Chapter 20
“And how are we doing today, Mr. Xohn?”
The sudden voice startled Vin Xohn amidst the trilling from the projected holo model he was working on. It caused him to jump and make an uncontrolled input into the model. New oscillations amplified within the projected structure, and the entire simulation destabilized. The projection came to an abrupt end with a red failure message glowing before him and his uninvited visitor.
The ponytailed bureaucrat walked behind him. He hated how the man seemed to slink into his workspace unannounced, watching him over his shoulder from behind. It was a dark, windowless lab space with dim ambient lighting and a single badged entryway. The combination of dungeon-like conditions and the ever-present overlord pushed him to the breaking point.
“I simply cannot work like this! Not under these conditions. You cannot come in here unannounced. That was hours of work destroyed by your uninvited interruption.” He pulled his hands from the holo projection and put them flat on the desk in front of him. His patience had long since worn thin. It may have had something to do with the constant threats to hurt his friends. The images of Jackson, Lee, and Tarrek held in isolation boxes at some distant, forsaken prison facility were lodged in his mind. It’s what forced him to cooperate, despite his protests.
Duryss put his hands on his shoulders and spoke into his ear. “You’ll have to. Your friends are still counting on you. I’m counting on you.” He shifted to Xohn’s other ear and continued in a low voice, “The fabrication process of your enhanced ThermARC device is already underway. They’re all useless without the right firmware. It’s all up to you.”
“The improvements are delicate work. These calculations must be correct. The test suite needs to be completed. Any miscalculation could be quite… dangerous.” He said with an edge to his voice.
“Well, well, Mr. Xohn. I didn’t think you capable of threats. You continue to surprise me.”
“It is a fact.”
“Oh, I know a threat when I hear one. Let me return the favor. The stakes are now higher than you realize.”
Xohn half turned to see the pitted pock-marks of Duryss’s face lit from the glow of the terminal screens at his workstation. “Wha… what do you mean?” He asked, nervous about the implications.
“Are you familiar with the system of Chelum?” Duryss halfway sat on the corner of the desk.
“I’m not from this region.”
“Chelum, or HIP 21280 in the star charts, is a system of over 2 billion people. It is currently under siege by Resistance terrorists and,” he shifted on the desk. “…an outbreak of aculosis is spreading across the entire system.”
“What is aculosis?”
“It is a dreadful, painful disease,” he shook his head with a pitiful look. “Your skin gets a ghastly sort of discoloring before it develops into a high fever. Your capillaries begin to burst, and it progresses into the lungs. You start coughing up blood. Then come the muscle spasms that tear you up from inside. Your violent cough rips apart tissue while you drown in your own fluids.”
Vin Xohn couldn’t keep himself from looking appalled with his mouth hanging open at the description. “My word,” he said softly.
“By the last count, there were 80 million now infected, and it’s spreading fast. The death toll is rising as well—in the hundreds of thousands I’m told.”
“No treatment is available?”
“Oh, there is. But we’re fighting many different priorities in the system. Most shipping to the system is for weapon parts to set up defenses against a Thargoid attack. They are at our doorstep even now.”
“Yes, your xenophobic defense policies are well known.”
“Xenophobic? Come now, Mr. Xohn, millions upon millions have died in the attacks that have spread across the galaxy. It’s entirely justifiable to defend our citizens. It is and must remain a top priority. Our citizens demand it. But you see, in Chelum, even the pace of shipping for our system defense initiatives has slowed to a crawl because of terrorist interference. We can’t ship parts safely anymore, let alone treatments.”
“I see.”
“Do you, Mr. Xohn? Understand me, this is no game. There are potentially hundreds of millions of lives at stake.”
“So, the ThermARC is needed for delivering the medication?”
“Precisely. Think of the lives you can save. You’ll be a hero.”
He didn’t trust Duryss. It sounded to him like exaggerated theatrics. But, what if it was real? His conscience wouldn’t allow him to sit idly and do nothing. “A hero is not what I need to be. Saving lives is what matters.”
“Of course, that is the most important thing! Very good. Very good indeed. How long will it take to finish your tests?”
“Most of the tests from my original dataset that you took from me can be used. But at least a hundred new tests for complete coverage are needed. A few more days, maybe less.”
“In a few more days, there could be 30 million more infected at its current rate.”
“Two days at least it will take if I do my best, but cutting corners like that may also cost lives.”
“They’re counting on you.”
Xohn turned back to his workstation, “Then, to save as many lives as possible you best leave me to my work.”
“Very well,” he patted his legs and stood up to leave. At the doorway, he turned back and said, ”I’ll have Miranda bring your lunch to your lab so you can keep working. You’re in for a home-cooked Sietaen treat: Lyota Root Stew with Tamka Loaves.”
He disappeared, and the door slid shut behind him, leaving Xohn again in the quiet solitude of his dungeon. He immediately pulled up GalNet news reports from Chelum to confirm what Duryss had said. It confirmed everything. Worse, it told an even more worrying story about the rapid spread of the disease. The game was up. Delaying the ThermARC to help the Resistance would do so at the cost of innocent lives.
He could only hope his enhancements were enough to save them all.
Duryss arrived in his office giddy from satisfaction. The ThermARC would now serve a dual purpose. So long as the engineer’s calculations worked as well as promised, he would have the upper-hand.
His plan to repel the Senator’s forces was a stroke of Machiavellian statecraft that surprised even himself. It was almost poetic, this ability of his to turn the Senator’s advantages back against him. Even the virus was now an advantage. The rebellion of citizens in Chelum would end with the promise of a cure. His ability to control the supply of medication meant absolute control of the population.
He took a seat in his office chair and stared out at the night sky. Wisps of faintly glowing teal clouds veiled the sparkle of stars adorning the northern hemisphere of Emen.
He reveled at the idea of Senator Madius getting news of his decimated fleets. What a delicious victory it would be. At that moment, the Senator would know. He would realize that he had been beaten by none other than his ‘greatest disappointment.’ But, disappointment no more.
A message appeared on his holo terminal. He leaned forward in interest but also to focus his aging eyes. A smile crept across his face as he read. It was the notice that the first manufacturing line had completed its run of the ThermARC hardware.
It was time to bring a shipment to Sietae, where the engineer could install his newly configured software. He worked his terminal to locate ships large enough and close enough to pick up the modules. There was only one choice.
He placed the call, and a gentle, trilling sound played while waiting for the connection.
“Consular,” Reeves answered on an audio-only channel.
“Colonel Reeves, your mission performance of late has begun to restore my faith in your abilities.”
“Thank you, sir. I think it just took some settling in time with the crew.”
“Very good, Colonel. I have another mission for you.”
“Of course, sir.”
“I have a cargo shipment of classified equipment that I need delivered. Given the sensitive nature of this equipment, this is a black op. I need you to pick up 100 units and deliver them to me on Emen.”
“I’m sorry, sir, this is a black op… cargo run?”
He could hear the confusion and an edge of disappointment in her voice.
“Indeed. I cannot risk losing this cargo, and there can be no record of the mission. Black ops protocol: coded messages, no logs, and no record of any kind.”
“Understood. Where are we picking up the cargo?”
“You’ll travel to Gliese 170.1. I’m encoding the destination in an encrypted message that you’ll pick up at the nav beacon in the system.”
“You mean back to the same system we delivered your political prisoner?”
“Precisely. When you arrive, you’ll have a limited window of time to pick up the cargo. The ground crew will have the units standing by. Maintain minimal contact.”
“Yes, sir. We’re plotting a course now.”
“Do keep on alert. We know there are Resistance forces in the system.”
“We’ll be ready.”
“Also, when you arrive to deliver the shipment, I want the Decimator put in for a refit. I will need your ship and crew ready for engagement in Chelum.”
As always, Reeves was predictable to manipulate. A mindless cargo run was below the Decimator’s crew, but the promise of action and combat enhancements was an effective motivator.
“We’ll get it done. Thank you, Consular. We’re getting underway now. Decimator out.”
Huxley closed the comm. Reeves crossed her arms in the middle of the command deck. Sloane immediately let out a long sigh. Asher was quiet. The tension seemed to float forever in the zero-G silence among the crew.
That is until Sloane burst out, “What in the vackin’ screb hauling biowaste are these orders?” He smacked around his console.
“Stow it, Sloane,” she snapped. Truth be told, though, Reeves herself had reached the limits of her patience with these assignments. Leading an attack force for revenge against the ‘goids was now a distant memory. Still, orders were orders. Unlike the mercenaries or freelance pilots, they didn’t pick their missions. They had to stick to the program, no matter how ridiculous it seemed. “Look,” she put a hand to her forehead and, with a pained look, continued, “I don’t like it either, people.” She looked around at each of them. “You all deserve better assignments than what we’ve been handed.”
“Permission to speak freely, sir?” Sloane asked.
“Do you ever not? Go ahead, Mr. Sloane,” She gestured to him to give him the floor. It was better to let them all get it off their chest to get clear before the mission. Crap assignment or not, there was a job that needed to be done, and it was her duty to convince them to do it well.
“We paid our dues, ma’am. A cargo run? This isn’t a cruise liner or a cargo hauler. The Decimator is built for combat. This is a waste of time, a waste of resources, and a waste of my skills. This is not what I signed up for.”
“Anyone else?” Reeves opened the floor for everyone.
“Sir, it’s just… my brother. I still haven’t heard any news. I– I’m worried about him.”
“Asher? What’s your take?”
She set the flight controls to auto and turned back to the rest of the crew. “I‘m with everyone else. I mean, I agree; I don’t think we’re being utilized to our full potential, sir.”
“Okay,” Reeves answered. “Now that that’s all out of the way… I don’t like it either, but this isn’t a simple errand. I know it feels like we keep drawing the short stick. But folks, we’re heading back to Sietae for upgrades to prepare for battle. We’re getting new enhancements that we’re going to need before we go into combat in Chelum. This simple cargo run happens to be on our way anyways.”
“But sir, that’s going to take hours,” Huxley said. “At least an hour picking up all the cargo, and several hours to unload and get the refit.”
“Yes, it’s certainly going to take a little extra time,” Reeves massaged her temples.
“My brother’s in danger now and–”
“Mr. Huxley, there are billions in harm’s way in Chelum. This is far bigger than your brother.”
“Then why aren’t we headed there right now?” Sloane asked. He kept a professional tone, aware that he could readily be taken as insubordinate.
“There’s a reason the Consular needs this equipment and only trusts this ship and this crew to deliver it. This is a black op. No records, no black box recordings. The simple nature of the mission doesn’t diminish its importance. We need to get this job done, then get out to Chelum as soon as possible. Agreed?”
Huxley and Asher nodded, turning back to their stations. Sloane, still reluctant, with gritted teeth, said, “Yes, sir.”
“Mr. Sloane, plot our course back to Gliese 170.1.”
Lee worked as fast as he could. It was a challenge to decipher the quirky layout of the colony’s data network. It wasn’t like the bank systems he used to crack. Credit skimming off of bank accounts became second-nature to him as a scrappy teen surviving on the streets.
At least access to the colony network was easy enough, Trisha had made sure of that. She was very resourceful, likely owing to her experience as a reporter. Not only had she managed to get him access to the room by faking him as a support technician, but she also swiped her boss’s access credentials. He was snooping around with complete facilities administration access.
Trisha brought him to a logistics office for the Search and Rescue department. Most installations and outposts were required by Pilots Federation statutes to have one. Only the smallest didn’t. The room was large enough to include an open floor plan with four workstations. They were there at lunch shift, so they were able to spend the entire break period undisturbed. Still, Trisha was sitting on a rolling chair at the door listening for any movement in the hallway.
He continued his search, poking around different directory paths. There wouldn’t be a schedule per se, but he guessed he could look through shipment logs to find regular pick-ups or drop-offs. Browsing the services directories found the most likely entry: Port Facilities. Sure enough, he found details about landing pad operations and complete logs for each of the eight pads.
It took him a few minutes to get used to the kinds of filters and queries he could run against the data. He narrowed it to the large pads. They were going to need a big enough ship to hide in. They could all fit on a medium-sized ship well enough, but they wouldn’t be able to stay out of sight. The trade-off being those larger vessels had more lower-deck crew they’d have to hide from, but at least there were more places to hide.
Lee filtered the large pad logs to find regular shipments of consumable commodities. He figured something replenished at a regular cadence, like foodstuffs or medicines, would be the most reliable. It took the system a while to process the log data and spit out results. When it finally did, it gave him a list of records sorted by ships and dates. A quick scan over the lists indicated very irregular delivery schedules.
“Oh, this is no good.” He muttered.
Trisha looked over at him from her chair, “No ships?”
“No. Nothing to indicate a regular schedule. Nothing we can count on anyways.” The records showed a sparse schedule for food and almost no medicines. The colony was far more self-sufficient than he expected. “I’ll have to try something else. Maybe exports. Do you happen to know the main exports of the colony?”
“I don’t. I don’t handle that side at all. I mostly manage Mrs. Herman’s social schedule. She does almost nothing as far as I can tell. There’s rarely any recovery turned in here.”
“Mrs. Herman?”
“My boss. The Search and Rescue coordinator.”
“Oh well, Glist is a pretty low-traffic system. That’s probably why the colony is so independent. But they have to have a regular export or something they run out of space for…” He snapped his fingers. “That’s it!”
He set up the new query. Trisha jumped up and put her ear to the door. Before he could stop, his finger hit the button to execute the query.
“Someone’s in the hallway!” She whispered in a panic.
The system was locked in a processing routine. “Are they coming closer?”
She leaned in to listen for a moment, then turned back to him and nodded furiously, a look of genuine worry setting in her face.
“Vack! I just ran a new query. The system’s stuck processing the logs!”
“What do we do?”
His mind raced. “Come over here. Stand behind me like you’re working with me. Act natural. I’m helping you with a problem. I’m just a technician, remember?”
She nodded.
The door opened, and they both turned to see a woman in a grey pantsuit enter the room. She had short brown hair, a firm business look, and held her chin high.
“Trisha! Oh, what are you doing in this office?”
“Mrs. Herman!” Trisha’s nerves were plain to see.
Herman walked over to them, “I thought you were bringing me the estimate for the banquet on Thursday.”
“I…” She stammered. “I was…”
“Who is this?” She looked directly at Lee, a note of concern rising in her voice.
Lee looked up and was about to say something when Trisha cut him off. “He’s… this is…” Then as if a lightbulb went off, she pulled herself into the act. “This is a technician I grabbed to help me with this station. I was trying to retrieve the figures for you when it locked up on me. I found him working on one of the holo-signs down in the foyer and pulled him up here to help me…”
“I see. Very good.” She walked past them to one of the other workstations and picked out a datapad stowed in a compartment beside it. “So,” she walked up beside Trisha, watching the spinning hexagonal symbol shimmering on the display. “I do hope you saved your work before it locked up like this.”
“I… I can’t remember.”
“You know, I would have thought by the 34th century, this would be a solved problem.” She pointed to the terminal with the datapad she’d picked up.
“Oh, it is, it’s the credit-cutters,” Lee interjected. “They always cut corners when it comes to productivity systems out in the crater lands like this.” He made a sweeping gesture at everything around them, selling the performance.
“Indeed. Thank you, Mister…?”
“Graves,” he said.
“Mr. Graves.” She nodded. Then she turned her head to look over at Trisha. “Have you had your lunch yet?”
The terminal flashed when the process was completed—the logs displayed with pad 7 and 8’s shipping logs in full view of them all. Lee scrambled at the controls. Thankfully, Trisha kept her engaged even while she stood right beside the screen.
“No ma’am, I was trying to get this done for you. I know we’re on a tight schedule.”
“Hurry this up then and get back to the front office. I’ll have lunch sent up.” She turned to look down at the terminal.
Lee managed to navigate back to the main services directory.
“Oh, good! You got it working, Mr. Graves. Thank you! That was so fast. Who’s your supervisor so I can put in a good word for you?”
“Oh no, that’s really not necessary, ma’am.” Lee’s mind was scrambling.
“Come now, don’t be modest. I can make things happen for you.”
“Much appreciated, but my supervisor… he hates me. He’ll just make my life more miserable.”
“Middle managers. It wouldn’t happen to be that nerdy mouse man, what’s his name? Roger?” She snapped. “Rogan. Oh, I hate that man. If he was in my department, I’d have him put in a tank. You have my sympathy, Mr. Graves. Would you like me to speak to the Super about him?”
Settled that she’d taken the ruse, he played along. “That’d be real nice, Mrs. Herman. Glad I could be helpful.”
“Quite. Alright, then.” She tucked the datapad under her arm and headed to the door. As the door opened, she turned, “See you shortly, Ms. Hensley.”
“Yes, ma’am. As soon as he can recover my work, I’ll be up.”
She nodded and the door shut behind her.
Trisha took a deep breath. “Tell me you have the data, please!”
Lee scrambled to navigate back to where he’d stashed the results. “I got it. Give me a minute to look it over…”
He scanned the results and found the pattern he was looking for. “There… perfect.” He stood up from the workstation.
“What? A large ship?”
“Oh yeah. It’s a big girl. A T9.”
“That’s great! And it shows up regularly?”
“With a few deviations, yeah. It shows up every week to haul…” Lee leaned in closer to read the results from the logs.
“It hauls what?”
“Of course… Screb! It hauls biowaste.”
“But we… We don’t have to hide in it… In the biowaste do we?”
“No, no. Of course not. But it’s not going to be a pleasant ride. Those haulers smell to high heaven.”
“Wonderful. What choice do we have?” She crossed her arms. “So when will it be here?”
“If they stick to the schedule, tomorrow. They usually arrive after lunch and depart a few hours later. It’s perfect.”
“Hmm… That’s cutting it pretty close, don’t you think?”
“Here’s hoping the rest of them can pull their parts of the plan together. Give me a minute to set up a backdoor to the system.”
She nodded, and Lee sat back down and set to work on setting up a new administrator account. He spent the rest of the lunch hour crafting a command sequence he could trigger remotely.
When they started to run out of time, he covered his tracks by cleaning up the log files to erase any record of his transactions.
“Okay, we’re all set,” he pushed back from the workstation and stood. “Let’s get out of here.” As they walked out of the office, Lee said, “Hey, good work in there with your boss, you had me worried for a minute. You can sell a story like a pro.”
“I’m a reporter,” she winked.
He smiled, “Touché. Do you think she bought it?”
She stopped in the hall for a moment. “I think so,” she said, a hint of concern in her voice. ”I hope so,” she said with conviction, but the look on her face said otherwise.