Vesta Burning

by M. D. Cooper

  Ty yanked the lever.

  At first nothing seemed to happen, then several displays around him developed glowing edges, followed by lines of text as they conducted startup sequences. With beeps and whirs, the control room came to life.

  he said.

 

  Ty gritted his teeth.

 

 

 

  Ty shook his head in frustration.

 

  Ty moved to what looked like the main control console and sat in the chair. He studied the various displays, and brought up a status control. The system didn’t prompt him for any kind of security token. He paged through menus, checking battery status, network integrity, and power loads. It certainly looked like power could be returned to the station.

  he asked Caprise.

  Caprise said.

  Ty checked every menu that he could access. He felt the vibrations in the base of his seat now. The waves of bombs had to be falling near the building. It was entirely possible they might have already destroyed the satellite dish.

  Caprise said, all business.

  Ty made the change, and saved the update. The vibrations felt stronger.

  He found an exterior status display showing the various buildings surrounding the station. A topographic map took shape with a live update that changed as huge craters appeared around the perimeter. As he watched, a deep throated hum passed through his body. The bombers were above them now.

  His first impulse was to hit the deck and crawl beneath something. But he knew that wouldn’t change anything.

  The pressure waves translated into deep vibrations passing through his body. He’d heard of weapons that turned guts to liquid using only sonic vibrations. Those weapons systems had been considered inhumane, although very effective. He felt that same effect now. Hugging his abdomen, Ty did his best not to puke all over the console.

  Maybe this is where they get the term Cyberpuke? he asked himself. Never thought hacking a computer would have this kind of physical response.

  Caprise said.

  Ty asked.

  Caprise said.

  Ty sat as the vibrations faded. He’d always hated having Caprise in his mind, but now he felt that it wasn’t him who was being manipulated and controlled. Caprise was the supposedly non-sentient mind. She could only do her best to love him and help him in whatever way she had been programmed. She would never have a choice in the matter. She had to endure his anger and resentment—despite her prime directive.

  Ty hung his head and closed his eyes.

  Caprise said.

 

  Jumping up from the seat, he broke into a run that took him out of the control room, down the winding maintenance corridors and back to the main stairwell. In another ten minutes, he reached the bunker level and was jogging toward the medbay.

  The door was open. Ty’s heart hammered as he broke into a sprint.

  Inside the room, he found Amstrad standing over the medcouch. Manny stared wide-eyed and unmoving, with Amstrad’s hands wrapped tightly around his throat. The stabilization gel had effectively immobilized Manny—with the added effect of making it nearly impossible for Amstrad to actually choke him.

  Amstrad looked up as Ty came into the room, terror on his face.

  FREEDOM

  STELLAR DATE: 03.28.3011 (Adjusted Years)

  LOCATION: TSS Furious Leap

  REGION: Low Orbit, Vesta, Terran Hegemony, InnerSol

  The connection with Fugia cut out. Crash waited in the static-filled gap, hoping she was simply focusing elsewhere while trying to solve the shackle’s riddle.

  On the command deck, Kirre and Ngoba debated how to escape the Psion drones closing on the Hesperia Nevada.

  “I could try a high-energy pulse from the comms array,” Kirre said. “It’s a pretty common defensive tactic but it might do something. Besides, if I take these drones out, they’re just going to send more. And we might fry the comms array.”

  “So we wait for them to commence boarding operations?” Ngoba asked.

  The pilot shrugged. “That could be one way to slow them down. If you’re trying to get into the ship, that’s gonna take a little bit of time at least. Might give us some wiggle room to respond.”

  “I don’t relish the idea of fighting a drone corridor-to-corridor,” Ngoba said.

  Fugia burst back onto the network. she said.

  Crash said.

 

  he asked.

 

  Crash considered that.

 

  Crash blinked. He realized both Ngoba and Fugia seemed to thrive on the chaos principle, though they would never admit it.

 

  Crash wondered if he should tell her he’d been considering trying the same thing, but it probably didn’t matter.

  he said.

  Fugia growled.

  Crash asked.

  Fugia laughed low in her throat.

  He didn’t, but figured now wasn’t the time to ask for clarification.

  Fugia said, sighing.

  Crash sent the request.

  Ngoba asked.

  Fugia said.

  Ngoba’s surprise was like fireworks on the channel.

  Fugia said. the surface and I need your shuttle.>

  Ngoba said.

  Fugia said.

  Ngoba shrugged.

  Fugia said.

  Ngoba laughed.

  Fugia said.

  A hint of knowing flirtation drew out Ngoba’s words.

  Businesslike, Fugia ignored him.

 

 

 

  Fugia shook her head at him.

 

  Fugia said.

  Ngoba said.

  Ngoba switched to the open channel.

  Kirre said.

  Screaming proximity alarms filled the command deck. The Hesperia Nevada appeared in the holodisplay with three angry red icons attached to its outer hull.

  Kirre said.

  Crash knew why. The exterior shielding was thinner outside the engine section. There was also access to the ship’s secondary control systems in the maintenance section. The drones could attack their network and cut them off from the rest of the ship.

  On the private channel, Fugia said,

  Ngoba said.

  In the time Crash took to open his beak, Fugia broke the shackle’s security encryption. He realized what she had done and slowed his time response, allowing himself to catch the last few milliseconds of her attack on the lock.

  She had combined her dependable brute-force approach with an NSAI that checked and adjusted with every failed attempt. In the end, as the NSAI tried key after key, Fugia exploited a flaw in the shackle’s base firmware. Power hiccupped and the shackle went into a precautionary fail-close, which subverted its own encryption.

  Fugia said, with the intimacy of a lover.

  The emerald shape of Shara’s shard floated in Crash’s mind, then burst outward with an exclamation of freedom. A black form flowed from the broken crystal, rising upward with outstretched wings and a head that resolved a long black beak and two onyx eyes. The Death Raven looked down on Crash for a heartbeat, nodding in the silence of the dream.

  And then a woman with flowing black hair and a timeless face appeared where the raven had been.

  Crash called.

  Shara’s mind flooded the ship’s network. The attacking drones immediately stopped. In rapid succession, the three icons blinked out, neutralized.

  Shara said. She ignored his mention of the raven.

  Did she not remember?

  Crash said.

  she said. She gazed down on him with a maternal smile.

  Across the Link, she ran her fingers down the back of his head, passing safely over the short silver thread there. Her touch sent waves of well-being through him.

  He bobbed his head and blinked. Crash said.

 

  Anguish radiated from the SAI.

  Crash didn’t know how to comfort her. He didn’t know what to say but he had to say something. They needed her help if they were going to escape Psion.

  he said slowly.

  Shara composed herself.

  Ngoba said. He clapped his hands together.

  Kirre said.

  Ngoba demanded.

  Kirre said.

  Ngoba asked.

  The pilot shrugged.

  Ngoba shook his head.

  Crash expected a retort from Fugia but discovered she had dropped off the net. She must have been occupied by her other people. He checked the location of the shuttle and found it near one of Vesta’s major troughs, Divalia Fossa, with Parva and Grichs still showing bio-signs.

  Kirre asked.

  Ngoba said.

  Kirre said.

  Crash asked.

  Ngoba nodded.

  Crash bobbed his head.

  Kirre said,

  Ngoba said,

  Kirre rubbed her te
mples.

  Crash stretched his feathers in relief. What they were going to do, he didn’t know, but at least they were going to try.

  Shara said. She sounded like a prisoner resigned to execution.

  CONTROL YOURSELF

  STELLAR DATE: 03.28.3011 (Adjusted Years)

  LOCATION: Emerson Sharp Communications Station

  REGION: Vesta, Terran Hegemony, InnerSol

  Manny looked annoyed beneath Amstrad’s grip on his throat. Ty dashed around the couch and slammed into the thin man who went down beneath him.

  Ty squeezed his hands around the hacker’s bony throat until Amstrad’s eyes bulged. Ty’s fingers dug into the spaces between vertebrae and the bones shifted under his grip.

  Amstrad gurgled, trying to speak.

  “Why should I let you speak?” Ty demanded.

  Amstrad’s gaze darted to either side. He obviously had something he wanted to say.

  On the couch, Manny coughed and swiveled his head. He looked at Ty, then down at Amstrad beneath him. The confused expression on Manny’s face shifted into a grin.

  “If you don’t squeeze that fucker out, I will,” Manny said, voice gruff from sleep.

  The joke eased Ty’s feelings of murder, and he relaxed slightly while still maintaining his hold on Amstrad’s throat. The man gasped, spluttering, then managed to say, “I was trying to help him.”

  Ty tilted his head. “You think I’m stupid?”

  Manny sat up on the bed and swung his legs down. He moved stiffly from the stabilization gel.

  “Why even ask a question like that?” Manny said. “If he says the true answer, that yes you do look stupid, then it’s only going to make you more angry, so you squeeze his head off his shoulders. If he lies to you and says you don’t look stupid, well the lie is going to make you mad too. You are putting the man in an untenable position.” Manny chuckled.