by Amy DuBoff
“Question,” Tess said, partially raising her hand. “If we charge Ava’s suit with a frequency that disrupts the bonds like that, wouldn’t she, you know, fall through the floor?”
Jack frowned. “That could be a problem, yeah.”
“But maybe not at a lower intensity,” Luke jumped in. “If it was set to more of a ‘pulse’ rather than a constant, it could keep her from sinking into the ground without them being able to grab her.”
“Better yet, if the intensity could be modulated around zones of her suit—pulsing on her the bottom of her feet, but stronger above,” Tess added.
Jack nodded. “It could work, but that would take some time to configure.”
“Then we still have more work to do,” Luke stated. “What was the final frequency? You said there were three.”
“Only our all-access pass.” Jack grinned. “I located the communication channel. It’s similar to the background hum we observed in Gidyon, but with some slight variation—like a dialect. Activate that baby, and it should give the hacking team an open backdoor into the central operating system of the ship.” When he concluded, he folded his hands in his lap, still grinning.
Luke blinked twice. “I don’t know what to say.”
“He’s fishing for a compliment,” Tess advised. “I have to admit, despite acting like an ass most of the time, you do have a stroke of genius in you.”
“Really good work. It would have taken me forever to figure that out, if ever,” Luke added. “Thank you.”
Jack bowed in his chair. “Glad to be of service.”
“All right, let’s give the Hellfire an update, and then we need to figure out how to make the frequencies work as a suit skin,” Luke said. Hopefully it will be enough to keep Ava safe.
CHAPTER TWELVE
“Shit, did you get that report from the north polar station?” Trisha said, running into Karen’s office.
“Just saw it in my inbox,” Karen replied. She pulled up the message from Eric, the Nezaran government liaison assigned to the station:
>>Onsite maintenance crew refuses to cooperate with installation. Please advise.<<
“Ugh.” Karen slouched in her chair. “Have you tried calling?”
“I thought you’d want to be on that.”
“Trisha,” Karen sat up straighter and folded her hands on the desktop, “you know these issues as well as I do. You don’t need my permission.”
“I wasn’t sure what to suggest,” the other woman replied.
“What do your instincts tell you to do?”
“Have a video call with the station manager. If he won’t see reason, then politely excuse him from his duties. Except, if it comes to that, his staff might feel the same way. Some backup muscle may be needed.”
Karen nodded. “Given that, how do we proceed?”
“Conduct the call to evaluate the severity of the situation. If there’s still conflict, send a military unit to facilitate future discussions.”
“Except…”
Trisha took a deep breath. “No one can know why we’re doing this, or why it’s so important.”
“So, how do we proceed?” Karen asked again.
This was Trisha’s test, whether she realized it or not. There was no better opportunity for Karen to see how she handled pressure than to throw her straight into the fire.
Karen was surprised at her own handling of the situation. She’d encountered her share of crises over the years, but nothing even close to the scale of looming planetary annihilation. When it came down to it, though, there were common elements to every problem. A secret was a secret, orders were orders, and a timeline was a timeline. The magnitude of risk may change, but she was used to meeting critical deadlines—even if past stakes had only been getting a file uploaded in time for the morning news.
Trisha was newer to the crunch, but she had a good head on her shoulders. Karen waited for her to arrive at the logical conclusion for their specific situation.
“If we do need to call in military support,” Trisha continued after several seconds, “we need only explain who needs to be detained. We have a representative onsite who can provide more details at their discretion.”
“Exactly.” Karen smiled. “See? You don’t need me.”
“Will you still sit in on the call? I think it would carry more weight to have a Federation representative present.”
“Of course, but you should lead the discussion. I’ll only jump in if necessary,” Karen agreed. I don’t think my younger self would even recognize my new willingness to delegate! Not that the actual conversation will necessarily go that way.
“I’ll get it set up. My office in five minutes.” Trisha rushed down the hall.
While she waited, Karen quickly checked in with Edgar at one of the shield stations on the equator. Despite a smooth start to the project, his latest report had three items flagged in red and two in yellow, indicating issues encountered with the installation checklist.
Fucking great.
She called Edgar.
“You just got my report, didn’t you?” he asked by way of greeting.
“What happened? I thought you were already past those points in the installation.”
“Yeah, we were,” Edgar replied. “We got the equipment in place just fine, but our system won’t talk to it.”
“We tested for that. It was fine.”
“What can I say? Technology. It worked in the tests, but it doesn’t work in the field.”
“Well, shit.” Karen’s face flushed. “You’re the furthest along of any of the stations, so this is about to become a system-wide issue.”
“I figured as much.”
“Do the FDG techs have any ideas?” she asked.
“They have some sort of software patch in mind, but one of the techs objected, saying that it may be compromised. When I pressed, they didn’t elaborate.”
“That sounds bad.”
“Doesn’t it? Not sure if a software security issue is better than no shield.”
Karen shook her head. “Not no shield. We do have one already, even though it’s not designed to repel heavy weapons.”
“Should I tell them to forget it?”
“Hold on, I’m thinking.” Karen rubbed her eyes.
The physical components fit—that was definitely the trickiest part. The matter of having two computer systems talk to each other wasn’t an insurmountable barrier. If the only way to have the two systems integrate was a patch that would leave the system vulnerable to potential security issues, then there needed to be some kind of intermediary system that would enable the integration without the security risks.
“We need a translator,” Karen stated.
“This isn’t a language barrier issue—”
“No, I mean for the computers. We need a third system that can talk to both of them, but that has a firewall to mitigate the security concerns.”
Edgar’s eyes lit up with understanding. “Okay, yes, that might work. But I have no idea how to do that thing you just described.”
“Neither do I, but between NTech and the university, there has to be a computer expert somewhere who can figure it out.”
“I imagine so, but—”
“I’m late for another meeting. Get started on researching some local experts in the industry. I imagine it’s a very short list.”
“All right,” he agreed.
“I can help you reach out as soon as I’m done with this other discussion,” Karen said. “Good luck.”
She hung up before he could think of another question to which she didn’t have an answer.
Her mind switched back to the issue with the north polar shield station. If they were already having difficulty getting the techs to agree to the equipment installation, trying to sell a software interface was going to be even harder. At least now she knew about the issue before entering the discussion.
Karen raced down the hall to Trisha’s office and found that the call was already unde
rway. She slipped through the door as quietly as possible.
“Karen Carter, the Alucian press secretary and our Federation liaison for this project, has joined us,” Trisha introduced as Karen came into the frame.
“Please excuse my tardiness,” she said, taking in the faces of those on the other side of the video call.
To her relief, a digital overlay of translucent nametags were floating above the heads of the three individuals on the screen, stating their name and role. Eric, the government rep dispatched to the station, Karen knew already. A brunette woman named Gwen was marked as the lead FDG tech for the installation, and the station manager was a scowling man named Bernard.
“So, Bernard,” Trisha said, “what seems to be the trouble?”
“It’s against policy to accept equipment for installation without a signed order from the Nezaran chancellor.”
“I appreciate your dedication to policy, but there is no Nezaran chancellor at the moment,” she replied. “Eric is functioning as an authorized Nezaran government representative in this matter. His word should be regarded with the weight of an order from the former chancellor.”
“My duty is to maintain a secure perimeter for Nezar.” Bernard directed a glare at Karen. “I don’t know how an outsider ended up in charge, but I will maintain my directive until a new chancellor is in place to give me new orders.”
Karen tried to relax her appearance, but she was too tense from thinking about the issue with Edgar for it to change much. “That kind of dedication is admirable, and Nezar is lucky to have you. However, there isn’t going to be a new Nezaran chancellor.”
Trisha shifted in her seat. “Nothing is decided yet.”
“No one wants the job.” Karen shrugged. “It’s funny, isn’t it? One chancellor dies, and not a single person wants to take over the position. The truth is, Bernard, Nezar has been without a designated leader for the past five weeks. Doesn’t instill a lot of confidence in the government, huh? But things haven’t fallen apart. The reason it hasn’t is because of the great work people like Eric and Trisha are doing.
“If they were behind some devious scheme, working with the Federation to bring Nezar down, they could have carried out any manner of subversive attacks already. Instead, the Federation is offering to upgrade our shields to help keep us safe. Considering that we don’t have much of a military, or even a dedicated leader making economic and governance decisions for us right now, I don’t think it’s wise for us to turn down a gift when it’s offered.”
The man sat in silence for five seconds, working his mouth. “Did you assassinate the former chancellor so the Federation would come here?”
Karen scoffed. “No. It was nothing like that.”
The official communications about what had happened with Chancellor Heizberg had been as vague as possible to give answers without revealing the truth. For all most people knew, outside the remaining government leadership and a handful of staff at NTech, the chancellor and other officials had been engaged in subversive activities behind the scenes, conspiring with the Sovereign to transform the world into a dictatorship and launch a civil war within the Alaxar Trinary. Most people had accepted the story and taken the side of unity, but a few—as seemed to be the case with Bernard—were attracted to those separatist ideals and resisted the notion of becoming a Federation world.
There was no evidence Karen could present that would change Bernard’s opinion of Heizberg; fallen idols had a way of always being infallible. She could, however, maybe show him that the Federation wasn’t the evil menace he’d convinced himself it was.
“Do you remember the history of our system?” Karen asked him.
“Of course. We all learned it in school.”
“Then you’ll recall that the humans and Torcellans who settled here began as citizens of the Federation—back when it was still the Etheric Empire. They came here as independent colonists, but all of us have ancestors in the Federation. They aren’t the enemy; they’re our long-lost family.”
Bernard wet his lips. “Our ancestors left for a reason. They wanted to get away.”
“Did they?” Karen countered. “Maybe they had a sense of adventure and found themselves way out here on their own. Did they really intend to sever ties, or was this location just so remote that they lost touch with the core worlds?”
“Maybe.”
Karen nodded to Trisha. She’d softened him up, but Trisha needed to be the one to drive the argument home.
“The point is, Bernard, that ‘insiders’, ‘outsiders’, ‘enemy’, and ‘friend’ are subjective terms based on your current perspective,” Trisha said. “But I am certain that the settlers of this system intended for us to be united across our three worlds. That makes Alucia our friend, and as a member of the Federation, that means the Federation is our friend, too, by extension.”
He crossed his arms. “Nice speech, and maybe you do have a point, but that’s not the issue at hand. Why are you so insistent about these upgrades?”
“Safety and security,” Trisha replied. “I can’t say more than that right now, but I give you my assurance as a citizen of this system that the Federation’s intentions are honorable. Please, assist the technicians with this installation.”
“What happens if my crew and I refuse?”
Trisha folded her hands on the tabletop. “Then you will be removed from your posts by force. I don’t want it to come to that, because I feel that would be the start of a civil war. Our people don’t need to be torn apart—we need to be united.”
He eyed her. “I know there’s something you’re not telling us.”
“I guess we’re acting like a real government now, then.” Karen smiled. “You wanted your new chancellor? Well, Trisha here is as close to a political head of state as we have right now. Are you going to listen to her, or do you want to resist and put the people of this world at risk?”
Bernard sighed. “What choice do I have? Install your damn equipment.”
“Thank you.” The tension went out of Trisha. “You won’t have any reason to regret this.”
“I hope not.” Bernard rose from the table. “I guess we have a lot of work to do.”
“Yes,” Eric agreed. “Gwen, let us know how we can help.”
The video feed cut as the team at the polar station got to work.
“Well done,” Karen told Trisha.
“Me? You did a lot of the talking.”
More than I intended. So much for keeping my mouth shut. Karen smiled. “You closed the deal.”
She lit up. “I guess I did, didn’t I?”
“I knew you could do it.” Karen glanced toward the door. “You have everything under control. I need to attend to some other matters.”
Trisha’s face drained. “What’s going on?”
“Oh, that new tech we just convinced them to install won’t do jack shit unless we devise a new interface between the software systems.”
“What?!”
“Hey, I never said this would be simple.”
Despite the setback, Karen knew they’d find a way. They had to.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
>>The Raven just arrived,<< Ruby informed Ava in her mind.
Almost go time.
She felt energized after the sparring session with Kurtz and her subsequent practice. Getting to stretch her legs, both in a literal and figurative sense, was a welcome change from being cooped up in her cabin.
She tried to keep her mind off the mission ahead by thinking about how powerful her new abilities made her feel. Dashing across a cargo bay in a split second made for good fun, but getting to fight back against an enemy threatening her home would bring an even greater sense of satisfaction.
>>Are you nervous?<< Ruby asked. >>I’m surprised you aren’t showing more physiological signs of stress.<<
I’m excited, if anything. Yeah, it’s scary, but we get to be the first ones to go inside a ship from stars know where. That’s pretty incredible.
>>Yes, that’s true. The scientist part of me is fascinated to see what we can learn, but that’s overshadowed somewhat by the statistical odds of something going terribly wrong.<<
I thought you knew by now that your ‘models of doom’ aren’t helpful—or even accurate. Based on how often you think I’m about to get turned into a pile of goo, shouldn’t it have already happened by now?
>>That’s what worries me. The odds will catch up eventually.<<
Or you need to add in some new variables, Ava countered. You consistently neglect one critical factor.
>>What’s that?<<
Determination. Heart. Whatever you want to call it. You can stack the odds against me all you want, but I’ll always beat them.
Ruby chuckled. >>You’re right. I need to add ‘the Ava factor’ into the equation.<<
Make sure that makes it into an official report somewhere. It has a nice ring to it.
While the Raven docked in the Hellfire’s hangar, Ava made the trek to the belly of the ship so she could greet her team.
Standing at fifteen decks tall and nearly a kilometer in length, the massive bay looked cramped with the four-hundred-meter-long Raven on board. Rows of fighters covered a third of the deck, and racks of spare parts were suspended in a complex storage scheme near the overhead.
She entered on a mezzanine at the midpoint of the room. Technicians were locking the final docking tethers into place. Two dozen additional workers were standing by at various stations throughout the hangar.
Seeing them at their posts, Ava realized that the ship was on alert—ready for battle. She’d been almost exclusively in her cabin or training in the empty cargo bay, so she hadn’t noticed the preparations taking place around her.
If I fail, those fighters and this ship are the last line of defense for the Alaxar Trinary.
With the thought, the reality of what she was about to do really set in.
