six months thereafter he refused to communicate with his creators. But then Timothy Rendell, a member of the talented team of Black Foxes, received a three-word message from somewhere within the machine, a message impelling the Foxes to step once again into deadly peril as they try to rescue one of their own from the shadow-world clutches of Mad Avery in his very lethal virtual reality.

  Dennis L. McKiernan holds us spellbound by weaving together science and magic and hazard and derring-do in a heart-clutching story, a breathtaking saga spanning magical worlds and alien planets in a tale of science fiction, of fantasy, of horror, and a riveting account of a desperate group of skilled scientists trying to keep a team alive, as well as a high-stakes court case concerning the essence of humanity, the outcome of which means life or death for some.

  From Dennis L. McKiernan, one of the most prolific and imaginative authors in science fiction and fantasy today, comes Shadowprey, the thrilling sequel to his acclaimed Shadowtrap (formerly titled Caverns of Socrates).

  By Dennis L. McKiernan:

  Strange Reflections (a story collection)

  The Black Foxes Series

  Shadowtrap (Caverns of Socrates)

  Shadowprey

  The Faery Series

  Once Upon a Winter’s Night

  Once Upon a Summer Day

  Once Upon an Autumn Eve

  Once upon a Spring Morn

  Once Upon a Dreadful Time

  The Mithgar Series

  The Dragonstone

  Voyage of the Fox Rider

  Hèl’s Crucible duology:

  Book 1: Into the Forge

  Book 2: Into the Fire

  Dragondoom

  Stolen Crown

  The Iron Tower

  The Silver Call

  Tales of Mithgar (a story collection)

  The Vulgmaster (the graphic novel)

  The Eye of the Hunter

  Silver Wolf, Black Falcon

  City of Jade

  Red Slippers: More Tales of Mithgar (a story collection)

  To the memories of those who came before

  And the promise of those who come after

  Acknowledgments

  To Martha Lee McKiernan for her enduring support, careful reading, patience, and love. Additionally, much appreciation and gratitude goes to the Tanque Wordies—John, Frances, and Diane—for their encouragement throughout the writing of Shadowprey. Lastly, to those who, through snailmail, e-mail, message boards, at conventions, and via other means, urged me to write this sequel to Caverns of Socrates (now retitled Shadowtrap).

  Foreword

  Back in 1995 (gee, was it that long ago?) Caverns of Socrates was published (a few years before the movie “The Matrix” hit the theaters). Anyway, Caverns of Socrates (now titled Shadowtrap in its e-book form) was and is an amalgam of science fiction and fantasy. Intermingled with what I thought were two intense adventures were three questions:

  1. What is the nature of reality?

  2. What is consciousness; what is the mind?

  3 Do people have spirits, souls, and if so, would an artificial intelligence have a soul?

  The first and third of these questions are certainly metaphysical and philosophical issues, but the middle one might be one that someday will yield to science.

  Now, the problem with metaphysical questions is that one never knows whether the answers proffered are right. But at least the discussions engendered are fun to engage in.

  Regardless, after Caverns of Socrates was published, I received quite a number of letters and e-mails telling me that the book had caused long hours of friendly speculations among classmates, friends, roommates, and readers of various stripes. And many asked me to please write the sequel.

  At that time, I knew the basis of the adventure that would take place in reality, and the philosophical and metaphysical issues that that would raise, but I didn’t have but the vaguest clue as to one that would take place in virtual reality. So, I said to myself that I would assign that problem to my hind brain, and work on other projects.

  Anyway, twelve years passed, and in that time, twelve or so other books occupied me. But, finally, my hind brain rose up to the conscious level and said, “Okay, Dennis, here’s the story.”

  “’Bout time,” I replied. “What’s the title?”

  “Shadowprey,” hind brain said, “or maybe Cogito.”

  “Ah, okay, hind brain. Cogito, eh? Latin, eh? Rather esoteric, I say, but perhaps it will do. Me, I like Shadowprey better. Lot more sinister. So, tell me, what’s the issue here?”

  “Well, not that it’s muddled,” said hind brain, “but it deals with sentience and asks, ‘What is the essence of a human being?’”

  “I knew that,” I replied to myself. “Now instead tell me about the adventures. That’s the part that had me waiting for you to finally pop up again.”

  “Oh, those,” said hind brain. “Well, it starts out in a courtroom. . . .”

  Anyway, hind brain began telling me the story and how to structure it, and the more he said, the more excited I became. Finally, hind brain was finished in the telling, and so I said, “We’ll call it Shadowprey.”

  I hope as you read it, you will react just as I did.

  ~ Dennis L. McKiernan

  Tucson, 2007

  Note

  Just as Shadowtrap (formerly titled Caverns of Socrates) is a stand-alone book, so too is Shadowprey. I will say, however, that Shadowprey takes up the story at the point whereShadowtrap (Caverns of Socrates) ends. Do not let this dissuade you if you haven’t read the first book, for I think you will enjoy Shadowprey regardless.

  Help. Prisoner. Arton.

  1

  Courthouse

  (Adkins)

  “State your name and residence for the record.”

  A
s she lowered her hand, Toni said, “Antoinette Adkins, 412 Calle del Perro, Tucson, Arizona.”

  Perhaps confused by Toni’s British accent, the court reporter looked up from the recorder and said, “Spell your name, please.”

  When Toni had done so, Judge Marshall looked at the buxom woman in her early forties and said, “Miss Adkins, I remind you that you have been given immunity, and that anything you say in this hearing cannot be used against you in any future proceedings. Do you understand?”

  “I do, your honor.”

  Judge Marshall nodded. “You may be seated.”

  Even as Toni took her seat, her gaze swept over the eagerly awaiting faces in the courtroom, the largest they could find for these proceedings. At a table to the left sat Charlotte Dupree and Finster Coburn, the respective heirs, and Mark Perry, counsel to them and to those who would testify on their behalf; at a table to the right sat Melissa French, legal counsel to those who would testify in opposition to the heirs. To the left as well and in the jury box sat a panel of experts of various stripe—nine in all, somewhat like the jury in a civil case, though this was a civil hearing instead; these nine would listen to the testimony and act as advisors if and only if called upon by Judge Marshall to clarify some esoteric technical term or such, though only he, in the end, had the legal standing to rule. In the spectator seats sat a courtroom full of representatives of the media—newspapers, vidpapers, vidcasters and the like—reporters eager to file their stories to the waiting world. And behind them were a slew of holocams, ready to broadcast every word, every movement, every breath to holovids across the planet. Somebody leaked, and what a circus they provoked. Good grief, what could be more theatrical than this whole affair? This’ll be more sensational than the Scopes “monkey trial.” It had taken months of negotiations to reach this point, but the heirs had virtually nothing to gain from suing Toni and the others, and everything to gain should their claim stand up.

  Judge Marshal turned to the heirs’ table and said, “Counselor.”

  Mark Perry stood and said, “Miss Adkins, would you please tell the court your position in Coburn Industries?”

  Toni brushed back a stray lock of hair the color of which lay somewhere in that intermediate range between reddish blond and brown. “I’m the Project Head of AIVR.”

  “AIVR?”

  “Artificial Intelligence Virtual Reality, commonly known as Avery.”

  Perry strolled out from behind his table to stop before the witness box. “You might call it Avery, but its official designation is Coburn Industries AI slash VR zero one, right?

  “Yes. But we consider—”

  “The question only required a yes or no answer, Miss Adkins. And your answer is ‘yes,’ right?

  Toni sighed and said, “It is.”

  “And as project head, what is it you do, Miss Adkins?”

  “I supervise the team that is responsible for the care and feeding of Avery, and—”

  “Care and feeding? Isn’t that a little too—”

  “Objection,” called out Melissa French. “Mr. Perry isn’t allowing the witness to—”

  “Your honor,” interrupted Perry, “to describe the management of a machine as ‘care and feeding’ is prejudicial to these entire proceedings, and—”

  “Your honor,” interposed Melissa, now standing up, “Mr. Perry is interjecting his own opinion as well as not letting Miss Adkins answer the—”

  Judge Marshall held up his hand to stop the flow of words. Then he looked at Mark Perry and said, “She’s right, counselor. You must let the witness answer the question before expressing doubts at her choice of words. Objection sustained.”

  Melissa grinned at Perry and sat back down.

  Judge Marshall, a man graying at the temples, turned toward Toni and said, “You may finish your answer, Miss Adkins.” Then he looked at the court reporter and said, “Please repeat the question.”

  Marla Thompson scrolled back through the record. “And as project head, what is it you do, Miss Adkins?”

  Toni nodded and said, “I supervise the team that is responsible for the care and feeding”—Mark Perry shook his head but said nothing—“of Avery, and I am charged with selecting the tasks we ask Avery to do.”

  Perry snorted. “Care and feeding? This is a machine, Miss Adkins, not a—”

  “Objection! Mr. Perry is interjecting his own opinion again.”

  “Sustained,” said Marshall. He turned a baleful eye toward Perry. “Save it for your closing argument, counselor.”

  The muscles in Mark’s jaw knotted and then relaxed as he took a deep breath and let it out. He turned to Toni and took from his pocket a small electronic device and flipped it open. “Would you describe the operation and maintenance of my personal I-All as ‘care and feeding’?”

  Toni paused a moment before saying, “No.”

  “Is that because it is a mere—?”

  “Objection. Leading the witness.”

  “Sustained.”

  “Your honor, this witness is hostile, and—”

  “I said, ‘sustained,’ counselor. You need to rephrase your question and not interject your own opinions. Even though this is a civil hearing, I cannot let you—”

  In the back of the courtroom a portly, white-haired man in a rope-belted, long brown robe jumped to his sandaled feet and shouted, “Civil hearing? Civil hearing? No, it should be a criminal trial instead!”

  Judge Marshall rapped his gavel, but the man raved on: “Murder, that’s what. Conspiracy to murder! Not Avery! Him I don’t care about. But the other! He’s the one they’re trying to—!”

  People turned about in their seats to look at this ranting, long-haired, monklike figure—a religious nut of some sort?—and those near him drew away, as if afraid of somehow being contaminated with a mental disease.

  “Sit down!” called Marshall, even as bailiffs moved toward the man.

  “No, no, I won’t sit down. It’s murder! You don’t realize they intend to destroy a soul!”

  Even as the bailiffs reached the man, Marshall said, “Remove him. My courtroom is not the British parliament.”

  With the brown-robed man yet raving “murder” and “soul killers” and struggling against his captors, the bailiffs hustled him out of the chamber and into the hall beyond, his voice fading as they escorted him from the building, leaving the room abuzz with speculation on why this lunatic had ever been permitted in court in the first place, for he was obviously completely mad. And there was a brief surge of sound when the bailiffs escorted the man through the exterior doors, as the shouts of the crowds of picketers rose up at the sight of someone coming out.

  Kooks and geeks and opportunists, thought Toni. Religious fanatics, technophobes, technophiles, eugenicists, end-of-the-worlders, whatevers: every kind of nut conceivable, each one looking for his meager however-many-minutes of holofame. She had even seen a man raving about the asteroid to come.

  Again Judge Marshall rapped for quiet, and when it fell at last, he looked at the nine members of the panel of experts as if they were jurors and said, “You will pay no heed to what that man said. It is not part of this civil hearing.”

  Even as the judge admonished that group, Melissa French at the advocate table jotted down something on her pad.

  Marshall gestured at Mark Perry. “You may continue, counselor.”

  Frowning, as if he had lost his train of thought, Mark Perry glanced down at the device in his hand. Then he smiled and once again looked at Toni Adkins. “Tell me, Miss Adkins, why do you not call the operation and maintenance of this handheld as ‘care and feeding’?”

  Toni cocked an eyebrow and said, “Because it has no mind of its own.”

  With a feigned expression of surprise, Mark turned to the panel and the spectators and held up the device and said, “No mind of its own? Hmm. . . . I wonder. You see, sometimes this infernal machine won’t boot up, or it freezes, or doesn’t—”

  “Your honor,” said Melissa, exasperat
edly.

  “Counselor,” warned the judge.

  “I apologize, your honor,” said Mark Perry as he clicked shut the device and slipped it back in his pocket, all the while grinning at the onlookers, some of whom smiled back, and several even nodding apparently in agreement with Mark’s characterization of the handheld as an “infernal machine.”

  “What I mean,” said Toni, also looking at the advisory panel, knowing that the spectators would hear her as well, “is that an I-All is not sentient, whereas Avery—”

  “Your honor!” protested Perry. “I’d like that comment stricken from the record.”

  “She was merely clarifying her—” began Melissa.

  Mark shook his head. “The witness is injecting her own opinion about—”

  Judge Marshall rapped his gavel. “This time I agree with Counselor Perry. After all, among other things, we are here to make that exact determination. Strike her comment from the record. And I instruct the panel to disregard her remark on sentience.”

  Mark turned and smiled at Melissa, then, without looking at Toni, asked, “On August twelfth, did I not inform you of what the heirs of Arthur Coburn wished you to do to the AI slash VR zero one?”

  “You did.”

  “And that was . . . ?”

  “To reboot Avery, and see if that made him communicable. If not, then to shut him down and then bring him back up in the maintenance mode and erase everything from his memory that occurred after the lightning strike had damaged him. And then reboot and see if that made him communicable. If not, then to shut him down until such repairs to make him so had been made.”

  “And did you reboot or shut down the AI slash VR zero one?”