by J. F. Holmes
Typical old distraction technique, but with a lot of variables involved that made it challenging. A complicated game of Duck, Goose, Mouse, Cat. Step one, throw in a fairly complex AI-based program to interface with your target system. Step two, provide some obvious attempts, while sneaking a more covert AI program in to mimic another program. Step three, all the while, the person directing the attack is figuring out what systems you have and how to defeat them. Good for them! thought Saully. Better for us!
After a late evening supper of steaks, potatoes, dinner sweet rolls, and a garden salad, with chocolate cake for desert, the crew waited until their passenger had departed with his gaggle of toughs. The air was relaxed, but somber, as Saully fed them the details.
“We’ve been compromised, of course.” No one seemed surprised. “The network we set up is totally under their control at any point they wish to take it over.” He finished off his bourbon. Good stuff, he thought.
“And that means?” Tito asked.
“We have them thinking our bumpkin crew may be more savvy, but totally unaware.”
“So we have them chasing ghosts or something?” Sherry asked next. They knew the plan, but didn’t know who they were facing. None of the people, except Dave, showed up on facial recognition scans. Total nonentities, which definitely meant UN citizens were involved.
“More to the point,” Saully cleared his throat from the bourbon, “our real systems have been mimicking their requests as far as we can safely go. We’re making sure it ain’t easy for them, so there’s a good show of the AI system cleaning itself up and severing certain connections to frustrate their attempts.”
Rosia stood up and spoke with certainty, “I remind you, they’re top of the heap and fighting like hell. I haven’t seen tech or AI interfaces like this for a long time.” She walked over and poured another drink.
Jack sat, sipping his own drink, then turned to the crew and spoke his own thoughts. “These aren’t amateurs, by a long shot. They’re cool customers and know the endgame backward and forward. I’m sure they even probably know we’re possible players.”
“Do tell, Gramps,” Phil poked at Jack verbally. Being a retired Marine himself, he knew Jack would smirk and continue talking anyway.
“I’m pretty sure they’ve got files on all of us through Saully’s job applications and dossiers. So they know we’re prior military, have training, and can fight. No way Rosia could hide her expertise as a pilot with the way we rode in to the rescue at the station. Dave specifically would know.” Jack didn’t like calling the man Dave, but until he showed his hand all the way, it was best to keep up the charade.
“It’s a crap shoot at this point,” Tito said. “We’ve noticed some discrepancies in the supplies and available tools.” He looked around. “They’ve been busy doing something, but we aren’t sure what yet.”
“What’s missing?” Phil asked.
“Nano-seal tape, a few spanners, a small box of gel used for cleaning crud off of carbon-encrusted surfaces, a few lengths of high-pressure tubing, and an old carton of mothballs.” He scratched his head a few seconds. “And steel-wool scrubbing pads.”
“Weird stuff to pilfer,” Sherry confirmed.
“Shit, I could do serious damage with half that stuff.” His eyes shot open. “Gawdam! They’re making venting charges!”
“Are you talking about those things we u –” Jack began.
“To blow holes in ships, Jack. Also known as breach mines,” Rosia interrupted. “We got to sweep the ship, now.”
“Let’s get on it quick; we may not have much time before our next and final fold.” Sherry was already moving, as was everyone else.
The search took time, but with Phil, Jack, and Sherry verifying what the stuff might look like, they hit upon five devices hidden throughout the ship’s important areas. Phil and Sherry doublechecked everywhere and found one more device they’d missed earlier, hidden among the toilet paper in the aft restroom cabinet. Now the game was on. Phil disabled the devices and made sure each was put back as carefully as possible, with a neutralizing agent added to the mix just in case. Over the next seven hours, and just before the last fold, they quietly swept the ship several more times, but no further devices were found. Saully reported that the attempts to totally control the ship systems had stepped up severely, and that the fold wasn’t to their planned destination, but to an unknown system not far away. The problem? Time. The ship was in sequence to fold, and their guests would know instantly they’d been deceived as soon as the coordinates were changed.
“Okay, people, I’m calling it. Let’s get the gear on and flush these bastards,” Jack said as he grabbed his suit, the handmade machete in one hand and the spare lasgun in the other. One by one the crew used encrypted channels to confirm they were ready and in position. “Rock and roll, on my mark!”
Simplicity was the game. As soon as the fold was over, they’d dump the atmo, with all but the bridge hatch open. Of course, Sparky would be in the bridge cabin with Rosia and buckled into a makeshift spare child’s suit. Cat’s don’t like enclosed spaces, and it was better than breathing vacuum, so Jack laughed at his expression through the suit’s visor. Sparky wasn’t happy at all.
Everyone was in an EVA or heavy mining suit, and armed. Once the atmo dumped, Rosia would override the locks on their guest’s cabin doors and open them to vacuum. If all went right, they’d be rid of the lot, including Dave, within about twenty seconds. If was a big word right now.
“MARK!” Jack timed the jump engine fold.
The ship made the jump to a third set of coordinates, per Saully and Rosia. The moment the ship came through, Rosia cut the gravity, dumped the air, then opened the cabin doors to vacuum almost at the same time. Several of the five goons came flying out of the cabins with the wave of air pressure, their eyes and ears bulging and bleeding profusely as they struggled to put on helmets. One was already in a suit.
“Heads up! They’re in suits!” Sherry yelled over the comms. She shot the floating goon in front of her with the lasgun and decapitated him. Burning a hole through his face shield left a smoky trail as he continued tumbling down the hallway. A second goon, struggling with her helmet, shot darts at Tito as he holed her with a rough-made spear. Tito’s left side exploded as he and the lady goon locked in hand to hand. “Tito’s down! Watch out fo –”
Sherry stopped mid-sentence to dodge another goon’s dart fire. She returned fire with the few remaining shots in her lasgun. She struck home as the man’s helmet opened up and sprayed his brainpan’s contents in a billowing cloud of grey, steaming goo. His fire had shredded her legs, and she had to use her arms to draw herself back into an empty cabin. She used the suit’s nano seals to stop the air leak and start treating her wounds. She was losing a lot of blood quickly.
“I’m hit! Both legs! Cabin 10 Aft! Two tangos down, Tito is fighting the bitch!” Sherry yelled. She was woozy and starting to hyperventilate with the pain. The nano meds would take a minute to kick in, but she’d possibly be dead by then. “Get them bastards!”
“Hold on, Sherry! I’m coming around the corner!” Jack hauled himself hand over hand in the zero gee. He’d already dispatched a goon with a machete chop at neck level. The helmet was still spinning with the head in it. “I got number four, so that leaves Dave plus one.” Jack reached the cabin Sherry was in and knew it was dire. He reached down and hit the auto-cleave mode for her left hip and right knee just above the joint. The nano junctions injected huge doses of pain meds and endorphins just before her legs were severed. Her screams were loud and long over the comms. Jack knew it was necessary, as did she. Sherry trusted him completely. But that didn’t make it any less painful. He hit the nano meds again as he closed and locked the cabin. She’d be okay for a while. “Where’s Pratt and his brat?” A small set of explosions shook the ship and the telemetry data went offline.
“Jack?” a voice came over the helmet intercom. “I know all about your plans to kill us off. Too bad, though.
”
“You’re a dead man, Pratt,” Jack spoke softly. “Just a matter of time.”
“Tsk, tsk, tsk. Now, now, Jack,” Pratt said annoyingly. “You think I didn’t know about every detail of your plan? I’m a citizen. I know all. I see all. And you all are under arrest,” Pratt said. “Unless you want to work for me?”
“You’re still a dead man, asshole. Just a matter of time.” Jack moved through the hallway, carefully checking each open cabin. He discovered Pratt’s cabin was empty, of course. Damned asshat was a step ahead somehow. Jack figured it out immediately.
“I’m taking control of the ship and have a nasty electro-disruptor on your captain’s helmet. I’ve taken control of the ship’s interior sensor net and have sealed you all in to your areas.”
Jack saw that while he’d been taking care of Sherry, the main bulkheads had been closed. DAMN! “Touché, dumbass!” he said to Pratt, trying to piss him off. “You’re still a dead man.”
“Jack, he’s not kidding! Just blow the ship up so he dies!” Rosia’s pissed-off voice came over the intercom. “Send this shitstain to hell with us!”
“It was too convenient, Rosia. You betrayed us the moment we chartered you.”
Jack looked up at the overhead and saw the maintenance panel had been removed. That was how Pratt had made it out alive.
“Jack, what the fuck are you talking about?” Rosia was now confused.
“No use denying it. Sherry’s down but took two with her. Tito may be down, but he sure as hell took one with him at least. I got the fourth goon personally. That leaves you, maybe Saully, and Phil, plus one of Prat’s bastards.”
“Oh, sorry, but Saully is dead,” Pratt responded. “Heartburn, poor man. But he did put up a good fight.”
“Well, he tried. I’ll succeed. I promise you that, you fetid piece of shit. I’m going to gut you, medieval style. Give you a chance to atone for your sins.” Jack was smiling now. “I’m gonna fuck your traitorous ass, Rosia!”
“Oh, my! That’s dark for you, Jack,” Pratt laughed. “Well, maybe not, according to your secret files. Seems you were a very bad boy for the Corps. Some serious shit-kicking went down. No failed missions, either! Could use a good ‘bad’ man like you on my team. Lots of bonuses, great pay, and you get to live long enough to fuck her ass any way you wish.”
“Bingo!” Jack pulled a controller from the interface panel above the maintenance node and yanked it free. Pratt’s control for the ship’s commands was now disabled. He tried Saully. “Saully, you alive or dead, asshole?”
“Alive, but barely! Pratt shot my left shoulder and left leg to get by me. Must be slipping in my old age.”
“You near Phil?”
“He’s here, but has a nasty hole in his forearm,” Saully replied.
“Innie or outie?” Jack had known Saully for a lot longer than Phil, and the question of how wounds were made had been a long discussion between him and Saully. The theory was, any wound in vacuum made by a laser, dart, or flechette on someone holding a weapon was almost always an outie, meaning the wound was from the outside to the inside, or front to back, unless you were doing a tactical retreat.
Saully looked at Phil’s arm. The wound was an innie. Self-inflicted to play the part and fool Saully into thinking Phil was one of the good guys. Saully hadn’t thought about it after Pratt had careened dart fire from the bridge hatch and hit him twice. “Dammit, Phil.”
It took only a millisecond for Phil to realize the jig was up, as he turned to aim the rifle at Saully. Saully shot Phil, if that was actually his name, through the forehead with the magnum revolver. It left a mess against the far wall and cabinets. The atmo and gravity had been restored to the ship by this time, and Phil’s body slumped to the deck, lifeless.
“Innie,” Saully said, cursing the now painfully bruised wrist. He quickly and carefully aimed toward the ladder leading to the bridge, knowing Pratt was now desperate. “Let’s kill this bitch and be done with it!” he played along.
***
“See, Pratt? Dead. Man,” Pratt heard through the intercom.
Time was running out. If he didn’t get the ship to friendly space soon, they’d kill him. It had been a gamble, a longshot, to recruit new team members for the Citizen’s Committee. This poker hand was saying space the lot, but the ship’s systems were now back under Jack’s control. His odds of surviving were next to nil, unless he could get to Jordon and the fast craft attached to the hull between the drives. They’d taken gentle care to hide its presence, and the stealth technology it had was so secret, even the top brass at the UN Research and Development Division didn’t know about it.
“It’s over, Rosia,” Pratt said as he hit the controls for the emergency hatch on the bridge, located above and behind the pilot’s station. Rosia knocked his pistol from his hands as he launched toward the hatch door. Rosia dragged her helmet back on and sealed it just in time to see atmo-vapor spew a suited Pratt into space. Smashing the controls to close the hatch, she moved to the manual lock and engaged the mechanism. Pratt was trapped outside the ship.
“Jack! Saully! Anyone! Pratt’s outside the hull!” she yelled through the comms as she equalized the pressure and tore her way down the ladder, slipping on some of Phil’s fluids at the bottom. “Saully, you okay?” She bent down to help the gasping man.
“Gawdamit! What the hell happened?” Saully croaked.
“Pratt EVAed out the emergency hatch. It’s secure now.” Rosia started tending his wounds. “Phil was the mole?” She saw Saully nodding yes.
“Rosia, sitrep please?” Jack asked over secure comms.
“Phil is dead, I’m treating Saully, Pratt’s outside. How’s your end?” Rosia applied a nano-patch to Saully’s shoulder after injecting med nanos.
“Sherry’s in bad shape. Tito’s unknown with a Tango. I’m in one piece and about to go find out about Tito.”
“I’m here, Amigo, but the bitch got me good.” They heard his hard breathing. “I think she’s still alive. I have her tied up and in Cabin 3 Forward. I think I’ll pass out now.”
“Rosia, see if you can help Tito and Sherry after you put a band-aid on Saully. I’m headed to the cargo hold.”
“You got it. Don’t forget to ‘fuck my ass hard’ later. That’s an order, ’cause Pratt’s death will make me so horny,” she teased.
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves; Pratt’s up to something and we have a missing goon somewhere.”
Jack made his way to the EVA hatch at the cargo airlock. He cycled through and was soon standing on the hull. He’d started making his way toward the bridge when the IR sensor in his HUD showed something headed around the belly. The mag-grav boots on the mining suit assisted him in getting under the ship’s belly in short order, and he was perplexed as to why Pratt would be heading toward the underside of the ship. Then he saw Pratt going into an invisible hole, then disappearing as the portal closed. What the fuck? Jack fired his lasgun at the place Pratt had just disappeared. Something absorbed it. He fired another beam of light, then the battery was dead on the lasgun. Cursing, Jack hurried as fast as he could toward the invisible thing Pratt had gone into.
The stealth Pratt must have had on that small ship had to be taxing the reactor. The minute after Jack saw him scurry aboard, the ship revealed itself as a dagger-shaped wing, with a bulge in the middle for the power core and engines. The ship floated down and away from the hauler, moving slowly as it powered up for a fold. There was nothing Jack could do but warn the rest.
“Pratt’s getting away, boys and girls. They attached a hidden ship to our hull and must have interfaced it with our drive somehow.”
“Where was it at?” Rosia commed.
“Between the drive nacelles,” Jack replied.
“Hold on, Jack!” Not a minute later, Rosia cranked the ship about and used the maneuvering thrusters to get away from Pratt’s ship.
Jack’s boots held on as his body was twisted and his view spun around with the stars. �
�Whoa! What the hell are you doing, Space Jock?”
“They parked their ship between the nacelles.”
“And?” Jack replied.
“Their ship is certainly damaged, because of the magnetic heat-induction for the cooling, remember?”
“So he’s about to blow himself up?” Jack smiled, then realized he’d be exposed to severe radiation if Pratt detonated. He boogied hard to get back into the airlock as fast as he could.
“He’s powering up for a jump, Jack! Get back onboard fast!” Rosia was making due haste and was nearly five kilometers away when a light flashed out and hit the ship with hard radiation and a push of photons. The comms were blasted with white noise, and as the light faded, the sensors came back online. It was a minute before Rosia had comms again. “Jack? You still with me, Marine?”
“Thanks for cutting it close! My ass is half lobster I think, but the suit did its job.” The mining suits were meant for heavy radiation belts, and most likely saved Jack’s proverbial ass. He’d just made it into the airlock when the dagger ship Pratt was powering up had blown.
“Well, thank the universal gods for small favors. You live, Jarhead.”
It was several hours before everyone was patched up, medicated, and the damage mitigated as much as possible. Phil had reset several of the explosive devices, but hadn’t done too much damage, as they’d been quickly placed. Sherry, Tito, and the female goon were in sickbay, with a patched-up Saully and a deviant autodoc set with the personality of Doctor Frankenstein. It was already pumping out nanos to re-grow Sherry a new set of legs. Rosia and Jack had spent some time retro-engineering a new set of control cables for the systems the radiation had shorted, and were ready to get everyone out to a new destination. The sentiment was to find the Indies and join up. Another option was to return to UN space and act like nothing had happened, with the cover story that they’d rendezvoused with another ship and transferred Dave and his entourage. Clean. Easy. No lying. Well, except for dumping the bodies with the debris in space. That was a transfer, as far as they were concerned.