Eric gave Hadrian a curious look.
“Don’t ask me. His logic was that folks would break into the places looking for supplies. If we left enough food for folks to live on for a bit, they’d be less likely to trash the place. Granted, showing up a bit later and letting them know Turing owns the place has made things a bit easier.”
“So, friendlies?” Byron asked.
“I’d watch yourself around most of them, but they’re friendly enough as pommies go,” Julien commented. Eric looked at Julien, puzzled.
“Protectorate citizens,” Byron explained. “Protectorate of Man, POM. Pommie?”
Haven’t heard that one before.
“Now, aside from the room we’re in, there’s only one other place on the planet that has any guns. The house over on this mountainside here is the only one with any sort of weaponry left in the bunker. Given nobody gets dropped here with firearms that has to be their source.”
“What was in it?” Byron asked.
“Would be faster for you to read,” Julien said and dug several sheets of paperwork out from under the map.
Byron frowned as he skimmed and said, “I’ve seen Confed rifle companies equipped worse than this. I’m not kidding. Rifles, light machineguns, heavy machineguns, grenade launchers, ammo. Two hundred kilos of advex, twenty kilometers of--” Byron interrupted his list with a slow whistle.
“What?” Eric asked, glancing at the list over Byron’s arm. That’s a lot of guns.
“That’s just the armory inventory. I’m still going over the rest of it,” Hadrian said.
Byron looked up at Hadrian, incredulous. “What was Turing’s father thinking? This reads like someone used a Build-Your-Own-Insurgency shopping list. Hell, the only thing you’re missing is a medusa--” Byron laughed. “Nope, you guys have one of those, too. Hadrian, why in God’s creation would you leave something like that sitting just sitting around?”
“What’s a medusa?” Eric asked.
Hadrian ignored Eric. “It’s not as bad as it sounds.”
“Not as-- do you have something rated anti-tank around here I don’t know about?” Byron demanded.
“Well, yes, but that’s irrelevant,” Hadrian replied.
“How is that irrelevant?” Byron retorted.
“When I showed Turing the manifest he insisted it was ‘just spare parts.’ Spare parts for the base model, not a mobile variant. He also believed the EMP that shut down the vault door rendered them inoperable,” Hadrian commented.
“What’s a medusa?” Eric asked again, irritated.
Julien scowled at Eric before growling, “Medusa; Modular area denial system, autonomous.” Eric shrugged. “Hadrian, I thought you said this kid had promise?”
Hadrian sighed. “Enough. Eric, Byron will fill you in. Julien, he’s a boot. He’ll shape up or he’ll get shipped out. ”
“I’ll keep a bag handy,” Julien grumped.
“So let’s pretend the medusa isn’t a problem and the four of us aren’t the only ones defending this place,” Byron started. “When was the last time anyone was up that way?”
“I was there right before winter set in, so about four months ago. Place was clean, no sign anything human lived in the area.”
“Okay, well, you’ve obviously got a plan, what is it?”
Hadrian glanced at the map with a frown. “Sneak and peek. We don’t know what’s going on there or how many people might be involved. Julien, you’re about as subtle as a sledgehammer so you’re staying to defend home. Byron, I’m pretty sure you’re out of practice for this kind of thing, and besides which, I’m the most familiar with the terrain so it looks like I’m going.” Julien and Byron nodded. “Byron, I’m going to need you to work with Julien on this.”
“Can we use the twenty mike?” Julien asked.
“What am I doing?” Eric asked.
“Use whatever you can come up with an effective plan for, Julien, and Eric,” Hadrian paused. “You’re going to be underfoot no matter where I put you.” Hadrian motioned for Byron to follow him and they stepped around the shelves. Ignoring Julien’s stare, Eric eyed the junction box and the power cabling on the wall until the pair returned.
“Eric, be down here two hours before sunrise,” Hadrian told him. “Any questions?”
Hadrian tossed something at Eric. “Here’s a watch. Sunrise is at five thirty. Rest while you can, then.”
Eric yawned deeply as he put the watch on. Curiosity got the better of him on the way up the stairs.
“Byron?”
“Yes?”
“Why would someone keep spare parts for something they didn’t already have?”
“Eh?”
“Hadrian said the medusa unit at this cabin was spare parts. I mean, if they’re extra parts, that implies they’ve already got one, right?”
Byron chuckled. “I’m happy I wasn’t the only one who caught that. That’s one possibility of several.”
“What are the other possibilities? I still don’t know what a medusa actually is. An acronym doesn’t really help,” Eric commented. The pair closed the secret door to supply behind them and then continued up to the second floor.
“The term medusa covers an entire ecosystem of equipment, Eric. It’s relatively new tech, something the Protectorate only started fielding in the last decade. I’m surprised Turing has one; well, at least one. They’re hideously expensive.
“If you categorized the equipment in a medusa system, you’d have sensors, agents, and the controller itself. The controllers are usually pretty beefy processing platforms. Might have integral comms, might not. Like everything else in the system, it’s all modular. Sensors can be everything from security cameras, helmet cams, seismic detectors, thermal cams, motion detectors, millimeter wave radar, you name it. If it can produce some sort of data feed that can be relayed to the controller, it can be used as a sensor. The controller takes those inputs and builds an understanding of the area it’s deployed in from them, and uses the standing orders and rules of engagement it’s been given to issue commands to the agents.”
“So the controller is some kind of command and control system for these agents? When you say it builds an understanding, you mean like you and me looking at a map and figuring out what we need to do?”
“You could say that, yes,” Byron said.
“Let me guess, the agents are modular too? Anything that can be wired to receive commands can be an agent, like, say, these drones we keep hearing about?” Byron nodded. “Wait, we’re not just talking vehicles are we? Like, triggered explosives? Literally anything with the right hardware?”
“Yep.”
“Why not mount the controller in a vehicle like one of the drones? Or like a tank or something with a ridiculous amount of armor or firepower? Wouldn’t that make it harder to disable?”
“Later models are.”
“Oh. That sounds less pleasant,” Eric commented as the pair paused outside his room.
“Yeah, it’s not. Thankfully they’re pretty rare, and there are some flaws. Anything else you noticed?”
“We were sitting on top of the generator for this place.”
Byron cocked his head. “Why do you say that?”
“There’s no external power connection. Supply ceiling is crawling with some serious power cabling that all leads over to the wall we were sitting by and then down through the floor. I don’t know what it’s running on, haven’t seen or smelled anything like gas. You didn’t notice the faint buzzing or constant vibration?”
Byron frowned. “No.”
“Oh, well, maybe I’m imagining things,” Eric said and yawned again.
Byron seemed at a loss for words for several seconds. “Or maybe you’d be better at the intelligence game than I thought. Get some rest, Eric. You look like you’re about to fall over.”
“Later,” Eric mumbled and stepped into his dimly lit room.
Thankful the heavy curtain was already closed against the noonday sun, Eric wobbled dir
ectly to the edge of the bed and half collapsed, half sat. He slowly regarded his pillow before looking down at the boots taunting him. Why do you have to be all the way down there? He fought his laces to free his feet and sighed as his head hit his pillow. I’ll get my clothes off in a--
“Wake up, meat.”
Eric snapped awake, already lunging. His fist found nothing but air. Breathing hard, he glanced about, certain something was watching him. Aside from odd shadows cast by the moonlight from the curtain, everything seemed where it should. He waited, listening. Nothing moved.
He fiddled with his watch, trying to figure out which button triggered the backlight. One o’clock? I should go back to sleep. Eric nestled back into his pillow and closed his eyes but sleep refused to come. How can I be exhausted but not sleepy? Guess I might as well get dressed.
“Oh, holy shit,” Eric groaned when he tried to get out of bed. Every movement only made another muscle group scream in rage. Gritting his teeth, he pushed through the pain and staggered to his feet. Yeah, a hot shower should help with this.
Sensitive to every ache, Eric set about his morning routine. Having showered and shaved, Eric slipped into a fresh set of clothes and made his way down to the kitchen. I wonder if there were any leftovers? That chicken was phenomenal. Hmm, what’s this? The light in the kitchen was on and a tea pot sat on a running burner.
“Up late, or perhaps up early?”
Eric jumped at Turing’s voice and spun to find the side pantry open. Turing was facing away from him eying a shelf.
“Up early. You?”
“Ah, up late myself. Anne should be about soon to start the bread. Would you like some tea?”
“Sure, I guess.”
“Any particular kind? We have quite an assortment.”
“I’m not really a tea drinker.”
Turing glanced over his shoulder with a curious look. “Why ever not?”
“Most of the tea that passed through the Fortune’s holds, we sold. Some folks at Port Solace would pay serious money for it. There were more folks at Port Wander who’d pay though.”
“Ah, that makes perfect sense. I’d pay a significant amount of money for fresh tea about now. Most of these have been stored for a while, but even with nitrogen, you can’t keep it forever. Bit of a bother, really. Well, the water’s almost done, I’ll pick something tasty. Care to join me?”
“I’ve got time, what do you have in mind?”
“I’d like to see that tablet of yours if you don’t mind. Meet me in the study?”
Eric nodded and went to retrieve the tablet from his room. When he stepped into the study, Turing was setting down the tea pot, two cups steaming on the table in front of him.
“So, you said some customers would pay a high price for their tea? What kind? What sort of money is serious money to you?” Turing asked as he motioned Eric to sit. Eric handed the tablet over and took a seat.
“Oh, well, the normal stuff, I wouldn’t know. Most of that was just boring, but one particular score does come to mind. Fox had it under lock and key on the ship until we stopped at Jenkin’s Station,” Eric said.
“Terribly interesting for tea, unusual even. Why would he do that?”
“Because it sold for a bit over a million standard credits a kilo to a collector.”
Turing choked on his tea. “A million a kilo? Seriously?”
Eric drew the explanation out, adding sugar to his tea. “It wasn’t pilfered, believe it or not. We recovered it from a wreck out in the Reach. The casks were still sealed, old Earth.”
“Casks? Plural?”
“Twenty-five of them. Ten kilos per cask.”
“Good god, man, that’s almost a quarter billion. Do you know who bought it?”
“No idea, I just remember my share of the profit.”
“That’s a shame. My father was very fond of good tea, especially rare tea. I wouldn’t be surprised if he was the end buyer. Still, you must have made a goodly amount off that transaction.”
“Yeah, I think my share of the sale was a bit more than one hundred thousand.”
“One hundred thousand? And you were how old?”
“Sixteen.”
“Not bad, I suppose, all things considered. What did you do with it?”
“Nothing. Not much call for money on the boat, so every penny I made was kept in Shavely’s, only bank on Port Solace. Need something safe from prying hands? We’ll secure anything for a cut.”
Turing snorted and picked the tablet up off the table. “How droll. So a hundred thousand for one job? Did they all pay that well?”
Eric sighed, “No, I didn’t have a normal cut either until the last few years. I think I was averaging about thirty thousand a year before that. Sixty after.”
“Sixty thousand is damn good for someone your age, Eric. Granted, my situation may distort my perspective a bit, but I believe the average wage in the Protectorate is a bit more than half that, maybe two thirds, for skilled tradesmen. Does this Shavely’s outfit offer compound interest?”
“I think they do, but it’s not very much.”
Turing chuckled.
“One doesn’t need big numbers with compound interest, Eric. That type of oversight has destroyed many an economy. Sixty a year plus, say three percent a year for twelve? Being generous,” Turing mumbled as he did the math in his head and sipped his tea. “That puts your account at somewhere around seven hundred thousand. Not bad for someone with your means. Not bad at all.
“Okay?”
“Well, put it in perspective, Eric. Normal people in the Protectorate retire with less saved.”
A slow grin crossed Eric’s face.
“Put that way, I sound like I’m rich. Well, by normal people’s standards anyway.”
“And so it seems. Shame all that is out of reach right now.”
“True. It’s fun to think about though. Me, rich,” Eric said with a smirk.
“You were saying you recovered this tablet from the Gadsden?”
“Yeah, from the captain’s cabin.”
“US Navy, eh? Fascinating. Were you ever able to get past the login?”
“Technically? When I first messed with it, I’d hit the power button and the main app would pop up and then shut back off after a few seconds. I wasn’t sure what was wrong, so I did a hard reset.”
“To be honest, I’m amazed it works at all. If I had my old lab, I’d take it apart to see why.”
“Oh?”
“Well, for one, it still has a charge. I barely recognize the ports on it, and you don’t have a charger. It should be long dead. That’s before we get to things like metallic whiskering and all the other fun elements that kill electronics over the long term. I’m sorry, I could go on, but I’m wasting time. We’ll have to get into it somehow. So, do you have any experience with system cracking?”
“System cracking?”
“Bypassing security.”
Eric shook his head.
“Well, first lesson then: most people tend to use very weak or trivial passwords. Mostly things that you’d normally find very easy to remember; birthdays, ident numbers, that sort of thing.” Turing ran his fingers along the tablet’s edges. “Interesting. This is removable.” He pushed on the side of the tablet. With a click, a small card ejected part of the way from the side of the tablet. Turing pulled it out and gave it a look. “Your ghost ship captain was one Thomas Morneault?”
“Uh, yeah?” Curious, Eric leaned forward as Turing held it out. “Looks like an ident card.”
“It is,” Turing said and reinserted the card. He started laughing. “Bingo, one step closer.”
Eric squinted at Turing and asked, “How?”
“If it works like some of our modern systems, at least conceptually anyway, the card has some identification keys on it, but requires a code to access the stored keys.” Turing showed him the screen, which now asked for a PIN number instead of a password. “Well then, I have the chap’s birthday from his ident, should
we try it?”
“Go for it.”
Turing tapped the screen a few times and shook his head. “Third of November, twenty-sixty-five, isn’t it. Assuming I’m formatting it right, anyway.”
Turing frowned. Attempt failed then.
“On the plus side, perhaps this Thomas wasn’t as much of an idiot as I thought. This could take a while, provided the system doesn’t flat wipe itself if we fail validation too many times.”
“Wait, try January thirtieth, nineteen sixty-five.”
Turing regarded him curiously for a second and tapped on the screen. Earnestly puzzled, Turing looked up over the tablet and said, “Where did that date come from? We’re in.”
“The captain had a set of old ident tags, stamped metal. That was the date on them.”
Focused on the tablet, Turing didn’t bother looking up as he spoke. “Probably the man’s great-grandfather. Well, it appears that no matter how much things change, they stay the same. The layout isn’t much different from the current operating systems.” Turing bit his lip.
“What?”
“Well, the battery is terribly low, but it says it’s charging. I haven’t the faintest idea how. Ambient static charge maybe? No, I don’t see how with a metal case like this. Well, unless--” Turing trailed off.
“Turing?” Eric asked after Turing sat motionless for a short time.
Turing blinked and looked up. “Yes? Oh, sorry, I lose myself in my thoughts. I’d very much like to take this apart now. Shame the data is likely more important than my curiosity. Let me disable the transmitter. There, should make what little infernal battery this thing has last a bit longer. Oh, it’s almost time.” Turing jumped out of his seat and retrieved his coat.
“Time for what?” Eric asked, glancing at the now-forgotten tablet.
“Take this and grab the binoculars,” Turing said, nodding towards a black leather case amid the clutter as he handed Eric a coat. Curious, Eric did as requested and hurried after Turing
By Dawn's Early Light Page 24
