by G J Ogden
Hallam turned down another aisle, bookended by long rows of silver benches, and suddenly, he saw them. The authenticators were lined up in a row of individual programming modules on the far wall, like lines of old public telephones. Hallam hurried toward them, forcing himself to take regular breaths, his eyes dancing around the room to make sure no one was suspecting him. He reached the row of modules and took another deep breath before reaching up and plucking the nearest authenticator off the wall.
“This is totally unacceptable!”
Hallam spun around to see a tall, thin man with circular spectacles peering down at him. He’d been caught red-handed, literally; the authenticator units were all a dark crimson color.
“Sorry, I was just…” Hallam began, not having a clue where he intended that sentence to lead.
“You were supposed to collect this for testing on the validation tanker an hour ago,” the spectacled man went on. “They’re due to be shipped out by midnight!”
“Sorry, I was just,” blabbed Hallam, forced to improvise on the spot, but he again had no idea where to take the sentence he’d started. “What I mean is, I’ll get it back to you as soon as I can.”
“Be sure that you do,” the man snapped back. “I’ll be contacting your supervisor!” he added, wagging a finger at Hallam before storming off.
Hallam forced down a dry swallow and slipped the authenticator into his jacket pocket before almost running back along the aisle. He reached the door, heart thumping in his chest, and slapped the security release button. The door buzzed and he pulled it open, stepping through into the office space again.
A sudden wave of elation overcame him and he smiled, peering around the room, looking for an emergency fire alarm call point. He saw one and sidled up to it, casting a glance back toward Mack’s desk, but he was hunched over his terminal with the data device already inserted into it. Hallam laughed under his breath, and raised his fist, ready to smash the glass. Then all hell broke loose.
17
Alarms rang out inside the cyber-security office, and heavy metal shutters rolled down over the windows. It was as if the room was a fortress preparing to defend against an enemy assault. Before Hallam could gather his wits, a strident, synthetic-sounding female voice announced, “Data security breach detected. Lock-down in progress.”
Hallam was gripped by a primal terror and frantically hammered at the fire alarm panel. The glass shattered, but the alarm system didn’t activate, and the fire doors didn’t unlock. His plan to get outside the HQ building was blown.
“Hal, what the hell did you give me!?” Mack yelled over the warning announcement, which had continued on repeat. Hallam spun around to see Mack standing in front of his console, tie loosened and jacket removed. There were visible sweat patches under his arms. “This drive was riddled with some sort of high-end malware.”
Hallam ran over to Mack’s desk and peered down at his screen, which was black, save for the message “Terminal Locked. Attempted Data Breach Prevented.” He looked up at Mack, who had his hands pressed to the top of his head, upsetting his normally perfectly-coiffured hair. “Didn’t you scan the drive first?” Hallam asked incredulously. “You’re a damn computer security expert!”
“Of course I did; it came up clean!” Mack hit back. “I even ran it in a virtual machine, but somehow it managed to spread to the main network. It would have gotten through too, but some sort of low-level corporate security firewall caught it. I didn’t even know that existed!”
Hallam laughed nervously. “This is the cyber-security department – how can you not know?!”
“For the Tanker Division, yeah!” Mack snapped. “We’re not exactly top of the food chain down here. The geniuses are all up on the ninth floor.”
Hallam looked around the room; the terminals of all the other workers had also been locked, and everyone was chatting in hushed, worried tones. The enforcer at the main door was now blocking the exit, weapon held ready, finger on the trigger guard.
“So what happens now?” Hallam asked Mack, fighting hard to retain his self-control.
“The CIB investigators will be on the way down here, along with a dozen more armed heavies,” said Mack, who was now sweating profusely. “They think there’s a damn spy in here, trying to steal their data. Hell, it wouldn’t surprise me if that low-level firewall is some sort of honey trap, designed to catch people out. That’s just the sort of thing those assholes on the ninth would do!”
Hallam grabbed Mack’s shoulders and pressed tightly; he was starting to lose control, and that wouldn’t help either of them. “Mack, just calm down and tell me what happens next. How do I get out?”
Mack shook his head, flinging sweat onto his desk and Hallam’s hands. “No one gets out until they have their man. I’m screwed!”
Hallam cursed under his breath and surveyed the room again, looking for any way out, but it was locked down like a vault. The only way in or out seemed to be through the door he’d used to access the office in the first place. “How long until the CIB and Enforcers squads get here?” Hallam asked, knowing that, whatever he did, he had to move quickly.
“I don’t know,” said Mack, throwing his arms out wide. “My guess is that they’re already coming down the corridor. What am I going to do?”
Hallam yanked the data device out of Mack’s terminal and shoved it in his pocket. “I’m going to remove the evidence so they can’t tie it to you,” he said, keen to ensure his nefarious activity didn’t also burn Mack. “You can just say that someone used your terminal. I mean, who’d be dumb enough to use their own terminal to steal data, right?”
Mack nodded eagerly again, shaking more sweat onto everything within a half-meter radius, “Right, yes,” he stammered. “You’re probably right.” Then he looked up at Hallam, eyes narrowed. “But what are you going to do with the drive?”
“I’m going to make a run for it,” said Hallam.
Mack looked horrified. “That’s nuts, Hal! You can’t get out – they’ll kill you if you try to run. This is the Consortium’s planet – it’s their rules, their laws!”
Hallam nodded, knowing that Mack was right, but it didn’t change anything. If he was caught with an authenticator in his pocket, then his career as a renegade would be over before it even started. And he wasn’t going to spend the next twenty years in a Consortium cell block; he’d rather go out fighting. It was a sudden moment of clarity that was as liberating as it was shocking. To hell with the Consortium, Hallam told himself. I’ll be damned if I’ll let them burn me again.
“I’m sorry for getting you involved, Mack,” said Hallam, turning toward the door and steeling himself for what came next.
“Hal, please don’t do anything stupid,” said Mack, apparently sensing that Hallam was ready to go through with his desperate plan.
Hallam didn’t answer; he was already slowly creeping toward the door, watching the enforcer, waiting for any opportunity to rush at him. Then he got his opening; the enforcer stepped back and peered outside along the corridor. Hallam guessed that he was checking if the CIB were on the way, or maybe he’d already heard them approaching. Either way, now was his chance. Accelerating to a sprint, Hallam aimed himself at the narrow opening between the pillars of the gate scanner before leveling his shoulder at the enforcer’s torso. The armed man turned back just in time to see the blur of Hallam slam into him like a wrecking ball. Hallam just caught a flash of the stupefied look in his eyes before the man was barged out into the corridor, tumbling end-over-end like a rag doll.
Hallam too had toppled to the floor from the impact, but unlike the hapless enforcer, he’d been prepared for the fall. He managed to scramble quickly to his feet, grasping his throbbing shoulder, before agitated shouts then filtered along the corridor. Hallam looked up to see four more armed CSF Enforcers approaching, accompanied by two figures in the distinctive tailored suits of the Consortium Investigation Branch. It didn’t take long for Hallam to identify the two CIB investigators, Fletc
her and Chan.
Fletcher stopped suddenly, causing her partner and the enforcers to rapidly halt in her wake, thick-soled boots screeching on the polished floor. She looked Hallam dead in the eyes, squinting as if not quite believing what she’d witnessed, then yelled, “Stop him!”
Hallam turned and ran in the opposite direction, half expecting shots to follow, but he hoped that Fletcher at least would want a second chance to interrogate him. Air rushed past his face as Hallam dodged past the startled bodies of other workers on the corridor. Then he caught sight of another fire alarm panel on a central pillar and had an idea. In reality, it was the same dumb idea he’d had before, except this time, he was outside of the locked-down office, which meant it might just work. It has to work… Hallam told himself. He steered toward the pillar, but he couldn’t slow down in time and slammed into it, causing his already throbbing shoulder to burn even harder with agony. More frantic shouts filtered down the corridor and he saw the CIB party running toward him, enforcers yelling at people to “Get down!” and “Move aside!” Then he saw one of the heavies raise his weapon, and Hallam hammered the alarm panel before ducking behind the pillar as shots rang out. Fragments of concrete and dust erupted from the pillar, but Hallam was safe.
“No, I need him alive!” came the roar from Fletcher, completely out of character with her previously composed and dignified hostility.
Hallam’s head was on a swivel, eyes on stalks, looking for some way out. With the fire alarm activated, the fire doors should have opened – he just had to find one. Suddenly, scores of people filtered out of their respective office units as the fire alarm siren wailed out around him. He chanced a look back and saw the CIB investigators get swamped by agitated office workers, all desperately trying to make their way to their assembly points. He could hear Fletcher’s angry shouts, mixed with the barking of orders by the enforcers, but the throng was still too thick for them to get through.
Hallam pushed on through the crowds, following a group that seemed to be making its way toward one of the many stairwells. He barged his way ahead to the angry curses of the unfortunate workers on the receiving end of his shoves, until he made it to the lower floor and ran out into the grounds surrounding the HQ. Hundreds of other workers were now assembling; it was exactly what Hallam needed, he thought. He could blend in with the crowds and make his way to the rendezvous, at the far side of the campus’ private meadow. He just had to signal Dr. Rand that he was ready.
Hallam reached into his pocket and pulled out the communications disc before again slapping it to his temple. He was about to activate it when another announcement blared out over the external PA system.
“This is a code red announcement. The campus is now on full security lockdown. All workers are to immediately lie flat on the ground and remain there until security enforcers have cleared you to return. Anyone found moving around the campus without authorization will be subject to extreme discipline.”
Hallam felt like he’d just been handed a “Get Out of Jail Free” card and had it ripped from his grasp and replaced with a “Go to Jail” card. The droves of workers obeyed the order without question or hesitation, all lying down on the neatly-trimmed, perfectly green grass. It was like watching a human-sized domino rally in progress. The Consortium HQ was not a tyrannical regime – for the most part, it was one of the best places in the galaxy to work. However, every employee knew that security issues were not handled lightly. Vespa was the Consortium’s own world, and according to its laws, corporate spies could be shot on sight.
Hallam also dropped to the floor, trying to buy himself some time, but now there were dozens of CSF enforcers flooding out of the HQ building and arriving en masse in quad-rotor drop-ships. Hallam lay on his back, pumping his fists together, trying to think of a way out of the mess he’d created for himself. Then he saw a palm tree on the roof of the HQ building, gently swaying in the breeze. It had been imported from Earth in order to turn the roof of the HQ into a tropical resort – a perk for the top management and “employees of the month.” However, that wasn’t why it had caught Hallam’s attention. If he could get to the now-deserted roof, then maybe the renegade ship could pick him up from there.
Hallam tapped the communicator disc on his temple and waited for Dr. Rand to pick up. Come on… he urged, growing impatient, despite only having waited a few seconds, and despite the fact that his collect-call could be travelling for millions of miles to reach the other end of the line. Then Dr. Rand answered.
“Are you in position?” she said, again getting straight to the point.
“Change of plan,” said Hallam, trying to keep his voice level and at a controlled volume, despite feeling the need to shout and scream. “I need you to pick me up from the roof of the HQ building.”
“That isn’t the plan, Mr. Knight,” came the deadpan response from Dr. Rand.
“Well, the plan’s changed, Doc!” Hallam hit back, louder than he’d intended, drawing nervous scowls from others nearby. “It has to be the roof. Can you get me or not?”
There was a pause before Dr. Rand answered, “Do you have the authenticator?”
“Yes, I have it,” said Hallam, shaking his head – the device was clearly more important than he was.
“Ten minutes,” replied Dr. Rand, again without any vocal inflections that hinted at her emotions. “Be ready…”
The communicator clicked off, and Hallam again peered around his current location. Clusters of enforcers were going from group to group, scanning ID badges as they went. He could now see Fletcher and Chan moving amongst them, peering pensively at each new worker the enforcers cleared, making sure there were no mistakes. Hallam then peered back toward the emergency exit he’d come through. The door was still open and unguarded. He shut his eyes, trying to remember the layout of the HQ. If he could make it to level nine, he could use the emergency stairs on the south side to reach the roof. Ten minutes was cutting it fine, and now more than ever, he regretted drinking the beers on the beach.
Hallam sucked in deep lungfuls of air and flipped onto his stomach, shifting his position to face the open doorway. With another quick glance back at Fletcher, who was still pre-occupied, he shot up and ran as hard as he could. He made it to the threshold before he was met with an enforcer coming the opposite way. There was a second of hesitation from both men before the heavy raised his pistol. Instinctively, Hallam grabbed the enforcer’s hand, wrestling the weapon away as the man yelled for help. The weapon fell and Hallam drove his knee to the enforcer’s gut, tossing him out into the campus grounds. Workers on the ground screamed and yelled as the felled man tumbled into their midst. Then Fletcher saw Hallam, and all hell broke loose again.
Hallam ran with the sound of dozens of heavy boots thudding after him. He reached the base of the stairwell and swung around on the railings, trying to carry as much momentum as possible before charging up the first fight. By the time he’d reached the third floor, his legs were already burning, and at the top of the fifth, he had to pause for breath. Angry shouts filtered up from below, and he could see a swarm of black helmets following him up, like a line of soldier ants. Coughing and sucking in more air, he ran up to the sixth floor, but then the door was flung open and two CSF Enforcers rushed in. This time, Hallam did not hesitate, tackling the first and driving him into his partner. Both fell, and Hallam drew the first enforcer’s nightstick from his belt before feeling a boot slam into his stomach. He stumbled back and almost tipped over the railings, then caught himself and rebounded toward the heavy, clubbing him soundly across the side of the face. The second enforcer then rose and tried to aim his pistol, but Hallam slashed his hand away and followed with a hard left. It was one of the sweetest punches he’d ever thrown, knocking the man out cold.
The swarm of enforcers had closed to within two levels now, and Hallam still had four more flights of stairs to cover. It was then he also realized he was on the wrong side of the building. Thinking fast, he pushed through the door the enforcers
had come through and slammed it shut, jamming the nightstick through the bar to lock it. Quickly taking stock of his location, he ran hard along the main central corridor toward the south side. His chest was burning and his legs were growing heavier by the second, then he heard the door he’d barred shut crash open behind him. Sliding to a stop, he peered around the space again, looking for the emergency stairwell before bundling through the door and climbing hard. Each new level felt like a marathon, but eventually, he reached the roof and practically fell through the door, collapsing to his knees, gasping for breath.
“On your feet!”
Hallam looked up to see two enforcers in front of him, aiming pistols at his head. He coughed harshly and let his head drop low.
“Just shoot me…” he gasped, not looking up at them. “Put me out of my misery.”
“On your feet!” the enforcer barked again, and this time, Hallam felt a hand grabbing his arm, yanking him upright. He pressed his back against the wall for support as the enforcer spoke into his earpiece. “I have the suspect in custody, roof level, awaiting instructions,” the man said without taking his eyes off Hallam.
“Remain at your location,” came the response, and Hallam recognized the flat, expressionless tones of Fletcher.
The enforcer acknowledged the command, but then the sky opened up, as if an almighty thunderstorm had just descended on them. Yet the atmosphere was completely clear. The two enforcers became agitated, peering upwards, and Hallam saw the reason why they had been rattled. Soaring toward the HQ building was a single fighter craft, moving at supersonic speeds. It was barely a dot a first, but within seconds, it had roared overhead. The enforcers shifted position and spoke hastily into their earpieces as shots seemed to ripple from all around.
Hallam spotted a row of scooter kayaks lined up nearby. A section of the roof level was a giant water park; one of Damien Doyle’s more extravagant extravagances. However, Hallam wasn’t interested in going for a paddle; he had a different activity in mind. Grabbing the nearest kayak, Hallam turned it parallel to the floor and ran at the two enforcers, flattening both before they’d even seen the multi-colored craft coming at them. Hallam threw the kayak down on top of the prone bodies and ran to the edge of the roof, frantically trying to spot the renegade ship. It roared back into view before pulling up alongside the roof and slowing to a hover in an aggressive maneuver that was at once utterly terrifying and unfeasibly impressive. The pressure wave from the ship’s sudden appearance, combined with the blast from its thrusters, threw Hallam clear of the edge by a good three meters. He landed in a pen of inflatable pink flamingoes and bounced around until finally landing on the floor again, feeling dazed and a little humiliated.
