Ten minutes later, she was still trying to find a weakness she could exploit. Someone had made some interesting modifications to the standard Coalition data-code. It made infiltrating the system a bit of a challenge.
“Hey!” someone hissed in the crowd.
Patterns rolled across her comm-cuff. She highlighted one string, then gently tugged it free of the data. It should be the Kaelais’s next stop, but inserting variables of Ysbar Station didn’t help her find the encryption’s rhythm.
“Hey!” The whisper grew louder.
She pulled another random thread, tried the variables again. If she could discover the pattern to this supposedly simple code, it would give her a good idea of the quirks that might influence the encryption of the ship’s more sensitive systems. But it looked like someone had recently altered the Kaelais’s itinerary. The time-line to the rendezvous still worked, and if she input the possible ports of call…
A smile shot across her face. Ash almost laughed out loud. Holy hell, the prime had guts. Rykus was going to lose it when they—
“Stop!”
Ash jerked her gaze toward the approaching voice. A woman shoved her way out of the thick crowd. She had her comm-cuff in her hand. Her eyes remained locked on its screen, but she turned slowly until she directly faced Ash.
The woman looked up. Ash remained seated but cocked her head slightly to the side.
“What the hell are you doing to my ship?” the woman demanded. Someone else broke away from the crowd—another spacer, this time a man. He caught up to the woman and grabbed her arm.
“Don’t make a scene, Kaylee.”
She shook her arm free. “She doesn’t have permission to access restricted data.”
“Not here,” the man said. He glared at Ash. “In the corridor.”
A black sunburst overlaid the silver insignia on their uniforms. They were both crypties—cryptological and information warfare specialists—and by the woman’s attitude, that meant Ash had screwed up and triggered some alarm.
She frowned down at her comm-cuff, selected the string she’d strategically tugged free—
“Hey!” Kaylee yelled again. She lunged for Ash’s cuff.
“Uh, not going to happen.” Ash stood and held the device out of reach. Dozens of people watched them now. Their attention didn’t faze her, but when ship security invaded her peripheral vision, she suppressed a groan and headed for the exit.
“What’s the problem?” the security guard demanded once they were in the perimeter corridor.
“She’s trying to access restricted data,” Kaylee said.
Ash fastened her cuff around her wrist and crossed her arms. “She’s overreacting.”
“Hand over your comm-cuff, and we’ll see,” Kaylee said.
When the crypty stepped forward, Ash almost laughed. Even though she had no way of knowing Ash was an anomaly, she was an idiot to start a fight with a soldier.
On the other hand, the crypty did have her colleague and the security guard to assist her. Not that it mattered much—Ash could take all three—but that would create future problems and, most likely, Rykus wouldn’t be too pleased with her.
The last thought almost made her change her mind and engage, but she bit back the part of her that wanted a fight and said, “I’m just doing my job.”
“By hacking into classified information on my ship?” Kaylee demanded.
Ash shrugged. “Until my clearances come through, yeah.”
“No one plays with my ship’s code. Give me your cuff.”
“Again, that’s not going to happen. And I’m pretty sure this ship is under Captain Furyk’s command, not yours.”
The security guard took a step closer. “State your name and assignment.”
Ash rubbed the headache growing at her temple. “This is a misunderstanding.”
“Your ID should automatically come up on my cuff,” he said. “That’s one violation of protocol. We can work out the others in the security bay.”
She lowered her hand. “I’m not going to the brig.” She’d spent enough time in a Coalition cell. If this guy tried to put her back in one, to hell with taking the high road. She’d fight.
“Specialist Teal is one of the lead crypties on this ship,” the guard said. “She’s bridge personnel. Therefore, she has authority over you while you’re on board.”
“And, what, you have a crush on her?”
Standing quietly to the side, the other crypty tilted his head toward the ceiling and let out a sigh. This obviously wasn’t the first time Kaylee had caused trouble.
Ash’s gaze dipped to his name-tape: N. Shaw. She’d dig into his and Kaylee Teal’s pasts later.
“State your name and assignment,” the security guard said again. “Or put your hands on your head and we can do this the hard way.”
Yeah, the guy definitely had a crush. It was just her luck that the one guard who’d been nearby was friends with Specialist Teal.
“Just contact Commander Rykus or Major Liles,” Ash said. “Hell, contact the minister prime if you want. I’m authorized to—”
“Ramie Ashdyn.” Teal lifted her gaze from her comm-cuff.
Ash snapped her mouth shut. Had the crypty really just broken through Ash’s dummy ID? She’d used that ID and its admin-linked permissions a dozen times since she’d created it on Caruth. No one had ever broken it before, certainly not in a handful of seconds.
They stared at each other. Teal went still, and there was a hint of recognition in her eyes even though Ash was certain she’d never seen the woman before in her life.
The only other time Ash had been surprised by someone who made her hacking abilities look juvenile was on Ephron, when she’d sent a transmission to the Obsidian. Her encryption had appeared to remain intact, but a tracking code had been woven into it, one that didn’t raise alarms. She’d thought Rykus had betrayed her when they walked into a Coalition trap, but Admiral Bayis said a crypty had put in the code, a crypty who also happened to be an anomaly.
The emotion in Teal’s eyes changed. It went from recognition, to apprehension, to resolution in a single second. She had little combat training. She knew she had no chance in a fight against Ash, who’d been trained on Caruth, but she didn’t care.
Ash squared off with her. This woman was the reason the Coalition recaptured Ash on Ephron. She’d almost cost Ash her life, almost destroyed everything.
Ash wanted to rip her pretty little head from her shoulders.
Shaw stepped between them. The two were close. Partners. Maybe not in bed but definitely on the bridge where they’d work together protecting the Kaelais from enemy cyberattacks. They had to know each other’s habits and thought patterns. It took a hell of a lot of coordination to create decoys and slither undetected through a ship’s databanks and sensitive systems.
“We don’t want any trouble,” Shaw said. His broad shoulders fully blocked the other crypty.
“Speak for yourself.” Teal’s voice came from behind him.
Ash barely heard the mumble, but she noted the flash of exasperation that skated across Shaw’s face.
“You keep her in line,” Ash said.
Shaw didn’t nod, but gut instinct told her she was right. That was likely one of the reasons they’d been paired. Anomalies were notorious for their little quirks—even Ash had one or two she’d admit to having—and the Fleet must have seen that he had some kind of calming effect on the other crypty.
Ash wanted to press him for an answer. She wanted Teal to step around him and keep this confrontation going. Fighting was something Ash could do—maybe it was her quirk, the need to get physical—but Tersa’s voice on the speaker caught her attention.
She moved toward the rec deck’s entrance, but the security guard cut her off. His hand went to the truncheon looped into his belt. The stick made him confident.
Unconcerned, Ash looked past him to the jogging-track-turned-political stage. Yes, she had heard her fail-safe’s name. He stood bes
ide Prime Tersa looking serious and imposing.
Serious and imposing and pissed. Had he learned their new itinerary?
The guard shifted so that he was in her line of sight again. “This is the last time I’ll ask. Turn around and—”
Ash looked at Shaw. “You really don’t want any trouble? Then take care of him.”
“Done,” Shaw said. “Shinsky, get lost.”
Shinsky glanced at Teal, who hadn’t taken her eyes off Ash.
“Touch my ship’s code again,” she said, “and we will have issues.”
“Guess I’ll be seeing you then.” Ash maintained eye contact for a few more seconds, then ever so nonchalantly, she turned her back on the crypty and made her way inside the rec deck. A raucous applause, accentuated with hurrahs and shouts, erupted as she reached the edge of the crowd. She stopped and stared at the upper level.
Well, look at that. Tersa had managed to convince Rykus to step up to the podium. Ash glanced at the nearest holovid, noted the rigid set of his jaw and the way his brutal gaze lingered on Tersa. Apparently this was unplanned.
This was going to be so interesting.
Rykus shifted his attention from the prime to the crowd. The rec deck grew silent without him having to say a word. He had that kind of presence, the kind that physically disrupted the space around him. Even if he hadn’t been a war hero, people would have remapped their routes to give him a wide berth. His expression, his posture, everything about him screamed that he was rough, ruthless, and demanding. He’d always pushed his soldiers past their breaking points, and Ash had always taken pleasure in putting herself back together so he had to push her again.
“The prime wrote me a speech.” His words reverberated off the walls, plucking the invisible cord that connected Ash to him. The low, almost inaudible hum of the ship became noticeable in the new silence. A few individuals shifted their weight and glanced at each other. Beside Rykus, Tersa’s expression hardened.
“I don’t give speeches.” He swiped his hand across the surface of the podium, flinging away the words that were undoubtedly projected in front of him. Several dozen hurrahs—some a little uncertain, others a little more boisterous—echoed across rec deck.
Tersa’s eyes narrowed farther, and a smile pulled at Ash’s lips.
“I give facts,” he said. “And the facts are that we’ve been hurt. The loss at Ephron was a blow, and you’re worried they’ll do it again. The Sariceans have new technologies that might change the way wars are fought.”
Off to the side, Tersa’s unwavering poise… wavered. Technology had been what Valt and his cohorts were after when they’d intercepted Ash’s team two months ago. He’d believed the Sariceans had created a tachyon drive, a method of travel that equipped individual ships with the ability to bend time and space to hop across the universe. He’d murdered her teammates and handicapped Ash’s mind to confirm that belief. The only way to travel interstellarly right now was via huge, vulnerable, and absurdly expensive tachyon capsules. In order to protect the capsule, warships had to remain in its vicinity to fight off enemy vessels. It prevented fleets from throwing their full power against their enemies. Plus, if a capsule was destroyed or knocked out of commission, it stranded warships far away from their home bases. In short, it was a shitty, risky way to get around.
“You all know what I’m alluding to,” Rykus said in response to the murmurs now snaking through the crowd. “The minister prime might think you can’t unravel rumors from the truth, but you know when to call bullshit on their lies.”
More than one person in the crowd whispered “tachyon drive.” They did know what he was talking about.
Ash glanced at Tersa. Bet she was regretting the decision to put him on stage right about now.
“I’m not going to lie to you. War isn’t a game. Death isn’t something people return from.” He paused. His mouth tightened. “It isn’t something most people return from.”
The gathered men and women laughed. “Rest in Peace” Rykus. He hated the nickname, but it fit him so well.
“But make no mistake.” He placed both hands on the rail. “We have advantages. We have technologies they don’t. And we have you, the backbone of the Coalition. No matter how many people and planets the Sariceans control, they can’t compete with your creativity, your courage, your will to fight and win.”
Hurrahs erupted across the deck.
“We do the impossible. We overcome our adversaries. The Sariceans may have won the battle at Ephron, but they won’t continue on this path. If they do, we’ll take the fight to them.”
More hurrahs.
“If they do, we’ll rip apart their defense net.”
Fists punched the air.
“If they do, we’ll strike at the heart of their civilization.”
Boots stomped. Voices shouted agreement.
“They started this war. We will end it!”
The cacophony shook the rec deck. Ash was pretty sure the reverberation was felt all the way to the bridge. Hell, it was probably felt all the way to the plush offices of the Coalition Senate.
Ash’s fail-safe was one inspiring SOB.
6
“I asked you to give a speech to motivate them, not to agitate them and unilaterally announce a policy change.”
“I did what you wanted.” Rykus turned away from Tersa and the crowd of officers waiting to exit the jogging track.
“You made them bloodthirsty.”
“You need bloodthirsty soldiers during wartime.” He spotted a less crowded exit a quarter of the way around the track. He headed that way in long, determined strides that were meant to leave Tersa behind.
She made a noise, then hurried to catch up. “I’m trying to avoid war.”
“Are you?” He slowed enough to look her in the eyes. “What was the buildup at Ephron? What was Operation Star Dive? You were going to spark this war. You’re just angry the Sariceans beat you to it.”
Tersa glanced behind them, but no one was close enough to overhear their conversation. “It wasn’t me who pushed for it. It was Hagan and his cronies. That’s why the upcoming meeting is important. I don’t want any accidents or instigation on our part.”
The meeting. The ill-devised, certain-to-be-suicidal meeting. He shouldn’t be wasting his time with Tersa’s political maneuvering; he should be formulating plans to save their asses when everything went to hell on Ysbar Station.
His gaze flickered down to his comm-cuff. He’d been signing in to view the ship’s roster of soldiers when Tersa had called him to the podium. He needed to see the resources at his disposal. This deployment had come on suddenly, and with so little time to prepare, he hadn’t even glimpsed the list of the ship’s top soldiers.
They reached the exit and stepped into a lounge area. Couches and wide, plush chairs in Fleet blue were set up in three separate rings. Emblazoned into the low tables placed in the center of each circle was a silver ship crossing an infinity sign. The officers’ lounge was empty at the moment, but men and women were filing through the corridor on the other side of the dark glass wall. They wouldn’t have privacy for long.
“What exactly is your plan?” he asked. “How far will you go to prevent all-out war? What will you give up? Because you will have to give up something. The Sariceans have made it clear that they mean for their laws and culture to be the ultimate authority in the KU. If you don’t accept that Saris is the chosen planet, that God touched its blessed dirt with his golden sandals and flavored the sweet air with his breath, then the only thing you’re doing is postponing the war.”
“Religion has no place in these negotiations.”
“I’d like to see you tell that to Eminence Avesti,” Rykus said. “While you’re at it, tell it to the devout Seekers spread across the KU.”
Tersa’s blue eyes narrowed.
He snorted. “That’s the reason you’re keeping the meeting secret, isn’t it? It has nothing to do with your theory that the telepaths are Saricean. If word o
f a meeting between the Coalition’s highest-ranked leader and a Saricean delegation got out, the Seekers would be pissed.”
“Word will not get out.”
He laughed. “The Seekers have invested an unfathomable amount of credits in exploring the universe. The public goes along with it because they want to discover new planets, new resources and technology. And you encourage it because you need Seeker money.”
“We—the KU—need their discoveries, yes, but ending this war before it begins benefits everyone.”
He looked out the dark window, watching spacers and soldiers pass. Seekers were the dominant religion in the KU. They’d searched for millennium for the chosen planet. When contact was made with the Sariceans, and the Sariceans proclaimed that Saris, their capital world, was the world, protests and riots and demonstrations had spread across the KU. They’d simmered down over time, but the Sariceans’ strike at Ephron had reignited the hatred.
“If the public learns about this meeting,” he said, “the Seekers will think you’re endorsing Saris as the chosen planet.”
“I need you on my team, Rykus.”
“I wasn’t aware there was a choice of teams.”
“Don’t be naive. You have the power and prestige to create your own sphere of influence if you wish. I need your help.”
“I’ll follow orders and—” A soldier walking past the window drew his attention. Rykus caught only a glimpse of his profile before he moved out of view, but he was almost certain he recognized the man. Shit.
“Commander?”
He ignored Tersa, unhooked his comm-cuff, and tapped in a command.
“Rykus?”
He pulled up the ship’s roster and entered a name.
“What’s wrong?”
Shit.
Shit.
He forced all emotion from his expression and met Tersa’s gaze. “Brookins, my previous executive officer, is here.”
She glanced out the dark glass, but Brookins was long gone now. “I asked that your top advisors be transferred to the ship. Since this was short notice, I thought familiarity would be beneficial. Was I wrong?”
Shades of Honor (An Anomaly Novel Book 2) Page 6
