Gordon leaned forward, watching for the slightest signs of static or disruption on the screen. His watch went off, announcing the hour was at hand. The crew all held their breath in unison.
Nothing happened.
Gordon gripped his chair harder, feeling himself growing hotter in his red and black captain’s uniform.
“Come on,” he said, glaring at the screen. Nothing. A minute passed, with no result. Still, Gordon didn’t relax.
“Come on…” he coaxed.
Nothing. Another five minutes passed. A trickle of glistening sweat ran down his forehead. “Come out, you sneaky little rat. Show yourself. Come out so we can end this drama once and for all. Just for one minute. One minute…”
Nothing.
***
In the Orbit Angel’s central core, Phillip continued working on extracting the hacker program. He’d whittled it down by more than half, eliminating thousands of files and codes by profile. The station tech—a new one, since the other had bowed out hours before—ran a defrag program that crawled along, while Phillip just did everything himself, selecting, analyzing, and discarding programs and files with a brief glance. Nothing stopped the technical wizard when he got a scent of his virtual prey.
“It’s just you and me, buddy,” he said softly to the screen. “Nobody here to bother us while I work on you.”
The station tech rotated in space. “Eh? You talking to me?”
Phillip chewed his lip as he reached sideways at a second keyboard and input a command. “Yessiree. Nobody but you, me, and this guy floating next to me wondering why I’m talking to a computer.”
Next to him, floating almost on his stomach, the station tech arched an eyebrow at Phillip. “Why are you talking to yourself?”
Phillip tapped a few more keys on the extended keyboard and watched the results on the screen. “I like to see people’s reactions. It makes me laugh. And right now, I could use a laugh, because extracting this sucker is proving to be more of a challenge than I expected.”
The tech leaned in closer to the screen. “What exactly are you doing? I’ve been watching and I don’t recall this procedure for program removal in any training I’ve had.”
Phillip flexed his fingers, feeling the fatigue in his body, despite the ever-present weightlessness. The glare from the screen was beginning to irritate him, too. Other than the low power guide lights every twelve feet, the active computer portals were the only source of light in the core.
“It’s not a registered procedure,” said Phillip, shaking his hands to loosen them up. “It’s something I’m making up as I go. Whoever did this is either really good, or really sloppy. I’ve narrowed it down to a manageable search zone, but now the hard parts begin. Whatever ghost file it’s been re-written into, it’s hiding under the skirt of a catalyst. To remove it, I need to take it out, one code at a time.”
The tech sighed and looked back at his own screen, paused, then squinted through the face shield, baffled.
“Uh…” Wanting to confirm what he was seeing, he reached up and tapped the screen with a thick, gloved finger. “Am I going blind, or did something happen to the lateral code patch on the fifth page?”
Phillip hardly changed pace, working as hard as ever. “Yeah, I got rid of it. It was getting in the way.”
The tech turned toward Phillip, astounded. “What?”
Phillip nodded to himself. “Yeah, why? Is there a problem? Lateral codes are meant for patching up other broken lines, but I didn’t see a reason for leaving it sitting there since we’re taking the whole mess apart anyway. They tend to make processing time drag on, too. With that patch gone we’ve effectively eliminated a half hour of our workload. Any objections?”
The tech coughed, somewhat stupefied by Phillip’s superior skills. “Er, no, I guess. Just didn’t know that was possible. Where’d you learn to do that?”
Phillip paused, his fingers frozen above the keyboard for a split second as he processed the answer. “You know, I don’t remember.”
The tech cringed and turned back to his screen. “You hurt my brain.”
The two men let the moment pass in silence, suspended in zero-G while they continued their work. After a moment, the tech spurred the conversation back into gear. “So, any other brilliant plans on getting this thing out?”
Phillip sighed and closed his eyes, giving them a rest while he talked. “Nothing I’d prefer to use as my main method. Every reasonable option is counter-acted by the next set of functions. If I find this thing, I’m going to have to pry it out of the master program it’s logged under. The program’s roots are so intertwined with itself… well, I guess the point is that it’s very hard to get out. The only sure method I have right now is to take the program apart, one section at a time.”
The tech reached down to his own keyboard and started tapping away. “Then why don’t we do that? The sooner we start, the better.”
Phillip sighed and bowed his head, thinking. “That would be like unraveling a sweater one stitch at a time. With your teeth. Therefore, I’m going to try to…”
Phillip stopped as an extra line of code appeared beneath the rest.
“…Wait,” He said, a distant tone to his voice as he scanned the code with his tired eyes. He was still trying to figure out what had happened when the line changed. Then it clicked in his mind.
“Son of a…” he said, watching as the code began changing the entire layout before his eyes.
The tech drew his hands away from the keyboard automatically. “What? What did I do?”
“I don’t think you did anything,” said Phillip, watching the code change and alter itself. The tech expert slapped the side of the screen. “No, no, NO! You were pretty just the way you were! Aw, come o-…” Phillip began hitting keys.
“Uhm, what’s going on?”
“It’s an activation sequence,” said Phillip. “Somehow the master password for activating the signal got input and the program is booting up. If I can’t shut it down, it will boost the signal through its routers and send the message.”
“Shut it down? Wouldn’t that require finding a disengage command? Some kind of off switch?” Phillip nodded. The tech smacked his helmet upside with his palm. “There’s no way you’ll be able to find that password! The odds are insanely against you!”
Phillip continued to work, even though he knew it was hopeless.
“Yeah. But at least I can say I tried.”
***
Back on the bridge of Haven Alpha, ten minutes after the hour, a flicker of static broke across the screen.
“There!” said Gordon, spearing a finger at the screen. “That’s it! All crewmembers, secure the line!”
Gordon watched, white knuckled, as the crewmembers went about their objectives. In seconds, the screens were again entirely filled with static. About twenty seconds into the virtual struggle, one crewman let loose a curse.
“This hacker is getting through everything we can throw in his way! There is zero access! No passwords, no access codes, nothing! It’s like this guy’s re-writing the rules!”
“There has got to be a way of stopping this signal! Try re-writing the root access to a dummy password and reboot the system!”
“Too late! Hacker has seized control of root access and is preparing to transmit message!”
Gordon balled his hands into fists and restrained himself from losing control. “Forget stopping it! Funnel the signal into our tracer program and find out what’s on the other end!”
“Already in progress. Signal lock is in progress… ten seconds to lock.”
“Not fast enough. Slim it down.”
“Aye, Captain.”
Gordon watched as the static and insane humming grew to its peak. He didn’t even flinch when a nearby console exploded in electric sparks, spitting the stench of burning ozone across the bridge. The seconds crawled by, each stretching into a minute in the minds of the crew. Crewmembers fought the signal all around, probing with exterio
r gear. Lights flickered overhead, threatening to plunge them all into darkness. The entire bridge seemed possessed.
Then everything stopped with a loud snap. The lights went out with an audible drain of power like a mechanical exhale. Everyone held their breath until, a second later, the power struggled back on. Gordon looked about at all the crewmembers present.
“Did we get it?” he asked, grimly.
“We got it,” breathed one. “Got a destination lock. We were lucky. Another few seconds and we would have lost all control over the outcome.”
Gordon motioned at the screen. “Well, let me see it, then. Show me the system.”
A few more seconds of waiting and he had his answer. “Okay… the Haitus System. By the Sun. That’s… that’s only one system away.”
“Couldn't that just be the nearest relay?”
The tech slowly shook his head. “No.”
Gordon fixed on the man. “Why not?”
The tech met Gordon's eyes. “...Because it responded.”
Gordon slumped into his commander’s chair and buried his tired face in his hand. Problem after problem after problem had surfaced on his watch over the last several days. Now there was an enemy ship eavesdropping just out of his perception, while an even more elusive enemy ran about under their noses. This had to end. Gordon heard his bridge System’s technician speak up.
“Sir, whatever that hacker did, it burned us out. I’m getting a diminished response across the board, seventy percent. Haven Alpha is crippled.”
Gordon said nothing. What had started as a bug in the system had escalated into a ship-breaking disaster. How could a simple hacker signal do that? Just then, the command console issued a weak bling. Gordon lowered his hand and saw the words “Waiting Communication” wavering on his screen. Gordon reached out and opened the comm. channel.
“Yes?”
“Kafka Dogma,” came an unfamiliar voice. “This is Admiral Robert Kiles, station overseer.”
Gordon sighed. “Hello Admiral Kiles, what can I do for you?”
“I just wanted to inform you that there’s a council being called for all the captains currently docked at Orbit Angel, in approximately eight hours.”
Gordon frowned. “Admiral Kiles, we’re not under HSN jurisdiction. I’m afraid there’s been a mistake in contacting me.”
“No mistake. This only extends to those directly docked to the station, not those whose ships are undergoing refueling at the space shield.”
“On whose authority was this council declared?”
“I authorized it myself, but it was requested by another captain. On the condition that it be a secret, captain’s only meeting, I can’t say more.”
The Captain mulled, silently.
“I just wanted to extend the invitation,” the admiral said. “If you don’t feel obligated to attend out of a sense of duty, perhaps you would consider attending out of courtesy. Kiles, out.”
The comm. switched off, practically ready to give out under the electronic strain. Gordon sat for a time, thinking quietly to himself as the crew continued to try and salvage his poor, ravaged ship.
Chapter 35
Nathen glanced at the two guards who were on either side of the shooting range doors. They didn’t return the glance, staring straight ahead, firearms shouldered. Nathen waited for another second, then nudged the bottom of the door again with the toe of his boot. Sometimes, on the older stations, contact controls were a little sluggish and needed a firmer knock or kick to open. This time, the door slid open, letting Nathen step inside. Now he was in a secondary chamber where ear protection hung from the walls. He grabbed a set and clamped them on, instantly blocking out the already muffled sounds of firearms on the other side of the door. Nathen kicked the next set of doors and they yielded to allow him to enter.
The room was vast, to say the least. It sported a lengthy shooting range, and a secondary shooting range that had moving targets. Trent, the shooting range’s only occupant, was firing a Greylance rifle at some targets far downrange. After surveyeing the room for a moment, Nathen walked over to where Trent stood, eye gazing through the scope of his sniper rifle.
Nathen stopped five feet away, knowing better than to walk up behind the sniper while he was shooting. Trent didn’t move, showing no sign that he knew Nathen was there, simply staring at some faraway target through his scope. Suddenly, the muzzle flashed and a loud bang emitted from the barrel. The discharge, muffled as it was through the headset, was still audible, and clearly identifiable as a sniper round. Somewhere downrange, a target fell over, triggering the automatic cycling system and setting up another target in a new location.
Trent lowered the Greylance and turned to Nathen. “What’s up?”
Nathen placed himself beside Trent and leaned against the guardrail, facing the door. Doing so gave him a clear view of anyone who might come in while he and Trent were talking. Before Nathen said anything, he noticed two canisters of assault rifle ammo sitting on the floor near Trent’s foot, and a Coyote propped up on Trent’s other side.
“Expecting a firefight?” asked Nathen, noticing the almost empty box of sniper rounds.
Trent shrugged slightly, tilting his head with the motion. “No sir. Just taking advantage of the Orbit Angel’s superior firing range, that’s all. It’s not that often I can get this big a firing range to work with. Not while we’re in space, at least.”
Nathen nodded and glanced over his shoulder at the distant target. “No complaints here. I’m surprised none of the others are here with you.” Nathen was going to say something else, then closed his eyes and shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. Everything was catching up to him.
Trent shouldered his Greylance with a frown. “Commander?”
Nathen sighed through his nose and pushed off the guard rail, standing upright. “What?”
Trent hesitated to pick his words, then spoke. “You’ve been acting really…”
Nathen hefted the Coyote into his hands and ripped the empty magazine out of its chamber. “Agitated?”
“More like uncertain.”
“Funny. I feel agitated.”
“Then perhaps you’re agitated, sir.”
Nathen picked up a full magazine slapped it into place with his palm. “Now I’m uncertain.” He snapped back the hammer with his fist and shouldered the stock, aiming downrange and testing the sight. “Sharps, set me up a target at a hundred yards.”
Trent turned to the wall and punched in the distance, and a target slid up from the floor, already marked with several bullet holes. Nathen leaned his face down close to the stock and sighted the target, dead center, and squeezed off one shot. The bullet missed the center, hitting the fifth ring and sinking in. Nathen scowled and lowered the rifle.
“Trent, I think we’re in trouble.”
Trent looked from the target to Nathen. “What do you mean? Define trouble.”
“I just got here from the Orbit Angel’s armory. Turns out a saboteur stole every pound of plasmatics they had.”
Trent winced. “How much total?”
“The Sergeant on duty assures me that there was only fifty pounds in the stash.”
“Only? That’s only enough to rupture the hull.”
“Yeah, well, we think most of it is being used to booby trap the routers our traitor is using, so if they all went off, we’re talking minimal damage to the station itself. Still, there’s a lot unaccounted for. And it gets worse. Someone used one of our access cards to get into the armory.”
Trent waited patiently while Nathen squeezed off another shot downrange. Third circle in. The commander frowned and glanced down from his sights.
“I think it's Calico.”
To Nathen’s surprised, Trent shook his head.
“No you don’t.”
Nathen lowered his Coyote and looked at the sniper in confusion. “I don’t?”
Trent shook his head. “I wasn’t going to say anything… But Calico lost her ID card in the c
afeteria. Yesterday.”
“So that means no one has been tracking her movements for a full day.”
Trent frowned. “I can only vouch for myself. One of the others-”
“You don’t need to defend her,” Nathen said, raising his rifle and pumping off three more rounds downrange. “She can take responsibility for herself. She’s an adult.”
“Hardly.”
“Look, Sharps. I’m not trying to be a hard case here. But she’s the one these clues are pointing to. I have to make the worst assumption.”
“I doubt it,” Trent said, loading shells into his sniper rifle. “You’re just saying that because that’s the most logical choice. She’s new, she’s unpredictable, and she arrived just before all this started happening. Out of all the ESCs, she’s the most likely candidate. It’s just logical.”
Trent locked the bolt down and rested his rifle stock-end down, linking his fingers over top of the muzzle like a walking cane.
“But if I might say so with complete honesty… sir, logic is not why you are our leader.”
Nathen arched an eyebrow, thoughtfully. As he thought, Trent hefted his sniper rifle and took aim downrange, letting out a deep breath.
“I’m not much of a gambler. Most of my stock is in what can be formulated. I calculate and analyze before I even stroke the trigger. I only make a move that makes sense...”
The sniper rifle burst, and a neat hole appeared in the bull’s-eye downrange. Trent’s eyes drifted sideways, thoughtfully.
“But when you think about it, it didn’t make sense to anger the galaxy’s most powerful armada over a single ship of refugees. And Humanity made that decision.” Trent glanced over his shoulder. “Logic has to back up instinct. Instinct can’t back up logic.”
Trent racked back the bolt and caught the shell casing as it flipped into the air.
“That being said, what is your instinct telling you?”
Nathen started to speak, but no words came out. After a second, he sighed.
“I guess I haven't figured that out yet.”
Trent took his finger off the trigger and leaned the rifle against the gun table, turning to Nathen.
Prime Alpha (Planetary Powers Book 1) Page 42