I smiled at her. She blinked expectantly at me.
“How soon can you have it up and running?” I asked.
“A few hours. Maybe less. Some systems would have to be taken offline to achieve it. But I can start on the adjustments immediately.”
My smile wanted to dim. Immediately meant she’d leave. I didn’t want her to leave. I wanted to talk to her some more. Listen to her some more. Look at her some more.
Bloody hell.
“All right, then, Chief. Hop to it.”
“I am not a bunny.”
I burst of laughter shot out of me. “What’s wrong with bunnies?”
“They’re cute and fluffy.”
“And extremely promiscuous,” I agreed.
She’d already risen from her chair. Her hands met her hips on my last words. Those expressive eyes stared daggers at me.
“Promiscuous. Like the Playboy Bunny?” she demanded.
“I never said that. But now that you mention it.” I cocked my head to the side and looked her up and down. “Should you tire of being an engineering genius, you could always…”
“Do not finish that sentence.” She held her palm up to me, her eyes closed as if she was trying to escape the conversation by simply not seeing anything.
“I’m, still here, Chief,” I offered helpfully.
“The English!” she muttered under her breath.
I watched her struggle with her temper and thought I had never seen a more beautiful thing.
“I’m going back to engineering,” she announced. “You’re beginning to annoy me.”
“Glad to be of help, Chief.”
She took a step toward the door and then looked back at me.
“Thank you, Captain,” she murmured and then slipped out of the room.
I couldn’t be sure, but I thought perhaps the thanks was for lightening her mood; distracting her. And not the dinner.
At least, I told myself that.
I stared at the detritus of our meal and then glanced at the viewscreen off to the side. Camille had been right about one thing. We were reacting to the situation rather than directing it. At any time, the saboteur could hit an essential system. And then we would be dead in the water, no closer to catching up with the Sector Two Fleet.
I’d been avoiding it. There was a certain amount of failure attached to admitting your faults to another ship’s captain. But if we had any hope of catching this saboteur and ensuring our systems were in fact under our control, we’d have to rewrite a hell of a lot of code.
Camille was going to have a number of opportunities to showcase her talents over the next few days.
For now, I needed to showcase mine. I needed to persuade an Anderson Universal captain to halt his fleet and miss his jump quotas. I needed him to believe that we were more important than his pension. Than the quality of life he could expect once he reached New Earth.
It was a hell of a lot to ask, but I was damned if I wouldn’t find a way to convince Captain John Jameson of exactly that.
I pushed up from the table and crossed to the viewscreen, and then activated the comm. I pinged navigation first. Pavo had appeared on long-range scans. We were so close. I almost changed my mind. If we just kept going, we could reach them.
And the saboteur could do something at the last minute to ruin it all.
No. Camille was right. We needed to be proactive.
I opened a channel to the Sector Two Fleet.
Pavo, this is the ESAS Chariot. Respond, I wrote.
I waited for the signal to fly through space far faster than we were.
It took several long seconds, but finally, I received a reply.
chariot, this is pavo
go ahead
I let out a relieved sigh. And then a message appeared before my eyes.
am i to kiss you now?
is the moment come?
What the hell?
chariot, this is pavo
clarify
I screwed my eyes up and blocked the message from my mind. If it worked for Camille…
When I opened them again, the message had gone, and Pavo was standing by.
Convincing Jameson now seemed more important than ever.
Showtime.
Thirteen
Hello
Camille
I sat at my terminal in engineering staring at my screen, trying to create magic. My code was chunky and unattractive, but I thought it might work. Testing it seemed like a good idea. But as soon as I tested it, there was no going back. If it was too obvious, the saboteur would then be aware of what we were doing and would change his approach to combat it.
I tapped my fingers on my console and then got up to pace the room.
Third shift was on duty, so Rat’s domain was empty. MacBride had finished second shift, handing over the room to Lieutenant García. García wasn’t used to having me looking over his shoulder and seemed jumpy. It didn’t help that we had security standing outside the door. They’d saluted me as I’d entered the room, but thankfully none of them had followed me into engineering.
A soft orange glow emitted from the floor. Orange alert. The captain hadn’t taken us off it. Only those decks given over solely to ESA crew would be displaying the colour. Civilian habitats and hubs wouldn’t be any the wiser. I walked the circumference of the room trying to clear my head. The orange chasing me.
By the time I returned to my terminal, I’d made up my mind; I had to test the code, no matter what. I could only hope, as it was so late at night, that the saboteur was asleep. Of course, with the elegance of his code writing, it wouldn’t surprise me if he’d set up traps and some form of monitoring.
I had to take the risk, though. We’d received confirmation from Pavo that they’d wait for us. But for how long? No time like the present to take the main boost thrust offline and run a diagnostic.
“Lieutenant,” I called to García.
“Yes, Chief?”
“Spool down main boost thrust and run Alpha-01-REY-XI.”
His hand hesitated over his console, but he said, “Yes, Chief,” and tapped in the command.
I pressed the comm. “Bridge. This is engineering. Main boost thrust diagnostic is starting now.”
“Thank you, Chief,” came a familiar voice over the line. The captain had decided to stay up for this, then. He’d be watching my progress from his command chair at a guess. The pressure to pull off a miracle increased. Sweat started to bead my brow.
I licked my lips and entered the line of code that would activate my trojan programme.
The main boost thrust engine hummed softly in the background, its tone changing as it spooled down.
“Any spikes?” I asked García.
“None, Chief. Everything’s operating within acceptable parameters.”
I checked and rechecked the figures, but all I could see was main boost thrust spooling down and the Chariot’s self-diagnostic algorithm starting.
“So far so good,” I muttered to myself.
My trojan programme slipped in without triggering any obvious alarms. The diagnostic accepted my code into its core command, running the trawling software in the background. With any luck, the saboteur would only see the diagnostic code and not my attempts to find him.
“Where are you?” I murmured, watching line after line of code as it ran through the diagnostic programme and then filtered off into my subroutine. My programme identified nothing unusual.
Or, more to the point, artistic.
The code in the main boost thrust was just code. Perfunctory. Utilitarian. Serving a purpose and no more.
I sighed. He wasn’t here. Which, in a way, made sense. He’d already been in engineering. Had already played around with the main boost thrust. Maybe it was wrong to think he’d return. The saboteur had moved on to more interesting things. But what would interest a saboteur?
Engineering. The bridge. Officers’ mess. Civilian habitat. Life support. What was going to be next?
> I brought up a schematic of the ship’s systems and studied it. He wasn’t repeating himself. He was methodically going through every system, but there was no order to it. Why would life support be toyed with after a civilian habitat? Engineering before the bridge? And just because he’d been in the tactical console, did that mean he’d attempt to mess with navigation or helm next? Or leave them alone?
I had the feeling he wanted to touch on everything. But that was simply a gut reaction to what had transpired so far. I couldn’t be sure. Perhaps some systems were harder than others, and he was simply gaining access where he could. Taking advantage of what was available, not seeking anything in particular out.
So, if that was the case, how would he see when a system became… available to him?
“Bridge,” I said, tapping the comm.
“Go ahead, Chief,” the captain said.
“Would you mind assisting in an experiment, please?”
“Of course. We’re just sitting here twiddling our thumbs as it is.”
I wasn’t entirely sure whether the captain was joking.
“Great,” I offered, deciding to take his words at face value. I could just imagine the captain rolling his eyes at that, but as I hadn’t activated a visual comm, I was only guessing. “Can you have navigation run a simulation, please? Let’s choose an interesting one. Perhaps evasive manoeuvres due to an unexpected solar flare.”
“A solar flare,” the captain said, his voice sounding flat.
“Humour me, please, Captain.”
“I’m all for making you laugh, Chief,” he said. “Jennings, you heard the commander. Simulation Sierra-Foxtrot-01. Let’s keep the chief happy.”
A small smile curved my lips, despite what we were simulating. A solar flare had taken Vela out. The Anderson Universal ship had sacrificed itself to ensure we could leave Earth’s atmosphere. If it hadn’t have been for the evidence of sabotage that Rat had found on Daniels’ console, I would have put our systems malfunctions down to damage sustained during that solar flare.
It was all extremely coincidental. But then there was that scraping on the motherboard and consequent explosion.
I shook my head as I watched Lieutenant Jennings locate the correct simulation in the system and then start it. My trojan programme slipped in the backdoor.
“Happy hunting,” I muttered.
The ship, itself, didn’t move, but on Jennings’ console, a complex simulation played out. She entered the correct navigational commands, while helm manoeuvred the Chariot through the simulation. It was one we had practised many times before. And a reality we’d faced while leaving Earth.
I knew the silence I heard over the comm would be even more pronounced on the bridge. Despite the fact that third shift hadn’t been flying when Vela was lost.
A spike appeared on the screen before me. My trojan started deviating, chasing its origin down. I sat up straighter. Held my breath. Watched as my programme homed in on the intruder code.
It was spectacular. It danced with the simulation, trimming it here, changing it there, making it into something it had not been before. I could have sworn the code was helping Lieutenant Jennings, but also finding new ways to challenge her, stretch her, test her further.
I shook my head. It didn’t seem destructive. But then, maybe it was simply trying to test our limits, find our weaknesses. So the saboteur would be better able to exploit them.
But as I watched, Jennings’ responses grew more precise, faster, better. She learned from the Chariot’s computer, from this saboteur’s code, while the computer danced and twirled and led her on one swooping manoeuvre after another.
I was quite sure, Lieutenant Jennings had never navigated as well as she did right then. I wanted to know what the captain was thinking; to see his expression for myself. I activated the visual comm. His eyes darted down to the screen, and he arched a brow.
“Are you doing this, Chief?” he asked, but I could tell he already knew the answer.
“No, sir. Chariot’s computer is. Or rather, the saboteur’s code is.”
“He's teaching her.”
I nodded.
“Why would he do that?” he queried.
“Testing our limits?” I suggested.
The captain scowled.
“Have you found him yet?” he asked.
I glanced back down at my programme, having been distracted by the captain and the dance the Chariot’s computer was performing with navigation right now. Idiot!
My programme was still running. In the background, behind the simulation. So well hidden, I had to dig deep to make sure it was still there.
But I found it. And I also found the saboteur. Watching the dance and my code.
A torrent of French spilt forth from my mouth. The captain’s eyes widened on the viewscreen; no doubt understanding every word.
Damn it! He’d been there all along. I hadn’t fooled him. I shook my head and entered one word.
Hello.
And then got a reply.
Fourteen
Goodnight, Camille
Noah
I stared at the words on my viewscreen. Camille had mirrored her terminal to mine; I could see everything she was seeing. Could see everything she was doing.
I was a hairsbreadth away from tearing down to engineering and making sure she was all right.
when you go to rome, do as rome does
Clarify, she wrote back.
rome will be a ugly customer to you, if you don’t
“Is he threatening us?” Camille asked over the comm.
“I don’t know,” I said, shaking my head in reply.
Clarify, she wrote again.
i’m your rome, you know
“That’s all from the book?” Camille asked.
“Yes.” I’d already found the passage.
“What shall I write back? I’m not sure ‘clarify’ is going to get us far.”
I swiped pages on my datapad, trying to decide what would be best. But the character the lines were for in the book, didn’t say anything for several pages. I finally found his next words.
“Let me write something, Chief,” I said.
“Go for it,” she offered, taking a step back from her console on the viewscreen. She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at her terminal. I could almost feel sorry for the damn thing.
I typed in a line, wondering if confronting the saboteur like this would backfire on me.
You oppose yourself to the profit of the business and me and my partners suffer.
For what felt like a very long time nothing happened.
Then the saboteur responded.
i try to be a good wife
“Oh, this just gets more and more bizarre,” Camille muttered.
I stared at the screen and then stared down at the datapad. I huffed out a breath of laughter and started to write.
Is it being a good wife to oppose your husband’s business?
Silence. Or, in this case, a blinking cursor on the viewscreen.
“Well, that went splendidly,” Camille said dryly.
“Give it time,” I murmured. “He’s trying to decide if he wants to carry on quoting the book at me or deviate from it. And if the saboteur is male, I’m sure he doesn’t like being called my wife.”
Camille sniggered.
“Some would, you know,” I offered.
“Yes, Captain,” Camille said levelly.
“They would! I’m a catch.”
“Of course you are, sir.”
“I am,” I muttered.
Camille burst out laughing.
“Just because you love your machines more than me, Chief doesn’t mean I’m not a good catch.”
“I didn’t say you weren’t, sir.”
“You implied it. With your Frenchness.”
“My Frenchness?”
“Yes. That French way you have of laughing at me.”
“Sir, that’s not French. That’s female.”
&nbs
p; I started to chuckle. “Fine. Fine. I’m married to this blasted ship, anyway.”
Camille blinked at me on the viewscreen.
“Are you?” she asked.
“Am I what?”
“Married to the Chariot?”
“I’m thinking of getting a divorce,” I said, deadpan.
“Well, she is opposing your business.”
“Women!” I said dryly.
Camille grinned widely at me.
God damn it, why couldn’t she like me more than her machines? I’d be prepared to share her. I wouldn’t get jealous if the main boost thrust demanded a little more attention from time to time. As long as she came back to my quarters after she soothed its spooling or whatever the hell it is she does to the thing.
“Captain?”
“Yes, Chief?”
“I don’t think he’s going to reply.”
“Well, that is a shame. I’d already selected my next quote from the book.”
“Does it involve divorce?”
“Do you want me to divorce the Chariot, Chief? Do you have a better offer for me if I do?”
She looked down, her lashes spreading across her creamy cheeks. Sometimes I took the jokes a little too far.
“All right, Chief. What’s the next step?” I asked, trying to move us along.
She looked up at me and blinked, something wistful flittering across her eyes.
I sat up straighter.
“I’m not sure, sir,” she said, and I deflated. We were back to sir. If there had been something there, I’d missed it. “He’s aware of my programme now, but so far, he hasn’t tampered with it.”
“But it can no longer catch him unawares,” I guessed.
“I’m afraid not, sir. He hasn’t removed it. In fact, he’s danced with it.”
I frowned. “Danced with it?”
“Written code to complement it, sir. His code and my code have interacted.”
Apparent Brightness (The Sector Fleet, Book 2) Page 7
