Chief Brold’s handwriting was small and precise. I placed the paper in my breast pocket and looked up, waiting for him to continue.
“You have Level D clearance for access to information and records. When you log in, you can set your own password as well as secondary security. For you, finger print, voice, or iris scan.”
“Can I set additional parameters? Like a minimum time frame between keystrokes?”
“That’s possible.” He leaned back and smiled. “Not the trusting sort.”
“Not exactly, Chief.”
“Just what do you know about computers?”
“Not much. I’ve had some basic programming, but very little in hardware support.”
He nodded and skimmed a few more files. “While we have a few minutes, are there any other surprises that I should know about?”
I thought a moment. Surely Specialist Club found the popcorn nukes. “You mean like the lock?” When he nodded, I tugged at my belt buckle. “I have this buckle blade. I had some brass knuckles, and will try to replace them.” I sheathed the blade. “I recently picked up some old-style grenades, and I have advanced AP rounds for my duty revolver.” I scratched my head to cover my nervousness. “A vial of potent muscle relaxant. I also have two .002 kiloton cased fusion explosives.” He didn’t seem surprised. “Their configuration focus is to emit a high powered electro-magnetic pulse for communications disruption.”
“I didn’t know about the blade, and Club sent the vial to Medical for analysis. She located the devices you mentioned, along with the AP rounds. She actually might’ve missed the nukes, except for the need to re-inspect your cart.”
“Will my popcorn nukes be confiscated, Chief?”
“Is there any reason you should have them aboard the Kalavar?”
“They’re personal property. Obtained legally. I am trained and certified in their use.” I looked around. “Obviously their use aboard a vessel would be of limited value. But—”
The chief cut in, “Catastrophic is the term I’d suggest, if detonated onboard.”
“I can think of several situations where they could be utilized effectively and safely.”
“So can I. And they’re a stretch, Specialist. I’ll consider it, but I doubt you’ll retain possession.”
He didn’t dismiss retention right out of hand. “If you do choose to take them, I would like to request compensation.”
“Exactly how did you come by them? Certainly out of a C4’s salary range.”
“Honestly, I am not at liberty to say, other than they are of pre-ban manufacture and legally obtained.”
“I don’t doubt that.” He glanced down at his desk. “I’ll inform you of my decision. You can keep the AP rounds. Little chance they’ll penetrate the outer hull. You’ll have to speak with Dr. Sevanto about the drugs.”
He tapped a few more screens. “You’ve got a false screen, just after your record of graduation until your duty on Pluto. Bet you a buffalo nickel that’s when you got your nukes.”
How could he tell it was a false record? “Sorry, Chief, I don’t own a buffalo nickel. I do have a Queen Elizabeth head penny.”
“I have a Lincoln head, Keesay, and I wouldn’t wager either lightly.”
“Neither would I, Chief.”
“Whatever you were into back then, it’s what got you assigned to the Kalavar.” I wasn’t sure what he was getting at. There wasn’t much to say as he scanned my files. “How much more trouble are you going to stir up?”
“None that I know of.”
He didn’t look convinced. “In my experience, Keesay, some people just attract trouble, intentional or not.”
“I’ll do my best to avoid it, Chief.”
“I’m sure you will. But like I said, with some people it’s just natural.” The chief rested his hand on the edge of his desk. “Kind of like a raccoon.”
“A raccoon? I’ve been called a lot of things. Never a raccoon.”
“Not an insult. Just an observation.”
“I don’t see the connection.”
Chief Brold leaned back and slid his red toothpick back into his mouth. “See, raccoons are pretty smart as far as animals go. But sometimes they get into places they don’t belong. Get into mischief, intentional or not. Sometimes a lucky raccoon’s activity goes unnoticed, or ignored. But, eventually, every raccoon gets the hounds set on him and he’s in for a scrap. A raccoon’s long-term survival depends on resourcefulness. And luck.”
“And the determination of the hounds,” I added. Maybe the chief had hunted raccoons, but I didn’t see where he was going.
“So, Keesay, why would an R-Tech head out into space?”
“Restlessness. Adventure.” Maybe the raccoon skin fit a little. “I’d like to be recruited by the R-Army GASF.”
“This is one route,” he said thoughtfully. “Believe it or not, this assignment just might increase your prospects.” He glanced at his desk. “Senior Engineer McAllister’s coming down the hall.” He sat up, removed the toothpick. “Our little discussion before, Keesay. She’s one hound you don’t want on your trail.”
“Noted, Chief.” I stood and turned as the door slid open. In walked a slender girl, or woman, brimming with energy. Senior Engineer McAllister, or that’s what her dull orange coveralls and nametag read, along with her shoulder stripes indicating specialties in software, hardware and electrical engineering. What surprised me was that a medium class transport would have a senior engineer competent in multiple areas. That paled, when it registered that such a qualified engineer appeared to be years younger than me.
Luckily she didn’t take notice of my expression. Instead, she began to tear into the chief. “Security Chief Brold, did I not make it clear that the lab was to be secured?”
The chief replied in a laidback voice, “Yes, you did, Senior Engineer McAllister. That’s why I directed Specialist Liu to stand guard until Specialist Club arrived.”
“You sent your secretary! How marginally efficient of you.” McAllister’s small frame seemed barely capable of containing her emotions. On the other hand, her wild red braids were right on target. She might even be cute, when not spouting off.
Chief Brold sat down, and indicated for Engineer McAllister and me to do the same. “Engineer McAllister, Specialist Liu is up to the assignment. I appreciate your concern.” He nodded toward me. “Specialist Keesay has been brought on to bolster our understaffed department.”
I looked at her and said in a neutral voice, “Good to meet you, Senior Engineer.” When she turned my way, I noticed that her eyes differed. The left was green, the right blue. The second thing I spotted was an immediate pupil contraction.
“You!” she accused.
Several long seconds passed. I unsuccessfully tried to recall ever meeting Engineer McAllister. With my recent run of luck, I prepared for a physical assault.
“Brold, you hired this man?” Her knuckles whitened as she gripped the chair.
“The company did, and I approved.”
“Since when did Negral make it policy to hire murderers?”
Well, that narrowed it for me. Must have been the Colonization Riots.
Chief Brold said, “I’m not aware that Negral Corp supports a policy of hiring convicted felons for security positions.” He leaned forward. “If you would like a transfer to personnel, McAllister, I can arrange it.” His voice was low, and menacing. “Now, I believe you graced us with your presence because you had something to report? Get with it or get out.”
She shot me an icy stare. “The newest member of your security staff had an advanced technology explosive device attached beneath his possession cart. Superficially, it appears of Chicher design, but the sensing mechanisms and inner components are more advanced. Not Umbelgarri or Crax caliber.” Talking technology calmed her. “Information’s sketchy on the V’Gun, but the sensors might be their design. The micro-explosive fusion device appears to be Felgan, at least superficially. No human components.”
&n
bsp; “Rare, smuggled parts,” said the chief. “More difficult to trace.”
But could narrow the field of suspect organizations. I started to express that observation, but thought better of it. The chief would realize it. Stardz must have planted it.
With a searing glance my way, McAllister continued. “Strong enough to blow through this transport’s decks, and maybe breach the hull, if detonated close enough.” She sat back and began to pick at her fingernails. “The reason I decided to confer with you here is the fact that the sensors, almost certainly set for partial facial scan, can penetrate most walls standard to transports.” Her eyebrows furrowed. “Extremely low energy emission. Hardly registers, and I knew what to look for.”
“What you’re saying,” said Chief Brold, “is that Specialist Keesay could trigger the device even by passing a deck below it?”
“Possibly. If it’s set to scan for his image. It may have passive voice sensors. It may be set for more than just him.” McAllister sat up straight again. “It’s beyond my ability to analyze further with the resources available on the Kalavar.”
Chief Brold nodded. “I’d imagine you took quite a risk determining that much.”
“Limited,” she said. “I recognized the potential hazard immediately, and relied exclusively on optical scans for my initial assessment. Some passive analysis devices, checking for radiation and various spectra information ruled out known corporate manufacturers. It’s not configured for remote detonation.” She leaned forward and placed a hand on the chief’s desk. “In essence, the device and its components haven’t been tampered with. And should remain intact.”
“Agreed,” the security chief said. “We can reasonably assume it’s not set for you, Specialist Club and Specialist Liu.”
“And the captain and Technician Schultz,” said McAllister with a smile. “I tapped into the surveillance records to identify who walked by the lab before I had secured the device.”
“Thank you for informing me of your unauthorized access.”
“You’re welcome. And, I also established a random distortion of all communications incoming to the lab facility. Set on my voice lock.”
“Any recommendations before I inform the captain?”
“Yes, Chief. Either immediately detonate it or export it to a better equipped facility. Whoever ordered it planted is well connected, and financed.” She glanced my way with a smirk. “If it had detonated, all we’d have found is fragments of Chicher components.” She leaned forward to stand. “I’ll send you the detailed report?”
“Good enough,” said the chief. “Thank you for your expertise, Engineer McAllister.”
Chief Brold and I stood as Engineer McAllister prepared to leave. “As for you, Specialist Keesay,” she said. “I can see you have difficulty making friends. Not surprising. Whoever did over your face didn’t do enough.”
I shrugged.
“Just keep away from me.” She turned to leave. “I hope no one else pays the price when they manage to finish the job.”
As soon as the door closed, the chief pulled out a small plastic box with various wires and gyros. He plugged it into a power outlet, activating it.
“This,” he said, “along with the regular security, should disrupt external surveillance.” He checked the scrambler’s settings. “Okay, Senior Engineer McAllister appears to be acquainted with you. Believes you’re a murderer. Care to explain?”
“I don’t recall ever meeting her, Chief. Given time I might.” I’d confided quite a bit in Chief Brold. Might as well go a little further. He’d get the information from McAllister, if what I suspected was true. “I have never murdered anybody. It is possible that Senior Engineer McAllister made a recent reference to the Colonization Riots.”
“You were involved in that incident?”
“I cannot confirm, nor will I deny your assertion, Chief. However, I would not be surprised if Engineer McAllister was a participant in some capacity.”
“That explains a lot.”
“Explains what?”
“I currently cannot explain anything. But I will confirm that you may not have been the target of an assassination attempt.”
I could puzzle it out later. “Understood, Chief.”
“So far today, Keesay, I’ve been two for two on hunches.”
“My hiring by Negral and penchant for attracting hounds?”
“Affirmative, Specialist. Care to venture a guess as to Senior McAllister’s first name?”
I looked to see if the scrambling device was still operating. “Maddog?”
He laughed. “Good guess. Try Nova.”
“Fits. I’ll do you a favor and try to avoid her.”
“Do yourself a favor. One less hound, remember?”
“Right, Chief.”
“Mer’s outside. He’ll escort you to your quarters. Stay there until instructed otherwise. I’ve got an urgent meeting to schedule with the captain.” He escorted me to the door. “Your new communications gear will be sent there. Contact Specialist Liu in her office if you have any questions.”
“Understood, Chief.”
“Glad to have you aboard,” he said, offering his hand.
Chapter 17
Like all R and I-Tech species, human efforts to obtain A-Tech designs and equipment are a high priority. Sometimes corporations and the government cooperate, but even such efforts are normally in vain. Even if a rare and long sought after piece of equipment is obtained, it is unlikely that it will be understood or even replicated by human engineers. As a matter of public record, unlike most corporate acquisitions, there are some weapon components acquired during the Silicate War that the brightest military engineers are still struggling to understand.
Mer led me to my quarters a few decks below. He was quiet, which seemed out of character for him. Maybe we both had a lot on our minds. He said that he’d stop back with a late lunch if I was still confined to quarters. Mer knew about my restricted movement. I made it a point to find out about him.
A simple thumbprint scan provided access to my quarters. Armor plating and inward construction reduced what had once been spacious travel accommodations, leaving them small and cramped. Parallel red conduits ran overhead. Maybe one of the maintenance tracks ran along the other side of the wall.
Mer had mentioned my roommate’s name, Benjamin Cox. From what I could tell, Tech Cox either had few possessions or he’d stowed them. I couldn’t even tell whether he used the top or bottom foldout bunk. One computer terminal rested behind a worn padded chair. A larger metallic recliner with patched cushions was the only other piece of furniture. I looked a little closer. Duct tape, freshly applied. My roommate just jumped up a notch.
I logged into my account, disabled the voice interaction, and immediately changed my password to 14~greengun-onE with a minimum three-second delay after the hyphen. It wouldn’t foil a determined hacker, but included some annoying parameters. Most I-Techs don’t have the patience for code-entering delays. Next, I added an iris scan for access to my quarters. I always avoided voice access, as serious throat infections could cause a glitch. With nothing else to do, I fumbled around in the system a bit. After about an hour, I had the basics down.
I had Level F clearance to all systems, except for Information and Records. My Level D security clearance in I&R allowed me access to crewmen’s and passengers’ front page files. I could then request more detailed information. Exactly what a C4 could expect.
I keyed in Stardz to find his file flashing, ‘currently restricted.’ I looked up manifests and transfer information. Everything on him was blocked. I was curious about Engineer McAllister, but thought better of even superficially exploring her file until I had a better handle on things. She’d certainly note my attempt and no sense in getting her even more riled for nothing.
I keyed in Elmer, and got a blank screen. I retyped Elmer and then tried Mer with the same result. I was beginning to wonder about my access, so I keyed in Chief Brold. A screen appeared with a pictur
e and text identifying him as security chief of the Kalavar, along with inconsequential corporate information. At least I could access someone’s file. I keyed in Benjamin Cox. His picture revealed a middle-aged Class 3 Maintenance Technician with short hair, big ears and a genuine smile. The text indicated he was on disability recovery, meaning our financial compensation was equally meager.
Finally, I brought up my file. I looked over what the chief had said was a false record. In reality, it was a fictitious interview and trial work record. It started several weeks prior to my early graduation and the Riots, until I was transferred to permanent stationing on Pluto two months later. What tipped him off?
As I read, my duty info file flashed green, hinting that I should attend to it, but numerous other questions pressed foremost in my mind.
I opened my duty file and scanned the routine section on general regulations and responsibilities. My duties included ship-wide roving patrols and security station monitoring as needed. My primary responsibly was to provide security and assistance support for a group of R-Tech colonists. Why they brought me aboard made a little more sense. What didn’t make sense was a separate section that indicated I’d be paired with a sec-bot, if it arrived prior to departure. I couldn’t locate any data on my primary responsibility. Not even one file on any of the colonists, just that there were eighty-nine. This part of my duty was either poorly planned or a last minute booking by Negral.
I rubbed my eyes. Since I’d need to study the regulations in detail, I sent Specialist Liu a request to borrow a hard copy. All ships normally kept one on hand. I doubted any I-Tech would want it.
I took a pen and a small pad from my pocket and jotted down questions for my immediate supervisor, Specialist Club. A breakdown of the colonists? Were they family units, individuals, mixed? Where would they be housed and what monitoring resources would I have available? Training and background would be helpful.
The list went on for two sheets, front and back. For decades before my birth they’d been calling for a paperless society. I did my best to undermine the effort. I’d stored fifteen pads of various sizes and several pens in my cart. I didn’t consider using them for duty a waste of resources, but maybe I’d break down and get one of the electronic note pads. Some battles were too expensive to fight.
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