Questor

by Alastair J. Archibald

  His hands danced across the keys as if he were playing a piano concerto, looking forward to the libidinous pleasures in store.

  Chapter 12

  Enemies

  "Do as I tell you, bitch. Open up to your lord and master. Show me what you can do for me; you know you want to!"

  Technician Deeks maintained a constant stream of chatter as his hands fluttered over the terminal keyboard. He had learned all of his hacking skills in a piecemeal fashion over many years. He had rarely been left unsupervised for more than a few minutes, so he now gloried in not having to look over his shoulder every few moments for the approach of a senior Technician.

  "Tech subsystem A: protocol settings. Password: 18ACCESSTECH117,” he muttered, a smug smile on his face. The passwords were changed on a monthly basis, but Deeks had seen Terrence, in a rare moment of laxity, throwing a small piece of paper in the bin just three days before, instead of incinerating it as the onerous rules required. Retrieving the scrap, Deeks had discovered the Haven hacker's touchstone; a departmental admin password.

  "So, Technician Deeks; what is your access rating?” he chanted to himself.

  "Level one, read-only? Surely such a lowly status is below the requirements of such a master of Technology? It's level eight for you, my boy, as befits your mighty status."

  His monologue went unheard by the unconscious Redmond, who had been further subdued by a massive and possibly lethal dosage of sedatives, and the drug-befuddled object of his deepest desires.

  Once he had accessed the Tech Admin area, he was able to open up Terrence's user account, giving him access to the Security subsystem in the case of emergency. There was additional password protection for this area but, unlike the master access code, this was an “operator discretion code"; it was not assigned by computer, but by the user himself, and it was not updated as a matter of routine.

  It might take a little while to get in here, Deeks thought, but our anally-retentive, pin-brained friend, Terrence, just lives for his little electronic domain. It shouldn't take too long for a master hacker to find out his access code.

  * * * *

  An urgent beep sounded in the Control Room, and a red light flashed on a panel. Xylox looked round from his station by the open doorway.

  "What is that, Armitage?” he barked.

  The nervous Administrator, not looking at the Questor, mumbled “Remote Tech Admin access."

  "What does that mean?” the mage demanded.

  "Someone's accessing the Technical Administration area on the main computer server from a remote terminal,” Armitage replied slowly, as if addressing a stupid question from an insistent child. It seemed as if the Haven chief was regaining a little of his arrogance.

  Xylox felt none the wiser after this cryptic response. He hated Technology in all its aspects, but he now began to think that complete denial of this ancient art might not be the best course of action in this den of electronic iniquity.

  He paused for a moment, rubbing his chin in uncharacteristic indecision. He did not want to set the evil Administrator loose on his foul devices, but he suspected that somebody might be setting another trap for his team.

  "Do you have anything to do with this?” the thaumaturge snapped, his brows hovering like grey birds of prey over his narrowed eyes. “I will know if you lie, and I can make you beg me to kill you, if I so wish."

  Armitage hauled himself from under his console, and staggered to his feet. “I swear this is none of my doing, Questor,” he stuttered, in an evident attempt to seem frank and honest, but succeeding only in appearing shifty and guilt-ridden.

  Nonetheless, Xylox's Sight indicated no deception. “Is this some attempt to take control of this area by Technological means?"

  "It could be, although I doubt it,” Armitage replied. “It's probably just some Tech accessing the technical database for an unauthorised research project, but I can't tell anything without accessing the system myself. However, I will say that the only person who might normally be expected to employ such access is Senior Technician Terrence."

  Armitage folded his arms across his chest as if delivering a defiant ultimatum, casting his eyes at the bloody form of the dead tech.

  The mage considered the Administrator's response with care; Armitage did not appear to be lying, and he could always monitor the Haven chief's aura for incipient deception. Although Xylox had strong scruples about using his Sight on fellow mages without their permission, he would not extend this courtesy to a despised scion of Technology.

  "Warrior Tordun; be so kind as to resume the watch. I will ensure that this wretch does not attempt to gull us, on his life."

  Xylox stepped towards Armitage. “Play us false, and I will make you wish that you had never been born,” he threatened. “Find out who is doing this thing, and be quick about it."

  * * * *

  "So, what do you boys normally do around here, when there are no rampant mages in residence?” Grimm asked of his uncommunicative escorts.

  "Maintenance, supplies, store inventory. All the crap jobs,” one of the men muttered, his voice dripping with mingled resentment and resignation.

  The label on the breast of his uniform read ‘Tattler', a singularly inappropriate appellation, in the young thaumaturge's opinion.

  "It sounds to me as if you should consider a career change,” the mage said, attempting to make conversation. His words fell on stony ground as the escorts held their tongues. Nonetheless, Grimm felt happy, almost ebullient, and he refused to let these two dull individuals spoil it.

  He was about to make a further attempt to elicit a little more openness from the guards when they rounded the corner into Black sector, only to be greeted by a metal wall of a form only too familiar to Grimm.

  "That's odd,” Tattler said, his expression a melange of confusion and concern. “We've got some screens down, but not through here. We came by this way when the alert was raised, and it was open then."

  "Open it,” the Questor said, all light-heartedness departing his voice.

  The guard hurried to comply, tapping a rectangle of numbered keys with his fingers. Grimm guessed that the red flashing light and the low beep from the panel did not indicate success.

  "Well, I'll be damned!” Tattler said. “You try, Emmers."

  Emerson stepped up to the metal wall and went through similar motions, to the same effect.

  "We're locked out,” Emerson said to his comrade, his expression troubled.

  The mage felt anxiety rising within him like bile, and he took refuge in righteous anger.

  "Are you saying you have no inkling of the reason for this blockage?” he demanded.

  Grimm's eyes narrowed and his hands flexed as if prepared to emit death at his least word of command.

  Emerson's face reddened. “I swear we have nothing to do with this, mage,” he stammered, in evident fear of some brutal magical reprisal.

  Grimm looked at Tattler, to find the guard's face as blank as his colleague's.

  "I suggest that you contact your superior,” he said. “I am in no mood to be balked by petty games. You would be well advised to have this barrier lifted."

  His tone was low and threatening, and the security guard quickly grabbed the elaborate armband on his wrist.

  "Private Tattler here, Lieutenant,” he said. “We've got a shield down at the junction of Black and Green Seven. The boy mage wants to know if it's on purpose."

  Tattler's eyes turned towards the ceiling, as if consulting some holy oracle.

  "He says not; it's meant to be open,” he said, his eyes wide and innocent.

  "Very well,” Grimm said, preparing himself for another series of Disintegration spells. “Redeemer, come to me!"

  In a heartbeat, the black rod appeared in his right hand, and the guards gaped in slack-jawed wonder at this display of magical prowess. However, Grimm felt in no mood for showmanship. He unleashed the spell and smashed the white ceramic layer beneath the metal sheath, repeating the sequence until
a wide hole had been opened in the obstructing wall. However, a similar wall appeared ten feet away, and Grimm realised with dismay that he would be unable to smash down many more of the barriers.

  Turning to the now-quivering guards, Grimm's voice was a stentorian bark. “How many more of these walls lie between here and the laboratory where you are holding Drexelica?"

  "No more than five, if they're all down,” Emerson replied. “You made this one look so easy, I'm sure you can get through the others. We won't try to stop you, will we, Tatters?"

  "I wouldn't dare, Emmers,” his comrade-in-arms said, a nervous tremor colouring his voice.

  Grimm almost stamped his foot in frustration. He knew he had insufficient strength even to get through another pair of the barriers, let alone a handful. He was, however, unwilling to admit this to his two escorts.

  "What about retracing our route, so we enter the Black sector from the opposite direction?” he demanded.

  Tattler rubbed his chin and rolled his eyes in an evident attempt to stimulate his thought processes. “If all the barriers are down, there are seven going the other way,” he said. “You're a little better off taking it from this side, Sir."

  The young thaumaturge could have screamed, although he restrained himself; there seemed to be no solution to this obstacle. He suspected that foul machinations were afoot, and he intended to thwart whoever was opposing him. If he found Drexelica harmed in any way, somebody would be made to regret it for the brief, pain-filled remainder of his miserable life.

  * * * *

  "Someone's taken control of security,” Armitage gasped from his console. “It's nothing to do with me, I swear it!"

  "Do something about it,” Xylox growled. “I am sure you have sufficient authority to overpower this interloper."

  "I've been shut out!” Armitage screamed, his face a picture of affronted fury. “It's a blitz attack. All I have on my profile is the most basic access; Level One. I can't get in. It's a bloody hacker!"

  None of this made any sense to the Questor. “It must be your slave guards,” he said. “Tell them you will die in a moment if they do not cease this attack."

  "You idiot!” the Administrator yelled, his eyes staring. “Chief LeClerc already has that level of access; he doesn't need to steal it. And why would my loyal guards take the additional step of barring me from the system? It's some damned malcontent who's seizing the opportunity your attack gave him!"

  Tordun took an ominous step towards the newly invigorated Armitage. “Mind your manners with your betters, scum,” he breathed. “You're not out of this yet, by a long chalk."

  The enormous albino swordsman raised his gleaming sword to underscore his words, but the leader of Haven seemed no longer cowed by threats.

  "This little bastard isn't going to get the better of me, whoever he is” he vowed, attacking the symbol-laden console in front of him with a veritable fury.

  Xylox felt moved to prevent him from doing so, but, since it was apparent that the Administrator was on a crusade only against his unseen foe, he let him continue with his arcane duel.

  * * * *

  Deeks wiped sweat from his brow. It had been far harder than he had thought to gain access to the security subsystem; Terrence's password had been simple enough: 'OSCILLOSCOPE', but this had only given him control over the armoured partitions and the technicians’ duty roster. He wanted to get control of the mind control implants for the guards, in order to give him ultimate control of Haven; however, this protocol was protected by a further barrier, and his password guesses had, so far, proved ineffectual.

  Despite his lack of success in penetrating the security firewall, he found great pleasure in the fact that he had managed to deprive Armitage of his sysop status; he hoped with all his heart that the Administrator was still alive, so that he could take part in his eventual downfall and execution.

  The Tech considered his situation. He had lowered all the security shields in Black Seven, and changed all the access codes; to all intents and purposes, his bastion was impregnable. Deeks turned his mind to more earthly pleasures. Redmond was still out cold, and the girl did little more than to moan from time to time, lost in some narcotic nirvana.

  "Well, my dear,” he said, turning his attention to the delectable, supine, female form of Drexelica. “I think it's time we got to know each other a little better.” The only response was a low groan, but this did not deter the lusty tech.

  He walked towards the prone figure of the girl. “I think we're going to get along just fine,” he crooned. “You and I will make some sweet music together."

  Deeks began to lift her full skirt, and Drex did nothing. The chubby Technician frowned, since he had hoped for a compliant, willing lover, bent to his will by the potions that had been poured into her, but he was in no position to complain.

  "This is going to be the best loving you'll ever have, girl,” he breathed. “Get ready for sat-is-fac-tion!"

  Drex managed a semi-comatose smile, and the Tech smiled, dropping his trousers around his ankles. Even to himself, he could not pretend that he was any vision of teenage lust, but who was she to complain? This lass was drifting in the land of Nod, and she appeared in no shape to resist his advances.

  He bent over her with some awkwardness, hampered by his drooping pants, and he began to lower himself for some serious action. A wider, dreamy smile from his intoxicated would-be concubine fuelled the fires within him, and he prepared to give her the ride of her life, but the conflagration of his lust was extinguished by a hot, fulminating, nauseating storm that shot through his loins and lower body like chrome bolts fired from a machine-gun.

  The bitch kneed me! he thought, as he tumbled to the ground in agony, bright lights sparkling in his eyes as a metal hand seemed to grab hold of his entrails and twist.

  As he cradled his wounded gonads, she stood over him, her eyes no longer dull and unresponsive. She carried a wicked-looking silver comb, with teeth at least four inches long.

  "I've met worse than you before, you filthy pervert,” she said. “Where I come from, you have to learn to fight just to survive. I've never killed anyone before, but I'd be more than happy to start with you. I can take your eyes out with this comb, and I'll do just that if you try to lay another dirty hand on me."

  She waved the lethal-looking implement mere inches from his face for emphasis, and Deeks staggered to his feet, backing away with his hands outstretched in placation. The pain in his nether regions had subsided to a low, dull ache, but it had not left him.

  "Take it easy, girl,” he gasped, backing away from Drexelica.

  She did not follow him, but she maintained a firm grip on the impromptu weapon. In her other hand, she now held a scalpel, which she had grabbed from a tray of implements. She didn't seem at ease with the sharp blade, but the unarmed Deeks didn't want to put it to the test.

  In answer to the unspoken question that flickered in the tech's panicked eyes, she said, with more than a trace of pride, “I'm a witch. Normally, I'd need to touch the earth or a tree to cast a spell, but this mountain radiates lots and lots of power; enough to cast a simple spell. My Gramma taught me how to get rid of poisons when I was little, and I pretended those pills affected me worse than they did until my head was clear, and I could cast the spell on myself."

  "More bloody magic,” Deeks muttered, shaking his head. Aloud, he said “All right, then; you've got me covered, but you can't get out of here, anyway. The whole corridor's blocked with composite armour plate. So what do we do, just stand here watching each other?"

  "You keep your peeping eyes to yourself,” Drex snapped. “You can watch the wall for all I care, but don't look at me. Grimm will come for me and make you wish you were dead, like I do, so you'd better let me go."

  Deeks smiled indulgently. He doubted that even one of these Questors would be able to get through the formidable barriers he had put around the corridor. A plan began to foment inside his head.

  "You like this mage a lot, d
on't you?” he said.

  "No,” Drexelica said with a sniff and a toss of her head, although the Tech knew she was lying. “But you'd better let me out right now, or there'll be trouble."

  Deeks put on an expression of resignation. “Very well, girl, you win. I'll just go and enter the codes. It may take a little time, so be patient."

  He stepped to the console and began to tap. He smiled to himself, knowing this simple pauper girl could have no idea whatsoever what he was doing—which was anything but lifting the security barriers. He knew that, of a total of three hundred and fifty people at Haven, seventy-eight had been subjected to Phase Three Pacification, with implants that could be used to control their actions and motivations; this included fifty security guards with lethal weapons. Once he had control of them, he had control of Haven, and he would achieve all his aims.

  Armitage would be arrested, awaiting an entertaining trial with Deeks as judge and jury. As for the mages, he sincerely doubted that even they would be able to fight off an army of seventy-eight armed, single-minded, dedicated human automata. If the girl really cared about this young Questor, she might be persuaded to co-operate with the tech's desires just to save Grimm's life. That would be far more entertaining than ravishing a limp, unresponsive mass of flesh. He fought to keep the unpleasant smile from his face as he battled with the security protocols. Just a few more minutes, and he should be in. Then he'd have his fun, one way or another.

  Chapter 13

  Closing In

  "What's he playing at?” Armitage muttered to himself. Absorbed by his electronic battle against this unseen insurgent, he seemed to have all but forgotten his former terror, frowning at the glowing screen before him.