by G J Ogden
Then an idea popped into Hallam’s mind out of nowhere, and he sat up, accidentally knocking his beer can off the rock and onto the fine sand below. “Wait, there is a way to stop the tankers, without blowing them to pieces.”
There was a pause of a couple of seconds before Dr. Rand answered, “I’m listening.”
“The Randenite barrels are obviously designed to shield the radioactive fuel inside,” said Hallam, growing with excitement and confidence as he spoke. “But to prevent the barrels from being opened by accident, they’re sealed using an encrypted security code that changes with every shipment. If you can hack that system and release the seals on the barrels, the tankers will have no choice but to dump the shipments. Otherwise, the whole lot will blow.”
“Yes, I know,” said Dr. Rand, her voice containing none of the zeal Hallam’s had shown. “Those codes are impossible to break in the time we have available, before CSF fighter reinforcements arrive,” she continued, not sounding impressed by Hallam’s idea. “And the original codes are buried deep in the Consortium’s secure network. In the same way I can’t break into their broadcast network, I haven’t been able to hack into the system to obtain those codes either. Believe me, I’ve tried.”
Hallam smiled; finally, he knew something that the genius scientist didn’t. “It wouldn’t matter if you did; the codes are actually red-herrings,” said Hallam, and the silence on the other end of the line told him he’d gotten Dr. Rand’s attention. “Each depot is actually sent a physical authenticator, which is changed every week. Only these devices can generate the codes to unlock the barrels. They get delivered by wings of CSF fighters at the end of each tanker rotation. The tanker crews themselves actually have no way to unlock the barrels.”
There was another pause before Dr. Rand answered, “That, I did not know.”
Hallam smiled again. “Maybe you’re not the only genius around here?” he teased. “Actually, I’m not supposed to know either, but then most tanker crew haven’t spent years at the advanced CSF fighter training academy like yours truly. Besides, the cyber-security guys at HQ can’t help bragging, and it only takes a couple of beers to loosen their tongues. The authenticators are all programmed right here, at the campus.”
“If you want to prove you’re a genius then get me one of those authenticators,” said Dr. Rand, not rising to the bait. “Can you do that?”
Hallam rested back against the rock and grabbed another beer from the pack before hitting the self-chill button. “Like I said, I do know some of the boffins in cyber-security. And I have just been reinstated to active service, so I can move around the HQ freely, within reason.” Hallam shrugged again, despite Dr. Rand not being able to see him. “I might be able to snatch a unit, but in all honesty, that’s the easy part. Getting out of this compound and off this rock without being riddled with a hundred bullet holes is the real challenge. No one has ever successfully made it off Vesta with stolen Consortium tech.”
“Don’t be so sure about that,” said Dr. Rand mysteriously. Then she paused again and added, “I can ensure your safe passage off Vesta. So the only question that remains, Mr. Knight, is will you help me?” The beer can chirruped and Hallam opened it, again with a satisfying hiss. “Decision time, Mr. Knight. Are you in or out?”
Hallam pressed his knuckles to his chin and gently rubbed them against the stubble that had grown on it since the morning. He was still angry at Dr. Rand about Dakota’s death, but he also had an opportunity to stop any more tanker pilots from being killed. In addition to that – which in itself was enough – he’d be helping to ensure that the bridges didn’t collapse, potentially saving millions of lives. Weighed against the alternative, which was flying to more desperate worlds in another tanker that Dr. Rand’s renegades would try to shoot down, it didn’t seem like much of a choice.
“Okay, Doc, if you can guarantee me a ride off this paradise, then I’m in,” said Hallam. Curiously, for the first time in a long time, making the decision hadn’t caused Hallam to feel anxious or afraid. He felt good, like he’d done the right thing. Hallam realized he hadn’t felt that way since he’d punched the lights out of his asshole former commander at the CSF training academy. “So when do we do this?” he continued, lifting the chilled beer can to his lips. “I’m supposed to ship out again tomorrow morning, but I can easily pull a sicky and delay by a day or two.”
“You have four hours to get the authenticator and reach the rendezvous,” replied Dr. Rand levelly, causing Hallam to spray his mouthful of beer all over his new Consortium-issue pants.
16
Hallam waved his security ID at the gate and waited as the machine scanned his face to confirm his identity. It was a good job the automated security gates didn’t also scan for heart rate and blood pressure, Hallam thought, because if they did, then he’d register as someone about to have a cardiac arrest.
The gate unlocked and Hallam stepped through the turnstile and into the extravagant main foyer of the HQ building at the Consortium campus. Everywhere he looked, he saw armed CSF security forces all wearing the same stoic expressions. No doubt they had always been there, patrolling the high-security HQ building, but Hallam had never paid them any attention before. Then again, he’d never entered the HQ building with the intention of stealing highly-confidential data before either.
What the hell am I doing? Hallam asked himself with a nervous laugh and shake of the head. The walk back from the shoreline to the HQ had been a sobering one, both in terms of counteracting the effects of the beers he had drunk and coming to terms with what he had just agreed to do. However, the craziest part of it was he still wanted to go through with it. He had even managed to formulate a plan for how to get hold of the authenticator and get outside without tripping a dozen different security sensors. It wasn’t clever; in fact, the sheer absurdity of the plan was its virtue.
“Hey, Hal,” said a young man as Hallam walked through the gate and on to level three, half of which was devoted to the Tanker Division. The man’s name was Vinnie, and he was the gunner on Tanker Three Seven. He had short-cropped brown hair, a neat goatee, and a forlorn expression that told Hallam he was about to offer his condolences for Dakota. “I heard about the Darkspace Renegade attack,” Vinnie continued, straight away proving Hallam right. “I’m really sorry about Dak. I know you two were tight,”
“Thanks, man,” replied Hallam, for some reason mimicking Vinnie’s slightly lazy way of talking. Hallam had called ahead to ask Vinnie to meet him on level three with a vital component to his hastily-conceived plan.
“I’m glad you got out okay, though,” Vinnie added, walking alongside Hallam as they turned a corner toward the cyber security wing. The pressure of what he was about to attempt was already getting to him, and Hallam could feel a bead of sweat forming on his brow. “Man, that must have been a wild ride; cooped up in that disaster pod for like three days?”
Hallam nodded. “It was pretty rough; I’m lucky they found me at all.” He was intentionally keeping his answers brief in the hope of preventing Vinnie from yakking at him until morning. Once he got started, the young gunner could talk for hours, without ever really saying anything at all.
“Hey, maybe we should organize some drinks, y'know?” Vinnie continued, not taking the hint. “Give Dak a proper send off?”
“Sure, sounds good,” said Hallam, trying to walk a little faster without it appearing obvious that he was doing so. “I’ll look into it later; right now, it’s still hard, you know?”
Vinnie gave him a sort of brotherly tap on the shoulder with the back of his fist before replying, “You got it, man, no problem.” Then he jumped in front of Hallam, blocking his path, with an enthused expression. “Hey, why don’t I handle it? Seeing as it’s hard for you and all?”
“Would you?” said Hallam, seizing his opening to get Vinnie off his back, and also to stop him talking about Dakota, which was a genuinely raw subject for him still. Hallam then placed a hand on Vinnie’s shoulder and hammed it
up a bit, “That would really help me out, man. I’ve been finding it tough, y'know?”
“Hey, say no more,” said Vinnie earnestly. “Just leave it to me, Hal. I’ll get right on it.” Then he suddenly noticed where they were and looked around with a confused frown. “What the hell are we doing over in hacksville?” he said, and Hallam assumed he was referring to the cyber security wing.
“I wanted to see if Mack would help me out with my new tanker routes in advance of the briefing tomorrow,” said Hallam, which was the lie he’d quickly invented for precisely this situation. “If they’ve got me heading back out near Minerva again, then I need to know now, so I can ask the supervisor to give me a different run.”
Vinnie shook his head, “Damn, man, I hadn’t even thought about it like that,” he said with a sort of doleful enthusiasm. “You could have, like, PTFE or whatever it’s called.”
Hallam nodded, thankful for Vinnie’s good-hearted gullibility. “Yeah, I think I’ve got it bad.” He then swiftly moved on to the reason he’d asked Vinnie to meet him. “Hey, do you have the thing I asked for?”
Vinnie clicked his fingers, “Shoot, yeah, I almost forgot,” he said while rummaging around in his jacket pocket. “I didn’t think you were into this sort of stuff,” he added, pulling out a compact data device.
“It’s not for me,” replied Hallam, feeling his cheeks flush red at the suggestion the adult program contained on the drive was for him. “It’s a little present for Mack; I owe him a favor, and it might also help convince him to give me the routes. I’ve never used one of these myself.”
“You’re missing out, man,” said Vinnie, as if he were talking about the daily special dessert in the HQ canteen. “But he’s going to love you for this,” he went on, handing Hallam the device. “It’s the hottest, reality-definition interactive playmate. The latest and greatest version; my brother works at the developer, so I got it early.” Then he seemed to get lost in his own thoughts and thrust his hands out in front of him, as if he was honking an old-fashioned car horn. “Man, it’s so real, it’s like you can actually reach out and squeeze…”
“I think I get the picture,” Hallam rapidly cut Vinnie off before he went into details he really didn’t want to know or be forced to picture in his mind. He placed the drive in his pocket before surreptitiously wiping his hand on the back of his pants. “What do you I owe you for this?”
Vinnie waved him off, “Nah, man, it’s all good,” he said, slapping Hallam on the shoulder. “You could use a pick-me-up.”
“It’s not for me...” Hallam asserted again, but Vinnie had already rambled on.
“Anyway, I’ll buzz you with the deets about the drinks, man,” Vinnie added, oblivious to Hallam’s blushes. “Take it easy, and I’ll catch y'later.”
“Later,” replied Hallam as Vinnie jogged off back along the corridor. Hallam waited until Vinnie was out of sight, then took a deep breath before pushing through the door into the main office of the Transport Division’s cyber security wing.
“Hold up, sir,” said an armed security enforcer, thrusting out a hand to block Hallam’s path. His sudden appearance and assertively-barked order caught Hallam by surprise; he hadn’t expected to be confronted so soon after stepping inside. “Drop any loose items in the tray, then step through the scanner, please.”
Hallam did as he was directed, adding his ID pass and the drive Vinnie had given him into the tray before passing through the gated body scanner. The enforcer pushed the tray through a separate scanner, looking distinctly bored, then met Hallam on the other side.
“You’re clear,” the enforcer said, handing Hallam back the drive and ID. He then seemed to notice Hallam’s distinctive uniform and collar insignia and added, “What’s a bridge runner doing down here, though?”
Hallam held up the drive and waggled it. “I have a present for Mack. I just thought I’d drop it off personally before I ship out.”
The enforcer suddenly eyed the device with significantly more interest than he had done previously. “For Mack, you say?” he said, now looking at the small piece of tech as if it was a juicy burger. He leaned in closer to Hallam and said, “If that’s what I think it is, can you ask Mack to make me a copy?”
Hallam smiled and nodded; Mack’s reputation as a connoisseur of the more adult arts obviously preceded him. “No problem,” Hallam answered, tapping the side of his nose with his finger and adding, “I’ll drop it with you on my way out.”
The enforcer smiled and thanked Hallam, waving him through into the office. Normally, he would have expected much more of a grilling, but apparently, Hallam’s explanation for visiting was completely legitimate and not at all suspicious.
Hallam made his way through the maze of cubicles toward the back of the enormous office space, which was adjacent to the engineering section. Thanks to Mack’s loose tongue, Hallam knew this was where the new authenticators were programmed each week. And he also knew that Mack led the team that was responsible for doing it. The engineering area could only be accessed by authorized personnel, but so long as Hallam could sweet-talk his way inside, he’d be able to pocket a device, then set off the fire alarms and slip back out.
It was a dumb plan, and Hallam knew it, but it was precisely because it was dumb that it would work. Even if he managed to get the tech out of the building, he wouldn’t be able to smuggle it off campus, without triggering a complex web of alarms set around the campus and at the security perimeter. A sprightly thief who knew the campus layout might be able to make it beyond the campus limits, or even a mile or two further, before being captured. However, there was no escaping the CSF enforcers for long. That was unless, like Hallam, the bandit had been promised a ride off world in the back of a Darkspace Renegade fighter craft.
“Hal, what the hell are you doing here?!” blared Mack enthusiastically as Hallam approached his workspace. Mack always wore a suit that made him look more like an investment banker than a cyber-security white hat. He had the looks and confidence to pull it off too.
“I ship out tomorrow, so just thought I’d pop in and say hi,” replied Hallam, shaking the hand that Mack offered him. He then remembered about the drive Vinnie had given him and felt like wiping his palm again, but resisted the urge. “It seems like weeks since you were back here. Any excitement in the outer bridge planets?”
“No, all pretty standard and boring,” lied Hallam. Mack clearly hadn’t heard about him getting shot down in the Darkspace, and he had no desire to dredge the memories back up again.
“Come on, I was at least hoping for some stories about how you gunned down a few Darkspace Renegades, or went on a wild night in Feronia with that cutie pilot of yours!”
Hallam felt his stomach twist into knots again at the mention of Dakota but fought hard not to show his discomfort. “No, seems like the other bridge runners get all the excitement, I’m afraid.”
“Maybe on the next run, eh?” said Mack as he perched on the edge of his desk. “Do you want to grab a quick drink? Non-alcoholic or coffee-based of course.”
“Is the vending machine through there?” said Hallam, pointing at the tinted glass wall separating the engineering section from the office.
Mack laughed. “The machine in there is pretty good, but it’s off limits to hot-shot tanker gunners, I’m afraid. I’d love to give you a tour, but it would take about a week to get you clearance.”
“Shame, I’ve always wondered what you tech geniuses get up to in there,” replied Hallam while slipping his hand into his pocket and removing the data device. “And to think, I was about to give you this too…”
Mack’s eyes narrowed as he looked at the drive held between Hallam’s fingers. “What’s that? More classic boxing matches? Because if it’s more boxing matches, then I’m not interested.”
“No, this form of entertainment is much more aligned with your particular holographic tastes,” said Hallam with a wry smile.
Mack’s eyes lit up “Oh really? Where did you get somethi
ng like that?”
“Vinnie’s brother works for the developer,” said Hallam, waggling the drive at Mack. “This version isn’t even available to buy yet.”
Mack pushed himself away from the desk and went to grab the device, but Hallam quickly closed his fist around it. “Just a quick peek inside,” he said, nodding toward the engineering section again. “I promise I won’t touch anything.”
Mack’s foot tapped furiously on the steel-gray ESD flooring as his eyes flicked from Hallam’s hand toward the nearby door to the engineering space. Then he finally caved and let out an irritated growl. “Okay, damn it, but just a couple of minutes, okay?” Mack wagged a finger at Hallam.
“I promise, I’m just curious, that’s all.” Hallam held up his hand and again teased the drive between finger and thumb.
Mack hurried over to the door, pressed his ID to the panel, and waited for the facial scan to complete. A couple of seconds later, the door clicked open. Mack anxiously peered around the office to make sure no one was watching, then in hushed tones, said, “Go on, then, be quick!”
Hallam scooted through the opening before turning and dropping the drive into Mack’s sweaty, waiting hand. “Enjoy…”
Mack vanished out of sight before the door had even latched shut again. Hallam breathed another deep sigh, hardly believing his hairbrained scheme had managed to get him this far. He then moved through the rows of silver benches and stark, white walls, trying to look like he belonged, though in his dark-blue tanker crew uniform, he was hardly inconspicuous. A few curious eyes turned his way, but Hallam continued moving with purposeful haste, and no one tried to stop him. A couple of minutes rapidly slipped by, and still Hallam hadn’t found the authenticators. He knew he was running out of time before Mack came looking for him or someone else inside finally plucked up the courage to confront him and tell him to leave.
