Prime Alpha (Planetary Powers Book 1)

by Joshua Boring

  While they waited for the Orbit Angel tech to finish his scan, Nathen turned and connected a private conversation with Phillip.

  “You're sure the signal came from here?”

  “Abso-total-utely,” Phillip wise-cracked with a salute. “I tell no lie, whatever signal is being sent, it’s being sent from right here.”

  “Was this a conclusion of the technical targets list you were supposed to be compiling?”

  “Naw, I finished that yesterday, after lunch.”

  “You were supposed to deliver those reports to me.”

  “I got bored!” Phillip said, defensively. “I figured I would kill some time messing around with the Orbit Angel's mainframe. I didn't know what I'd find.”

  Nathen’s ear buzzed as an out-of-date radio signal crackled in his right ear. He gave the side of his space helmet an experimental tap, but the crackle remained. Perhaps he was getting spoiled by all the advanced comm gear the ESCs had access to. Such little hiccups in transmissions didn't use to bother him while he was in the Marines.

  “Alright,” the station tech said over the weak signal. “I've completed my file check. Everything looks clear.”

  Phillip turned so he could see through his restrictive space suit. “I'm telling you. At twelve hundred hours sharp, this core took a solid information dump that would have been a digital plumber's nightmare. You should have seen it.”

  The tech waved a suited hand in exasperation. “I’ve checked every program that would have anything to do with what you’re describing to me. There's no automated log or record. It’s not to be found.”

  Phillip leaned in close to the tech, looking at the still screen. “That's why we're looking for it, detective.”

  The tech turned his bulky helmet in Phillip’s direction. “Look, cut me some slack here. When they overhauled this fallen angel, they didn't purge the core and start over. They just built on top of it. That’s why you’ll see old programs mingling with new ones, and then lines upon lines of programming that doesn’t even serve a purpose, other than to act as a screensaver. It’s not my job to fix the old code. I just find a way around it.”

  Nathen wrapped his gloved fingers around a handhold and pulled himself closer to the screen the two men were looking at. “That sounds hopelessly complicated. How could anyone understand this mainframe, much less get some fresh hacking program to blend in with the rest of the code?”

  “I'm telling you, if anyone inserted a new code, it would have been instantly flagged and logged, and we would have found it.”

  “Oh, pish,” answered Phillip, moving the tech aside and taking his place. “It would be child's play to make it so the program is just hiding inside or behind a pre-existing one.”

  The station tech scoffed, floating with one hand on a safety line. “Oh, yeah? I'd like to see you pull something like that off.”

  Nathen saw Phillip pummel the keyboard with his fingers before he could stop him.

  “Done,” the tech wizard said. “I just disguised your personal record as a nondescript cargo manifest.”

  The tech squeezed back in close to the screen, a look of shock on his face. “You moron! It will take me days to restore that information!”

  “Ah, relax, could be worse. I could have used your light web dating profile. Though frankly, that profile does need a do-over. You're more of a tawny-brown than a red.”

  “Enough,” Nathen said, radio whining in his helmet. “Look, do you think you can find it, or not?”

  “Oh, definitely. It will just take hours of dedication and sweat and blood to find it, then hours more to extract it. But hey, I’ve got nothing going on for the next… oh, say, two days.”

  Nathen knew that Phillip meant what he’d said. When he found something to keep him busy, especially if it involved tech-work or computers, he’d never stop until he was done. Nathen and Phillip were sort of alike in that sense. Nathen held onto the safety grip with one hand, and un-hooked his lifeline with the other. He looked the space-suited station tech up and down, trying to size him up.

  “You like tunes?”

  The tech furrowed his brow behind his visor. “Tunes? What-”

  “Music. Do you like music?”

  The tech shrugged. “I dunno. I guess I do.”

  “You'll hate it by the time you're done here.” Nathen pointed at Daytana's back as he aimed himself away. “Good luck.”

  “Now hold on just a minute,” said the tech, looking back and forth from Nathen to Phillip. Nathen turned toward the tech, but Phillip didn’t look away from the screen, already obsessed with his objective. The tech continued on, sounding baffled. “You can’t be serious about this! I mean, the Orbit Angel has hundreds of thousands of lines of code, in more than twenty variations! There’s no way you could hope to find one single line of code that, might I remind you both, looks just like every other code in the mainframe! You can’t do this in two days! It could take over a month, with an entire defrag team! It’s impossible!”

  Phillip turned his head in his spacious helmet toward Nathen. “Sounds like a challenge if ever I heard one.”

  “Yeah,” Nathen said, thoughtfully. “How about this. You find that elusive code in… hmm, how about twenty-four hours?”

  “Gimme twenty-four to have that sucker out of the system. I’ll bet you fifty I’ll find it before this scrap yard makes it around the planet.”

  “You’re on.”

  Nathen reached up and snapped his safety line onto the cable above him. With one little push, he’d be free-flying back to the hatch, and soon enough, in a gravitated area. “You,” he said, pointing to the station tech.

  The tech swallowed before he answered. “Yes?”

  “You stay here with him for a few hours and I’ll make sure someone comes to relieve you after a while.”

  The tech grumbled and turned his radio off so Nathen couldn’t hear his disgruntled swearing. Nathen released his handhold and pushed off, letting zero-gravity do the rest. As Nathen drifted away, the station tech looked back at Phillip, who was hooking his datatech next to the terminal.

  “What was he talking about a second ago?”

  Phillip twisted partway around and smiled.

  “Just a little... processing music. Conducive for brain work.”

  Phillip hit a switch, and suddenly the suits’ radios were filled with the blaring noise of fast-paced tempos and instruments. The station tech pressed his hands uselessly to the sides of his helmet as Phillip smiled and eagerly got to work.

  ***

  Nathen waited on one side of the Orbit Angel armory’s double blast-resistant doors, Denchura II out and safety off. Across from him, on the other side of doorway, Helen was also holding her pistol at her side. Fifteen fully-armed shock Infantry troopers took up positions around the door, using mobile blast shields and corners as cover. Their black raid outfits looked terribly out of place in the Orbit Angel’s light-colored corridors. Most of the men were packing Casper SMGs, and the ever-scowling Sergeant Donal held a Coyote assault rifle.

  The last of the Infantry locked the shields down and took up covering fire positions on the armory doors. The entire display was likely unnecessary, as Nathen doubted there was actually any danger to be found here, but Sergeant Donal had insisted they go through with its part of the “exercise” drills they were doing. The armory was to be secured, and whatever was missing was to be logged. A combat engineer was sweeping the doorway for trigger mechanisms that might have been placed to go off upon re-opening. Such a precaution was at Nathen’s insistence, after seeing what the saboteur would do to keep a simple router out of their hands. After a moment, the engineer put his ‘sniffer’ back in his bag.

  “Clear.”

  The engineer backed away and got behind the Infantry. Sergeant Donal looked over, staring at Nathen in his White Sun mercenary uniform through his combat goggles and curling a lip for confirmation. Nathen, pistol hand never wavering, nodded and indicated this was the sergeant's show. Donal look
ed back to the armory doors and spoke.

  “Breaching team, begin.”

  Two privates hustled in, slinging their Caspers and moving to either side of the curved doors. As one of the most protected rooms in the station, the armory had two control pads, on either side of the doors, so no one person could open them. Both privates, keeping eye contact with each other, punched in their codes then, in near perfect unison, cranked back the locking levers. The armory doors popped as the pressure changed. An overhead alarm sounded and lights strobed, turning the antechamber into a rave club for a few heartbeats. Slowly, the heavy doors rolled back in duel semi-circles, retracting into the walls. In seconds, a heavy clang sounded, and the strobe alarm shut off, leaving the armory exposed.

  Nathen couldn't help but scoff, in spite of his professional manner. The armory that supplied the entire station and its compliment of soldiers wasn't even half as big as Haven Alpha's arsenal for the eight ESCs. A few racks of assault rifles, submachine guns, a few shotguns. Kyler Jeston's personal collection was more diverse than this. Sergeant Donal stabbed a finger at the open room.

  “Clearing team, sweep and secure.”

  Four Infantry moved in, goggles down and feeding information to their wearers. As the clearing team duck-walked into the clearly empty armory, Nathen reservedly slid his Denchura back into its holster.

  “This is it?” Nathen asked, disbelievingly. “This is the best you've got?”

  Sergeant Donal turned and pulled his goggles up onto his helmet, giving Nathen a full-fledged glare.

  “We're not an army, Mister Bracken, we're a bloody garrison. If you're looking for the Hail Mary of all weapon stashes, you're gonna have to look somewhere else.” Donal turned and waved a hand at the rest of the waiting soldiers. “Alright you metalheads, screw this detail. Weapons maintenance and inventory, now.”

  The soldiers behind the shields stood and relaxed, slinging their weapons and shutting off their goggles. The privates wandered into the armory and started disengaging weapons from the charging stations, inspecting them for tampering. Donal leaned his assault rifle against one of the erected shields and pulled out a datapad, shaking his head as he flipped through the files.

  “What exactly are we supposed to be looking for?” he asked. Helen stepped in, reading over his shoulder until she placed her finger on the manifest helpfully.

  “There,” she said. “Restricted formulated reactive material.”

  The sergeant glanced up, eyes half closed in lazy acknowledgement.

  “Plasmatic explosives,” he stated, not questioning. Helen nodded. Donal shut down the datapad.

  “Okay,” the sergeant said with a tired sigh. “Okay...”

  The sergeant removed his helmet and rubbed at his receding hairline. Nathen looked at Helen and gave her a look. Helen nodded her silent understanding and holstered her sidearm, turning and walking into the armory to direct the search. When she was gone, leaving the two men to themselves, Donal looked up at Nathen.

  “We gonna cut the dogspit now?”

  Nathen gave a shifty, non-responsive look, but nodded an affirmative.

  “This isn't a drill,” the commander said. Donal looked down at the helmet in his hands.

  “I'm not gonna find everything in there, am I?”

  Nathen shook his head. “I doubt it.”

  Donal looked up, motioning. “That blown generator. You think that was...?”

  “Sabotage,” Nathen confirmed, glancing in the direction of the troops. “And depending on how much of the explosives are missing, it may not be the only one.”

  “Spit,” Donal swore, flipping his helmet back onto his head. “What's this game you got going, son?”

  Nathen crossed his arms. “I couldn't say, even if I knew. All we’ve got to go on right now is that there’s someone on this station who is sending encrypted transmissions through several routers hidden around the station. And whoever it is seems to be covering their tracks with plasmatic blast caps.”

  Donal groaned like he was getting a headache. “What the heck sort of transmission needs that kind of extreme measure?”

  “Well, if I had to guess, I’d say someone’s reporting ship movement. Probably to the Yew.”

  Donal arched an eyebrow. “Well, that’s a bit troubling, isn’t it?”

  “It is,” Nathen said. “Which is why we need to track down this person, and fast.”

  “I’ll lock down the whole station.”

  “And send the mole into hiding? No, we need to be smarter about this.”

  Donal shrugged, frustratedly. “Well what do you expect me to do?”

  “Right now, very little,” Nathen said, trying to sound reassuring. “But for the moment, let’s finish up here. Who has access to this armory?”

  Donal stared at the wall, thinking as he chewed his lower lip.

  “Well,” he said, powering on his datapad again. “That’s not gonna help us much. Honestly, so long as anyone has the codes, they can get in. If we ever get boarded, we don’t want to lock our own weapons away from our soldiers, do we?”

  “No, but that’s not much of a security measure.”

  “Look, anyone wants to get in there, for any reason, they got to either be part of the garrison, or they need to be cleared by m-”

  Donal cut himself off, then straightened sharply, pointing at Nathen with his datapad.

  “Wait a second. I cleared you for total access.”

  “Thanks, I already knew that. Who else?”

  “Nobody,” Donal said, eyeing Nathen suspiciously. “Any outside access clearance has to come through me or one of the other sergeants. No exceptions. And the only way to enter this room unattended is with one of those access cards.”

  “Which none of us used.”

  “Are you sure?” Sergeant Donal said, tapping at his datapad. “Because it says here there was a logged access—from one of the eight cards I created—roughly eight hours ago. That’s more than enough time to do what you’re talkin’ about.”

  Nathen snatched the datapad and read it. He looked up a second later.

  “What logs the access?”

  “The master computer for the station,” Donal said. “Which then sends a notice to the ranking military officer involved. Namely me.”

  “And I suppose clearance is also granted by the master computer,” Nathen said, handing the datapad back. “Which has been breached and compromised.”

  “Yeah,” Donal said in annoyance, “By one of your people, as I understand it.”

  “My man discovered and reported the compromise after the fact, and was not in violation of anything,” Nathen said, simply. “His actions were not barred at any point, nor was he questioned upon securing his necessary gear. If you didn’t want him in there, you should have secured it better.”

  “Yeah, but I didn’t think anyone would just wander onto the core like that. Nobody figured a zero-g cold vacuum chamber needed much securing.”

  Nathen offered a crafty smile. “There you go. What did I tell you? I said we’d find holes in your security.”

  For a few seconds, Donal did nothing but stare at Nathen. Finally, the older soldier grumbled something under his breath and shut down his datapad.

  “Yer either a traitorous lunatic,” Donal said. “Or yer timing for finding traitorous lunatics is really, really good. Either way, yer my new favorite headache.”

  Nathen was about to answer when a shock trooper walked up next to Donal and saluted.

  “We searched through the weapon racks, Sarge. Aside from the dust, doesn’t look like they’ve been touched since the gun janitor came through a few days ago.”

  Donal turned toward the soldier. “Anything missing?”

  The soldier shook his head. “Not that I can tell, sir.”

  “Well,” Donal said with a sneer. “As long as you can’t tell, why don’t you and second squad practice your weapons disassembling for a few hours.”

  The soldier straightened up and nodded, reluct
antly. “Yes sir.”

  As the soldier left, Helen came striding over to Nathen and Donal with a grim look on her face. Nathen turned to her, his face matching her expression. “What is it?”

  Helen took a deep breath, then started with the bad news. “I just finished going through the explosives present and matched up the numbers on the inventory sheet from the last time they were counted. Plasmatics are missing, along with two cases of detonators and a roll of military-grade wire. I think more may be missing that we haven’t checked yet.”

  Nathen let the information sink in but didn’t react. He’d been expecting this news. He was even expecting what came next. “How much plasmatic is missing?”

  Helen closed her eyes, then sighed heavily. “All of it.”

  Chapter 34

  [10 Hours Later]

  On the bridge of Haven Alpha, things were growing quiet. Strange, considering the fifteen plus people crowding about the various primary stations. Nearly double the amount than was required to fully man the bridge. Gordon sat rigidly in his chair, staring at his watch.

  11:59

  It was almost time.

  “Move fast when I give the word.”

  The Captain got several reassuring responses from crew members, and he looked to his console. Every screen was running diagnostics checks, flashing information as fast as the eye could track. Gordon set his jaw and burned a hole through the screen in front of him with his eyes. Data showed the transmissions were almost exactly twelve hours apart. The traitor was due to act any second.

  “Thirty seconds. Get ready.”

  Gordon had gathered every crewmember who could help with locking down the signal. Everyone was alert, but tired. It was almost midnight by the solar chrono, and while day and night didn’t matter in outer space, Gordon had still interrupted several sleep schedules to make this happen.

  “Ten seconds to the hour. Aaaand…”