by TW Iain
The woman smiled—a pleasing face, Cat thought, if a little desperate. “There are always refinements. And with a project this complex, there are always other areas to streamline. Honestly, I can’t see us ever coming to the end of what we can do here.”
Which was just as well, Cat thought, because for this young woman there would be no end to her work until she died. It was always worth remembering that these Factories were prisons for all inside. And that included the owners.
“You’ve got a tight team here,” he said to Therick. “They report regularly, I take it?” He tilted his head, leaving the implication of a deeper question.
“Of course,” the man said in his sing-song voice, his cheeks straining from his constant smile. “And their work is totally open. As I’ve said before, I believe that many of those on this level work best when they aren’t enclosed in artificial boxes. It all comes back to my holistic approach in viewing this facility as a living, breathing organism, where nothing exists in a vacuum.”
And the man had repeated this far too many times for Cat to trust it. The appearance of openness only went so far.
“Isn’t there a danger in this?” Cat asked as Iralla spouted tech jargon with Ley. “Doesn’t that leave areas of the Factory’s system open to manipulation, even if only through misunderstanding?”
Therick’s right eye twitched. “There are always risks, but we have an extensive internal security protocol set up in the system. Although I don’t have that quite right, as I see from Ley’s inquisitive expression. It’s more than one protocol, isn’t it?”
Iralla’s interest had moved to the other two workers, so Ley was free to talk now. “It’s a great deal more complex than that, but there are many layers of protection in the system.”
“Good to hear.” Cat kept his tone casual as he scanned the array of screens, those fixed to the walls and hand-held devices resting on tables. “And that can all be monitored from this room?”
“Monitored, yes,” the woman said. “There are times when direct access to remote terminals is required.”
“So you get the opportunity to leave this office on occasions. I’d imagine the change of scenery to be of benefit.”
Ley shrugged. “Depends. Sometimes. Good to get the blood flowing, I suppose.”
“But it has to be one of you four who deal with these issues?”
“We’re the ones with access codes, yes.”
“Just you four?” It would be worth discovering if the team in this room had any access to the lower levels, to the warriors’ domain.
Her eyes darted to Therick.
“Myself and a few others have the codes as well,” he said. “If a major incident were to occur—something we believe we’ve safeguarded against, but we still prepare—it might not always be possible for our tech team to attend in person.”
“Very sensible. But I wonder,” and Cat paused for a moment, tilted his head to the left, “would it be possible to have a demonstration?”
Iralla’s eyes darted to his face, one eyebrow raised. Cat wondered how far her suspicions went.
“I’ve found, on visits to other facilities, that systems spoken about don’t always directly relate to the practical realities,” he said, lapsing into the routine, bland tone of one simply performing their allotted role. “I’m not suggesting that this is the case here, but we would be better able to satisfy our superiors if we had firm proof that these security measures work, above the assurances of the experts themselves. And, of course, it is never a mistake to test these things every so often, as a part of your regular system checks.”
To Cat, that veered close to making excuses, but it brought no signs of concern to Iralla’s features. Therick nodded, clearly satisfied.
“Yes, yes, of course,” Therick said. “Ley, would you show our guests how we isolate a remote terminal and make any required corrections? No need to go too far. Maybe use the terminal in Beta Stores?”
Cat ran the name through his mind. This level—predominantly administration, with no large workfloor—had stores mainly for technical equipment and cleaning supplies, as well as the standard linen stores close to the personnel quarters. Therick had the stores labelled with the archaic alphabet still favoured in Ross, and Beta Stores would be the second store-room from the main access point, a five-minute walk away.
Ley nodded, sent her screen to sleep, and rose. Cat stepped closer to the door, his actions mirrored by Iralla.
He raised a hand. “Our superiors wish us to be thorough,” he said, “and an idea comes to mind. If we each had a demonstration, in separate areas, we could compare notes. It would, of course, speak well of this facility if procedures were observed to be carried out correctly in as many cases as possible.”
A line formed on Iralla’s forehead, but she nodded and turned to Therick. “If you could spare another of your technicians?”
“Of course, of course.” He surveyed the room. “Rhikka, if you could demonstrate for our guests, perhaps in Alpha Stores?”
The young man with the nervous smile rose, blinked, and shuffled to the door. Therick moved to accompany his worker, but Iralla held up her hand, her fingers almost touching his chest.
“I’m sure this fine young man can perform his task adequately without your supervision,” she said, flashing the youth a smile that brought colour to his cheeks. If Cat read her motives correctly, she’d be talking sweetly to the lad later, prising secrets from his lips. And when her hand lowered she waved it to the door, inclining her head, and the lad shuffled forward, already under her spell.
Once they’d departed, Cat left, guided by Ley. She wasn’t talkative as they walked to Beta Stores, and that gave him time to collect his thoughts. He needed access to a screen that was connected to the Factory’s system, but one that was not under constant observation. He also needed to bypass any security that might detect his activities.
They reached Beta Store—the door was labelled, just like all others within this Factory—and Ley hesitated.
“I’m not exactly sure—what is it you want to see?”
“Only a demonstration,” Cat said, using his hands to emphasise the casual nature of his words. “I’d like to view how you access whatever system workings are required to deal with a problem.” He reached across to the store-room door screen, placed his hand on it. “Just imagine there’s been a report of a disturbance, and you need to investigate.”
The door opened, as Cat had known it would. Both his and Iralla’s palms had been registered with all-points access, and Cat knew their Authority credentials would make such access obscured to the system.
Obscured, not invisible. But there were ways to amend data, if one had the relevant skills. And Cat had trained hard in tech, way beyond what his instructors within Authority had shown him.
The store was for technical equipment, neatly arranged on shelving that ran in rows throughout the large area, about ten paces square at a rough estimate. There was a wall screen by a small desk, just inside the door, and Ley turned to this.
The remote terminal, then. But the screens were only remote in location. They were all connected, a Factory-wide system.
Cat reached his hand out again and woke the screen. It was important to know that whatever codes Ley was about to enter worked when he’d accessed the system.
“So,” he said, “imagine there’s been something to trigger your suspicions, and you’ve arrived in order to solve any problem. Didn’t you mention something about isolating this terminal?”
Ley nodded, avoiding Cat’s eyes. “Isolate to prevent spread, then analyse.”
“Very good. And this requires those codes that were mentioned earlier?”
She nodded again, and Cat waved her forward. He stood back half a pace and watched her fingers.
They hesitated, and her right arm trembled. It could be nerves, or possibly some medical condition, and Cat had to wonder how long she’d been in the Factory, and h
ow strongly her body was counteracting the effects of the control.
When her fingers rested on the screen, Ley took her time, making sure. And that gave Cat the opportunity he required. He focused, and when an access box appeared on the screen, he was confident he had the code memorised.
He followed the rest of Ley’s demonstration with feigned interest. The whole process was menu-driven, easy to follow. Ley isolated the screen and ran several analysis protocols. Nothing untoward showed, of course, but she explained the possibilities if something had been flagged up. It might be necessary to do a deeper analysis, which could even necessitate the removal of the screen itself. Or—and she said this was far more likely—the various protocols and coding accessible through the security code could be called upon to deal with the issue.
“And when the problem is solved, the terminal is reintegrated back into the facility-wide system?” Cat asked. “I take it such breaks in service are recorded?”
Ley nodded. “Reintegration is here—one tap, and it’s done. And yes, there’s a record created, flagged as appropriate. It comes into the standard log—just here. See?”
Her fingers sped up, but Cat still noted exactly what she did.
“There are a number of similar incidents in this log, I notice. They don’t get highlighted at some point, or moved elsewhere?”
She shook her head. “Technically, we should deal with each one, but we don’t have the time. Besides, many of them are system-initiated reports.”
Cat frowned. “Please explain.”
“The systems all run their own analysis, and whenever they find an issue, no matter how minor, a report is created. Most of the time—almost always—the issue is rectified by the system itself, and doesn’t require any further work. The few times there’s a more serious issue the system sends a work request, and we investigate.”
“And so, this log exists for no other reason than to record all this? It isn’t used for some other purpose?”
“No. It’s purely record-keeping. Of course, if there were ever a complex problem that required further investigation, the log could serve as a source of information.”
“Of course. It’s a truism, is it not, that unless an action is recorded then it can, in many ways, be said to have never happened in the first place.”
She nodded, but the furrowing of her brow told Cat she didn’t quite understand his quote—his exact intention.
“Thank you. That’s been a most instructive demonstration, and one that settles many questions in my mind. Let’s return to our respective colleagues.”
It definitely was instructive. Ley’s code worked with Cat’s access, and it gave him a way of isolating a screen. And that gave him a way to insert the worm.
- 16 -
“Definitely something going on,” Paskia said as she threw herself onto a chair. Rodin removed his jacket, then poured a couple of drinks. Didn’t ask what Paskia wanted, but he knew she’d need something.
“Anyone else, while I’m over here?” he asked.
Vanya, already at the table, a screen in front of her, raised a steaming mug. “I’m good.” Irazette lifted hers too.
“Sure,” said Gorrin, from his position stretched out on the only bedding mat still in the main room. “Coffee, white. Uran’ll have the same. He’s showering. Again.”
Irazette shook her head at that. “Wash himself away one of these days,” she said. Then she turned to Paskia. “So what did you find?”
“Had a chat with a couple from the Haze.”
Gorrin sat up. “That wise?”
Rodin brought the full mugs over to the table as Paskia said, “They’d spotted us already. Don’t worry—didn’t let on where we were from.”
“They didn’t ask?” Gorrin grabbed one of the white coffees. “Thanks.”
“Fobbed them off. Said we were bunking down near Norgreen.”
“Plausible. So what did you find out?”
“You want to tell them?” Paskia asked.
Rodin shook his head. “You go for it.” Another point of view always helped.
“Okay.” She took a sip of her drink as Rodin sat. “Uran, join us. Drink’s ready.”
Uran nodded as he shut the washroom door behind him and rushed to the table. He seemed disappointed when the only available chair was at the far end from Paskia, Rodin noticed.
“Right. So, this couple. Live in the Haze, part of a close-knit community. Don’t think much of the Paternas Brothers, and definitely don’t see this as their district. Don’t really see it as a district, just somewhere to live. Sounds like they’ve got a half-decent setup, though—deal with trouble themselves, everyone watches out for each other, have a couple of stores, that kind of thing.”
“They told you this straight off?” Vanya said, and Rodin read her thoughts—if the community was that tight, why would they talk so freely?
“Put a lot of it together through what they didn’t say,” Paskia said. “They were reticent to even talk to us at first.”
“Weapons?” Irazette asked. Paskia looked to Rodin, and he spoke.
“Both had blades, reckon he had a gun, small of his back. Didn’t reach for them explicitly, but were ready. Way they moved, she was watching Paskia and the guy was sizing me up. Safe to assume they know how to handle themselves.”
“But we stayed back, appeared friendly,” Paskia said. “Probably why he let me do the talking, right?” She flashed him a smile, and he shrugged. It had been a good move, even if it hadn’t been discussed. “We kind of met in the space between us. Couple of steps for us, couple for them. You know.”
“Meeting half-way,” Vanya said. “Neutral territory.”
“Still their turf. Said they didn’t trust the Factory, and we used that as common ground. They didn’t mention Authority, just the Dome—and they spat every time they said that word. I asked if they’d seen activity recently, and they mentioned the army. Must’ve been those warriors.”
“Confirms there’s a path to the Factory in the industrial area, at least,” Gorrin said. “Good to know.”
“And unless they came up one-by-one, there’s a large entrance,” Vanya said. “Possibly a goods lift. Seems likely there would be other routes up too—stairs, that kind of thing.”
“This couple see exactly where the warriors came from?” Gorrin asked.
Paskia shook her head. “If they did, they weren’t saying. But they said the army was too cocky. Like they owned the place.”
“And they didn’t like that, right?” Gorrin said.
“Cursed a lot. Mentioned retribution. It was like they saw the Factory—and the army—as a personal affront. Said the Dome should stay under the glass. Said they chose to live in a bubble, they shouldn’t come out. That kind of thing.”
“So they don’t like the Factory being there,” Vanya said. “Doesn’t mean they have anything planned against it.”
Paskia took a breath, and Rodin watched, wondered how she’d tell this part.
“That’s where it gets tricky,” she said. “We—I—tried pushing them, but they started to clam up. Made out we were against the Factory too, even told a few stories from the north—rumours of poison and drugs, abductions, that kind of thing. They didn’t show any surprise, though. Anyway, it was clear they were growing anxious—shuffling about, looking around nervously—and I reckon we’d outstayed our welcome. But they did mention a group further east, something about a gang that was in training. Said people weren’t happy with the army walking through their yards. Said it was high time something was done about the Factory.”
Vanya frowned. “Could just be talk,” she said. “Doesn’t mean anything.”
Rodin shook his head. “Too many knowing looks between them. There’s something planned, and it stretches further than the Haze.”
“Still nothing definite,” Gorrin said.
“But it’s highly indic
ative,” Vanya said. “Reckon it’s safe to assume there’s planning until we know different.”
“Sounds right.” This was from Irazette. “Need more details, though.”
Everyone nodded, even Uran.
“You contacted your old boss?” Rodin asked Vanya.
“Sent a message. No reply yet. Genna?”
“She’s aware. Says we need more data.”
“Yep. And if there is some kind of action happening, what do we do about it?”
“What do you mean?” Gorrin frowned. “If people are attacking the Factory, isn’t that good?”
“Not necessarily.” Vanya glanced at Rodin as she spoke. “A handful of warriors still in the Factory, any attack’s only going to end one way. And the entrances will be secure—doubt blunt force will break them down.”
“So we warn people not to try anything?” Irazette pulled a pained face. “Won’t that look like we’re siding with Authority?”
“Only if we go about it the wrong way.” Rodin spoke slowly, ideas forming. “But this is the Paternas Brothers’ district, right? They have some kind of deal with Authority. Any attack on the Factory will reflect badly on them.”
“And if we get them on-side, they’re more likely to co-operate with Genna,” Vanya said. “Or at least consider it.”
“But that won’t be good for those in the Haze,” Paskia said. “If Authority doesn’t destroy them, the Brothers’ thugs will.”
“Unless I can convince them to use diplomacy.”
The way the words came out made Rodin cringe inside. But he’d said them, and while they didn’t quite fit what he intended, he’d stand behind them.
Paskia raised her eyebrows, and she looked so much like her younger self, the playful Paskia from Ross Dome.
But this Paskia was far tougher. She might not be as experienced as she liked to pretend, but she was strong. She’d killed, no doubt a number of times now. She was accustomed to violence and betrayal, to mistrust and threats. She understood how action was important.
Vanya laughed. “No need to look like that, Paskia. He’s getting better at talking. Probably spent too long around Leopold.”