Fracture Lines (The Glass Complex Book 2)

by John Hindmarsh

  “What do you plan to do about the rebels on the station?”

  “It’s an open question, for the moment. Let’s see what the Fain can discover, and we’ll discuss how to respond. One possibility is we bring the shuttles back here and raid the quarters where the rebels are in control, after dropping our prisoners off for the local authorities. We could use Wasp to provide an additional force. Or we may not need to do anything. I’ll check the contract. It may require us to clear the planet of the rebels, in which case we ignore the rebels here. I don’t recall whether our scope or not includes the station or not. Besides, the people involved here probably are smugglers—criminals—not rebels.”

  “We probably can say the same about most of the so-called rebels on the planet, too,” added Sergeant Ester. “They’re more involved in producing and exporting Joy than anything else.”

  “It raises questions about the politicians—are they envious of the wealth generated by smuggling this drug, or are they serious about eliminating the drug activities as well as the rebel movement? In any case, we’ll destroy all the production facilities and labs. Not much we can do about the crops, though.”

  Dean suggested, “The Alliance skipper might be interested in downstream names of dealers and traders, if we can find details.”

  *****

  Chapter 34

  “Sir, there’s something strange happening on the planet.” Jessie Brent was biting the end of her compad stylus, a sign she was deeply worried.

  Captain Montrose looked up from his workstation display. “Strange, Tac? Define strange.”

  Jessie put her stylus down. “I’ve been monitoring the planet—at least the major cities and industrial areas. About three hours ago, power began to be diverted from large areas. Factories ceased operation, transport systems failed, and lights were extinguished across some of the larger residential areas. The process is intensifying; lights are going out across all the night zones of the planet, and power available in day zones is being reduced. The power losses or diversions are substantial and increasing.”

  “You’re right, that does fit the definition of strange. Replay your observations for me.” Montrose studied the data Tac had assembled. “Could a weapon be using this power?”

  “No, sir. Nothing like that. There is one anomaly that I’ve noted: data centers are still operating, and standby processing units have been activated.”

  “So Eos is experiencing a major power drain except for major, possibly core, computer systems?”

  “Yes, sir. I suspect someone has diverted processing power. It wouldn’t be the government—too many civilians are likely to be affected. Their military isn’t strong enough, and I eliminated them. It’s unlikely the rebels have the know-how. It leaves our friend—could de Coeur be responsible?” She picked up her stylus and chewed the end again.

  “How do you get to that conclusion? That’s a helluva intuitive leap, Tac, even for you.”

  “Eliminate and focus on what remains. We’ve eliminated the government, the military, the rebels. There’s no one we know of who could have that ability—except perhaps de Coeur. We know he penetrated our electronics, something we considered impossible. He has a critical task to carry out, eliminating the rebels. He needs information. So maybe—” She spat out pieces of her stylus.

  “He’s suborned almost all the local computer systems and is using them to gather data? Interesting thought. No proof. Still interesting. Keep monitoring. Alert me if anything changes.”

  “Yes, sir.” Jessie reached for a new stylus.

  ###

  It was approaching midnight, ship time, when Steg left the meeting and headed to his cabin for a well-earned rest. After his shower, he stretched out on his bunk and relaxed. He was asleep in seconds, oblivious to the Fain who quietly joined him. Later, the comlink buzzer roused him from a deep sleep. It took a moment or two for him to re-orient himself; he reached across and hit the accept button.

  “Captain, can you spare some time—it’s Sergeant Velez. We’ve got problems.”

  Steg looked at the clock on the comunit. “Sergeant, it’s after 4:00 a.m.”

  “Yes, sir. I know. This is urgent. We’re in the small meeting area next to the Ebony war room.”

  “I’ll be there in ten.” Steg stretched, accidentally bumping the Fain’s head. Still asleep, she said, “Shhh. It’s always so noisy in here.”

  Steg reached the small meeting room in seven minutes. Sergeant Velez and her intelligence team were sitting around the table, a worried expression on each face.

  “Tell me all,” Steg said as he sat on a chair at the end of the table.

  “Sir, our first problem is our Fain. Tessa, Stacia and Sara met with some Eos officers at a bar—the Pink Geranium—and then boarded one of the Eos frigates—the Eos 5. That was at 1:00 a.m. The plan was that they would be absent for no more than an hour. They haven’t left the ship and it’s now approaching 5 a.m. The marines we tasked to protect them became concerned—Fain always keep to their schedules. They tried to enter the frigate. However, they can’t get anyone’s attention. Either they’re being ignored, or the officers haven’t set a watch.”

  “Hmm. I’ll organize a squad and go visit. Now, you said problems?” He emphasized the plural.

  Sergeant Velez looked across the table at two of her team members. She had introduced them in the first meeting as Howe and Beagle, her computer experts. “Report.” The command was snapped out and the two experts flinched.

  “Yes, Sergeant,” said Beagle. She, like her sergeant, was also a heavyworlder, probably five feet or so tall, and Steg thought she was about thirty years old. She wore the standard Stinger uniform and her hair was cropped short. Howe kept his head down, focusing on his compad. He was from a standard world and appeared to be both taller and younger than his companion. He, too, wore the Stinger uniform and his head was shaved.

  Beagle turned to Steg. “Sir, we accidentally set a virus loose on the Eos central banking computer system. It was supposed to track names and files. However, we—I loaded the incorrect program.”

  “And—?”

  Howe looked up from his compad. “Sir, it’s run amuck. Every major computer and data center on Eos has been infected—the virus has spread everywhere. It soaks up processing power and overloads storage units as it replicates. Unfortunately, it’s working as designed. I estimate 85 percent of the planet’s total computer workload now is running the virus. Its impact has increased at an alarming rate. Systems on Eos are shutting down almost all other processes while they apply more and more resources to running our virus. As a result, the planet is experiencing a major power shortage. We expect station computers will be infected—maybe in an hour or so. Wasp could be danger.”

  Steg sat up straight, now fully awake. “Sergeant, call Captain Dean and Sergeant Riddell. Get them here, immediately. In the meantime, one of you get some coffee going.”

  Five minutes later Dean arrived at the meeting room, closely followed by Riddell. Both were adjusting their uniforms as they finished dressing; Sergeant Velez must have been clear about the urgency of the meeting.

  Steg indicated two chairs and said, “Sit here. Coffee’s on its way. We’ve got some problems.” He explained both issues and concluded, “First, I want a squad available, as soon as the men can get ready. Riddell, go now, have ten marines at the exit lock as quickly as possible. Include two Fain, in case we require medical support. They’ll all need exo-armor, and the Stingers should have heavy weapons, in case we have to blast our way into a frigate. I’ll armor up and lead them—they’ll probably require some assistance to get through the Eos starship’s entry hatch. I might be able to take over their security system. Organize a second squad in case—allocate a sergeant to lead it. Also, it’s imperative we ensure Wasp is isolated from the station’s computer systems as soon as possible.”

  Howe interrupted. “Sir, we’ve made sure our virus can’t run on our systems.”

  “What if it’s mutated? W
hat if someone on the planet has discovered your code and has changed it to attack us? Can you predict its current capabilities?”

  The young computer expert paled. “No, sir. I agree. We need to isolate Wasp’s systems.”

  “Dean, take our two experts to the bridge. If Commander Gillespie’s on duty, brief her. If not, brief the watch lead and alert the commander. Take whatever steps are necessary, in liaison with Wasp command, to protect the ship. Velez, use the other members of your team and monitor progress of the virus, and let Dean know immediately if you detect it on station. Monitor Wasp in case the virus penetrates the ship. Dean, keep me informed.” Steg left the meeting room on the run, closely followed by Riddell.

  Steg, Riddell, Finch and a second Fain—Ashley—with ten mercenaries, all wearing exo-armor, stood at the frigate’s entry hatch. He pressed the button, which normally would alert a member of the crew that someone wanted access. He waited for a minute—it seemed more like five—and then shrugged. He said, “All right, cover me while I see what I can do.”

  Steg raised his face protector and leaned on the side of the hatch, his hands and the side of his face pressing against the cold exterior of the starship. He relaxed, seeking the electronic signals, which he could sense around the starship. He knew he could control computers at a distance. He could, he was sure, reach out to the frigate’s computer system and subvert its security. He concentrated on making contact with the computer system that provided central support for the frigate. An electronic bubble of concern reached out to him.

  “Provide user name and security token.”

  “My name is Steg de Coeur. I’m authorized to take complete control of your processes.” He thought a bluff was the only approach he could take.

  “Name not recognized.”

  “Add name Steg de Coeur to Admin Level users. Provide authority to access all security commands.”

  “Provide security token.”

  “I am authorized by the Acolytes of the Glass Complex.” The statement had worked before and was worth another attempt.

  A minute flowed past. Steg and his support team were anxious and growing more impatient. Another minute passed.

  “Security token recognized. User added to Security Master. Enter command.”

  “Open exterior hatch.”

  A lock clicked, and the hatch slowly opened. Sergeant Riddell jumped forward into the entryway, followed immediately by half the team. Steg merged with the flow of mercenaries, and the entire team was soon inside the frigate’s entry lock. He closed the external hatch, and Riddell pushed at the opposite hatch, which provided access into the frigate. It slid open effortlessly, almost silently.

  “We’ve probably triggered an alert on the bridge,” Steg suggested. “And that’s where we should go.” They had reviewed the starship’s interior design, and Riddell immediately headed to the lift, which would take them to the upper levels. The top deck was the standard bridge location for this particular frigate model. Steg added, “We’ll use their internal security cameras to find our missing Fain.”

  *****

  Chapter 35

  The bridge was almost deserted. A rating was asleep in the frigate’s command module, totally oblivious to the flashing light, which indicated an access hatch had been opened and an armed squad of strangers was now inside the starship. Steg dragged the man out of the captain’s chair and dropped him to the deck.

  “Wha—? Who the frek’re you?” the rating whined.

  “We’re looking for your captain. Show me how the internal cameras work, quickly now.”

  Sergeant Riddell moved in closer, and his armored visage and height provided a more threatening mien. He prodded the man with the barrel of his weapon. The rating, thoroughly scared, dragged himself off the floor and pointed to a series of viewscreens currently displaying empty corridors. “There—they’re the security cams.”

  “Show me—the captain or his other officers brought some visitors on board—I want to find them.”

  “Oh, no, sir. I couldn’t do that, yeah.”

  Riddell prodded the man again with the barrel. “You want to live?”

  “Y-Yes.” The rating gulped.

  “I’ll count to five. When I finish, either the cameras will show the captain and his visitors, or you’ll be dead and we’ll go find another volunteer.” Riddell began to count.

  The rating, his hands shaking, apparently decided he wanted to live. He fumbled with a control pad and the display on one of the viewscreens changed. “Sir, that’s the officers’ wardroom. We’re not allowed in there, yeah.”

  The image slowly resolved to display the three Fain and a number of uniformed officers. Two Fain were restrained, their hand tied, and the third one, Stacia, was in a heap on the floor, unmoving. Steg felt his anger grow.

  “Where is that—what level? Fore or aft?” He looked at the rating’s name tag. “Osbourne, show us where this wardroom is. Now”

  “They’ll kill me, yeah.”

  “Or we will, take your pick. By the time we’re finished with your officers, they won’t be in any condition to threaten anyone. Come on, let’s go.”

  Riddell picked the man up by the collar with one hand and held him off the floor. “Your decision—slow death or you live.”

  The rating was choking as his shipsuit collar tightened around his throat. He gestured, as he pointed out the door and tried to speak. Riddell released his grip, and the man dropped, almost stumbling, to the deck.

  “Sir, I’ll show you.”

  They followed the rating off the bridge. He led them down a level and along a series of corridors. Eventually he stopped at a door; the sign indicated it was the officers’ wardroom. Steg held up his hand.

  “Osbourne, you can stay outside. Riddell, split the squad, half to guard the door, the others to follow me. Detain anyone who comes along the corridor. If they protest, kill them.” Steg didn’t wait for the sergeant’s acknowledgment and pushed open the door.

  He headed for the officer who was threatening the two Fain. Three other officers, junior to the first, were standing back. They all reacted with shock as Steg, with five mercenaries and two Fain, all armored and with weapons ready, moved towards them.

  The frigate captain was the first to find his voice. “Who in hell are you, and how did you get on board my ship?” He somewhat belatedly reached for his handgun. Steg struck him a savage blow, and the man staggered back, dropping the weapon.

  “Finch, see to Stacia. I want to know her condition as soon as possible.” Steg signaled the closest mercenary. “Mohave, cut Tessa and Sara free. You”—he indicated the captain—“had better pray Stacia’s alive. All of you—you’re under arrest for kidnapping and torture. Try to attack us and you’re dead, all of you.”

  The captain protested. “You have no right—”

  “I have every right. You kidnapped three of our medical team.” He turned his head. “Try for your weapon and I’ll shoot you.” His warning was addressed to one of the junior officers. He returned his attention to the captain of the frigate. “If necessary, we’ll take you all with us and hold a Captain’s Mast. According to Imperial law, the sentence for kidnap and assault is death. I’d be pleased to pull the trigger so I suggest you keep quiet.” Steg directed his men. “Disarm them. Tie them up, same as they did to our Fain.”

  He watched as his men, angry at the treatment of the Fain—their Fain—secured the officers; their actions were not gentle. When one of the junior officers protested, the mercenary restraining him raised the butt of his weapon and poised it ready to land a heavy blow. The officer shrugged and held out his hands. He said, “I’ve been on board all day and night. I had nothing to do with all this, yeah.”

  “Did you attempt to stop this?” Steg asked.

  “Why? They’re only Fain, yeah,” the man sneered and collapsed as Mohave dealt him a blow to his midriff. Mohave was a heavyworlder and his blow was unrestrained.

  “You may have broken something,” said one o
f the other mercenaries, nudging the fallen officer with his toe.

  Mohave checked his fist. “No, there’s nothing broken.” The other man laughed, and they both dragged the officer upright and finished tying his wrists.

  Steg checked with Finch. “How’s Stacia?”

  “I think she’ll have a sore jaw. It looks as though one of them punched her, possibly a couple of times and knocked her unconscious. There might be some concussion. I’ll let you know as soon as I can.”

  Steg said to Tessa, “Tell me what happened.”

  “We thought they were harmless—well, relatively speaking. We met them at one of the bars, and they invited us back to see their frigate, which we agreed to. We thought the more we could discover, the better. Once they got us in here, the skipper turned nasty. I’m not sure what he was thinking. He accused us of being pirates, and wanted to know what we’d done with Djamu. I told him we’d never heard of it.”

  “I had second thoughts about letting you play spy. I should’ve stopped it.”

  “Why Steg, you care.” Her smile took away any negative.

  “I’m going to talk to the skipper, see if he’s capable of answering questions. You and Sara sit still, like good little girls.” He ignored the expression on Tessa’s face, as he turned away with a hidden smile.

  The frigate’s skipper was not happy. “You’ve invaded my ship,” he accused. “How’d you do that? Who’d you bribe, yeah?”

  “I have control of your frigate,” stated Steg with a shrug. “Your security system recognized me, and unlocked the entry hatch. More to the point, why did you attack our people?”

  The frigate captain screwed up his face and almost spat. “People? They’re constructs, yeah. We know what they are, yeah.” The man leered at Tessa and her two temporary patients.