by John Graham
“Let’s begin, shall we?” said the chairman, stepping into the booth with the technician.
Aster gulped, but kept a straight face. Normally, a trained interrogator was required to conduct a neuroimaging-assisted questioning. So why was the chairman going to do it himself? Was he really that paranoid?
“Is your name Aster Thorn?” the chairman asked.
“Yes.” Aster replied calmly.
“Are you a licensed pilot?”
“No.”
“Are you married?”
“Yes.”
“Have you ever met the Masterminds?”
“No.”
“Do you have children?”
“Yes.”
“Are you hiding anything?”
“No.”
The serene blue readout displaying Aster’s neural activity flashed a tepid yellow as her brain caught up with her mouth. Darius exchanged a glance with the technician while Aster pursed her lips and tried to stay calm.
She had blurted out ‘no’ without thinking, then remembered the decoy data chip still in her coat pocket. The readout would show various shades of four colours depending on how truthful her statements were based on her brain activity. Blue was truthful, yellow was mildly untruthful or evasive, orange was substantially untruthful, and red was a blatant lie. A numerical score would be more accurate, but the colour coding was more visually intuitive.
“How do you know Jezebel Thorn?” Darius demanded.
“Uh…sir?” the technician said haltingly.
“What?” Darius snapped irritably.
“In order to provide unambiguous results, the system requires unambiguous yes/no questions.” the technician was visibly nervous about interrupting him, but managed to hold her composure under the chairman’s withering stare.
Darius nodded and turned back to Aster.
“Do you know Jezebel Thorn?” he asked, this time in a calmer voice.
“Yes.” Aster replied.
“Have you ever met Jezebel Thorn?”
“Yes, I have.”
“Have you met Jezebel Thorn recently?”
“Yes.” Aster said honestly.
“Are you on friendly terms with Jezebel Thorn?”
Aster looked her employer dead in the eye.
“Yes.”
The holographic readout flashed bright red. Darius exchanged another look with the technician before looking back at Aster with a suspicious scowl.
“She’s my mother-in-law.” Aster explained innocently; the readout stayed blue.
Darius’s scowl softened ever so slightly, almost sympathetically.
“Let’s continue then. Have you ever handed over sensitive company information to an unauthorised person or entity, or facilitated the disclosure of sensitive company information to an unauthorised person or entity?”
“No.” Aster said truthfully. If the chairman were a trained interrogator, he would have known to ask the two questions separately, but no matter.
“Have you ever attempted to sabotage this company’s products or research?”
“No.”
“Have you ever conspired to smuggle data or components out of this building?”
“No.” Aster replied more or less truthfully.
The readout registered a faint yellow blip.
“Have you ever smuggled data or components out of this building?” Darius asked, his suspicion rekindled by the yellow blip.
“No.” Aster answered.
“Have you ever used your personal override code to access restricted areas?”
“Yes.”
“Did you use your personal override code yesterday?”
“Yes.” Aster replied.
No point in lying about that.
“Have you used it more than once since yesterday morning?”
“No.” Aster answered, registering blue on the readout.
Darius didn’t follow up with another question. Instead, he exchanged yet another look of suspicion with the supervising technician, making Aster nervous. Had she slipped up? Were they testing her in some other way? Or did they know something she didn’t?
“Have you used your personal override code more than once since yesterday morning?” Darius repeated in a more aggressive tone.
“No, I have not.” Aster replied again, her own suspicions now piqued.
“Have you ever disclosed your personal override code to anyone?”
“Never.”
The readout remained blue, and there was another exchange of suspicious glances.
“Have you ever used your personal override code to access another employee’s office?” Darius asked, his eyes narrowed to leery pinpricks.
“Yes.” Aster confessed, nervous about how much trouble she might already be in.
“Was it Dr Lawrence Kane’s office?”
“Yes.”
Aster’s pulse was starting to race faster than it should. Her personal override code was a prerogative of her position and seniority, and using it didn’t violate any company rules. So why this line of questioning?
“Did you have an accomplice?”
“What?” Aster asked, nonplussed by the question.
“Don’t pretend to be stupid!” Darius snapped, “Did you have an accomplice?”
“An accomplice to what?!” Aster snapped back.
“ANSWER THE FLEEKING QUESTION!” Darius bellowed, red-faced.
“No! No I did not, and do not, have an accomplice!” Aster shouted back.
The readout fizzled to grey before returning to its normal blue colour.
“That was inconclusive, sir.” The technician said nervously.
“What the fleek do you mean ‘inconclusive’?” Darius demanded.
“Subjecting her to undue stress or anger muddles the readings and makes it difficult to determine whether she’s telling the truth or not.” The technician explained.
Perhaps they should have swapped roles.
“I did not, and do not have an accomplice.” Aster intoned.
The readout remained a cerulean shade of calm.
“Your personal override code was used to access Dr Lawrence Kane’s office twice yesterday,” Darius asserted, “and yet you’re telling me that you only used it once.”
“I accessed Lawrence Kane’s office using my personal override code once.” Aster replied, registering blue on the readout.
“Are you hiding anything?” Darius asked.
“There’s a data chip in my pocket that I was planning to use later.” Aster responded truthfully, “then suddenly the blackout occurred and you brought me up here.”
On its own terms, that statement was entirely truthful, whilst leaving out details and context that would have made it sound suspicious. The blue readout bore out her thinking.
Darius pointed to Aster and snapped his fingers. The technician nodded and stepped out of the booth to approach Aster, who felt suddenly vulnerable as the technician rifled through her pockets, digging out the blue decoy chip and returning to the booth with it. Darius took the chip from her and glared at it under the light.
The door burst open and one of the guards barged in looking panicked.
“Sir! There’s a…” the guard began to speak before trailing off.
“There’s a what?” Darius demanded, annoyed at the interruption.
“It’s about the power loss just now.” the guard replied.
Darius followed the guard outside, the door sealing behind him with an ominous clang. Aster gulped nervously and tried to sit still as she avoided eye contact with the technician.
After a minute or so the door was opened again, more violently than necessary, and Darius re-entered with a furious look on his face. Instead of returning to the booth, he stormed over to Aster and grabbed her by the scruff of her shirt.
“Did you disable the power generator?!” he demanded angrily.
“No!” Aster answered, taken aback by the chairman’s outburst.
The readout fizzled
into an inconclusive shade of grey before turning blue again. Darius looked back at the technician who nervously shook her head. Turning back to Aster, he reluctantly released her and took a step back.
“Did you cause the blackout?” Darius demanded, his tone only slightly calmer.
“No.” Aster replied, keeping the readout blue.
“Do you know who caused the blackout?” Darius demanded.
“No.”
“Have you ever used your personal override code to gain access to restricted areas other than another employee’s office?”
“No, I have not.”
“Then why was your personal override code used less than ten minutes ago to gain access to the primary power conduit for this building?”
“Sir, the questions need to be–” the technician tried in vain to explain.
“I know they need to be yes/no questions!” Darius snapped at her.
“I have no idea who caused the blackout or what you’re talking about.” Aster replied calmly, trying to keep her breathing level.
The readout stayed blue.
Darius stood over Aster like an angry drill instructor overseeing the punishment of a cadet, visibly fuming with frustration. Evidently the blackout had been sabotage, and he was convinced that Aster had had something to do with it. But even though people lied, the neuroimaging scanner didn’t.
After a full minute of silent fuming, Darius turned away and snapped his fingers at the technician who nodded and deactivated the machine. The neuroimaging scanner was lifted back up to the ceiling and Aster restraints unlocked, releasing her from the chair. Aster stood up, rubbing her wrists to soothe the welts, then looked up at Darius.
“Dr Aster Thorn,” Darius said in a more formal and level tone, “you mostly passed the lie detection session, but the fact remains that your personal override code was used to access Dr Lawrence Kane’s office twice – not in itself a violation of company rules, but curious given that the Directorate of Naval Intelligence was so interested in him.”
“I went in to his office exactly once,” Aster said truthfully, “I don’t know who could have gotten my personal override code.”
“Probably the same person who used it to enter the power conduit chamber and cause the blackout,” Darius answered with calm authority, “thereby disabling security long enough to sneak out during the confusion.”
Aster felt her stomach tighten as she realised that someone had tried to frame her.
“In any case,” Chairman Darius continued, “the secrecy of your personal override code is your responsibility, and you are therefore responsible for any security breaches resulting from its use or abuse. I am hereby suspending as project-lead pending an internal investigation; your security clearance and other associated privileges are also suspended. Go home and don’t return until further notice.”
Aster’s spirit crumbled.
“…Yes sir.” She replied, feeling utterly crushed.
* * *
Between the wealthy Clouds and the Undercity far below, the middle levels of Asgard City were a patchwork of homes, shopping centres, industrial complexes, and other assorted real estate. Buried in the maze of back alleys was an entertainment club, the sort of place in which Jezebel Thorn normally wouldn’t be caught dead.
She had occupied a private room, flanked by two android servants, and was passing the time by wrinkling her nose at this foul place. The lighting was dim, her chair was uncomfortable, the surfaces were less than spotless, and the decor was a crime against good taste.
And then there was the nature of the establishment itself. It was an ‘entertainment’ club where the main feature was a stage and a set of vertical poles which female entertainers used to flaunt themselves in front of a pack of drooling male patrons, all set to faintly gyrating dance music. Jezebel had come in through a side entrance, partly for discretion’s sake and partly to avoid having to witness the lurid spectacle.
There was a knock at the door and a person entered without asking to be allowed in, slamming the door shut behind him and laying back against the door. Jezebel sat and waited patiently whilst he caught his breath. He was late, but as long as he’d acquired what she wanted, she could wait another minute.
“I got it.” He said breathlessly.
“The blue data chip?”
“Blue data chips are for non-essential data only,” he replied, reaching into his left pocket and pulling out the prize, “red data chips are for sensitive data. This is what you want.”
Jezebel motioned for him to approach and give her the chip, not deigning to get out of her seat to collect it. She took it from him and held it up to the dim light with her finger and thumb, smiling like a shark smelling blood.
“Well done.” She replied, getting up to leave.
“I’m sick of doing this.” the informant exclaimed, “everyone on Loki is dead, and now the company could well go under because of the scandal. I’m sick of being your rat.”
“‘Mole’,” Jezebel corrected him, “a ‘rat’ would be an informant for the authorities. Plus, I prefer to think of you as an unofficial observer of sorts.”
“Whatever, I’m sick of being your mole or observer.”
“Not as sick as your partner, I bet.” Jezebel quipped cruelly.
“We’ll manage without your financial help,” he said defiantly, “so are we done?”
“We are.” Jezebel confirmed.
She snapped her fingers and the two androids grabbed the man by his arms and kicked him behind both knees, forcing him to the dirty ground. He struggled in vain against the superhuman strength of the androids as they gripped his arms and each kept a foot planted on the back of his knees to hold him there.
“What the fleek are you doing?!” the informant shouted, struggling frantically.
No one could hear him. The thick walls dampened most of the noise he made and the thumping dance music beyond drowned out the rest.
“You’ve been incredibly useful to me over the years,” Jezebel replied coldly, “but as you pointed out, J.E. Co. is about to go under, so I no longer require your services.”
“You bitch! You bitch!” he screamed, struggling like a wild animal.
One android forced the informant’s left arm down to his side and held him by his black and gold hair while the other placed a gun in his right hand, forcing his fingers to close around the gun’s handle. The android then used its other hand to push down on the inside of his elbow, forcing the gun to his temple.
Jezebel turned away from the staged suicide and looked at the blood-red data chip in her hand, smiling in quiet satisfaction as her erstwhile informant’s screams and struggles were silenced with a single gunshot.
THE WIDOW
Out of the frying pan and into the firefight. That was the last thought that passed through Gabriel’s mind as he leapt into the escape hole. As soon as he jumped, he felt a powerful force yank his body straight downwards. The instantaneous acceleration was disorienting, but not nearly as disorienting as the insane journey that followed.
The walls of the tunnel dissolved into an imperceptible blur as the gravity field carried Gabriel along at incredible speeds, like one of those theme park rides that carried revellers along a winding tunnel before depositing them into a pool of water. Except that he was hurtling along ten times as fast, and whatever was waiting at the other end wanted to kill him.
The tunnel didn’t travel in a straight line either; it twisted, turned, and corkscrewed seemingly at random as it carried Gabriel along at breakneck speeds, making him feel that he might be dashed against the side of the tunnel. The most he could do was hug his weapon close, keep his feet together, and hope that didn’t happen.
Strangest of all was the sound, or lack thereof. The air resistance in the gravity tunnel ought to be a deafening roar; but to prevent hearing damage, the auditory software in Gabriel’s helmet artificially reduced the volume of loud noises or filtered them out altogether.
It was eerily silent a
ll the way down – or up, rather.
A faint light appeared at the end of the tunnel before rushing up to meet Gabriel. As he shot out of the tunnel at high speed, he felt his innards decelerate dramatically as the sudden change in gravity slowed his descent to a safe speed. The rest of the squad was already there, recovering as best they could from the trip.
“That was…not bad!” Viker hyperventilated.
“Sit-rep!” Gabriel replied, deadly serious.
“No threats detected,” Bale replied, “but that’ll probably change soon.”
They were standing on the ceiling of a hemispherical hall identical to the chamber from which they had just escaped. Unlike the previous chamber, however, this one was totally bare, with no storage crates, weapons caches or research equipment to be seen.
Without warning, the chamber’s column began to extend from its slot in the ceiling directly beneath Gabriel’s feet. He stepped off the moving column just in time to avoid falling back into the tunnel as the column slid inside, sealing off the entrance to the gravity tunnel; but he was removed from the artificial gravity field keeping him on the ceiling and tumbled down to the floor, landing on one foot and falling awkwardly onto his side.
“You alright, sir?” Cato asked.
“I’m fine.” Gabriel replied, climbing back to his feet, “it seems the observer is trying to help us. Join me down here and we can get this over with.”
Rather than activating their gravity belts, the squad jumped ‘up’ towards the floor, leaving the gravity field keeping them on the ceiling and landing more or less on their feet.
“Cato, check the column for the number of slots we need to fill.” Gabriel ordered, “Everybody else, fan out and look for the blocks.”
“Found one!” Viker announced, holding up a block discarded on the floor.
“Found a slot too!” Cato announced.
“Two slots?” Viker asked.
“No, I mean I found a slot as well.” Cato clarified.
“Whatever.” Viker said dismissively, “Just catch.”
Viker tossed the jet black block to Cato who caught it deftly and inserted it into the corresponding aperture at the base of the column.
As the block slid home, the intricate network of circuitry on the plain black column was illuminated as the machine was restored to power – or to life, they didn’t know anything about the technology they were bringing back online.
