The lack of system access privileges presented no difficulty. She had been hacking into computers since almost before she could walk, but as a ‘whiter than white-hat hacker' it was never with malicious intent. Within ten minutes she was cruising through the system modules looking for evidence of unauthorized access by the saboteur. She looked in the transport module first, since that appeared to be the most recent point of attack, and immediately found broken links and missing code structures. The saboteur had definitely been there. Switching over to the history log that recorded all code modifications, Jenetta searched for some indication of the identity of the saboteur, but his back trail was too clean. He was too good. He wasn't able to cover his modification efforts, but he left nothing that pointed back to him. When it was obvious that it was a dead end, Jenetta turned her attention to restoring the links and missing code by reversing the logged modifications. She finished the restoration and was considering where to look next when she was interrupted by a message from Lieutenant Risco.
"Captain, the transport systems have just come back on line. I thought you'd want to know in case you still want to go down to Engineering."
"Thank you, Lieutenant," Jenetta said almost absent-mindedly, before returning her full attention to the monitor.
Jenetta then began skimming through the millions of instruction sets in the main computer, hunting for something, anything, that would point to the saboteur. The systems code of any ship's main computer is almost bulletproof by the time the newly built ship leaves the Mars spacedock, and is therefore seldom modified. Unless the saboteur was a renowned computer expert, he or she had to have left a trail a mile wide. Using the transaction history logs, she reviewed all recent activity.
As her investigation intensified, she discovered that the saboteur had always entered the system through an almost never used access socket. Prior to Petty Officer Nichol's death, that particular socket hadn't been accessed since the ship had been built. Jenetta checked the access registry file and discovered, to her surprise, that the socket wasn't listed there. The address hadn't been removed, it had never been there. Apparently that was either the result of an oversight on the part of the original systems team, or perhaps it had been intentionally left off the list to provide a permanent backdoor for maintenance programmers. This might be the break she was hoping for. Either the saboteur had stumbled across the unused socket by accident, or he'd had contact with someone who worked at the Mars Shipbuilding facility when the system was installed.
With each sabotaged instruction set she located, Jenetta's ability to identify the handiwork of the saboteur, or rather the lack of it, increased. She finally came to the conclusion that the saboteur wasn't a galaxy-class computer expert at all, but simply a persistent blunderer. For every successful attempt to sabotage a module, he had made a hundred or two hundred attempts that didn't succeed. She spent most of her time reversing his entries. Even if there was no apparent damage now, some minor change he made might cause a problem in the future. She finally worked out an algorithm that would reverse all the saboteur's changes by identifying them through the access socket address. After first testing it thoroughly, she activated the simple script she'd written. It tore through the computer modules undoing everything that the saboteur had done in weeks of sabotage effort. In seconds it accomplished what could have taken many weeks of manual effort to accomplish.
Weary from the hours of work, Jenetta leaned back in her chair to think about the problem. Now that she had learned how to spot the work of the saboteur, and could even have the computer identify it, she might be able to trap him the next time he logged in. At one time terminals and computers were hardwired to computer networks, and it would be so easy to determine the location in the ship where the saboteur was accessing the system if that was still the case. But wired networks were a thing of the far distant past; too ancient even to be considered antiques. For this reason, most computer professionals would be at a loss to locate the saboteur.
But Lt. Commander Jenetta Carver wasn't your average computer professional. She wasn't even your average computer expert. For all of her life, she'd had two passions: computers and the desire to travel among the stars. So when it came to either, she knew her stuff. She had learned things about computers that even their design teams didn't know. She would first have to write a quick and dirty routine that would sample the socket address once each minute throughout the day. When the computer found that particular access socket in use, the system would begin logging all keystrokes to a special file she created. Jenetta would know every module the saboteur tried to enter or affect. It wasn't enough just to undo his changes; she wanted to know what the saboteur was attempting to affect next.
The second part of her plan would be an effort to locate the saboteur. Every key station contains standard logic circuits. If she could cause one of the timing circuits in the key station to oscillate at a given frequency above the range of human hearing when the station accessed the identified socket address, the ship's CT and ID sensors might be able to triangulate on that signal. It took her just fifteen more minutes to write another quick routine that would do what she wanted. Then it was simply a matter of waiting for the saboteur to return to the system. Waiting is always the most difficult part of any such security action.
* * *
"Good morning, Commander," the image of Captain Gavin said as Jenetta sipped her first mug of coffee in her briefing room. The message had arrived overnight, but since it wasn't marked Priority-One, Jenetta's sleep hadn't been disturbed. "The Prometheus and Chiron have arrived at Higgins and re-supplied in preparation for the attack. We've each received two hundred additional temporary personnel, culled from the five ships forming the protection group, so that all our weapon stations will be manned. All commercial traffic has been cleared from the port, and all civilian and non-combat personnel have been evacuated to the planet's surface.
"Admiral Holt has ordered that Station Defense Plan Echo-Three be implemented as soon as we detect the Raiders on the Distant DeTect network. After initial contact and exchange of ordnance, we're to fall back and assume a defensive posture that will allow us to protect the area of the station assigned to our ship. The War College defense plans only sanction use of offensive tactics when the defensive forces outnumber the attackers. We certainly don't expect that to be the case when the Raiders arrive. We're anticipating an enemy force of at least forty warships, while our defensive force presently consists of just seven ships.
"With expectations that we might be able to expand our response options to an attack by a force of superior numbers, the admiral has indicated a willingness to entertain proposals which might be viewed by some as being— disharmonious— with defensive postures espoused by the War College tacticians. We must do everything possible to protect the station, so maneuverability is severely limited. If we attempt to lure the Raiders away from the station, they'll probably ignore us and continue on to destroy Higgins. As you can imagine, options appear quite finite. If you have any tactical suggestions, I promise that they will be given the utmost consideration.
"Captain Lawrence Gavin, Captain of the Prometheus, message complete."
* * *
After thinking about the problem for the best part of a day, Jenetta sent Gavin her thoughts on what to expect from the Raiders when they arrived, then headed for her quarters. It was after midnight and she was exhausted. Deep in thought as she walked, she slapped a small viewpad against her thigh. The third watch had just reported for duty, and the bridge crew watched her curiously as she crossed the bridge and disappeared into the corridor.
Where Raider ship movement had been more or less restricted at Vauzlee, the opposite would be true at Higgins. The Raiders would be on the offensive, and able to attack from any point, while Space Command would be the besieged defenders. Saddled with responsibility for knocking down any torpedoes intended for the space station, the Space Command vessels would be unable to maneuver to any significant degree. They'd
be like clay ducks in a shooting gallery. The only difference there was that the ducks didn't get to shoot back.
Perhaps she was reading too much into his obviously carefully worded communication, but she felt that Gavin was asking not just for ideas to enhance Station Defense Plan Echo-Three, but for tactical plans that could replace that archaic defensive posture. So she'd outlined several strategies that the defenders might consider employing instead. The planners at the War College were excellent tacticians when Space Command had both weapons and numerical superiority, but Space Command had never before fought a defensive battle where it lacked either. Relegated principally to police duties since the service was formed, ships normally operated as separate entities. Flag officers traveled in luxurious VIP guest quarters to reach a base or return to Earth, but no admiral had ever stood on the bridge of a ship in space and directed a battle. The battle at Vauzlee had been the first ever coordinated assault on an enemy in space. As such, ships, weapons, and strategies had never been developed for the kind of enemy action that faced them now.
The plans that Jenetta proposed for the protection of the station employed maneuvers that would probably be scoffed at by War College tacticians, but when ‘damn the torpedoes, full speed ahead' tactics are deemed totally inadequate, guile must move to the forefront. It was true that her plans entailed a certain amount of risk, but certainly no more than attempting to engage in a toe-to-toe slugfest with a significantly more powerful force. The Greek soldiers who climbed into the wooden horse at the siege of Troy certainly knew the risk if they were discovered, but after attempts to storm the city's walls had proven unsuccessful, some measure of surreptitious behavior was mandated. And since her days of electronic game playing with her brothers, sneaky battle maneuvers had always been Jenetta's forte.
Her soft soled boots glided silently over the carpeted deck as she entered her quarters still slapping the viewpad against her right thigh. The ragged edges of an idea for a particularly devious offensive maneuver kept brushing against her conscious mind, but she couldn't quite grasp it. Deep in thought, she didn't raise the illumination in the sitting room from its normally low level as she paced around the interior of the room. It was several seconds before she realized that Woodrow hadn't immediately emerged from his quarters to greet her and offer her food and beverage, as he always did regardless of the hour. She also realized that she wasn't alone. She stopped in the middle of the room, whirled, and spotted the intruder standing silently in the shadows against the wall opposite her office and dining room.
"Hello, Captain," he said, taking one short step forward now that his presence was known. "I see that it's official this time. You do have a talent for getting back to the big chair. Ut— don't touch your ring or I shall be forced to fire."
Jenetta's left arm had been inching slowly towards the Space Command ring on her right hand. If no vocal message was received once a carrier wave was established, the security center would be notified immediately that either a medical emergency or security problem existed. "How did you get aboard this ship?" Jenetta demanded.
"It was all too simple," Commander Pretorious said smugly. "A few days after the battle, Kanes released me and gave me a shuttlecraft loaded with food— as per our prior agreement."
"Did he also give you that noncom uniform, and the laser pistol you're pointing at me?"
* * *
Chapter Fourteen
~ May 16th, 2268 ~
"No, of course not," Pretorious said, grinning malevolently. "I got these on my own, and that was also amazingly easy. I just dropped by the wrecked GSC destroyer and picked them up. The armory was wide open, literally. An entire bulkhead wall was ripped away in the collision. You wouldn't believe the incredible arsenal I've got stashed away in my shuttle. Once I get to the mining colony on Sasone, I'll make enough from the sale of those weapons to hire a ship that will take me anywhere in GA space that I want to go."
"To the nearest Raider base, I assume."
"Not directly. First I have to get to a location where I can hitch a ride with one of our spotter ships. Then I can transfer to a Raider vessel when we're far enough away from prying eyes."
"I see."
"Getting back to my story— With a Space Command uniform and a legitimate Space Command shuttle registered to the Prometheus, I've been able to go virtually anywhere without being questioned. Being in an isolated area of space, with emergency repairs occupying everyone's mind, nobody gave a second thought to another shuttle zipping between ships. I'd heard a couple of Space Marine guards in the Prometheus talking about your having been placed in command here, so I came over with a concocted story about being sent to pick you up for a trip back to the Prometheus for a meeting with Captain Gavin.
"The Petty Officer in the flight bay said that he hadn't heard anything about your leaving the ship, and was about to call the bridge to notify you that I was here, when I spotted the deck of cards in his pocket. They saved his life because I was prepared to shoot him, to stop him from alerting you to my presence. I asked him if he played poker and he totally forgot about making that call. We talked poker for a while, until I said that I'd better report to you to find out what was going on.
"I went up to the visitor's quarters section and picked out a nice room for myself, took a nap, then returned to the flight bay to tell the Petty Officer that the trip was postponed, I told him that I'd been ordered to stand by on the Song, and even assigned temporary quarters where I could wait. He invited me to play poker with him and his buddies that night, if I was still around, but I told him I was too tired.
"You killed Nichols," Jenetta said.
"Of course," Pretorious said matter-of-factly. "I had to. I ran into him the evening before the task force was due to leave. He questioned the continued presence of a shuttle belonging to the Prometheus. I told him that I'd received orders to return to the Prometheus the following morning if you didn't need me. The fool bought that, and invited me to play poker again. I told him that I hated penny ante games, but that I'd play if the stakes were high enough. So he invited me to play in a private game; just the two of us. He gave me directions to a storage room that he often used for such games. He said that it was remote and we could play without worrying about interruption during the second or third watches."
"But you weren't there for long? We didn't find your fingerprints or any evidence of your presence."
Pretorious smiled. "Just long enough to do my chore. He opened the door when I knocked, and smiled at me like I was a pigeon he was going to pluck. But when I raised the landing strut stabilizer rod I'd brought along, his expression changed and he took a quick step backward. He blocked my first swing, but when he dropped his arm in pain, I swung again. I took the deck of cards from his pocket after he was down, and holding it lightly by the edges, I sprinkled them around his body to make it look like an argument over gambling. Then I returned to my quarters to wait until breakfast time. I intended to enter your quarters when your breakfast was delivered, then make my escape before the task force left for Earth. No one would question my departure for return to the Prometheus. Once I was outside the ship, I could hide near one of the wrecked ships until most everyone was gone, then drift away quietly. The sudden departure for Higgins made me modify my plans.
Jenetta didn't mention that her breakfast wasn't delivered each morning, but was fully prepared in her own galley. And there was no way that Pretorious could move around the battle zone now without being observed. The craziness prevalent immediately following the battle was long gone. Every tac officer on duty in the task force would see Pretorious' shuttle leave the Song and attempt to fly somewhere it shouldn't be going. Fighters would be dispatched within minutes of Pretorious' refusal to answer the resulting hails, if he offered lame excuses, or even if he tried to escape the area. Without FTL, a shuttle couldn't escape from a Marine fighter. She also refrained from saying that if she wasn't on the bridge for departure, the Song would never have left the area. In fact, the entir
e task force would have delayed its departure while a search for the killer was conducted. She had to keep Pretorious talking. Pointing out errors in his brilliant plan might make him reluctant to say more. "But you weren't content with just waiting," Jenetta said. "You had to harass us with fires and computer problems?"
Pretorious grinned. "Waiting in the visitor's quarters was almost as bad as being in the brig aboard the Prometheus. Hacking into the computer system gave me something to occupy my days. Besides, I needed information about your schedule so I could find a way to get access to you when you were alone. I also wanted to make your life as miserable as mine has been since we left Raider-One."
"Why set the fire?"
"No particular reason other than make as much mischief as I could. I left the fire suppression systems in the other sections alone so it couldn't get too far out of control."
"And the transport tube problems and laundry screwups?"
"The same. Those systems were the only ones I could get into, or I would have done a lot more. I couldn't find any access to the Weapons Computer, but I discovered that the torpedo load and launch systems are handled by a module in the Main System. I wanted to screw up the instruction sets so that when you tried to fire your torpedoes, they jammed in the tubes. Unfortunately, that module in the computer has more firewalls than a fireworks factory."
"Why did you end the mischief?"
"On the day after the transport tube shutdown, you were supposed to be plagued by a problem with bots. Every housekeeping bot on the ship would suddenly receive a priority command to vacuum the boots of every crewman, while they were being worn. I was really looking forward to seeing that one. I figured that most crewmen would spend their day lying on the deck, after having tripped on bots whenever they turned around. When it didn't happen, I figured you were onto me. I dared not log into the system again in case you were waiting for me and had arranged some way to track my access point."
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