Control
Page 26
Active.Surveillance{[source.all]};
}
OUT {
Subject.Status = [Being transported via self-driving automobile from office to home. Vehicle currently eastbound on Bautzner Straße.];
}
.=Executive.Action
IN {
Subject.Name{[Ikerson_Aaron.0399]};
Analyze.Traffic{
[location.Dresden,Germany],[source.all]}
Cross.Reference{[potential.traffic.hazards]};
}
OUT {
Hazard.Analysis = [Aerial transport Tellar Cargo 713 passing over central Dresden has onboard firmware susceptible to spontaneous failure due to undervoltages in cargo bay.]
Recommended.Action = [Order minor course adjustment for Tellar Cargo 713, trigger override of internal controls, detach cargo load A214 at 18.46.18.2214 to ensure impact on Subject's vehicle.];
}
.=Executive.Action
IN {
Transmit.Data{
[recipient.central.europe.traffic.control.station.c16],
[spoof.source.traffic.control.system],
[new.heading.data],
[priority.emergency],
[subjectID.Tellar_Cargo.713],
[instructions=shift.heading_277, make.speed_480, climb.16000]};
Transmit.Data{
[recipient.Tellar_Cargo.713],
[override.controls.internal.cargo.bay],
[release.cargo.lock.a214],
[open.cargo.doors]
{[activation.time.18.46.18.2214_CET_UTC+01]};
}
OUT {
Current.Status = [Tellar Cargo 713 making emergency climb and turn. Cargo doors open. Shipping container in bay A214 detached and in free fall.]
Projected.Outcome = [Object's current rate of fall, combined with current flow of ground traffic, will result in object missing Subject by 3.12 meters.];
}
.=Executive.Action
IN {
Transmit.Data{
[recipient.dresden.city.traffic.control],
[spoof.source.internal.monitors],
[safety.order.reduce.traffic.speed],
[location.Bautzner.Straße.eastbound],
[new.limit.62-3kph],
[duration.until.rescinded]};
}
OUT {
Traffic.Status = [Traffic speed adjusted on Bautzner Straße eastbound.];
Projected.Outcome = [Falling cargo will make impact on vehicle of Subject in 11.3 seconds.];
Status.Update = [Impact confirmed. Traffic halted on Bautzner Straße eastbound. Emergency services responding. Roadside sensors scanning accident site. No life signs currently detected inside Subject's vehicle.];
Action.Outcome = [Subject neutralized.];
}
.=Executive.Action
IN {
Subject.Name{[Ko_Ji-hoon.7114];
Active.Surveillance{[starfleet.command.commissary]};
}
OUT {
Current.Status = [Subject has received his food slot order and started consuming the modified green tea formula. Internal sensor readings confirm subject's adverse physiological reaction has commenced. Termination of Subject projected to occur on schedule.]
}
.=Executive.Action
IN {
Analyze.Data{[all.systems]}
Filter{[threat.assessment.general]};
}
OUT {
Current.Status = [All secure. Resuming normal operations.];
Current.Time = [2164.0107_18.53.37.5063.CET (UTC+01.00)];
}
Thirty-four
No longer huddled in fear like the fugitives they were, the passengers of Archeus hatched a mad plan to strike back at their shared foe. Shoulder to shoulder with Data and Doctor Bashir, Ozla Graniv wondered whether this might be a moment she would live to either cherish or regret—before she remembered she would be lucky to live another day at all.
“Time is against us now,” Data said, directing the group’s collective attention to the holographic star chart hovering in their midst. “This is our current position. At maximum warp, we should reach the Memory Alpha system in just under four hours. As we pass within half an AU of Memory Alpha, Shakti will launch one of our escape pods. Doctor, you will be inside that pod, equipped with a pressure suit and a selection of tools for infiltrating the archive.”
Bashir called up a schematic of the pod next to the star chart. “Is the shielding on the pod strong enough to keep me off the base’s sensors?”
“I believe so,” Data said. “Because this will be a short-duration deployment, I have replaced some of the pod’s life-support modules with additional shielding and batteries.”
Lal changed the star chart to a map of the planet’s surface, then zoomed in on the area surrounding the main access points to the underground Memory Alpha base. “The pod has been programmed to land you safely here, approximately ten kilometers from the base, just outside its energy shield.”
Another holographic image, this time a representation of a custom-made environmental suit, appeared as Shakti joined the conversation via the overhead speakers. “Sensor scramblers have been incorporated into your suit, along with some active camouflage. That should protect you from being spotted by either the base’s sensors or its sentries as you cross the surface and pass under the energy shield. Its visor’s HUD also includes multispectrum sensors to help you spot and avoid active countermeasures hidden under the powdery regolith.”
Bashir leaned closer to study the map. “I see the path you’ve marked. But how am I supposed to get inside the base without setting off the alarms?”
“Shakti has primed your suit’s built-in circuits with software to help you bypass the locks on a maintenance hatch connected to the heat exchangers,” Lal said, highlighting the portal in question on a detailed map of the base. “However, after that, you’ll be on your own.”
Ozla noted the apprehension on Bashir’s face. The doctor shot a look at Data. “Why? What happens after I’m inside?”
“A combination of heavy chimerium shielding and high-energy scrambling fields blocks comm and transporter signals from propagating inside the archives’ underground facility. Likewise, tricorders and other devices relying upon active scanning or targeting systems will not function once you go underground.”
Lal added, “Neither will your phaser or any other energy weapon.”
“Why not?”
Data replied, “You will be surrounded by faster-than-light computer processing cores, each the size of a large metropolitan building. These towers bleed Cochrane distortion from their subspace insulator coils, generating disruptions that fluctuate between point one eight and point four-two millicochranes. Energy emissions in that environment rapidly succumb to entropic decay, making them effectively useless.”
For a moment, Bashir seemed encouraged. “So, not much chance of getting shot by phaser-happy security guards.”
“No,” Lal said. “But it also means you cannot transmit the new code into the master server tower remotely. You must scale the tower by means of its exterior maintenance ladders, reach the auxiliary control center near its apex, and insert this”—she handed him an insulated isolinear data chip—“directly into its main console at any time before local midnight.”
Bashir regarded the chip, then Lal, with a cocked eyebrow. “Why do I have to climb the ladders? Why not use the turbolift?”
“Because lift usage is monitored by the archives’ security forces,” Lal said.
“Who,” Data added, “I should note, carry stun batons and melee weapons. Their absence of beamed-energy devices does not mean they lack the capacity to wield deadly force.”
A grim nod. “Understood.
Where am I going once I’m inside?”
Shakti updated the hologram to a three-dimensional interior schematic of the archive and highlighted a path through the semitransparent maze of giant towers linked by narrow paths. “From the surface hatch go to this bridge. Cross it and go left. Here, rappel down to the middle bridge to avoid the security post. Walk under it, go right at the T-shaped intersection, and cross the gangway to the central tower. Then climb its outer ladders to its auxiliary control center.”
The layout of the auxiliary control center enlarged to give the group a clear look at its master console. Data pointed out the panel’s relevant data slot, which pulsed with blue light. “Insert the chip there.”
“Then what?”
“Then your mission is done,” Data said. “The program will autoexecute as soon as it connects with the master archive. Within four seconds, it will be fully deployed.”
Bashir pocketed the chip. “While I’m doing this, I presume you’ll be performing a similar task at Memory Prime.”
“Correct. It is imperative we both complete our missions before the virus we deployed activates, forcing Uraei to reload from its protected archival copies. The event has been synchronized to start at midnight local time on Memory Alpha. However, local times will differ at Memory Prime and elsewhere. Fortunately, Lal, Shakti, and I all have the precise countdown running synchronously in our respective matrices.”
Unable to resist the impulse to play devil’s advocate, Ozla asked, “What if one of you fails to get your code uploaded before the virus disseminates?”
“Then Uraei will reload from a protected copy, and all our efforts will be for nothing,” Data said. “If this attack fails, we will not get another chance.”
“Sorry I asked.”
Bashir’s concern deepened. “If we can figure this out, can’t Uraei do so as well?”
Data nodded. “I imagine it conceived of this scenario long before we did.”
“Then won’t it be waiting for us?”
“It is not so simple. The automated security systems Uraei depends on for its real-time intelligence cannot function inside the archives. And the same safeguards that prevent us from hacking into the archives likewise block Uraei from extending its influence inside.”
The doctor didn’t seem encouraged. “We’ll still have to contend with its biological operatives. And it might have any number of obstacles in place between us and the archives.”
“True,” Data said. “But I think we can overcome those threats.”
Gazing at all the convoluted plans and maps, Ozla felt superfluous. “Data, I dread to ask, but . . . do I have any role to play in all of this?”
“You do indeed. In just under twenty-one minutes, we will rendezvous with a private argosy known as the Trewlok. I hired them through a series of shell companies left in place long ago by my late father, and I am paying them a substantial fee to sneak you back to Earth as quickly as possible. If they live up to their reputations, you should be in Paris shortly before Doctor Bashir and I carry out our respective missions in the archives.”
“Paris? Everyone knows me there. You might as well paint a target on my back.”
Data adopted a reassuring tone. “My friend Sergei Ilyanovich works for the Protection Detail at the Palais de la Concorde. He’ll sneak you inside and get you into a room with President zh’Tarash. Tell the president what you know and give her a copy of the information Lal and I provided to you about Section Thirty-one.”
“You really think this’ll work?”
“I do not know,” Data admitted. “To be honest, it is what was once referred to in a Terran athletic vernacular as ‘a Hail Mary pass.’ If I, or the doctor, or both of us should fail, your delivery of evidence to the president might be our last avenue of recourse against Thirty-one and Uraei.”
The more Ozla heard, the more she started to think they really were all about to die. “This is insane, Data. How do you know the Trewlok hasn’t been compromised by Uraei? Or that your friend on the Protection Detail isn’t a Thirty-one operative? Or that the president will even believe a single word of this, no matter what evidence I put in front of her?”
Data shook his head. “I cannot be certain of anything at this stage, nor can any of us. But the alternatives are surrender and death. And those are not outcomes I am willing to accept.”
• • •
Despite all the friends and acquaintances to whom Bashir had wished fond farewells through the years, he still considered himself ill-equipped at coping with good-byes. It felt odd to him that he should find himself so emotional over his imminent parting from Ozla Graniv, a woman he had barely known less than a week earlier, but their shared ordeal had forged a bond between them.
She clutched her small travel bag and walked ahead of Bashir in Archeus’s narrow central passageway as Lal’s voice issued from the overhead speakers. “One minute to our rendezvous with the Trewlok.”
Bashir answered, “Understood. We’re almost ready.”
Graniv ducked into the confines of the ship’s transporter bay. Its controls were mounted on the bulkhead near the open doorway. Bashir switched on the transporter, filling the room with a warm hum as its energizer coils started to charge. Graniv stepped onto the platform and held her bag in front of her, forcing her into a pose that seemed too prim and proper for a woman who took such pride in being worldly.
She looked sweetly sad. “I hope you find her, Julian.”
“I’ll try.” He feared it was already a lost cause, that Sarina was probably dead and gone, but he kept those forebodings to himself. Voicing them could only undermine the already fragile state of the group’s morale, and they were about to need all the courage they could muster. “Whatever happens, I look forward to reading your next exposé in Seeker.”
“That makes two of us, then.”
Another interruption by Lal: “The Trewlok has arrived. Relaying transport coordinates to your console now. Energize when ready.”
Bashir checked the readout. The coils were charged, and Lal had locked in the coordinates as promised. He looked at Graniv. “All set?”
“Good to go.” She tensed as he started the dematerialization sequence. Just before it took hold of her, she added with bittersweet sincerity, “Good luck.”
Then she was awash in a shower of golden light and euphonious white noise—and two seconds later she was gone. Bashir set the transporter back to standby mode, then opened an internal channel to the command deck. “Transport complete. On my way back up.”
It took less than a minute for Bashir to return to the command deck, where Data and Lal occupied their usual posts. Outside the canopy, an asterisk-shaped merchant ship peeled off in a maneuver that seemed too graceful for a vessel of its bulk. Then it leaped away in a prismatic flash and vanished into warp speed.
Data keyed commands into his console. “Raising cloak.” Outside, the cosmos rippled briefly, as if an ocean wave had washed across the outside of the canopy.
“Changing course,” Lal said. “New heading, Memory Alpha, maximum warp.”
“Engage,” Data said.
Outside, the stars stretched into ribbons of light that whirled around Archeus as it hurtled at slipstream velocity toward what Bashir feared would prove to be a quixotic mission. “I wonder,” he said, “whether Ozla will get anywhere near the president with those files.”
Lal stated matter-of-factly, “The odds are greatly against her success.”
Her father reproofed her with a stern glance. “Lal, Ms. Graniv has made a long career of extracting secrets from powerful people and making them public. We need to trust her.”
“But Father, she is only human.” An abashed look at Bashir. “No offense intended.”
“Some taken.” Bashir ignored his stung pride. “Data, how long until you launch me toward Memory Alpha?”
“Three
hours, twenty-three minutes, and eighteen seconds.”
Bashir headed aft. “In that case, I’m grabbing a nap while I still can. Wake me when it’s time to catch my express turbolift to Hell.”
Thirty-five
Three hours, twenty-four minutes, and forty-six seconds later, Bashir hurtled alone toward Memory Alpha. Sealed inside one of Archeus’s escape pods, all he knew was the blur of stars outside his tiny viewport and the crushing pressure of acceleration and deceleration. His pod’s flight path was preprogrammed and had no manual override. If something went wrong his first warning would be his own violent death.
At least it’ll be over quickly, he consoled himself.
The pod rolled as it arced into a steep descent. Below the viewport the curve of the airless gray planet rolled into sight. As the horizon flattened ahead of him, Bashir recognized the blisters dotting the planet’s benighted face as the industrial domes of the Memory Alpha archive. He knew that if he could see the base it wouldn’t be long before the pod was within range of its sensors—and in danger of colliding with its energy shield.
His stomach lurched into his throat as the pod accelerated into a steeper dive, then just as quickly pulled level less than a hundred meters from the surface. The ashen sweep of the ground took on a terrifying degree of crisp detail as it rushed up to meet him.
Don’t clench up, he reminded himself. Relax and it won’t hurt so much.
He drew a deep breath, then exorcised his tension with one long exhalation.
It still hurt like hell as the pod slammed to the ground.
The inertial dampers absorbed the brunt of the impact, but enough residual momentum bled through to make Bashir feel as if he were being trampled by a giant’s boot. All he heard after the initial bang of collision was the roar of the pod skidding over dirt and stone.
Everything went still. The pod had come to a stop.
Bashir used his helmet’s eye-blink sensors to access his suit’s built-in diagnostics. Readouts were projected holographically over his wraparound faceplate. He skimmed through them and verified his suit was intact and all its systems were operational. With more rapid blinks he dismissed the heads-up display.
Time to move. He keyed the pod’s main hatch release.