A Swift Kick in the Asteroids

by Edward Zajac

  “And what’s your idea?” said Zagarat.

  Fletcher rested his chin on his steepled fingers. “Okay, so here’s what I’m thinking. We scale the side of their building in the middle of the night, once everyone has left for the day. Then we sneak into their office. I’ll watch the doors while you hack into their system and download all their files onto a datacrystal. That’s about the time the guards usually show up. But before they can catch us, we gather our things and scale down the building…”

  “Abseil,” said Zagarat.

  “Okay,” said Fletcher, shrugging. “I guess I could wear a sail on my abs if you think it’ll help.” He rolled his eyes. “We ab sail the side of the building and once we hit the ground, we change clothes and warp to the ship before anyone knows we were even there.” Fletcher leaned back in his chair, his face beaming with pride. “So, what do you think?”

  What followed was a pregnant pause that seemed to last nine months followed by twelve hours of agonizing labor. “That has to be the dumbest idea I’ve ever heard in my life,” said Zagarat finally, anxiety taking the lead over dismay in the Zagarat Cole Grand Prix.

  “What are you talking about? That idea is genius.”

  “That idea is convoluted and idiotic. First of all, you’ve glossed over the fact that we’ve somehow snuck into a secure building without triggering a single alarm. Next, in the matter of a few minutes, I’m supposed to hack into a secure system and download its entire contents onto a single datacrystal.”

  “Okay,” grumbled Fletcher. “Maybe a few datacrystals.”

  Zagarat continued. “Then we’re supposed to abseil the side of a building without anyone noticing. And after achieving that amazing feat, we’re supposed to change clothes and run off to the ship before any guards, cops, or turrets obliterate us?”

  “Okay,” Fletcher conceded. “Maybe it’s not the best idea in the world. But it’s part of the process. I bounce ideas off you. You bounce ideas off me. You know, give and take. Now, it’s your turn. What do you think we should do?”

  “How the suns should I know?” screeched Zagarat. “I don’t even know what the suns I’m supposed to be looking for.”

  “For which you are looking,” said Fletcher levelly, seemingly unaffected by Zag’s near hysteric rant. “You shouldn’t end your sentences in propositions. That’s bad grammar.”

  “You mean prepositions,” said Zagarat, massaging his temples.

  “Yeah, those too. Although, propositions are just as dangerous. I once accidentally made a proposition to a woman on Somnia and the whole thing just exploded. I mean, her family got involved and so did the local magistrate. But she was so worth it.” He cupped his hands at chest level. “She had the most beautiful…” He looked up at Zagarat’s ireful expression. “Sorry, I got distracted there for a moment. But you’re right. You should know what we’re looking for.” He held up his finger just as Zag was about to correct him. “For which we are looking. Ha!”

  Zagarat chuckled, despite himself. “You are such an ass.”

  “I know,” said Fletcher, grinning a smile that was contagious. “It’s part of my charm.” He clapped his hands together. “All right. Here’s what I know. The Mayoo network is exactly the same as Leranda’s network before you upgraded it. As for the rest, I don’t know what we’re looking for exactly. I don’t even know if the information is there. But I know I have to try. So, please help me. If you had to get into a Deus database long enough to find some information about the Unicorn Project or Meribell, how would you do it?”

  “How would I do it?” said Zagarat. “I’d find someone else to help you.”

  Fletcher grabbed Zag’s wrists and leaned in close. Within moments, Zagarat found himself staring into the man’s resplendent blue eyes. “Listen to me, Zagarat Cole. You are more than a neurotic tech. You are something special. That’s why I picked you.”

  And that was when the most astonishing thing happened. Zagarat believed him. For a brief, illustrious moment, Zagarat believed him.

  Maybe it was Fletcher’s warm smile. Maybe it was his chiseled chin and angular face. Or maybe it was those glorious eyes that made you feel warm and tingly all over.

  Zagarat grimaced. Damn it. Now, he was going to start having those dreams again. All because of one insignificant month when he, and everyone around him, questioned his sexual orientation. Damn you, Stefen, and your rugged good looks.

  But then reality returned. Who was he kidding? He wasn’t special. He wasn’t brave. He wasn’t brilliant. He was just Zag, and Zag was all he was ever going to be.

  Fletcher squeezed Zagarat’s hand. “Zag, you have to believe me. This is important. Lives stand at the balance. That’s why Bryce let me borrow you for a few days. I just need you to access their database long enough to find that information. Please help me. Please.”

  Don’t do it, said the devil on his shoulder. It’ll only end badly.

  But he needs your help, said the angel. And look at him. He seems genuine.

  So did Alaya, said the devil. And you remember how that ended.

  It’s just a scan and dash. You’ve done those before.

  Don’t do it.

  Do it, the angel countered.

  Don’t do it.

  Do it.

  “All right,” said Zagarat, clutching his head. “All right, all right, all right.”

  Oh, he was so going to regret this.

  Zagarat began massaging his temples. It was the first step in his creative process. First, he would massage his temples, gently rousing his cranial organ from its slumber. Next, a few slow but rather forceful swirls across his eyelids would open the metaphorical blinds and let in the bright lights of a new day. Then he would gently squeeze the sides of his head, which in essence pulled back the sheets of ignorance, exposing the brain to the brisk morning air of knowledge. And if that didn’t work, he would resort to punching the side of his head because I’m already late for work and I have no time for your foolishness so get up, get dressed, and get your ass downstairs or you will rue the day your father came home with a twinkle in his eye. Do you understand me, Mister?

  Then, so long as he didn’t concuss himself in the process, the ideas would often emerge out of sheer terror.

  “Okay,” said Zag, squeezing his head. “You need to get inside their network long enough to find out information about…” He looked up. “What was it again?”

  “Unicorn,” said Fletcher. “And Meribell. Oh, and anything relating to Verandas 1 through 5. And Feytor Feytor Aye. And Ze’u’an. Ze’u’an, as well.”

  “Okay, okay, okay.” Zag slammed his fist against the side of his head. “Think. Think.” Zagarat’s head suddenly jerked up, his eyes wide. All that was missing was a small fluorescent bulb hovering inches above his head. “Oh, that might work.”

  “What?” asked Fletcher.

  “Would it though?” mused Zagarat aloud. “No, no, no. Never mind. It’s a stupid idea. In fact, it’s almost as ludicrous as your idea.”

  Fletcher grinned. “I like it all ready. What is it?”

  Zagarat bit his lower lip. “Can you pull a few strings with Mr. Bryce?” he asked.

  “Probably. Why?”

  “I think it’s about time for an audit.”

  don’t quite understand,” said Augus Bent from behind his console.

  “It’s quite simple,” said Fletcher, crossing his right ankle over his left knee. “Deus has decided to audit the security at this branch.” Fletcher held up his hands. “Don’t ask me why. I don’t know exactly. I just know that an internal corporate audit revealed some vulnerability issues and, for once, the suits have decided to act proactively instead of reactively. Mr. Cole here has been sent to assess your system and recommend some improvements. And trust me, he is one of the best. What he did with the Leranda branch was,” he kissed his thumb and index fingers, “a thing of beauty.” Fletcher pointed at the datapad. “It should be all there.”

  “It is,” said Augus, running
his finger across the datapad yet again. “I just don’t understand the timing. We’re usually given three weeks’ notice before any audits.”

  “True,” said Fletcher. “But Deus wants to know what your security is like on an average workday.” He leaned forward conspiratorially. “Besides, you might not believe this but rumors have surfaced that the last auditor actually took payments from less than trustworthy execs in exchange for glowing reviews.” Fletcher scoffed. “Can you believe something so outrageous?”

  Augus Bent must have been an agnostic when it came to corporate malfeasance because his long, dark face showed no sign of belief or disbelief. “It also says here that Mr. Cole is a registered tech from the Leranda branch. But it doesn’t say who you are.”

  “Oh, I’m the muscle,” said Fletcher. “I’m here to make sure nothing happens to Mr. Cole over here. I mean, just look at him. It looks like the wind could beat him up.”

  Zagarat glanced obliquely at Fletcher, but did not say a word. His glare however spoke volumes. Mostly invectives, imprecations, and the occasional ‘asshole.’

  “So, we’d like to get started right away,” Fletcher continued. “We’ll need access to your techs and your computer mainframe. Plus, we’re going to need some coffee. I’d like a Solian latte and a Dorian Cocoa for my friend over here. We’ll also need a secretary. I saw a Somnian with frizzy black hair on the way in. I think she’d be perfect. Or maybe the blond Bylarian next to her. Or maybe both of them together. That would be even better.”

  For the first time, Augus looked up from his datapad. “I’m sorry, but the answer is no.”

  “All right,” said Fletcher. “I guess we’ll make do with just the one.”

  “You misunderstand me,” said Augus, placing his datapad onto the desk. “I refuse to have my branch audited without three weeks’ notice.”

  “But this order comes directly from Mr. Bryce,” said Zagarat, speaking for the first time.

  “So it would seem,” said Augus Bent. “But we have passed each one of our audits and I feel no need to justify myself or this branch to the likes of you.”

  Zagarat stiffened. “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “Everyone knows the Lerandans are the inbred cousins of the Deus Syndicate.”

  Zagarat was halfway to his feet before Fletcher reached over and pushed him back into his chair. Even then, he continued to seethe in his seat, glaring laserbeams at the Deus executive.

  Bent had no right to talk about the Lerandan branch like that. Sure, the branch had been on the brink of closure numerous times. And yes, the building was full of rejects from the hundreds of other Deus branches. And yes, most of them weren’t exactly the brightest stars in the known universe. But they were, in essence, Zag’s corporate siblings and as such, only he got to call his brothers jerks and his sisters sluts.

  Although Zag didn’t know why he felt a sudden need to defend his branch, it was actually due to a phenomenon Aesof Wahler posited in his book, WHY THE UNIVERSE IS CRAZY AND YOU’RE THE ONLY SANE ONE, called Usism.

  Wahler theorized that all sentient beings have an innate need to differentiate “us” from “them.” It was the reason for racism, jingoism, and even the newfound doubtism, which was prejudice against anyone who thought the same way you did because that was just weird. It was a way of aggrandizing yourself and your ilk while debasing anyone who disagreed with you, had the audacity to look different than you, or was impudent enough not to be you.

  Even the Great Skeptic’s Conglomeration was based on a collective belief that “we” are right and “they” are wrong for doubting in the existence of a supreme being, in wispy apparitions of departed souls, and that universe was ever expanding. It was said that their meetings were held in the Kaerson Building on the twelfth of every month, though most members doubted that.

  That was just what “they” wanted you to believe.

  “Now, if you’ll excuse me,” Augus continued. “I have more important things to do.” He depressed a button on his console. “Ms. Xa, would you escort these gentlemen to the lift?”

  The door opened and the Somnian secretary entered, braids of ebony hair flowing down to her shoulders like spiral staircases. Her face was long and angular and her skin was the color of Dorian Cocoa, which made her seem all the more lovely to Zag.

  “If you would follow me, gentlemen,” she said.

  Fletcher and Zagarat hesitated, exchanging sidelong glances.

  “Please don’t make me call security,” added Augus Bent severely. “They can be rather forceful at times.”

  “This audit isn’t optional,” said Fletcher. “It is going to happen, with or without your permission.”

  Augus sighed, depressing a nearby button. “Security.”

  Zagarat glanced down at his PCD. “Actually,” he said, pushing himself to his feet. “You know something? He’s right. Who are we to judge him or his branch?”

  Fletcher frowned. “We’re duly selected representatives of the Deus Syndicate, that’s who.”

  “Nonetheless,” said Zag. “I’m sure Mr. Bent knows what he’s doing.”

  Fletcher’s eyes narrowed as he stared quizzically at Zag. But Zagarat held his level gaze with an unusual aplomb. “Are you sure about this?” asked Fletcher. Zagarat replied with a broad and rather smug smile. “All right then. You’re the boss. Ms. Xa, please lead the way.”

  Fletcher and Zag followed their escort out into the main office, although the word followed might be somewhat misleading. It was more like they dawdled behind her.

  “What the hell are you doing?” asked Fletcher out of the corner of his mouth.

  Zagarat said nothing. He simply trundled forward, counting down the numbers in his head. When he reached five, he stopped, pointing his finger in the air. “Wait for it.”

  At first, nothing happened. And then nothing quickly became something as all the terminals in the office suddenly went blank. Even the fluorescent lights dimmed, supplanted by red emergency lights. “And there it is.”

  Augus Bent stormed out of his office. “What is going on out here?”

  “I’m not certain,” said Zagarat as various employees fretted about their consoles, “but I think someone might have just crashed your system.”

  Fletcher’s smile could have illuminated the entire office. “Really?” he said, quick on the uptake. “Well, that can’t be right. This branch has passed every one of its audits. Besides, what would you know about it? You’re just an inbred cousin from the Leranda branch.”

  “That’s true,” said Zagarat, nodding. “I am at that.”

  “I wonder if Mr. Bryce will be interested in this.”

  “That’s a good question,” said Zagarat. “I guess there’s only one way to find out.”

  They made it halfway to the maglift when Augus Bent shouted, “Wait!”

  Zagarat and Fletcher stopped, turning in perfect unison. “Yes?” asked Zag, smugly.

  For countless moments, the exec glared at them, his nostrils flaring like the bellows to his ire. Then he said, rather reluctantly, “I may have had a change of heart.”

  Fletcher whispered in Zag’s ear, “I think I love you.”

  Zagarat tried to hide his smile, but it was a futile endeavor.

  s. Xa escorted them to the Tech department, which was in the bowels of the Deus Corporate building on Mayoo. Right around the colon.

  “If you’ll wait here,” said Ms. Xa, guiding them over to a small lounge area. “I’ll be right back with your refreshments.”

  Once she left, Fletcher turned and said, “That was awesome! How did you do that?”

  “It’s a trick I used on Leranda,” said Zagarat. “Execs tend to downplay any technical problems, mostly because they don’t really understand the problem. So, sometimes you have to show them the problem exists, in dramatic fashion. There was no guarantee it would work, but I figured it was worth a try. So, I sent the prog when we first arrived. If they let us in, I’d destroy it before it activated. If
they didn’t…” He shrugged. “Well, here we are.”

  “Nice,” said Fletcher. “Can you use that prog to gather information for us?”

  Zagarat shook his head. “That was just to scare them. Anything more intrusive would have died at the firewall. And then, so would we.”

  “It was still pretty damn impressive,” said Fletcher. “I mean, you hacked into their network, knocked out their system, and did it all with a smile of your face.” He slapped him on the back. “I’ll make a privateer out of you yet.”

  A shiver snaked its way down Zagarat’s spine. It was actually pretty impressive, wasn’t it? And what was this feeling he felt deep inside? Was it indigestion? No. He hadn’t ingested any Horsen chilis. Was it sciatica? No. That usually travelled up his leg, not down his spine. Was it pride? Was this what pride felt like? Zag didn’t know, but he rather liked the sensation.

  Ms. Xa returned. “Here is your coffee,” she said sweetly, handing a cup to Fletcher.

  “Thank you so much,” said Fletcher, flashing her a smile as he took it.

  She returned his smile with one ten times as smiley, her eyes flittering as if sending some tacit communication through mascara semaphore. Then, without looking away from Fletcher, she absently reached out with her other hand. “And here’s your Dorian Cocoa.”

  Zag had to actually stand in order to reach the cup. “Thank you,” he grumbled morosely, taking the barely proffered cocoa.

  Ms. Xa didn’t seem to hear him or if she did, she showed no sign of it as she continued to smile gloriously down at Fletcher. And with that, self-loathing kicked pride out of the apartment of Zagarat’s mind. Pride might have had squatter’s rights, but self-loathing had a lifelong lease and had no intention of moving out without a fight.

  “If there’s anything else you need,” she said coyly, biting her lower lip, “just let me know. It’s my job to make all our visitors as comfortable as sentiently possible.”

  “You’ll be the first to know,” said Fletcher, winking.

  They both watched as Ms. Xa walked away, although Zagarat was fairly certain her mesmeric gait was meant for Fletcher and Fletcher alone.