Nearby, Sumo was pulling on the bands of a resistance training machine. She wore a thin workout one-piece that showed off her ropey muscles.
She winked at him. “There’s a few genies involved, but I keep it mostly natural.”
“Got it,” Tag managed between breaths. It made him feel slightly less inadequate to know most of the marines had dabbled in genetic enhancements—or genies—to bolster their physical aptitude. As a medical officer, he had never felt the need to do so. But with the abrupt change in his career trajectory, maybe it was time to rethink that.
“You’ve been hitting the gym more than usual,” Sumo said, somewhere halfway between a statement and a question. She racked another set of weights onto the band, her lean biceps bulging. “Just trying to stay busy while we sit out here?”
“Damn scorpioids,” Tag said. “Figured I need to focus a bit more on my cardio.”
“Ah, makes sense,” Sumo said, increasing her weights once again.
“I used to tell all my patients the best thing they can do...” Tag paused, slowing the machine down a bit so he could actually talk. “The best thing they can do when cramped up on a ship is get some exercise.” The muscles in his chest seemed to loosen, the pain fading as he jogged at a more comfortable pace.
“You got that right,” Sumo said. She did a last set of curls then dropped the bands. With the back of her hand, she wiped the sweat from her forehead. “Best thing you can do for the body and the mind.” She tapped her temple with one finger.
Running had certainly served a dual purpose for him. Over the last few days, every time he hit a dead end in the lab, he had come down here to let his mind wander while he ran. His thoughts had often drifted between the data on the species they had uncovered to the classified projects the Hope had been working on as he tried to piece together the puzzle.
“You know,” Sumo said, adjusting the resistance bands to start a set of squats, “you had me worried out there, Captain. Don’t know if you noticed, but we’ve gotten used to having you around the ship.”
“True,” Tag said. “You all need a doctor on board.”
Sumo laughed. “Eh, we have Alpha now. And besides, you know that’s not what I mean.” She grunted as she performed her squats. They continued working in silence until she finished her sets. Sumo stood, stretching her arms and cracking her joints. “That’s it for me today, Cap.” As she walked to the hatch, she called out, “There’s another Turbo match on tonight, if you want to join us.”
“I might just do that.” Tag sped up the treadmill again, pumping his fists, his feet slapping the belt. With each passing day, the marines were feeling more like part of the team. After getting off to such a rocky start, Sumo’s words meant a lot to him. It gave him hope that he wasn’t doing a completely terrible job as captain. He ran for another fifteen minutes, determined to push himself another kilometer past yesterday’s distance.
Light spilled in from the corridor once more as the hatch opened. Two shapes came in, one lunging low and sprinting across the deck. The other stood tall and lanky, striding toward Tag.
“Coren,” Tag said. “Why in the three hells did you let Lucky in here?”
The Rizzar jumped on the treadmill beside Tag, her six legs bouncing happily as she ran. She gazed up at him with her green eyes, but when his gaze locked with hers, she hissed, her snout scrunching in a snarl. It wasn’t until he looked slightly away that she calmed down.
“Weird little animal,” Tag muttered.
“She was mewling out there for the past ten minutes,” Coren said. “I could hear her all the way from the lab. If I hadn’t let her in, I’m not sure how much longer I could put up with it. Might’ve spaced her.”
Lucky hissed again, her tongue dancing between her yellow fangs.
The treadmill’s terminal beeped, announcing that he’d reached his distance goal, and Tag hit a button to slow it to a walking pace. Lucky let out a soft growl as if she was displeased they were already stopping. Tag reached down and scratched behind her ears, and she closed her eyes and moved into his scratching. “I can’t decide whether she’s more like a dog or a cat.”
With a flick of her tails, Lucky smacked his hand.
“I think she’s telling you that she’s neither,” Coren said.
Tag stepped off the treadmill and combed his fingers through his hair, flicking off the sweat. Lucky gave him an offended look when some of it hit her. “Anyway, I’m guessing you didn’t come in here just to make Lucky happy.”
“No,” Coren said. For a second his mouth moved, but no words came out. It was as if he wasn’t sure about what he was going to say. Lack of confidence was an unusual trait for Mechanics. “I think I may have discovered something about the Collectors.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Tag followed Coren to the bridge. In actuality, he followed Coren who was following Lucky. The Rizzar acted as if she knew where they wanted to go and trotted in front of them, occasionally pausing to glance back impatiently. She sat on her hind legs when they reached the hatch, and Coren opened it.
Lucky sprinted in first, running ahead to curl up in the middle of the crash couch. Sofia was reclining on her own crash couch, legs draped over the side, while she examined something at her terminal. At their arrival, she faced them, her nose turned up.
“Phew,” she said. “Smell what the cat dragged in.”
Hissing, Lucky arched her back, evidently offended once again being equated to an Earthborn feline.
“Sorry,” Sofia said. “I meant ‘smell what the Rizzar brought in.’”
Lucky let out a short, peppy bark before curling back up.
“Just came from a workout,” Tag said. “Coren told me this was worth me skipping a shower.”
“Let me be the judge of that,” Sofia said. “I’m not sure I’m on his side.”
Coren ignored her and stood in the center of the bridge, motioning over the ops terminal. Lines of code spilled across the holoscreen.
“What am I looking at?” he asked.
“On this side,” Coren began, pointing to the left side of the holoscreen, “we have the virus the Drone-Mechs used to shut the Argo’s AI systems down. Modified code from standard Mechanic computational warfare strategies.”
“Got it,” Tag said. “And this side?” He motioned to the right of the holoscreen.
“These are the bits and pieces Bracken was able to salvage from the Mechanic ship at the Hope’s space station. We couldn’t find evidence of the virus used to override the battlecruiser’s AI systems or its energy shields.”
“Then where did this come from?”
“Each of our ships are equipped with a diagnostics log,” Coren said. “It records abnormal events in case of accidents, ranging from fusion reactor leakage to enemy attacks to attempts to access our computer systems from unauthorized sources. The logs show the algorithmic software the Collectors were attempting to install on the battlecruiser before the ship’s systems were completely overwhelmed.”
“And this helps us?”
“Maybe,” Coren said with uncharacteristic uncertainty. “There are two major things I noticed about this code.” Coren made a sweeping gesture over the holoscreen. Multiple lines lit up in green. “It shares some striking similarities to the virus the Drone-Mechs used on the Argo and attempted to use on the free Mechanic fleet.”
“Which means we have a way to protect our systems from them,” Sofia said, slipping over the side of her crash couch and standing. “We can adapt the program Mr. Genius Engineer over here designed to shield ourselves against the Collectors.”
“Excellent,” Tag said. “How long do you think that’ll take?”
“Not terribly long,” Coren said, “especially if I can get Alpha’s help on the matter. The engineers and scientists aboard the Stalwart will no doubt be.”
“This seems to indicate a strong connection between our Drone-masters and Collectors,” Tag said, “but besides that, this is the best news we’ve h
ad since we left the Hope.”
Sofia beamed, her eyes dancing between Tag and Coren. “Oh, he’s got better news than that. This next part is pretty good.”
Coren waved his hand over the holoscreen again. This time several lines appeared highlighted in scarlet. “The Collector program does something else interesting that the Drone-Mechs’ did not. It requests an identification response from the ship before trying to subvert the vessel.”
“Which means?” Tag asked.
“Which means the virus won’t activate if it reads the identification code,” Coren said.
Sofia still grinned as if she had something to hide.
“There’s something else, isn’t there?” Tag asked. He looked between them, waiting for an answer. Why would the Collectors need an identification code? Couldn’t they simply recognize their own fleet through drive signatures? Wouldn’t the system architecture on their ships be similar enough between each ship in their fleet that requesting an identification code would be redundant? Then it came to him. “Three hells, Coren! This a great find!”
Coren’s head bobbed. “Indeed it is.”
“If they’re stealing ships from all different species, they have to create some kind of ID for those ships so they don’t actually shut it down after they have control over it. Their fleet might be comprised of all kinds of ships. We can spoof an ID and pretend to belong to their fleet.”
“Exactly what I was thinking,” Sofia said. “If it turns out we need to raze these Collectors, we can do it without them even knowing what’s coming.”
“Hell of a plan,” Tag said.
“It is,” Coren said hesitantly.
“You don’t sound confident.”
“I’m not yet sure that we can accurately replicate a Collector ID code.”
“Because this data is corrupted?” Tag asked.
“Right,” Coren said. “We simply don’t have enough data on these ID codes to proceed.”
Tag looked at the bridge’s viewscreen. The UNS Hope was little more than a blurry dot in the distance. “There are ways to get more data.”
***
Tag called another meeting with Bracken and Jaroon. He settled into his seat in the conference room outside the captain’s quarters—my quarters, he internally chided himself. This time the seats around the table were empty. He heard a soft tapping against the hatch, and figuring it was Alpha or Coren with more updates, he opened the door.
When he saw who it was, he shook his head. Lucky wound between his legs and plopped herself onto one of the seats.
“You just couldn’t sit this one out, huh?”
One of her claws kicked at a spot behind her ear.
The first holo fizzled on, glowing blue before settling into the black form of Bracken. She sat stoically, clenching her hands together at her simulated spot across from Tag. He nodded his greeting toward her as a holo of Jaroon’s gelatinous form appeared next to Bracken.
“Greetings to the both of you,” he said.
“I see we have another guest,” Bracken said, sending a sideways glance toward Lucky. “Is this a new officer?”
“She certainly acts like one,” Tag said.
“I assume you didn’t call us here to discuss this specimen joining your already quite diverse crew,” Bracken said.
“No,” Tag said. “I certainly didn’t.”
He relayed Coren’s discoveries regarding the virus the Collectors had used on the Mechanic battlecruiser. After describing the similarities between that virus and the one used by the Drone-Mechs, he explained the additional ID request nestled within the software.
“These are intriguing findings,” Jaroon said. “We’ve parsed the data we found on the Melarrey ship, and my engineers reported similar results.”
“If we are going to pursue the Collectors,” Tag said, “I think it would be prudent to do a bit more scavenging. I want to be able to mimic those ID codes so we can get in close to the Collectors and figure out what they’re up to.”
“You will find no disagreement from me,” Bracken said.
“Likewise,” Jaroon said. “What exactly did you have in mind?”
“As much as I hate to say it, I suggest we go back to the Hope station. Let’s explore the other ships. See if we can tap into the computers, draw out any information on the ID codes. Surely, if the Collectors took these ships over, they implanted ID codes on them somewhere. Maybe we can find a pattern or some way to replicate the codes.”
“That sounds like a decent plan,” Jaroon said. A holo of the space station appeared before them. It looked like a spiral galaxy with all its arms of scavenged spaceships tracing around the central core of the UNS Hope. “Shall we split the ships up and each start investigating down a branch or two?”
“That’s what I was thinking,” Tag said.
Bracken’s fur bristled. “It will take days, maybe weeks to work our way through each of the ships.”
“Possibly,” Tag said. “But at least we’ll have the data we need to spoof a Collector ship ID.”
“There’s no guarantee we’ll find the codes,” Bracken said. “In fact, there’s no guarantee that the Collectors are still to be found at the coordinates provided by Raktor.”
“They left years ago,” Jaroon said. “What difference does a few days make?”
“Maybe all the difference in the world,” Bracken said. “The longer we’re here chasing them around, the longer Meck’ara is waiting for the next Drone-Mech attack. Or”—she narrowed her eyes, her holo leaning in toward Tag—“the longer you leave humanity open to an attack from these Collectors, Drone-masters, and whoever else is part of this mad conspiracy.”
“I understand,” Tag said. “Trust me, I do. The last thing I want is to leave the SRE vulnerable, but that’s why I want to do this right.”
“Then you would agree it’s best to collect this data as efficiently and swiftly as we can,” Bracken said.
“I would,” Tag said slowly, wondering where Bracken was steering this conversation.
“Then, according to your reports from the Hope, I think we already have a surefire method of accessing all the computers aboard the station at once.”
Tag swallowed hard as he realized what the Mechanic captain was hinting at. “You mean Raktor.”
“Exactly,” Bracken said. “It seems like we need to pay our vegetable friend another visit. And by we, I mean you.”
“Damn it,” Tag said. He wanted to disagree with Bracken, but there was just one problem: she was right. Raktor had access to the entire station network. He could do in minutes what would take them weeks or months. Now he just needed to find a way to make amends with the monster and get it to do just one more favor—one more kind thing.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Running wasn’t enough. Tag had logged plenty of time on the treadmill, but it hadn’t jump-started his mind. How was he supposed to get Raktor’s help? He struggled to come up with anything better than taking over the station by force. Threats of violence were unpredictable at best against the strange alien, as Tag and his crew had learned the hard way.
He’d left the gym and now sat at his desk in his quarters, staring at nothing while his mind worked. Several shelves were still empty, waiting for the computational supplies and research files he had yet to move from his old quarters below deck. A single holopainting of the Argo was projected on a bulkhead—the only holdover from Captain Weber.
Something scratched his leg, and he looked down to see Lucky pawing at him. In her fanged mouth she held an empty plastic bottle. Tag took it and tossed it across the room. Lucky sprinted after it, pounced, and bounded back to him, holding it in her mouth.
If only making Raktor happy was as easy. He brought up a schematic holo of the Hope. He gestured over the glowing image, highlighting the computer core chamber where Raktor’s main body dwelled. Maybe there was a way he could infiltrate the place without Raktor knowing and set up a transponder to leech all the data they needed.
&
nbsp; There was a knock at his door.
“Come on in,” he said, throwing the bottle again.
Sofia and Alpha entered.
Watching Lucky, Sofia leaned against a bulkhead. “Any ideas?”
“Nothing but storming in there with guns blazing and demanding Raktor let us into the computers by force.”
“I don’t think threats will work. Doesn’t seem like it would fall for the same trick twice.”
“If I’m being honest, as much as I don’t like the plant, I don’t relish the idea of exterminating it.” Tag cradled his chin in his left hand as he used his right to throw the bottle. “That wouldn’t make us much better than the Collectors.”
“Maybe we can have Lucky sneak in there and steal the data while Raktor isn’t looking,” Sofia said.
“Ha, yeah, good luck getting her to do anything we want,” Tag replied. “She’s on her own schedule.”
The Rizzar brought Sofia the plastic bottle and dropped it at her feet. Sofia obligingly resumed the game of fetch.
“Once you start, you don’t get to stop,” Tag warned. “I’m running into a dead end here. There’s got to be some way to convince Raktor to do this last favor for us without threatening it.”
“There might be,” Sofia said, her eyes starting to brighten. She flipped the bottle across the room again, and Lucky went after it. “Maybe there’s a ploy with the seedlings.”
“I’m interested,” Tag said. “Go on.”
When Lucky dropped the bottle at Sofia’s feet again, Alpha took over, picking up the bottle. She threw it inhumanly fast, and it flew like a comet into the corridor. Lucky’s claws pattered away, giving them a respite from her game.
“Alpha recovered some data on Raktor that she thought we might find interesting,” Sofia said.
“Let’s hear it,” Tag said.
Alpha tapped on her wrist terminal. “From what the Collectors gathered, Raktor is not the name of the sentient vegetative lifeform you encountered, but instead the name of the species as a whole.”
“Okay,” Tag said. “How does the naming schema help us?”
Shattered Dawn (The Eternal Frontier Book 3) Page 13
