The Whisper of Stars

by Nick Jones

  He checked the temperature again – minus forty – and told himself not to think too much. The power returned, briefly illuminating the room before flickering out. It came again and then remained constant, the orange bars glowing on the multiple heaters surrounding him. In distant rooms he heard the whirring sounds of frozen machinery struggling back to life. It was surprising how quiet a hotel could be without the forces of energy running through its metal veins.

  Making the most of the sudden power, he accessed his computer. Hacking the Shiryaevo mainframe would only be possible from the inside, but he could do some preparation. Local networks all led to a single exchange point. He could at least be ready, crouched, like a sprinter waiting for the gun.

  He checked the Vaults blueprint again, and Jen’s route marked out through its multicoloured wireframe corridors.

  Nothing to do now but wait. He checked local weather reports. The blizzard was subsiding but temperatures were set to remain, not quite the coldest the area had known, but close. Close enough to freeze to death, his mind assured him. The fear of failure washed through him again and he thought back to Brazil. The oppressive, dusty heat seemed strangely appealing now and he imagined just a few seconds of it, burning his lungs. It would be worth it, he decided, wondering if he would ever see his old body.

  Suddenly the radio buzzed, three vibrating alerts sending the device dancing across the tabletop in front of him. Nathan let out a shocked, guttural cry and grabbed wildly at the radio, sending it crashing to the floor. He leapt up, relieved to see it intact, and entered the passkey.

  ‘Are you there?’ he shouted.

  Nothing but static.

  ‘Jen, are you there?’ he asked again, desperate this time.

  ‘I’m here,’ she replied.

  A huge sigh escaped him. ‘Are you okay? You’re late.’

  ‘I ran into some trouble.’

  ‘I was worried. Where are you?’

  ‘Near the entrance, freezing my arse off.’

  The sarcasm was obvious and he was relieved to hear it. He hadn’t wanted to admit it, but the idea of losing her had been gnawing away at his loneliness since arriving in Russia. Some of his dreams had been about her, about them.

  ‘When do we go?’ he asked, praying the power would remain constant.

  Her answer came without hesitation. ‘We go in now.’

  Chapter 46

  The freezing fog finally lifted and Jen could see the ridged peak of the mountain and the snaking silvery river Volga in the distance. The Zhiguli hydroelectric dam supplied the majority of the Vault’s power demand and its distant hum assured her she must be close. It was a relief. The terrain was treacherous underfoot and she wasn’t sure her legs – stiffening horribly against the cold – would last another day.

  She descended awkwardly down the west face of the mountain, kicking up clouds of dusty snow into the ravine behind her until she reached her target: a large heat vent, around twenty feet in diameter, belching thick clouds of steam into the air like a boiling kettle. She scrambled down and knelt beside it for a while, enjoying the heat prickling her skin, breathing life back into her hands. Leaning over the edge, through a cross-hatch of thick metal bars and barely visible, she saw an access shaft and a ladder wrapped inside a safety cage. There was no way to open the vent from here; she would unlock it later from the inside. After a brief rest she stuffed her rucksack beneath a nearby rock, making mental notes of her location. Her plan was to exit here, retrieve her bag and slip away undetected.

  Warmed and lighter, she continued, the strength returning to her legs along with a quiet optimism. The sun finally cut through the basin below her, revealing what she had come so far to see.

  The Shiryaevo Vault, its glistening stone structure rising from the white mountain, bathed in glowing security lights.

  Jen calculated her position. The visitor centre was clearly visible, surrounded by a high-gated fence and intersected by roads and car parks. Vehicles inched in convoy towards the main entrance and people, tiny and scattered, made their way in the misty morning gloom. The vault was a huge installation, the biggest of its kind in the world, and the majority of the facility was buried deep inside the mountain. What could be seen from here was just the tip of the iceberg.

  The vault operated a three-tiered security protocol; the deeper you went the more secure it became. Tier one: numerous guards and patrol droids – they would require authorisation before firing – as well as scanners and motion sensors. Security checkpoints dotted every hundred feet or so. Tier-one guards would be friendly, carry sidearms only and be used to dealing with the workforce. Inside would be technical administration, home to hundreds of civilian workers and analysts. Beyond that was tier two security, heavily armed guards patrolling the miles of tunnels and corridors and automated systems protecting the data chambers. Finally, tier three, the critical zones. Government level. Where the secrets were kept. Here, the guards would shoot to kill and ask questions later, doors would be timed and security systems compartmentalised with safety lock-outs. Armed military droids would be programmed to make life-or-death decisions. It was the kind of security you could trust, the kind megacorporations and governments paid big money for, the kind terrorists would never get near.

  Jen had been involved occasionally with counterterrorism units, and it always impressed her how organised and aware these teams appeared to be and yet how seemingly unprepared they were when a new threat arrived. Even with all the planning and preparation and vigilance, terrorists always seemed to manage to circumvent their countermeasures. Jen hoped that the Histeridae was another example of that: something this facility was never designed to cope with, something they never could have imagined. For the Histeridae to give her an edge, the vault’s weakness needed to be human. That’s how she would get inside, and once there, Nathan would do the rest.

  Fifty feet from the road she heard the sound of trees being pushed aside by something big, something gathering speed. A red dot flashed through the branches in front of her and then settled on her chest.

  ‘I’ve been picked up as expected,’ she said to Nathan.

  ‘Okay, good luck. Talk again when you’re inside.’

  ‘You’re sure they can’t hear us?’

  ‘This tech is nearly thirty years old. They stopped listening for it a long time ago. And even if they did, it’s all secure, all encrypted. Trust me.’

  Even though being found was part of the plan, Jen couldn’t help feeling technology could let them down. A droid appeared hovering above her, twice the size of a person, its dark orange jets melting the snow into pools of water below. It explained that she was in a restricted area and must be processed immediately.

  She followed the droid along the perimeter fence, noting the less-than-expected number of personnel. Passing trucks were only half filled and the car parks the same. The conditions, it seemed, had reduced the vault to a skeleton crew, and whilst they were shipping people in, it was a slow process. Jen smiled. The weather might have worked in their favour after all.

  * * *

  Ahead Jen could see two guards approaching, side arms still holstered but body language that suggested they wouldn’t be for long. The taller of the two – the one who appeared to be in charge – was shaking his arms, instructing Jen to stop. He spoke quickly in Russian while the smaller, stockier one eyed her suspiciously. With language augmentation she would have understood them immediately. Without it, she had no idea what they were saying.

  ‘Do you speak English?’ she asked, feeling antiquated.

  ‘Of course,’ the tall guard replied sharply in a thick Russian accent. ‘Stand still and be scanned.’

  The droid moved closer. ‘Remove your scarf,’ it instructed, in a deep metallic voice. ‘Prepare for scanning.’

  A retina scan was to be expected, but Jen had hoped to get nearer first, to maybe give Nathan access to the security systems, a chance to change her results. It was earlier than planned, but there was nothing el
se she could do. She took a deep breath and accessed the Histeridae.

  The short guard growled something in Russian, obviously confused and uncomfortable. Jen ignored him. In some ways it was a relief to be using the device again, to finally be on the offensive. She networked the guards together and began persuading them.

  < I am with a team of technicians here to complete routine maintenance, but we became lost in the storm. >

  The droid moved closer and repeated its request. Jen could feel the humming vibration of its metallic body. It would have a concealed taser.

  ‘No, is okay,’ the tall guard said, overruling the droid in broken English. ‘Follow me. I get you to security desk. You need to check in.’

  The droid pulled back and immediately continued its designated patrol accompanied by the stocky guard, who only looked back once.

  Jen followed the taller guard. He seemed relaxed, unfazed by her use of the Histeridae, and Jen was aware of her growing ability to control and function simultaneously. She wondered if perhaps her experience with the bird, albeit brief, had taught her something. If she concentrated, she could see through the host’s eyes, in this case see what the guard was seeing. It was a form of split concentration that was becoming easier the more she practiced.

  Ahead was the main entrance, an ugly lump of construction built directly into the rock with a revolving steel doorway in the centre. Jen instinctively slipped her hand inside her pocket and felt for the data transmitter. Presuming she could get inside, it would give Nathan access to the security system.

  She turned to the guard accompanying her.

  < I’m going to need a security pass,> she explained silently.

  ‘We arrange that inside,’ the guard replied, apparently not realising she hadn’t spoken.

  Jen continued walking. There were more people now, and cameras, scanning and watching. Two armed guards stood at the doorway checking the odd pass as people flooded in and out. She knew if they became suspicious things could get complicated very quickly.

  Jen suggested.

  The guard stopped and handed it to her.

  < You can forget about this now, it doesn’t matter. Okay? >

  Jen watched him until he was back at the perimeter fence and then carefully retracted the Histeridae’s tendrils from his mind. Ahead she could see a short queue of people disappearing into the building, swiping their passes across a panel to the side of the main door. She joined them, her face still covered. It was fast and there was no time to think before it was her turn. She swiped her stolen ID card across the reader, her heart pounding. The panel flashed green. She walked past the guards, through the rotating glass door and into the building.

  The lobby reminded her of airport security, cold and clinical with paneled steel walls and a polished stone floor. The sound of heels and voices was mixed with polite announcements and the whir of scanning machinery. Ahead she saw a row of turnstiles, and beyond that a number of larger scanners where a group of people were being processed. It looked to be retinal scans and breath tests. To her left, a long reception desk, and to her right, a canteen with corridors leading off in various directions. She estimated there were about twenty people in the reception area, another thirty or so in the canteen, and spotted at least six armed guards: four covering the scanners and two more ahead.

  She heard Nathan in her ear, his voice making her jolt. ‘I have access to the security desk. I’m going to switch your stolen card with a fake ID.’

  Her stomach tightened as the two guards approached, pointing and raising their voices.

  ‘Quickly,’ she whispered, guessing what they were asking her to do. Her face was covered with a scarf and they wanted her to take it off. She nodded but did nothing, her mind battling the urge to run.

  ‘Nathan, do it now!’ she hissed, her mouth still covered.

  Surely they can hear us. This isn’t going to work.

  The guards became agitated and repeated the order.

  ‘Nearly there,’ Nathan said.

  Jen saw one of the guards reach down and place his hand on his sidearm. If he pulled it, the others would too, creating a scene that would likely trigger an alert. It could all spin out of control quickly.

  The guards inched closer, barking orders.

  Jen began unwrapping the scarf, knowing that in seconds her ID would be confirmed by recognition software that was already piecing together the unique shape and contours of her face. She tugged the last of the fabric away and faced them. The moment seemed to stretch out, faces frozen, the atrium eerily silent, seconds feeling like minutes. A droid slid between two guards, stopped close to her face and scanned her.

  Chapter 47

  The nearest guard waved a small handheld device across her body, jabbed at it a few times and looked her up and down. The device beeped. A good sound.

  ‘Miss Jade Savoretti?’ the guard asked, as if confirming the delivery of a parcel.

  Jen nodded, letting out a careful and private sigh of relief.

  ‘Sorry about that. We need to be careful, I’m sure you understand.’ The guard finally smiled, it was thin and brief but it meant she was safe, for now. He walked towards the body scanners. ‘Follow me.’

  ‘You’re a technician.’ Nathan’s voice in her ear. ‘Routine maintenance on chamber four servers.’

  Ahead, people were placing bags on a conveyor and walking through full-body scanners. Jen knew that a technician would only be allowed to carry specific and pre-authorised equipment into the vault. There was no way she could smuggle it in. It meant she would need to control the guards on duty. She took a deep breath in through her nostrils and relaxed, rolling her shoulders gently back. She imagined she was on her rooftop, gliding through movements and lost in her own world.

  Relax, she told herself, breathe.

  She controlled four guards this way, passing through the initial security checkpoints. Each time a screen highlighted a suspect object or doubt crept into a nervous mind, she silently and expertly controlled the situation.

  The guard – the one who had scanned her in the lobby – stood waiting. He was young with a bony face and fingers that seemed too long for his hands. He needed to grow into his body and, like most people she’d met since arriving in Russia, looked like he needed a few days of real sun. Jen noted his name tag. Silver uppercase letters on black. LOSEVSKY.

  ‘May I use the bathroom?’ she asked.

  Losevsky pointed to a corridor on her right. Jen entered, locked herself inside a cubicle and attached a tiny camera, the size of a grain of rice, to her lapel.

  ‘Jade Savoretti?’ she whispered.

  ‘Jade. Like your eyes,’ Nathan said. ‘Took me hours, which to be fair was a pleasant distraction. This place is bloody freezing.’

  Jen screwed up her lip. ‘I sound like an Italian pop star.’

  Nathan grunted and she could hear him tapping. Eventually he spoke. ‘Okay, I have visual from your camera and I can see your location.’

  ‘You sure they can’t hear us?’

  ‘Relax, it’s fine.’

  ‘Easy for you to say. I was surrounded by guards in the lobby with you chatting away in my ear. I felt vulnerable.’ She paused a beat. ‘Exposed.’

  ‘Trust me,’ he said again and Jen decided she had no choice.

  ‘Nathan?’

  ‘Hmmm?’

  ‘Talking of exposed, I do actually need the toilet,’ she admitted.

  ‘Okay, but Jen?’

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘Lone technician, difficulty getting to the vault. Split from her team. The plan worked.’

  She heard a click and hoped it meant he was gone. Her cover story had been his idea and he was clearly pleased with himself. She smiled, sat and urinated. It was a relief. Her nerves felt electrified, she was buzzing all over and wondered if the numb tingling in her fingers might actually be frost damage. She stood and looked down into the bowl. Her urine was dark; she was dehydrated.

&nb
sp; ‘A doctor would probably tell me to rest for a week or so,’ she whispered to no one and flushed. ‘No chance of that.’

  She rejoined Losevsky, who escorted her through the first of the administrative areas within the vault.

  ‘Chamber four is quite a long way in,’ he said, his English good. ‘I can take you some of the way.’

  Apart from the obvious scale, the admin area appeared to be a fairly standard office set-up. Hundreds of civilian workers sat at consoles, drinking coffee, tapping away, taking support calls. It was noisy and chaotic. Rows of identical booths, each decorated and individualised with pictures and personal items.

  Losevsky led her through a large steel door and into the first of many corridors. Jen felt the temperature drop. The tunnel was about fifteen feet in diameter with white ceiling lamps reflecting onto a shiny laminate floor. The limestone walls, irregular in shape, had a luminescent quality not dissimilar to the face of a glacier. Jen thought it was like traveling through the centre of a huge ice sculpture.

  They reached another steel door, this one thicker, with a small circular window at eye level. Once through, the next corridor opened up into a large cave roughly the size of a sports hall. Jen felt her body twitch and cramp against the icy coldness creeping back into her bones. Her diaphragm was raised up and her breathing more shallow. It was her body’s way of warning her, the deathlike state of yesterday still fresh in her mind. Inside the cavern, lined up in six neat rows, were servers encased in clear Perspex. Above them, steel struts crossing like an impossible railway network carried cabling and blue lights that pulsed every metre or so. At the end of each stack a single red security light was blinking. Jen could see hundreds of similar lights, tailing off into the distance like a landing strip. There were literally thousands of boxes in here. All active, all alive.