by Rachel Aukes
Chief took a couple of steps to the side where an access panel protruded from the wall. “We don’t have to. This door is a fail-safe to protect the comm center in case of any attack. It’s wired into the emergency generators in addition to the primary power grid.” He eyed the marshal. “Be ready to shoot the instant this door opens.”
“Yes, sir.”
Chief pressed his hand on the handprint reader. No response, as expected. He ran his fingers along the bottom edge and pressed a tab. The screen with the handprint reader popped open, and he lifted it to access the keypad underneath. There he entered a five-digit code. The keypad popped open like the reader had before, and Chief lifted it to reveal the wall interior. It was dark, with cables running up and down. In the center of the opening was a lever. He reached into the crevice, grabbed the lever, and turned it clockwise one hundred and eighty degrees.
The door beeped and opened with a swoosh.
The intruder in the comm center spun around in his chair for the second time in under fifteen seconds. He grabbed for his rifle that was sitting on the desk next to him, but he was too late. The marshal fired a series of shots that hit the interloper in the center of his chest.
Chief closed the access panels and stepped inside the comm center. He closed the door behind them and strode through the room filled with a half-dozen workstations. He checked the two specialists to find neither breathing, and he walked over to the dead intruder. He grabbed the dead man’s hand and tugged back the fabric to reveal a green tattoo of the number eight on the inner part of his wrist.
Jaders.
Chief sat at a workstation. “Keep an eye on that door in case that guy’s buddies decide to show up.” He nodded to the intruder.
“Yes, sir,” the marshal said as he took a position at the edge of the door.
Chief entered his credentials on the screen and a basic menu displayed. He spoke as he went through screens. “This entire station was built with the possibility of an EMP attack in mind. All hardware is shielded with liquid backup chips. Unfortunately, the station alarms are connected to Atlas. I’ll have Atlas rebooted and this comm center back online in no time.”
“Their plan doesn’t make sense,” Hettinger said. “Why’d they kill the specialists in here? They’d already shut down the system. Killing people seems unnecessary.”
“Redundancy,” Chief answered. “The EMP shut down the systems, but all the specialists had to do was initiate a manual reboot to get things back online. By hitting the comm center both with an EMP and with a physical assault, they improved their odds of blinding us.”
“Blinding us to do what, though?” the marshal said.
“That is the question that I hope to have answered momentarily,” Chief said without looking away from his screen.
Hettinger blew out a breath. “Good thing you’re still alive, or else we’d never have gotten in here.”
Chief pursed his lips. “I suspect I was intended to be a casualty as well.” He should’ve been dead. He wondered if Cat just hadn’t moved fast enough or if she hadn’t been able to shoot an old friend. That she hadn’t yet reached for her gun when he shot her made Chief suspect the latter.
The screen blinked several times before the Atlas logo appeared. Several commands later, the screens on the wall came to life. On each screen was a different view from the station’s security cameras. Tiny beeps sounded each time the cameras changed views.
“We have eyes again,” Chief said. At least everyone with online chips. Chief’s Atlas chip, along with the chips of the marshals who happened to be within range of Cat’s micro-EMP, were fried and would need to be replaced. But at least the rest of the GP personnel on Free Station could access the Atlas video feeds.
What he saw made his stomach churn. Several GP personnel lay on the ground. Those still standing weren’t even standing. They were on their knees with their hands locked behind their heads.
Chief had already lost the docking bay.
He manically typed in the command to activate the station-wide alarms. Lights flashed and sirens sounded through the hallways.
“I’ve activated the station alarms. Everyone should have a chance at getting this station secure.”
From the mismatched outfits, tattoos, brands, and piercings, the intruders looked to all be Jader pirates like the one lying dead a few feet away from Chief. But there were so many intruders—there had to be at least a hundred of them.
He frowned. Cat’s ship was small and couldn’t hold more than ten at most. In fact, none of the Peacekeeper ships that had been docked at Free Station could hold a fraction of how many Jaders were currently swarming the station.
He clenched his eyes closed for a moment when he realized how they’d gotten into Free Station. He’d thought Cat was the Trojan horse. He was wrong. The Trojan horse had already been at Free Station before Cat arrived. The EMP had been merely a distraction to put blinders on Chief to give the Jaders time to enter the station.
They’d been hiding on the Wu Zetian all along. The pirates had attacked the Red ship, knowing that standard protocols would ensure it would be towed back to Free Station, where it would sit until retrieved by the Red Dynasty.
It was a large enough ship that they could’ve easily hidden in pressurized pockets without being detected. Pete Antonov and Cat Mercier both knew GP procedures. All they had to do was set up a ship with their people, knowing they’d be brought directly to Free Station, where they could stroll into the station through an unsecured transit tube.
The Jaders had invaded during the station’s night cycle, with most of the inhabitants asleep in their quarters. That minimized the loss of life, but it also made taking the station far too easy for experienced pirates.
Chief was left with only two solutions, and he wasn’t ready to surrender Free Station. He opened up the broadcast channel to all Atlas chips in the Ross system.
“Attention, Peacekeepers, this is Chief Roux,” he began. “Free Station has been invaded. I repeat, Free Station has been invaded. Initiate emergency response procedures for an active threat. We’ve been attacked by—”
The microphone turned off. Chief tried to turn it back on, to no avail. “It’s not working,” he said, frustrated, as he tapped the panel that no longer responded. EMERGENCY LOCKDOWN flashed across his screen.
Every door across Free Station closed and locked.
Fear built within Chief. All doors would be locked throughout the orbital station. The sleeping Peacekeepers hadn’t had enough time to dress and grab weapons before the lockdown imprisoned them within their quarters. The only Peacekeepers who weren’t locked in their quarters would be the skeleton crew who worked the late shift. A few dozen Peacekeepers at most, but the majority of those were software specialists rather than marshals.
The Jaders had implemented a perfect plan.
But why? Why did Jaders make a near-suicidal run to invade Free Station? What value did it provide them? As a structure, Jade-8 was much larger and better equipped for housing a large number of people. While he knew Jade-8 was still recovering from Anna East’s hostile takeover and the damage Throttle and her crew had left in their wake, it still made little sense for Jader pirates to stake a claim on another station.
He looked from screen to screen, searching for answers. The Jaders held the docking bay and were quickly spreading to the elevators and working upward. Nearly all the security patrols were already out of commission—either dead or prisoners. Only two patrols remained, holding off the Jaders at hallway corners on the top two levels.
He scanned the screens, and his scrutiny fell on a screen covering the docking bay. There, just inside from where Pete’s ship had been docked, empty crates lay scattered on the floors, broken open, and a computer array had been set up in the hallway. Several Jaders sat at the makeshift workstations. Cables ran from the array to network ports in the walls.
He pointed at the screen. “You see anything like that before, Dean?”
“No, s
ir. I’ve no idea what they’re doing.”
Chief’s eyes narrowed. “My guess is they’re hacking the network with a hardline program.”
In a rush, he tried to forward his broadcast to Peacekeeper stations in other systems, but no terminal would respond to his commands.
He stiffened. “We need to get out of here.”
“Yes, sir.” Hettinger went to open the door.
“Stop!” Chief held up a hand.
Jader forces rushed to the comm center and came to a stop on the other side of the sealed door. In the center of the group of armed attackers stood Anna East.
Chapter Seven
The Javelin had just powered down in the province of Canaan on the colony planet of Hiraeth when Chief’s stilted broadcast came through Throttle’s Atlas chip. She faced Sylvian, who bore a fearful look.
“I take it that you heard that, too,” Throttle said.
Sylvian gulped. “Free Station has fallen. What’s that mean? Are they even still alive up there?”
“Did you all hear that broadcast from Chief?” Eddy asked through a ship comm.
“Yes, we heard it,” Throttle replied.
“I heard it, too,” Finn said as he strode onto the bridge.
Sylvian spun out of her seat and to her feet. “What are you doing up? You should still be resting.”
“The meds have already kicked in. I’m fine,” he said, though Throttle noticed he kept his arm protectively close against his bruised ribs.
“The doctor said you’re supposed to give the rehabs a full thirty hours before any strenuous activity,” Sylvian countered.
His brows rose as he gingerly took a seat. “I think walking from my bunk to the bridge isn’t exactly considered strenuous activity.”
While the married couple argued, Throttle tried to place a call to Chief with no success. She frowned. “Chief is listed as offline.” She turned back to Sylvian and Finn. “Do you know anyone else on Free Station you can check with to see if they’re still online?”
The specialist’s jaw slackened slightly. “Oh. You want to see if there’s anyone left?”
“Just check, please.”
After several long seconds, Sylvian responded, “I tried to reach a couple of different specialists. They’re still online, but the calls aren’t going through.”
“Same here,” Finn said.
“Keep trying to reach someone. We’re in the dark down here.”
Throttle’s frown deepened as she pulled up a list of all the marshals and began calling. After many attempts, she gave up. “I can’t get any calls to go through.”
Sylvian nodded. “Whatever’s going on up there on Free Station has screwed the telecom network.” She held up a finger. “Let me try something.”
She sat there with a blank face, but Throttle knew that the specialist was running through screens in her Atlas chip. After several moments, Sylvian grimaced. “No luck.”
“What’d you try?” Finn asked.
“I thought of trying to call people through their ships on the Atlas network, but the entire call system is down.” She blew out a breath. “I’m glad Rusty’s not on the Atlas network, so at least his systems aren’t being hit.”
Throttle’s eyes narrowed. “The call system is down, but the rest of Atlas seems to be working. What would cause a single system failure?”
Sylvian shrugged. “Plenty of things. It could be a bug, a virus, a—”
“What’re the most likely causes that fit an attack on Free Station?”
The specialist’s face scrunched as she thought. “I’ve toured the Atlas boxes, and they’re integrated, so a physical attack would’ve knocked everything offline. My guess is someone hacked the system to turn off the telecoms to keep people from getting information out.”
Throttle rubbed her temple near where her Atlas chip was located. “So you’re saying that Atlas is likely compromised?”
Sylvian thought for a long moment. “Yeah, that’s what makes the most sense.”
“We shouldn’t use our chips,” Finn cautioned. “If we use them, who knows who’s eavesdropping.”
Chills caused Throttle to stiffen. “That’s assuming they can’t eavesdrop any time they want. It’s not like we can power down our chips.” She took a deep breath and spoke her next words into her wrist-comm while she eyed Finn and Sylvian. “Black Sheep, put your Atlas chips into sleep mode. Under no circumstances are you to access your chip, not until we know it’s safe to use. We only use wrist-comms from here on out. Eddy, confirm.”
“I heard you loud and clear, Cap. My chip’s asleep.”
Throttle looked up toward the ceiling. “Rusty, search all news outlets for anything about Free Station. What’s going on up there?”
“There is no official news yet; however, there is chatter online regarding Chief Roux’s disrupted broadcast, which was uploaded to the general net and has been listened to over two hundred times so far. There are also reports of the broken Atlas telecommunications system, and rumors about what has happened to Free Station.”
“What’s the rumor with the most traction?” Throttle asked.
“The rumor with the most hits and comments proposes that Free Station was attacked by pirates, though several Peacekeepers have chimed in to report that nearly all personnel on Free Station are still alive, which contradicts many pirate attacks.”
“If someone took the time to hack Atlas, that means that whatever’s going on up there is something bigger than a pirate attack.” Throttle pushed from her seat. “Rusty, send any major updates to our wrist-comms.”
“I will,” Rusty responded.
“Are you sure we should still go to Canaan?” Sylvian asked.
Throttle nodded. “It’s more important than ever that I talk to Mutt.”
“We should bring extra weapons,” Finn cautioned. “We don’t know what’s happening on Free Station, and until we do, we should assume the worst.”
Throttle’s lips thinned. “Are you up for a ride into New Canaan?”
“Of course,” he answered without a pause.
“Then you’d better take along some extra painkillers until the rehabs are finished healing your ribs. The roads could barely be considered roads the last time we were here.”
“I’m not taking painkillers. I can handle the roads. My reflexes turn to sludge with drugs,” he said.
Throttle shrugged. “It’s your pain.” Then she tapped her wrist-comm. “Eddy, prep the ATV.” She looked at Sylvian before continuing, “Finn and I are heading into New Canaan, but I want you and Sylvian to stay on the Javelin and see what you can both find out about what’s going on at Free Station.”
Throttle didn’t miss the flash of relief on Sylvian’s face before the specialist turned to her husband, and her features grew hard. “What if something happens out there? Finn’s still hurt. I should go in case you need backup.”
“I need you here,” Throttle said. “Finn and I are going to see Mutt and then heading straight back here. I need you and Rusty to pull together a picture of what we’re up against, so we can figure out our next steps. Bring Eddy up to the bridge if you need the extra pair of hands. We have hundreds of our people up there in trouble, and we may be the closest ones around to help.”
Ten minutes later, Throttle was driving an open-air all-terrain vehicle with large tires on a path that she could only assume was a road. With every bump, Finn seemed to hold his arms tighter against his chest. His features were a pained scowl. Throttle drove as slowly as she could, but even at a low speed, the road would be impassable by any vehicle made for paved surfaces.
The road smoothed out after they weaved around the hill, and the valley of New Canaan, the capital of the province, stood before them.
“Mutt’s been busy,” Finn said.
Throttle nodded. “He sure has.”
It’d been months since Throttle and her crew had visited the first place they’d called home since leaving the Trappist system. New Canaan was a cit
y founded by colonists she’d brought with her from the Trappist system along with several thousand Jaders who’d hitched a ride when the Black Sheep made an escape from Jade-8.
New Canaan had come a long way since Throttle had been there last. A few dozen administrative buildings, apartments, and community meeting places had multiplied into at least a hundred single-level apartments, stores, and other places. Even with the changes, it was easy to find Mutt’s place in the center of the colony, where all major walkways and paths led.
She drove down a surprisingly smooth cobblestone street toward the city hall, the largest and busiest building within New Canaan. It was easy to find a parking spot even though the lot had only a dozen spaces, since few colonists could afford powered transportation.
Some colonies were established by wealthy families with cargo ships full of supplies. Canaan had been established by people who’d left their homes with nothing and had arrived on the planet of Hiraeth with even less. Many had lost loved ones on the journey. All had lost bits of their dreams as they had to face obstacle after obstacle.
She shut off the vehicle and then leaned back to look at city hall, a mud-brown building that was no fancier than any other building in town, its size the only aspect making it stand out from the rest. She stepped onto the cobblestone and met Finn at the front of their ATV.
“Let’s hope Mutt’s in the office. I don’t want to have to hunt him down in New Canaan,” Throttle said.
Finn went to say something but then frowned.
Throttle turned to see someone wearing a hooded cape that covered his or her face. The person rushed toward them, holding something. Throttle yanked out her pistol, and she knew Finn would be doing the same.
The attacker fired before Throttle could get off a shot.
Chapter Eight
Chief crossed his arms over his chest while he watched Anna East watch him from the other side of the comm center door. The door was double-plated permaglass that could withstand blaster fire for a time as well as a grenade blast. Basically, anything capable of breaking through the door would also likely go straight through to the other side of the room and out the hull, causing a breach that would suck out everything—living and otherwise.
