“She’s firing on us. We’ve got to get—”
Another flash of light cut the signal entirely, and the tiny cluster of pixels vanished behind the ship.
“I believe the only thing that could have come back through the portal with that level of hostility and firepower is Admiral Purcell. Her mobility device must have at least partially recovered following her clash with Ziva.”
As they watched, the blob of pixels representing the ship swept away.
“So what’s this mean to me then? What’s this lady going to be after?”
“Unclear. She appeared to have a rather substantial vendetta against both myself and Lex. It is reasonable to suspect she would attempt to track Lex down. But it is unclear by what means she would do so. She also seemed mentally unstable and could represent a considerable threat to continuity as we require it.”
“The only thing I require is that we get our hands on the GMVD from Lex. She can go on a rampage for all I care. How resourceful is this lady? Do you think she can find him?”
“She survived more than fifty years after being hurled into deep space, and thrived in the remnants of a society torn to pieces by self-replicating robots. It is reasonable to assume she has the intelligence and determination to achieve almost any goal. Furthermore, her origins were among the Neo-Luddites, an organization dedicated to the destruction of current technologies to make room for new. She is in possession of future technology eighty years ahead of present time, and has foreknowledge of the location of the GenMech cluster. A prior plan by her organization to push its agenda had been to utilize GenMechs as a weapon of mass destruction. She may attempt to acquire or attract the primary cluster in its current form.”
“You really think she’d unleash robot hell after living in it for so long?”
“As you have repeatedly illustrated, it is impossible to speculate upon the actions and intent of the mentally unstable. I strongly advise we intercept and neutralize Purcell.”
He grumbled to himself. “I sense manipulation…”
“I am merely advising you upon the most sensible course of action. It is, if you’ll recall, one of the reasons you created me.”
Karter glanced at the console, then swiped a few commands into it. A time display illuminated, counting down.
“That’s our date with disaster. I’m willing to tail Purcell and blast the hell out of her, but when the travel time says we’ve got to head for Lex, we’re heading for Lex.”
“That is an acceptable compromise.”
“Yeah…” he fumed. “Do you have any idea how long it’s been since I had to compromise? I’m getting bad flashbacks of all the crap I had to put up with when you were around.”
“I apologize if my reason and logic have reduced your freedom to sow chaos.”
He tapped in some coordinates. “You say that, but you don’t mean it. Never mind. This lady punched a hole in one of the reactor coils when she stole the ship. We’ve got a nice ion trail to follow. Let’s get this over with.”
Chapter 6
It had taken the better part of two hours, but Lex had managed to talk both Coal into calming down and the good Samaritans into hearing him out. They had led him to a small private room not far from the hangar. Judging from the tiny size of the vessel in relation to its crew, locating a “private” space with room enough for four people was no simple task. They ended up crammed into a closet of a room, what the crew called the “huddle room.” There were two chairs and a flip-down table. Lex had been ushered into the back of the room and pinned behind the lowered table. The woman, who had yet to offer up a name, took a seat opposite him and seemed to be the designated spokesperson of the group. The other two crewmen stood shoulder to shoulder behind her, occupying every last square centimeter of space in the room. The fact that he’d not been given the chance to even remove his helmet made the whole situation uncomfortable on a number of levels.
“Okay, Blueboy,” said the woman. “Let’s start with the simple questions, since it doesn’t seem like you’re really up to the task of anything else. Where are you really from?”
“Golana,” he said.
“That’s kind of vague, Blue,” she said. “Where on Golana?”
“Preston City. East quarter.”
She nodded. “And what’s with the control system of your ship?”
“I went with an AI instead of a regular control system. She’s not working as well as she might, at the moment.”
“What’s the make and model on that ship? Never seen one like it.”
“It’s sort of a custom. A friend of mine made it.”
“You haven’t exactly been taking good care of your friend’s ship. Some bad holes in there. Not from what I’d call standard weaponry either. Doug here says it looks like demolition charges.”
“I can’t have nice things,” Lex said with a shrug.
“You came in here with enough CO2 in your blood to have been breathing the same air for about four times longer than is really healthy.”
“Probably it has something to do with those holes,” Lex said.
“You giving me an attitude?”
“Sorry. Let’s blame it on the brain damage. Can I ask a question?”
“No. Why does your ship claim you’re from the future?”
“Like I said, she’s not quite thinking straight these days.”
“What are you doing out past the surveyed edge of the transit system, Blue?”
“Sightseeing. There’s apparently a magnetar somewhere over there,” he said, gesturing vaguely.
“You’re being awfully flippant for someone in your situation.”
“It’s not my first interrogation. And exactly what situation am I in?”
“Don’t play dumb. Bruno is doing a scan on your ship right now, but all I need is my eyeballs to know what you’re up to.”
“I guarantee you have no idea what I’m up to.”
“That ship is covered with sensors. And I know a stealth coating when I see one. We saved your life. The least you can do is not lie to our faces. What rival survey firm are you working for?”
“Rival survey firm… You’re a survey firm? Duh. Of course that’s what you’re doing out here. Why else would anyone be out here past the fringe?” he said, more to himself than to his interrogator.
“Only two reasons: to run a survey and to poach survey data. I know which one we’re doing, and I know which one you’re doing. And I’ll tell you this. Sirius Stellar Surveys has never had data stolen.”
“And they’re sure not going to start with the 77 crew,” remarked the man presumably named Doug.
Lex furrowed his brow. There was something familiar about what she’d said.
“Sirius Stellar Surveys…” he said distantly. “SSS 77.”
His eyes shot open. The woman interrogating him smiled and leaned back, crossing her arms. “There’s a man who just realized what he’s dealing with.”
“Listen, what’s it going to take for you to let me patch up my ship and get out of here?” Lex said urgently.
“Oh no. We don’t like poachers. Not one bit. You’re coming in with us. And that’s real unfortunate for you because we’re dead center on a—”
“Seven-month tour, I know,” he said, maneuvering his arms in the cramped space until he could access the communication controls.
“See, that’s pretty much a confession. Why would he know the length of our tour?”
“Coal, do you have the full inventory of the ship’s equipment and resources?” he said.
“Yes, Lex,” came the swift reply.
“What do we have in the way of casino chips?”
“We are currently carrying twelve rolls of chips in the one hundred thousand credit denomination and twelve rolls in the one thousand credit denomination, all time-period appropriate.”
“I’m not really up to doing math right now, Coal. What’s that work out to?”
“Sixty million credits in the high denomination. S
ixty thousand in the low denomination. Sixty point oh six million total.”
“I’ll fork over the whole lot of it if you’ll give me the material to patch some holes and top off my fuel and oxygen.”
The looks on their faces illustrated a sudden weakening of their thirst for justice.
She cleared her throat. “I think we can—”
Doug stopped her with a hand to the shoulder.
“What’s to stop us from just searching your ship and taking that as a forfeit?” he asked.
“Coal, don’t let them take the chips,” Lex said.
“Arming fusion device…” she replied.
“Not like that,” he said calmly.
“Okay. Closing and sealing cockpit hatch and activating shields.”
“We’ve got a fully equipped maintenance facility. I’m confident we can get through your defenses,” said Doug.
“I’m confident you can’t,” Lex said. “Because if you make any reasonable progress, you’re liable to make Coal upset. And she can be very forceful when that happens.”
“I don’t like the way you—” Doug began.
Now it was the woman’s turn to stop him. “I think we can come to an agreement.”
“Good. That’s good…” He took a deep breath and glanced at the time display on the arm of his suit. “Let’s get started on the repairs then.”
“You’re not really fully recovered yet, you should probably wait a day or two.”
“No, no, no,” he said. “We’re on a deadline. If you’ll excuse me, I need to have a word alone with my ship.”
He flipped his face shield shut and covered it with his hands.
“Coal,” he whispered.
“Yes, Lex?”
“We’re on SSS 77.”
“What does that mean?”
“SSS 77? As in the tragedy of Triple S 77?”
“I don’t know what that is, Lex.”
“We really need to reload your memory banks…” he muttered. “It’s a famous mystery. A whole convoy doing a seven-month survey of an unexplored sector of the galaxy—the convoy we’re apparently a part of right now—failed to respond for a scheduled data exchange. Eventually rescue crews arrived to find nothing but wreckage. Fifty-eight people dead, with evidence suggesting the whole convoy had been destroyed shortly after the previous data exchange. The people responsible were never found. We learn about it in flight school because it’s the horror story they tell when you’re getting passenger certified to remind you’re risking more than debris collisions when you go off the grid.”
“When did this tragedy occur?”
“In a little under two days…”
#
Admiral Purcell’s shaking, wizened hands tugged at the exposed circuitry behind a control panel, revealing data ports and jabbing probes into the sockets.
“Antiquated electronics. Antiquated protocols. Antiquated ships. Antiquated minds,” she uttered in a wheezing rant. “We were Neanderthals. I don’t know how we survived this era.”
Her mobility device had clearly seen better days. The damage from her clash with Ziva was evident, and since she’d entered the ship and disposed of its prior occupants, it had slipped even further into disrepair thanks to her disassembly of several ancillary sections. Long wires, some from the device itself and some scavenged from other parts of the ship, stretched from deep within the electronic innards of the hovering device. They traced a net of connections all about the ship.
One side of the stolen VectorCorp vessel was almost entirely missing. She’d blown a gaping hole in it when the technicians had attempted to “rescue” her, and had further widened it to gain access to a set of emitters near center. They were force-field emitters. Though the ship had barely anything in the way of defensive shielding—not that it would have done any good against Purcell’s futuristic weaponry—even in this era all ships had emergency force fields to retain atmosphere in the event of a hull breach. Emitter technology was such that, with a better field generator, even an antiquated device could be coaxed into at least marginally improved performance. It was a bit like utilizing a civil war cannon to launch a depleted uranium round: not ideal, but in a pinch, it could make all the difference.
“Seventy percent field integrity increase. This won’t do. None of it will do… Need to repair… need to improve!”
She skewered a final probe into place, and her chair’s display finally flickered to life, revealing an era-appropriate administration screen.
“Admin login…” she hissed.
“Access denied. This VectorCorp ship has been compromised. To protect corporate and customer data, the credentials of all associated technicians have been revoked pending investigation,” replied the computer in a friendly synthesized male voice.
“Fifty-year-old security measures,” she croaked. “Home system archive, VC crypt keys, known vulnerabilities. Cluster test, activate.”
Her commands worked like an ancient incantation, dredging up a historical record of all successful attacks and leaked information into a concentrated blast of data assault. VectorCorp may have had the best security in the galaxy, but no security can withstand a hacker with foreknowledge of the reason it would eventually be replaced. In moments she had access to VectorCorp’s private corporate networks, and moments later she’d issued the proper commands to delete and conceal any evidence of her past, present, and future activities there.
“2312. What did this blasted company have that was worth having…?”
A worrying thump rolled through the ship as something damaged in the attack finally ceased functioning completely. It wasn’t immediately clear what it was. The fact that the ship hadn’t exploded or disintegrated suggested it wasn’t something vital, but the persistent shudder that began rattling the ship indicated it was certainly something important.
“We’ll begin with nearby repair yards… Ehhh… No full auto maintenance facilities nearby… Bah… The twit who does the repairs will have to die. Easy enough… Let’s see. Five hours away, Crest dry docks.” Her face twisted into a sinister grin. “Home of the local branch of the CX program. Experimental construction vehicles… Display construction manifest.”
Her screen populated with what could only in very loose and charitable terms be honestly classified as construction equipment. Reactive armor plating, high-density particle beam weapons, redundant power supplies, and four levels of force fields. One could almost see the loopholes in international, interplanetary, and interstellar law through which these hulking “nonmilitary” vehicles slipped. One in particular caught her eye.
“Ah… Prototype… The loveliest word in the language…” she cooed, caressing the screen. “Draft broadcast message: To Security Department, Crest dry docks. A disaster recovery exercise has been scheduled. All personnel must evacuate the following buildings. High-level security assessors will be in attendance monitoring compliance and responsiveness. Attach experimental dock list and repair facilities 6 through 8 and send.”
Her system compiled and delivered the message.
“Good… Good… I’ll have passable equipment.” She wrung her hands. “How to put it to use… how best to set the future? The first steps are simple enough. Remove the boy. Remove the AI, and remove the inventor…”
#
Lex sparked up a cutting torch and eyed it warily.
“I’m not sure I’m comfortable doing this, Coal,” he said.
He was back in the hangar, still in his suit for a number of reasons. While wearing it he could have a relatively private conversation with Coal, which was reason enough to keep the uncomfortable thing on, but the complexity of suiting up and the likelihood of having to leave in a hurry made it further wise to keep it on, even if the self-sanitation features weren’t a tenth as pleasant as even the pitiful bathing options available on the survey ship.
Lex glanced to the doorway. Two rather heavily armed men were guarding it as he made ready to do some repairs. Though the crew had warmed to
his presence somewhat when they realized he was about to line their pockets in exchange for their silence, they still weren’t the sort to let a potentially unstable stranger have free run of their ship. Thus, they had provided him with some scrap to patch up the Lump of Coal, and some tools to make the repairs, but weren’t willing to put down their bulky energy weapons to lend a hand.
“It is a comparatively simple repair, Lex,” Coal said. “Some of my fragmented memories of you indicate you were able to perform basic ship maintenance.”
“That was mostly tuning. I can tinker with an engine a bit, but this is metalworking.” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “Plus, these tools are like forty years old. Not exactly user friendly.”
“In native terms they are only ten years old,” Coal said.
“That doesn’t make them any less obsolete from my perspective.”
“I’ll guide you through the process,” Coal said. “It’ll be a bonding experience for us.”
He grumbled. “Seems like every time Ma takes on a new form, I have to do some sort of delicate medical operation on it…”
“Has this happened before? I don’t remember.”
“Never mind. Let’s get this started.”
“Begin by resecting the damaged section of hull plating, which I have highlighted in your helmet’s AR overlay.”
“Resecting? It’s bad enough I’m working on something that’s conscious and talking to me, can we maybe skip the actual surgical terms?”
“Okay. Be sure to adjust the cutting depth to no more than twenty-one millimeters. Keeping this cut as straight as possible will make sizing the replacement panel simpler.”
He started tracing the line she’d indicated. Keeping his hands steady was difficult, and not just because of the unfamiliarity and unwieldiness of the instruments involved.
“You seem nervous. Don’t worry, you aren’t working on any of my primary systems.”
“It’s not that, Coal.”
“Then what’s wrong?”
“What’s wrong?” he began sharply before catching himself. “Coal, these people are all going to be dead soon.”
Temporal Contingency Page 30
