“Familiar?”
“We are humans, and humans for centuries have felt the need to break things for any number of reasons. This is not something new to us. But having it occur onboard a ship fleeing our dying planet with Earth’s last survivors onboard does put an entirely new spin on things.”
“Spin? You can say that again.”
The mayor looked ashen. He tapped an agitated finger on the armrest of his chair, staring off into nothing as he contemplated.
“What are you going to do about it?” he finally asked.
“Locate the culprit and send him out an airlock.”
“Just like that? You make it sound so easy. And acceptable to simply kill a human being. There aren’t so many of us left, you know.”
“There won’t be any left on this vessel if his next sabotage involves a necessary system.”
“Oh, God,” the mayor murmured, sounding distraught. “How do I tell the general population about this?”
I sat forward abruptly. “You don’t,” I snapped.
“I can’t keep this from the civilian population. They have a right to know!”
“And you’d be happy starting a revolt while we’re dealing with life-threatening malfunctions across the ship?”
“Noah, be reasonable! I am the mayor. I am their representative. I am here at their behest, not the ESA’s.”
“But, Jean-Claude, this is first and foremost an ESA vessel. You are subject to our directions when safety is an issue.”
“And the leaseholder? What do you want me to tell him? Is he to be lumped in with the civilian population?”
“Leave the leaseholder to me. He’s subject to a very precisely written clause in this regard. He’s definitely in the need to know category, and until I have more to tell him, he does not need to know.”
“You government agencies always seem to think you know best. To hell with the general populace. Throw Armageddon at us, and the rights of the people are tossed out the closest portal.”
“Might I remind you, your Worship, that you are also part of this imaginary government conspiracy you speak of.”
“Damn you, Noah,” he said, pushing up from his seat. “Sometimes I really don’t understand you.”
He stormed off toward the door to my ready room and then paused.
“Nor do I think I like you at times like this,” he whispered.
“You don’t have to like me, Jean-Claude. You just have to trust me to get us out of this mess and to New Earth.”
His hand hovered over the door release panel, and he spared me a glance over his shoulder.
“God help you, Vaughan, if you fail me on this.”
“God help us all, Jean-Claude.”
The door opened, and he stepped out, shoulders drooped, and head bowed low. A desolate and angst-ridden man heading toward the gallows. I trusted Jean-Claude to do what was right; he knew letting the civilians become aware of the extent of our problems would cause an unnecessary complication. A complication we just couldn’t combat right now.
Not that I wouldn’t make sure we were prepared.
I commed security. Lieutenant Hammersmith answered.
“Captain?”
“Orange alert,” I said simply.
“Understood, Captain. Anywhere, in particular, you want me to concentrate my men?”
“The bridge. Engineering. And the Deck A central hub. Otherwise standard procedure for all pertinent locations, including the armoury and the main computer core.”
“Understood, Captain. Twenty minutes,” she added.
I nodded and cut the communication.
Leaning back in my seat, I stared at the meadow on my gel wall; feeling farther away from it in reality than the parsecs we actually were. The farther we got from Earth, the harder it was to see the sun; to see the light. New Earth had two suns, we thought. But we weren’t entirely sure of that. New Earth was on the far edge of Hubble’s abilities to see clearly. A lot of speculation and complicated algorithms had chosen the planet for us.
Not for the first time, I wondered what the Sector Four Fleet would find when they arrived there first. I wondered if there would be any light that we recognised. That was familiar. Or if only darkness awaited us.
But first, we had to get there.
I turned my attention to the computer system and scanned it for any obvious anomalies. The chief was better at this than I was, but I was no neophyte when it came to computers. Still, nothing stood out to me. Habitat Three’s hygiene systems were all coming back online. The engineering team down there doing their damnedest to get it back up and running in a timely fashion.
I checked the security footage of the Deck H central hub. The civilian passengers were clumped in tight groups; shoulders hunched, frowns on their faces, a few hands moving in dramatic motions as they argued about something.
My heart rate escalated slightly. We were a powder keg waiting to go off. We had to get a handle on this. Who the hell was this person messing with our systems and what did they want?
I couldn’t make a public announcement and ask them.
I couldn’t leave a cryptic message on a ship-wide forum for them to find; too public.
But I could invite a dialogue by conversing with the Chariot’s computer directly. Surely they’d be watching. I could only hope.
I found A Tale of Two Cities in the ship’s library. There was no record of anyone having borrowed it, but then, the saboteur had managed to hide their tracks well before now. I had no doubt they had perused this exact e-copy.
I flipped through the pages, trying to find an appropriate quote. One that invited interaction. That would open up a conversation of sorts. I had to find out what the hell this person wanted.
And quickly.
I spotted what I was after two minutes later, and entered the quote where I thought the saboteur could find it. The captain’s command chair. If the saboteur could get into a bridge tactical console, they could sure as hell get into my command chair’s lumbar support subroutines.
I am a disappointed drudge, sir.
I sat back and waited.
Thirty seconds later, the Chariot responded with the sentence that followed my quote in Dickens’ book.
i care for no man on earth, and no man on earth cares for me
I smiled, and then the klaxon went off.
Eleven
In His Quarters
Camille
“Chief!” The captain’s face appeared on the main engineering viewscreen. “Tell me this is something minor.”
“Air filtration, Captain. Hardly minor.”
“Damn it.”
“We’re on it, now. Give me a minute.”
“I’m keeping this communication open,” he snapped. I ignored him.
“Rat, intercept that command line before it hits the recycler!” I yelled.
“It’s squirrelly, Chief. Damn thing keeps jumping all over the place.”
“Try a handheld,” I suggested.
“What’s a handheld gonna do that I can’t on the main terminal interface?”
“Stop arguing with me and do as I say!”
“Yes, Chief.” Indistinct muttering came from his side of the room.
“Mason, have you found where it originated from yet?” I asked in a more level tone of voice.
“None of the pathways from outside of life support show any sign of being tampered with, Chief.”
I sucked in an aggravated breath of air.
“Shit! It worked!” Rat shouted. “Intercepted the little bugger before it got to recycling. Just like you suggested, Chief.” He sounded a damn sight more respectful all of a sudden.
“Good work,” I managed, chasing down an ever-changing line of code as it ricocheted around the air filtration subroutines.
I reached for my own handheld and worked quickly, attaching the device and entering a command to block and contain the corrupted code. Within seconds, the Chariot’s computer programming took over, and I sighed as
I watched it write magic in swirls of elegant code.
Muttering to myself in French, I tried to screengrab what was happening, but the computer had learned from its last interaction with MacBride and circumnavigated my attempts.
“Why won’t you let me copy you?” I growled.
“Chief?” the captain said in his steady and low voice. “Update?”
“The corrupted code has been eliminated and new code written to correct the damage. Air filtration is operational again.”
“How did it get in there?” he asked.
I offered him a scowl. He arched his brow at me. As if I had any idea how it damn well got in there.
“Uncertain at this stage, Captain,” I said.
“Chief,” Mason called. “Found something.”
I left my station and strode across the room. “What have you got, Crewman?”
“This.” He nodded toward his screen.
so wicked do destruction and secrecy appear to honest minds
“What the hell?” I muttered.
“What does it say, Chief?” the captain asked from my station’s screen across the room. The camera angle would have allowed him a view of me standing beside Crewman Mason, but not what had appeared on the crewman’s screen.
“Another message, Captain,” I said. “‘so wicked do destruction and secrecy appear to honest minds’.”
“Hold on,” he called turning his attention to something off screen. I looked back at the crewman’s console, but the message had gone. I shook my head.
“Temperamental,” Mason muttered.
“Covering his tracks,” I corrected. “Probably has an automatic scrubber following him around the system doing it for him. There’ll be a command he enters to prevent it from correcting his corrupted code, but these little gems of wisdom don’t require that sort of protection, at a guess.”
“Chief!” the captain called.
“Yes, sir?”
“Type in this, word for word: ‘Brave and generous friend, will you let me ask you one last question? I am ignorant, and it troubles me - just a little.’”
I arched a brow but did as the captain said.
Mason and I stared intently at the station’s screen. Truthfully, I didn’t expect an answer. But the captain never did anything without forethought. There’d be a reason why he’d said those exact words. Damned if I could see it, though.
And then the bloody thing replied.
it is a far, far better thing that i do, than i have ever done
Well, that certainly cleared things up, didn’t it?
“What does it say, Chief?” the captain asked, sounding resigned.
I read the message out to him, word for word.
“Damn. We’ve got a crusader on our hands,” he muttered.
“A crusader, sir?” I queried, crossing the room to stand before my station. Air filtration was back online and no permanent damage to the recyclers seemed to have happened. It was as if the saboteur hadn’t even been inside the life support system.
That thought did not make me feel any calmer.
“Whatever motivation this saboteur has,” Vaughan said from the screen, “he believes it his duty. His responsibility. Messing with this ship, with the possible intention of preventing us from reaching our goal, is his sole purpose in life. We have to find him, Chief. And soon.”
I scowled at the virtual keyboard floating in the air before me.
“Why fix the corrupt code, then, sir?” I finally asked. “It doesn’t make sense.”
Captain Vaughan stared off into the distance on the screen. No doubt looking at his field of flowers. I’d always liked that gel wall image. But I’d not liked the sadness it evoked in my captain’s eyes.
“I don’t know, Camille. I just don’t know.”
And I certainly did not like seeing my captain so uncertain.
“Shall I bring you my report, sir?” I asked.
He started to raise his hand as if to wave the suggestion off; we both knew a written report would suffice, but then a written report could be lost in the system.
But then the captain said, “Do you have anything else to report, Chief?” Than what he’d just witnessed now.
“No, sir. I think you got the gist of it all.”
We were chasing a ghost in the system. The closer we got to him, the more transparent and invisible he appeared.
“Any chance you’ve brushed up on your English literature?” he asked.
“I have not, sir. Should I familiarise myself with Dickens?”
“I’ve been rereading a few passages,” Vaughan said. I had the impression he wasn’t quite ready to cut our communication yet. I shifted into a more comfortable position and waited him out. “It really is an extraordinary piece of work. I’m not sure Dickens liked the nobility.”
“No, sir,” I said, because he’d paused.
“Do you think that’s why he’s chosen that particular book?”
“Possibly. If he’s on a crusade, as you suggest, perhaps he is anti-establishment. Anti-ESA.”
“But then…” he paused, looked into the camera, as if to peer around me. “How about we pick this up later, Chief? Dinner?”
“Certainly, Captain.”
“Good,” he said. “It’s a date.”
I stilled. He stilled. And then he winked at me through the camera lens and disconnected the comm.
I felt flushed and entirely too breathless. I cleared my throat, repositioned a few items of import on my station console, and then chanced a quick glance over my shoulder at my team.
Every single one of them had their heads down and their mouths shut. But they were twitching.
I sighed and started going over the past few minutes in the logs. Or, at least, what I could find of them. The Chariot had been doing some cleaning. The saboteur’s scrubber had been hard at work.
But I was determined not to turn up at the captain’s door this evening with nothing to report.
And then, of course, I started thinking about that wink.
And dinner.
With the captain.
In his quarters.
Twelve
Am I To Kiss You Now?
Noah
Chef had prepared an excellent meal. Camille, though, was barely touching it.
“Something wrong with your beef?” I asked.
“No, sir.” She took a delicate bite and chewed it slowly.
I placed my knife and fork down on the side of my plate and picked up the merlot I’d been drinking. I took a sip, watching Camille as she toyed with her food, and then let out a long sigh which caught her attention.
“You’re not very talkative tonight, Chief,” I said.
“A lot on my mind, sir.”
“The saboteur.”
“Yes,” she said a little too quickly.
I pushed that observation aside.
“Your comment about him possibly being anti-ESA; I’ve been thinking…”
“Not too hard, I hope, sir,” Camille said, starting to smile.
If I could make her relax by allowing her to tease me, then I’d accept the ribbing gladly.
“Very funny, Chief,” I said.
“I do try,” she offered, mimicking words I used on occasion.
I smiled, making her grin widen slightly. She took a bite of her meal with a little more relish.
“As I was saying,” I said, cutting into my own steak again, “for the saboteur to be anti-ESA, he’d have to have had the same inclination prior to lift-off. And those psych tests we all did were pretty invasive.”
“They were that,” Camille said, shuddering.
“I don’t know about you,” I added, “but I’m grateful to the ESA for selecting me for this vessel.”
Camille nodded.
“I’m sure that came through on the test,” I added.
Camille sat back, dabbing her napkin to the corners of her mouth. She reached forward and took a sip of her wine. I forced my eyes away from her lon
g neck and the view of her swallowing.
“To do what he is doing,” she said, “he’d have to be psychopathic. Not to mention, highly intelligent; that code is like nothing I have ever seen. Is it not possible, then, for him to able to fool a psychometric test?”
I shrugged. “I know I couldn’t,” I offered.
“I believe I could if I had the desire to.”
“Are you telling me, Chief, that you’re psychopathic and highly intelligent?”
She rolled her eyes at me. I laughed softly.
“I know what you’re suggesting,” I said. “And I agree. So, how do we find this person? Retest every officer?”
Camille shook her head. “No. We need to humour him for a little longer.”
“I’m not so inclined to allow a maniac to run rampant on my ship without at least attempting to curtail their activities.”
“I didn’t say to do nothing,” Camille corrected. “I just don’t think calling him out in such a public fashion would be wise. It could trigger something.”
“Force his hand, you mean? Shift up the timeline on his evil deeds?”
“Evil deeds,” she muttered, taking a sip of her wine. I didn’t look away this time. “No. I have a plan.”
“Excellent. Dazzle me with your genius, Chief.”
She leaned forward; I couldn’t stop myself from leaning into her.
“It has occurred to me,” she said, enthusiastically, “that we’re being reactive. Not proactive. We need to anticipate where the saboteur will strike next. I believe I can do that. I have a programme I’ve been working on, to trawl the system for anomalies while running a diagnostic. I can adjust it, so instead it’s searching for the artistry. The music in amongst the discord.”
“OK,” I said. “Reluctant as I am to admit this; you’ve lost me. Artistry? Music?”
“His code. It’s exquisite.”
She’d called the saboteur’s code exquisite before. I was sure if I looked at the same thing, I wouldn’t see the beauty. But that was Camille. That was her superpower. Seeing beauty in numbers and binary.
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