“‘We’ it is, then. I don’t suppose you know anything about blocking a program’s access to XaaS, do you, uh…”
“Merry,” she responded. “My parents named me after the traditional greeting of an ancient pagan holiday. And yes, I do. But you’d better be sure you want to do that. It’s a big girl task with big girl risks.”
Jayne nodded, ready to get on with it already. “I guarantee you this won’t be the biggest risk I’ve taken today.”
Merry lowered her voice and leaned in. “I’m talking, like, jail. Or more likely, being chrono-frozen for a couple of hundred years. You sure you want to do this?”
Jayne never gave consequences a whole lot of weight. It was one of the reasons she was such an optimal fit as a spy. Going deep undercover on high risk missions took a certain boldness that most people lacked.
“Oh, I want this,” she said. “How long will it take?”
Merry pulled Jayne’s tablet from her, beginning work before answering. “That depends. Do you want me to block its access for a few minutes, a few hours, or a few days?”
“At least a few hours. Longer if you can. But we don’t have a lot of time.”
With her gaze already lasered into the screen, Merry nodded. “No sweat. Pay my bail if I go to jail.”
“Deal.”
She handed Jayne her empty cup. “And pay for my next cup of kava.”
“Yes, sure.” Jayne headed to the counter. She would have to do a background check on her later to figure out her history, but Merry seemed like the real deal. In fact, she might be trained, same as her.
The barista was missing, and a quick glance told Jayne that the girl was making out with the same drunk girl from earlier.
“Two sugars,” Merry called, and the barista looked up. She blushed deeply before scurrying back to the register.
A few minutes later, Jayne sat sipping kava as Merry continued ripping the guts out of their XaaS access. As she worked, the girl chatted away. The endorphin rush of hacking combined with the kava had given her motor-mouth.
“I hack corporations all the time, but for them. They pay me seriously good—like stupid good—money to hack their systems and then tell them what’s wrong with their security in simple terms. Staying away from complex issues they won’t understand. It’s boring, really. Anyone could do it. You could do it. The barista could do it.”
She paused. “Well, maybe not you, but the barista? Sure. Why not? She’s probably used a tablet before.”
Jayne smiled at the friendly dig. The academy was full of good-natured ribbing. She missed it. “But hey,” Merry continued as she delved deeper into the XaaS back-end. “What do I care if they want me to deliver dumbass, dumbed-down reports that they still struggle to wrap their bald heads around?”
Then she sang, almost to herself, “The best things in life are free, but you can give them to the birds and the bees. I want money, that’s what I want.”
Jayne laughed. She liked Merry. The girl was weird, capable, and fun. A good asset to have around. And then Jayne caught that thought. She felt a pang of guilt for thinking of Merry as an asset. The girl hacked for money, but she was helping Jayne for free. Whatever, Jayne thought. Friends only lead to trouble.
“So...” the hacker said after her song. “I’ll be done with this pretty soon and I’m kind of sick of sitting here watching porn. I could hang out with you until you’re done with whatever it is you’re up to. I don’t need to know any details or anything, but I want in on the fun.” She grinned eagerly at her companion. “I could be useful. You never know when you might need some more hacking.”
Jayne didn’t need any convincing. She would carry this girl around in her pocket if she could. “Yeah, you can tag along. But things might get a little…fucked up. And you’ll have to do what I say. Cool?”
Merry nodded. “Not a problem. I’m used to fucked-up. When you really look at something and break it down, you realize every single thing in the universe is fucked up, including you and me.” She held up her knuckles. LIFE SUXX.
Oh yeah. That’s right. She’s a goth.
+++
Armaros, Theron Techcropolis, Tesla University of Technical Arts, Administration Building
With a bomb expected to blow at any moment, the police had cordoned off a large area around the administration building and maintained it zealously. The rest were busy worrying.
Like the other three bomb sites, a host of reporters had entrenched themselves at the edge of the cordon. Their cameras were focused to capture the explosion when it happened.
And then there were the students—hundreds of them, treating the event as though it were a party. Drunk couples made out, music blared, and a flash-mob of photos drove the almost festive vibe. It bore all the hallmarks of a good time.
Most students were wise enough to keep their partying to a reasonable level but a few had been arrested for disorderly conduct.
A pretty, tanned reporter with long, flowing black hair and a red coat stood with her back to the gathering and spoke into her drone camera.
“This is the scene at the Tesla University Administration Building, where hundreds of students have gathered to celebrate the possible destruction of the school’s center where disciplinary meetings are held. And I do mean celebrate. As you can see, the students here don’t even attempt to conceal their revelry. Bottles are passed, and a new keg of tek is wheeled in as soon as the first runs dry. Needless to say, they are passing around hand-rolled cigarettes that I dare say don’t contain tobacco.”
The reporter turned and the camera followed, panning toward the building itself. “As for the inherent danger, the police cordon should be large enough to protect anyone from harm. However, the loss of the six-hundred-year-old building would be devastating for the university. Police claim to be doing everything in their power to disarm the bomb, but after a full day with little progress, it’s not only citizens who are beginning to doubt their chances.” The camera panned to the police tent to take a shot of all the officers standing around doing nothing.
“That’s all for now from the Tesla University Administration Building. Stay tuned for live updates. For channel six, I’m Rhonda Bennings.”
+++
Armaros, Theron Techcropolis, Federal Building
Police Chief Bjornstrom stood at the cordon to address the media again. The sun was on the rise and reporters wanted to know what to tell people as they woke for day two of danger.
The chief was calm and collected. Some of the newer reporters took comfort in that, thinking it a sign that things were well in hand. Those who had been around long enough knew better. The chief wouldn’t break a sweat even if she had to announce that a meteor was heading for them and they were all about to die.
Unlike her previous statements, Chief Bjornstrom allowed a couple of quick questions from the gathered reporters.
The first question was inane. “How long until you disarm the bombs?”
The chief took the question with a clinical calmness. “I covered that in my original statement. We’re working on disarming the bombs as quickly as possible. Suffice to say, I don’t think I’ll be standing here answering that question again tomorrow.”
One of the reporters shouted from the back of the crowd, “Because the bombs will have exploded by then!” Despite the loudness of the accusation, Bjornstrom showed no signs of having heard.
“Last question,” she said. Every reporter shouted at once until the police chief pointed at one of the more reputable ones from the national media – she was careful to pick a reporter from the only outlet that gave her positive coverage for her handling of the now infamous Dreason-880 Hostage Crisis.
“Given the difficulty in disarming the bombs, is it possible that there is no way to do so without codes that only the bombers have?”
“Anything’s possible, Chuck. But I will say, we don’t exactly make plans that require cooperation from criminals. So that’s never something we’d take into account. Tha
t’s all for now.” Chief Bjornstrom strode away from the podium, a slew of questions following.
“Do you have any leads on who the bombers are?” That final question was drowned in the tumult of the competitive media.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Armaros, Theron Techcropolis, Tesla University of Technical Arts, Physics Building, Basement
Jayne returned to the cluttered physics basement with her new hacker pal in tow to find Vlad had gone. The spacious basement was quiet except for the humming of the makeshift jammer he’d built. It sat alone on the metal table where anyone could disturb it.
That fucking stoner. Did he seriously leave?
“Vlad!” Jayne shouted. The name echoed through the cavernous space. Thousands of lives were on the line and he had decided to split. She’d have to remember that he wasn’t completely reliable if she needed to use him in the future.
The sound of clutter pushed aside scraped from her old work area near the optic whiteboard. So he was there. She had been too harsh in her earlier assessment. Nobody would be stupid enough to leave when—
Fred stepped out wearing the same clothes she’d seen him in last. He had bags under his eyes but he was clearly more rested and alert than he had been before.
“Fred. You’re back.” She was more than a little surprised. He’d seemed so defeated yesterday.
He rubbed his eyes. They were slightly less bloodshot than before. “Yeah, I got a few hours of sleep, but I can’t ignore what’s going on.”
Jayne nodded. She understood the need to see things through, unlike certain stoned professors she could name. When this was all over, though, she would crash hard. Hopefully Jess wouldn’t disturb her.
She smiled as she prepared to give him the good news, though it would be a hit to his ego. “You don’t need to worry anymore. We got it taken care of. Merry and I—” Jayne turned and gestured to Merry. “This is Merry. Merry, Fred.”
The goth looked at Fred flatly, her way of smiling. “Hi, Fred.”
He clammed up immediately and nodded slightly in acknowledgement.
“Anyway,” Jayne continued. She rolled her shoulders to loosen the tension that had built there throughout the day. “Merry and I hacked XaaS to block the device the bombers are using to send the detonation commands from receiving the signal. And Vlad built this jammer for local frequencies, so there’s no way for the—”
“Yeah, he told me all about it,” Fred interrupted. He began picking at his fingernails as he scowled. “He left me to make sure it wasn’t disturbed and headed out. Said he had to teach a class.”
Merry rolled her eyes. “Oh. They would do that here. School about to be destroyed? Too bad, it’s the start of the semester. Get to class, peons. You have brains that need to be programmed.”
It was a fair assessment, but Jayne suspected that Vlad might have made up an excuse to leave. She stepped closer to examine the jammer which didn’t look very reliable. It was poorly soldered in places and produced a ton of heat. There was a good possibility it could fail at any moment.
Fred was briefly distracted as he checked Jayne’s body out once more. He had a momentary flashback of her topless back at the dorm, felt the blood flow in response, and willfully pushed the memory away. There were more important things to focus on.
He cleared his throat and spoke. “Yeah, well, it’s worse than that. The jammer works fine but the stoned buffoon cut corners on his math. I looked at the optic whiteboard to double check his work, and it turns out he didn’t even use it.”
“He was doing it all in his head,” Jayne said, recalling the professor’s mental calculations. Looking back on it, she probably should have insisted he use the optic whiteboard, but time was of the essence and he seemed completely confident in his abilities.
Fred took a slow, deep breath and sighed. He spoke as calmly as he could manage. “That’s incredibly stupid and egotistical. He’s lucky I arrived. We all are. I double checked everything using the optic whiteboard, and his jammer only has the range to stop three of the bombs. The one at the federal building is too far away from the rest and can still be remotely triggered. Even if we moved the jammer to the center of all four bombs, which is probably a bad idea considering how rickety it looks, it still wouldn’t reach the last one.”
Like Fred’s chronic dandruff, this bomb situation simply would not go away. All the plans, all the work…and there she was again, back at square one. She gripped the edge of the table and suppressed a scream. “Fred, I could rip your balls off for selling those weapons.”
His gaze flashed to Merry. She raised her eyebrows at him as their gazes met briefly before Fred looked away, shamefaced.
“Jayne!” he hissed, “watch what you say in front of other people.”
She dismissed his concerns with a wave of her hand. “Too late to care about that. Besides, she’s with us. There’s still one bomb we have to stop, and now, we have to do it the old-fashioned way.”
Merry moved her hair behind her ears. “What’s the old-fashioned way?”
Jayne grinned. That happened to be her specialty. “We track our bombers down and I kick the living shit out of them. I wanted to do it right away, but since they have the trigger device or devices, the risk of them detonating the bombs was too great. Now, we have no choice, though. And at least we can limit the risk here…” She motioned to the contraption in the middle of the basement.
A sadistic fire danced in Merry’s eyes. “Can I watch?”
Jayne shrugged. If Merry got all hot and bothered by watching people get pummeled, it didn’t bother her. “Sure, but we need to catch them first. Can you help?”
“Can I film it?” The fire built into a proper inferno now, leaving the goth looking slightly manic.
“What do you need to film it for?” Jayne asked sharply, although she had a pretty good idea. After all, the girl had watched porn in public when they first met.
Merry looked at Jayne, unsure why she had to ask. “So I can watch it later?”
That confirmed Jayne’s suspicions.
“Does any of this matter?” Fred broke in. “Film it if you want to, but we have to find these assholes first.”
“Cool,” Merry said, satisfied, as she walked to the phone plugged into the jammer. Her dress brushed up against Jayne. “This is the control device?”
Jayne nodded as she stepped aside to give the goth more room. “Yeah. That controls everything. Whatever you do, don’t stop the jammer from working.”
Merry tapped on the phone and scrolled through the professor’s code.
Fred stepped forward in alarm. “What is she doing? Nobody should mess with that.”
Jayne blocked the overreactive arms dealer and put her hand on his chest to calm him down. “Relax, Fred. She knows what she’s doing. She shut down the detonation program’s XaaS access throughout the entire system. Let her work.”
Merry smiled in her own way as she cracked her knuckles. “That’s right. I’m a professional badass.” The screen’s light reflected off her eyes as the data scrolled across the glassy surface. “At first glance, it looks like you guys already IDed the device that was communicating with the bombs. I should be able to locate them based on that, but it’ll take some time.”
“We don’t have time. That bomb can blow any second.”
“Then go out and call out their names like you would a lost dog. I’m sure you’ll have good luck finding them that way,” Merry said.
Jayne sighed as she headed toward the door. “I’ll leave it to you. Do what you can. I’ll be back soon.”
“Where are you going?” Fred called after her.
“I’ve got an errand to run.”
“Are you kidding me? In the middle of trying to disarm a bomb? What is it with all of you?”
Jayne stopped and shook her head at him. “Keep your cool, numb nuts. I’m not stepping out for a pack of Camels and never coming back like your dad. I’ll be back soon. Until then, help Merry with anything she needs.”
With that, Jayne left the basement, leaving Fred dismayed at the prospect of having to do whatever the hacker said. To be honest, goths intimidated him.
+++
Armaros, Theron Techcropolis, Campus Grounds
Campus was busier than usual for such an early morning. Despite the bombs, the university adhered to its normal schedule, making this the first day of teaching. Many traveled to various on-campus cafeterias and breakfast joints to eat before heading to their first class of the semester. Others stumbled back to their dorms, having partied all night on the outskirts of the police cordons. At various junctures on the greens, students lay passed out, usually alone but sometimes in clumps. One group of upperclassmen laughed as they drew dicks on the faces of the unfortunate students and took pictures.
None of it mattered to Jayne. She never even registered for classes. She had no schedule, Even if she did, she wouldn’t care if she missed her first class—or her first fifteen, for that matter. So long as she didn’t get kicked out, she would be fine, and she had more important things to worry about. She spotted a secluded, sheltered location in the shade under a tall oak tree. Once she had claimed the spot, she sat on a small half-wall under the shade, pulled out her tablet, and called Alfonso.
“Hey, Jayne, how’s the co-ed life treating you?” Alfonso greeted her cheerfully. Jayne sighed.
“Alfy, did I tell you what school I was going to when I called you all shit-faced the other night?”
“No. Why? Is it an all girl’s school? If it is, don’t be too glum,” he teased. “I recall a couple of weeks where you had quite the sapphic, mmm…friendship with a girl a year above us. You seemed as happy with her as with any of the guys.”
Of course. Leave it to Alfonso to bring up that relationship. “Alfonso, that was a mission. She was suspected—wrongly—of being a double agent. The brass wanted to test my limits at the same time as confirming her loyalty.”
Expelled (Interplanetary Spy for Hire Book 1) Page 11