So she didn’t. Not then. Not here. Not yet.
Cira had been right and wrong. The saboteur was rushing, not bothering to hide their work or their presence anymore, but they weren’t making mistakes. Another device had been installed between decks four and five, behind panel twelve this time, but nothing found nearby gave them any way to track Ghost, and none of the data they sent Tinker and Meida helped them figure out what was being built or broken inside the systems.
They’d been working at panel twelve for over an hour, scanning the system and trying to match every single component to the original blueprint of this section of the ship, when Cira finally asked something that’d been bothering her. “Why is so much happening between those two levels? Does it have to be here?”
“If I wanted to shut down a ship, power, shields, and engines would be my first targets,” Riston said, but ze sounded unsure.
Because that wasn’t right. “They’re not trying to shut us down, though. We’d have found another ship if the ghosts were just turning the engines off or blowing the ships up.”
“What other option is there?” one of the security officers asked as they handed Cira a molecular scanner.
“That’s what we need to figure out.” Cira did a quick sweep with the device, but her gaze drifted. It was hard not to look at the damage done to the panel by a plasma torch or at the device hastily installed by someone whose ultimate plan was nothing but question marks and empty space.
“Ghost isn’t usually this obvious, though,” Riston cautioned. “If it were my plan, I’d be obvious somewhere unimportant to draw attention away from what I needed to hide.”
Cira closed her eyes. That’s probably what she’d do, too. It made more sense than someone who’d been so sneaky, subtle, and cautious suddenly making egregious mistakes. Ghost seemed to have plans, backup plans, fallback plans, emergency plans, and worst-case scenario plans. The possibility of someone discovering their presence too early would’ve occurred to Ghost already, and diversions probably would’ve been prepared.
Then an alert appeared in the corner of the panel’s display and a soft chime rang through Cira’s inner-aural comm, the sound of an incoming call. From medical, according to the alert. As soon as Cira put aside her tools and accepted the connection, she heard the murmur of multiple conversations. Tinker’s face filled the screen.
“Good. There you are.” Tink looked and sounded far too serious for someone so young. “I need you to go back to the place I found before.”
“What?” A quick flick of Cira’s fingers switched the audio to broadcast so everyone could hear. “Tink, that’s on the other side of the deck, and I doubt Riston and I will notice anything the engineers didn’t.”
“That’s not why I need you to do this, so go anyway.” When they didn’t acquiesce immediately, Tink insisted. “Now.”
“But the captain—”
“Says it’s fine.” Erryla leaned into view of the camera, her words sharp and lines appearing around her eyes. “Go, Cira. You’re closer than anyone else.”
The urgency in her mother’s voice was contagious, and Cira found herself rushing to pack up, castigating the others when they didn’t move fast enough. Moving at a normal pace, it would’ve taken half an hour to get where Tink wanted them to go. Today it only took seventeen minutes. When they got there, though, everything looked the same. The panel remained undamaged, and so did the device behind it as far as Cira could tell, so she adjusted her hold on the hand terminal and let Tinker see it for herself.
“There should be a small display panel on the right side of the node they installed,” Meida said, appearing next to Tink. When Tink leaned closer to the screen as though to get a better look, Meida smiled and typed something into the panel, a command to enlarge the images Cira was sending if she had to guess. “Look at that and tell me what it says.”
Cira handed the terminal to the closer officer and slumped sideways, twisting until her head was as close to the side of the panel as she could get. The space was so narrow she could barely see the light coming off the far side of the device let alone read anything written there. Her head was too big to fit. Growling with frustration, she grabbed the terminal and stuck it into the space. Tink issued orders—up four centimeters, right one—and then Cira held still so Tink could read the tiny display with the long combination of numbers and letters. Hopefully, the code made more sense to Tinker than it did to Cira. It seemed so. Tinker and Meida murmured to each other, rereading the code several times, checking information from other systems, and then coming back to the code again. It took several minutes before they came to a conclusion.
“That’s what I was afraid of,” Meida said on a tired sigh. “This thing is designed like the plants back on Vohtu. What you can see above ground is small, but they’re incredibly hard to kill once they sprout because their root system can spread for dozens of meters in every direction. The devices may only be attached to certain conduits, but the codes on those readouts link to a lot of other systems.”
“Why’s there even a display on this?” Riston asked. “Can we trust anything it says? It seems too easy.”
“While we can’t be sure the readout isn’t masked or scrambled, the device itself wasn’t built for subterfuge.” Quinley Quinley leaned into the camera’s view then, zir gaze sharp and intent. “And given that what happened to the other ships is still a mystery, I’m inclined to believe we’re right and this program has infiltrated the whole ship. If I’m wrong, all we lose is some time being cautious.”
“But we’re not wrong. We don’t think.” Tink bit her lip, her gaze between Quinley and Meida before she sat straighter and put on the voice she used when pretending to be older. “More data is required to make a more definitive statement, however.”
Quinley looked down at Tink, zir lips quirking into a smile that looked fond, and hope rose in Cira’s chest. If the children continued to help, there really was a chance the crew would see what Cira saw in them, and maybe, maybe, she could convince them to let her friends go instead of shoving them into a windowless cell for the next few decades. The messages about Riston, Tinker, Greenie, Treble, and Shadow hadn’t reached Paxis yet after all. No one outside of Novis’s crew and their resident Ghost knew the kids had ever been here.
She nearly laughed. Riston was right—she was the optimistic one. This time, though, her optimism had something stronger than wishful thinking as its foundation. She could see the shift in how the crew was treating the kids. Hopefully, it would be enough.
After a consultation, Tinker and Quinley issued a set of detailed instructions for Cira and Riston to follow. They didn’t trust the data coming from the sensors, terminals, and computers in this area, so they walked Cira through each delicate step.
“You have to dent the back wall of the hatch without touching anything else inside,” Tinker explained. “Once you have a little more space to work with, we need you to slide your right hand up behind the casing of the device.”
Cira handed the tablet to Riston and adjusted the clips holding her hair back. This was going to be hard enough without strands of silver randomly streaking across her vision. Before she reached for the panel, though, she had to ask… “What exactly is the danger here?”
“We’re assuming something in the design will prevent tampering because it wouldn’t make sense otherwise, but I don’t know what form it will take except something not good,” Quinley admitted. “I wouldn’t even have you attempt this if both of your hands were flesh. For all we know, making the wrong move by even a millimeter could be enough to trigger the security protecting this thing.”
“So glad I can be useful,” Cira muttered as she laid down on the cold floor and twisted her cybernetic hand into a position that would’ve sent agony through its opposite.
“So glad you can be careful,” Meida corrected.
“Don’t worry. I have zero desire to die in a fire.” She slowly straightened her middle finger, stretching it to its limit
to reach a tiny, almost imperceptible button on the back of the casing—exactly where her guides said it would be.
Riston moved so close Cira could feel zir body heat. “Are we sure about this?”
“No,” Cira said. And then she pressed the button.
The device began beeping.
“No, no, no! Do I let go or hold?” Beep. No answer. Beep. Cira screamed. “Let go or hold?”
“Let go!” Riston demanded.
“Hold!” her guides shouted. She listened to the engineers.
“Stars, you’d better be right about this.” Cira held her breath and counted the beeps.
Four.
Five.
Six.
Seven.
With a faint snick, a previously hidden panel in the casing slid open to reveal a data port. Nothing exploded. No alarms sounded. Six shaky sighs of relief echoed through the tunnel.
“Okay,” Tinker said. “This next part is going to be tricky.”
Laughter burst out of Cira, the sound high-pitched and frenzied. Now it was going to get tricky? Smothering the anxiety masquerading as mirth took precious seconds, but no one scolded her. Quinley waited until Cira fell silent to give her instructions.
It became instantly clear that the “trick” wasn’t in the complexity of the task but the extreme precision it required. Only once Cira was sure she had herself under control—she couldn’t risk a tremor shifting her arm at the worst second—did she take the data cord the security officer held out to her. Then, with Riston holding the tablet to give their guides the best view, she slid back to the floor and slowly reached her hand back into the incredibly narrow space. The pressure she’d exerted on the rear wall of the compartment had created a few millimeters of space, and now she used every iota of it to grip the end of the cord and manipulate it into the tiny port without brushing against anything else.
Cira was in position, but she hesitated before making the connection. “Even if I do this without killing us all, what are the chances Ghost doesn’t know we’re here?”
“Low,” Riston said.
“Here’s hoping they can’t set this off remotely,” Cira muttered, shifting her cybernetic fingers until the cord clicked into place.
There were no rumbling booms of incoming destruction, and no screams filtered through the open channel, but there was a beep. Riston shifted the tablet, positioning it to get a better view of the device’s small display and then projecting two deceptively simple words.
Message sent.
Intersystem News Feed
Terra-Sol date 3814.257
Excerpt from an article by Xilan Carr, Primis System, planet Nea-gi
An already unstable situation has been rocked by the earlier announcement from Paxis. Two ships have been confirmed missing, both vanished without a trace, and five more have stopped communicating with PSSC Control. More than one politician—both at home and abroad—are calling for action. Some want investigations. Others are demanding more lethal courses, although it’s unclear whom exactly they plan on shooting at. Among those not blessed by positions of power, authority, and security, however, fear seems to be the primary response…
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Excerpt from an op-ed by Ali Byron, Orionis System, moon Kerlidin
…and this outrage cannot be allowed. To my way of thinking, it’s about time someone blasted the whole Pax fleet into dust and debris, because what good do they do anymore? “The primary mission of this fleet is to serve the citizens of the quadrant and ensure those without any stock or stake in the outcome of war have the necessary means to survive.” Lies. Maybe the original Pax ships were true to their intended purpose, but those times are long behind us. What else but the same greed that runs the systems’ governments explains why a supposed aid organization would deny assistance to an outpost as desperate as ours? If this continues…
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Excerpt from an internal report by Nyko Japur, Draconis System, planet Vohtu
…our water stores are going to run out. Soon. Based on current estimates, by the end of this seasonal cycle, we will be forced to make a choice—irrigate our crops for the next harvest or ensure the population has enough to drink in order to survive. Food will last a while longer, but the issues caused by drought have already raised prices and restricted access to certain produce and goods. The second missing shipment of materials from Pax ships has pushed us dangerously close to the edge of true rationing. By this time next year, major evacuations of entire cities could become necessary. The question then, however, would be just as hard to answer—where would they go? In short, if the Pax supply drops don’t resume soon…
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Excerpt from an article by Lyli Quinn, Pavonis System, planet Usidu
…then we’re fucked.
Chapter Twenty-One
Riston
Terra-Sol date 3814.257
It had been an hour and Riston’s pulse still hadn’t calmed down to normal levels. Ze could still hear the soft, insistent beeping and see Cira with her arm stuck behind the device planted by someone who clearly meant them harm. For the space of a breath, ze’d been so sure ze was about to watch Cira die. Ze’d probably have died zirself a split second later, but that hadn’t been the thought blasting through zir head like a claxon. The only thing ze’d been mentally screaming was Please, no. Not her.
The fear of that moment still buzzed through zir blood, and ze hadn’t been able to handle her leaving zir sight for long since then. Part of zir brain was still convinced she’d vanish in a burst of sparks and smoke.
Like now. Ze sat alone watching teams of people work on very important tasks requiring very specific expertise—none of which ze had. Ze’d never regretted pouring zir time into astronavigation and piloting until today. What ze knew about pulsar triangulation and pinpointing ship locations inside a spinning, expanding universe wouldn’t help anyone here.
At least zir friends could help. Greenie’s work on the hydroponics deck had given him a deep understanding of the life-support systems, and he was currently working with several engineers on backups in case of catastrophic power failure. It had taken a while for Treble to admit how much time she’d spent sifting through the ship’s communications logs and pulling gossip from them to share with Shadow, but soon she was given an open channel to the team working to figure out how to wrest back control of the comm system.
The sight Riston had the hardest time turning away from, though, was Tinker working side by side with Lieutenant Commander Meida Dalil-Antares, Chief of Engineering herself.
As soon as they’d established a link to Ghost’s device, Meida had sent her engineers back to other tasks. They were still there. If anything, they seemed to be growing closer. It almost gave Riston hope. Maybe if ze threw zirself onto the sword of the court as the ringleader they’d find a way to forgive the younger ones.
Riston jumped when a hand landed on zir shoulder. Zir body curled in even as ze twisted to see who was there. Cira stood there frowning, shadows under her eyes and her silver hair beginning to fall out of its restraining clips. Ze braced for a question ze couldn’t answer or a new crisis ze wasn’t sure ze had the energy to deal with.
“You okay?” Cira’s voice was soft, and instead of pulling away after zir startled twitch, she added pressure, almost like she was trying to hold Riston together.
“Sorry, yes. Fine. I just…” Clearing zir throat helped cut zir babbling off. Once ze felt more in control of zir tongue, Riston opened zir mouth and tried again. “What happened?”
“Nothing bad.” Cira sat down, her hand trailing from zir shoulder to the crook of zir elbow. The imagined line of heat the trail left behind was searing. Thankfully, Cira didn’t seem to notice zir faint shiver. “New orders are going out, and a subfrequency has been found. Engineering thinks Ghost’s devices are using it. When they’re not hijacking our systems, of course. Getting anything useful from it is a long shot since we’ll only be able to pick up the signal when it’s in u
se, but we’re still sending people out with sensors designed to detect that frequency. They’re crawling through every maintenance shaft and passage on the ship looking for additional components of this installation.”
“How are the orders spreading?” Ze leaned into Cira, relishing the reassurance that she was here.
Cira smiled. “Word of mouth.”
“Ah, low-tech,” ze tried to joke. As if any of this was funny.
“No-tech, really, or as close as we can get.” Cira glanced over her shoulder, and then she shook her head. “No one trusts the systems, and sending anything through communications, security, or engineering is currently at the top of everyone’s avoid-at-all-costs list.”
Riston closed zir eyes. “I can’t blame them.”
It wasn’t zir fault or zir doing, and yet guilt tugged at zem like a gravity well.
“Ris.” Cira’s left hand tightened on zir arm. “Are you sure you’re—”
“What? No.” Meida’s words from Adrienn’s office cut Cira off. “That can’t be right.”
Riston shoved zirself up and hurried into the office, a fresh rush of adrenaline sharpening zir fading focus. Cira was only a step behind, and Adrienn trailing closely. When they burst in, Meida’s fingers and gestures flew through the holo-controls spread out before her and across the touch commands on the desk. Tinker was standing nearby with a wide smile. The jagged edge to Tink’s expression made Riston’s anxiety ramped up more.
“So, this is a good news/bad news deal,” Tink said with false cheer. “The good news is our link into Ghost’s nodes is teaching us a lot more about what the system changes are intended to do, and we’re almost definitely not going to blow up!”
“That’s…good. So, what’s the bad news?” Cira asked.
“Our new theory about what happened to the other ships and what’s about to happen to us,” Meida admitted without any of Tink’s forced excitement or looking up from her work. “If we’re right, we may wish we’d blown up instead.”
Pax Novis Page 27
