“Master Dusty can do it,” said Greymere.
His tone was confident, as if it went without saying. “I wasn’t aware that he was accomplished with cyphers.”
“We don’t need to crack it, though,” said Joan.
“Why not?” asked Master Raquel.
“Every implant that receives commands must be able to decrypt and understand the command. That means that when a new implant is brought online, the decryption keys must be sent to it in some fashion. All we have to do is intercept those transmissions.”
I nodded. “That’s an excellent idea. We’d get more than just the keys; we’d get all the initial instructions, and perhaps some clues to what they’re planning.”
“The only problem is that we’d have to install an implant in someone,” said Stones.
Joan smiled. “That’s not a problem. I can check the surgery schedule and tell you when the next implant is going to be installed. I can only tell you the date and time of the surgery, but that should be enough now that we have the command channel.”
I nodded. “That will be sufficient. We can record everything broadcast at that time, and that should be enough to build a simulation to receive future communications.”
“Brilliant! Do you know the source of transmissions?” asked Master Raquel.
“Yes, sixteen tiny jump repeaters arrayed around the station,” I said.
“That figures. Jump repeaters can’t be traced,” groaned Dave.
“Of course they can,” said Saraphym.
“No, they can’t; everyone knows that,” said Dave.
She rolled her eyes. “Then everyone is wrong. Signals traveling through jump space have the same limitations as spacecraft; they can only travel in straight lines. Furthermore, the beam has to be very narrow in order to hit the next repeater.”
“So?” said Dave.
“Sixteen jump repeaters all transmitting in a narrow straight line?” She looked at him as if expecting him to figure it out. “All we have to do is see where the lines intersect.”
“Sure, but they broadcast directly in jump space, so how are you going to figure out the direction in which they’re transmitting?” countered Dave.
“Greymere and I will go outside and look.”
Greymere sighed. I knew how hard he worked to avoid revealing his species, and had witnessed several exchanges where Saraphym had talked freely in this manner. In fact, Dave would probably assume that she meant they would go out in spacesuits or a shuttle, but Greymere was too paranoid to take that risk.
“Will that provide enough information?” asked Master Raquel.
“Yes. These are very low-power units, so they’ll only have one or two broadcast antennas. We should be able to figure out which they’re broadcasting from their orientation,” responded Saraphym.
Master Raquel looked at me. “Very well. Lyshell will record everything broadcast on those channels. When we have the decryption key, we will want to mine those communications data.”
“How do we know they’ll broadcast the key? That seems like an obvious weakness,” asked Greymere.
“We don’t,” replied Joan. “What we do know is that a few hours before the surgery the implants will be inspected by a team of experts in a secure room, to ensure they’re safe. If the key was there at that time, they would find and remove it. After that, the implants are moved to the operating theatre and kept in a sterile, shielded environment until the operation. After the operation, there is another series of inspections and tests. If they tried to insert their code before that, it would be detected. It must happen sometime after surgery, when the implant has been embedded in the person.”
I thought about that logic, and it seemed sound. “So a broadcast seems to be the only avenue open to them, since physical access to the implant would be out of the question.”
Greymere nodded. “Unless they were able to use a very low-powered transmission from another implant already on the station.”
Joan shook her head. “Very few implants would be capable of that.”
Saraphym looked to her. “Very few is still more than zero, and all they have to do is slip one operative onto the station to do it. Difficult, maybe, but not impossible.”
She had a good point. “Where does that leave us?”
Greymere punched some controls on the table. “Just about every corridor on this station has numerous communication stations, and any of them can receive and record nearby transmissions.”
Saraphym looked over his shoulder. “So we would need to record every transmission near every comm. station on the entire station, and go through them one by one?”
He shook his head. “Of course not; we just need to monitor those close to the implant we’re tracking.”
It sounded good, but it was flawed. “To do that, we would need to know the identity of the patient.”
Master Raquel turned to Joan. “Joan?”
She frowned. “I can’t tell you that. I’m treading a thin line just by telling you that this surgery will take place.”
Master Raquel nodded. She turned to the comm. station and called Dr. Leslie. “Doctor, if you have a moment, could you join us in my office?”
“Certainly. What is it about?”
Master Raquel started to say something, then snapped her mouth shut before starting again. “We have some medical questions about cyborgs and their limitations.”
Dr. Leslie said, “Okay. I’ll get Dr. Hawthorne and we’ll be down in about an hour.”
Master Raquel terminated the call and turned to the group. “Close everything down. We shall move to my secure quarters.”
64
05-25-0067 — Lyshell
“It is possible that the cyborgs are monitoring the station through our instruments,” Master Raquel said.
“If so, they already know we’re onto them and they know our plan,” said Greymere.
I shook my head. “No. I would have felt them.”
“What do you mean?” asked Joan.
“When the cyborgs took over the datapad on our last mission, I could feel and hear the network through physical contact with the datapad. The same was true of other equipment on the ship.”
Greymere nodded. “Let’s assume they don’t know. We can destroy all records of our plans on the systems and work from secure datapads.”
Saraphym looked doubtful. “Why are you assuming that the hospital’s network is compromised?”
Master Raquel replied, “Because those jump repeaters do not appear on any of our exterior scans.”
“I thought they were hidden, though,” said Joan.
“Not that well,” replied Greymere, pacing back and forth. “Also, the volume of communications indicates that a high number of implants are affected. The only way to compromise so many implants would be by knowing who had been given implants and when they received them.”
Joan said, “Most of our medical systems are well-protected, but there might be enough information in the remaining systems to piece it together.”
That was not reassuring. “Greymere, let us clean the systems and secure a number of datapads before the doctors arrive.”
“Saraphym, do you think you can rig up a honeypot?” asked Greymere.
“Sure, Wings. That’ll be fun,” replied Saraphym.
“What is that?” asked Master Raquel.
Greymere replied, “You set up one or more systems to look like an inviting target and record everything that happens there.”
She smiled. “Attracting flies to honey. I see.”
We left to work on that. By the time we’d finished and returned to Master Raquel’s quarters, both doctors had arrived and she had just finished bringing them up to date.
“So you want us to give you the name of a patient in order to track their every move for a period of time?” Dr. Hawthorne summed up.
Master Raquel nodded and greeted us as we entered.
Greymere sat down at the table that was standard issue in all q
uarters of this section. “Once we have the full initial command set, we should be able to create a simulated implant for future monitoring.”
“I don’t like it,” said Dr. Hawthorne.
Dr. Leslie frowned deeply. “Nor do I, but they’re right. We do need to get this information if we are going to stop the cyborgs permanently.”
“Then we will have to obtain the patient’s permission,” said Dr. Hawthorne.
I shook my head. “Too risky. The patient might inadvertently tip our hand.”
Master Raquel didn’t look happy. “I need viable options.”
Dr. Hawthorne thought for a few moments. “You just need the data to be recorded.”
I nodded. “Yes.”
He turned to Joan. “Then Joan can monitor it from my office, and if there is a hit we’ll give you the transmission. That way we can avoid releasing any personal information about the patient.”
Master Raquel turned toward Joan. “Can you do that?”
She nodded. “Now that we know what to look for, it should be easy.”
Master Raquel looked at Greymere. “While we await the next implant surgery, I want you both to go outside and learn what you can about those jump repeaters.”
Dr. Leslie turned toward Master Raquel. “When you have what you need, I hope you intend to get rid of those repeaters.”
Master Raquel nodded. “Eventually; however, that may be some time in the future. We require them to be operational in order to track down the cyborgs’ base of operations. If we remove them before we strike, they shall simply move them elsewhere and we shall lose everything.”
Dr. Leslie turned to Dr. Hawthorne. “While they’re doing that, assemble a team to search our systems for any security breaches. From this point on, I want every system hardened against attack. Regardless of how minor any given system might be, secure it.”
Joan tried to hide a yawn. She would need at least one day off between her last shift and the beginning of this operation, or she might be tired enough to miss something. She noticed me watching her and smiled. My heart fluttered a little.
“We will select a suitable implant operation and let you know the date and time,” said Dr. Leslie.
“There is one next Thursday which should work,” noted Joan.
“Joan will need a temporary schedule change to make this work,” I said.
Dr. Leslie nodded. “Very well. Joan, take the next two days off and be ready half an hour before the surgery. You could be tracking this patient for a long time, so make sure you’re well-rested.”
Joan nodded.
“If you fail to get the key, what’s your fallback plan?” asked Dr. Hawthorne.
Master Raquel turned to him. “Dusty can decrypt what we already have, but we will obtain nothing else from the initial instructions that are sent. Since we know little of what we are dealing with, we do not want to take the risk of anything escaping us.”
Dr. Hawthorne nodded. “Makes sense.”
Dr. Leslie rose. “We seem to have a viable plan, then.”
We excused ourselves and left to return to our quarters. At first, we walked in comfortable silence, but eventually I had to ask the questions that were needling me.
“Last week, did Master Raquel really die?” I asked. “She certainly looked dead, but now she looks much younger and stronger.”
She shrugged. “We live among wizards now, in a universe that is being reshaped by magic. Why is this suddenly bothering you?”
“I don’t know. It’s just that everything is so upside-down. Two years ago every mage I knew hated me, and look where I am now.”
She smiled. “Right by my side, where you belong.”
“But where am I going?”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m not sure,” I said with a shrug. My life was such a jumbled mess. Before giving up that part of me that made me whole, I understood my place and my responsibilities. Now I couldn’t even manage two nights’ sleep in a row.
“If you’re unhappy here, we can leave,” she suggested.
“No, it’s not that. I’ve barely learned my powers; I need more training, probably for years to come. Besides, I have a great team to work with now.” It was true. I did like my team and did need the training, but I was no longer sure of my purpose or my goals; I was just drifting along.
“Take tomorrow off and we can celebrate,” she said.
“Celebrate what?”
“I checked the records. May twenty-sixth is the date your last implant was removed. It’s a birthday of sorts.”
“You’re saying I’m two years old?”
“As a mage, yes.”
I smiled, “It’s a good thing I like older women, then.”
“Watch it, kid.”
“Two years.” I cast a minor spell causing a small cloud of mist to appear in my hand. “Has it really been only two years? That other life almost feels like a dream now; a long, dreary and recurrent dream.”
I floated the cloud up in front of Joan, who passed her hand through it. The mist flowed around her hand and reformed into a ball before I let it disperse.
I looked into her eyes and smiled. Warmth seemed to travel from her gaze into mine and down into my body. “A day off sounds fantastic.” A day off spent with her sounded like paradise.
This new life had united me with Joan, and perhaps that was all I really needed.
65
05-26-0067 — Henrick
A hill rose in the forest, on top of which was a stone table just big enough to hold a man lying down. On top of the table was a stone jar and marker that simply read, “Narcion.” The table was smooth, with no joints or markings. The base of the jar seemed to blend into the table, as if the whole structure had simply grown up there.
Weeds had risen around the table and a small bird rested on the jar, preening itself. Behind it the sun was rising on a new day. A fine coating of fresh dew covered the vines, causing them to glisten in the morning light.
Raquel walked up the hill to the table and considered the bird. The creature was small with iridescent blue feathers. It seemed to be untroubled by Raquel’s presence and continued preening.
Raquel smiled and said, “Sorry to disturb you, little one, but I have to tidy up.”
The bird looked at her and chirped once.
“No, I cannot come back later,” responded Raquel.
The bird turned its back on her and continued its activities. Raquel sighed and began clearing the vines from the table and the weeds from the base. She worked in silence and the bird ignored her. When she had finished, she stood and regarded the bird.
“You’ll want to move now,” said Raquel.
The bird ignored her.
“Look, just let me finish, and you can come back,” she coaxed.
The bird ignored her.
“It’s not like I can get here every day like you can. Just a few minutes is all I need,” she said.
The bird ignored her.
Raquel smiled a little. “Very well.”
She threw back her arms and called out a word of power. A small dark cloud formed over the table, casting a long shadow in the morning sun. Moments later the cloud began to rain water down on the table. At first the shower was gentle, but it grew in force to blast any remaining dirt or weeds from the table.
The little blue bird took off, squawking angrily as it flew out of the rain.
“Do not use that tone with me! I did attempt to warn you,” scolded Raquel as the bird flew away. The bird faded into the distance, squawking as it went. Raquel chuckled as she watched it go.
Turning back to the table, she fell to her knees. She bowed her head and stayed there a long time. The sun crept up and slowly dried the grave from Raquel’s rain.
“If you intend to stand there and watch me, you might as well show yourself,” said Raquel.
Henrick appeared and bowed. “Forgive me; I did not want to disturb your mourning.”
She stood up, keeping her
eyes on the jar on the table. “No matter. Narcion cannot hear me anymore.”
He walked up beside her. “I wish I had had the chance to get to know him.”
“You are both somewhat alike.”
“Intelligent and powerful?”
She shook her head. “Arrogant and controlling.”
“Is that any way to speak of the dead?”
She looked at him. “Perhaps not, but you’re not dead, yet, so the comment stands.”
He smiled and shook his head. “Raquel, what are you doing?”
“I believe that is obvious.”
“No, I don’t mean right now. Why are you working with the wizards?”
“I don’t expect you to understand.”
“Try me.”
Raquel turned back to the grave and was silent for a while. Henrick, too, looked at the grave and held his peace. Eventually Raquel spoke.
“Recently I was in Korshalemia,” she said.
“In defiance of the ban? That was not very wizard-like.”
Raquel ignored the comment. “While we were there, Mantis made an appearance. He intended to take us into custody, and I had no intention of allowing that to happen.”
“You planned to fight Mantis? You’re insane.”
“I would have done whatever was necessary to avoid being taken back into custody, but no such action was necessary. Do you know why?”
Henrick smiled. “He let you go with a warning?”
“No. Shea stepped between us.”
“Shea, the cleric?”
Raquel turned back to him and said, “She knows precisely who Mantis is and what he is capable of, and yet she placed herself between us.”
“That does not seem to fit the wisdom for which she is renowned.”
“No, but it demonstrates the character for which she is renowned.” She paused for a moment and then added, “Shea is a cleric who performs daily devotions with a Dinjini. Were you aware of that?”
He nodded. “Of course, but what has that to do with you working with wizards?”
Mage Hunter (Lost Tales of Power Book 8) Page 33
