Starforge unsec space bo.., p.12
Starforge (UNSEC Space Book 3), page 12
And like that, she was business once more, back to the Samantha Apatos he remembered from their first face-to-face meeting. The brief moment of difference was over again, the flame in his chest panging slightly at its absence.
Figure it out later. First, Pisces. “Pretty good,” he answered. The door slid shut behind him, a faint shimmer over it marking a hard-light barrier that would keep any details of their conversation from leaking out. And with good reason. “Checked all ten, found six access ports.”
“Six?” Samantha grimaced, one hand coming up to rub at her forehead. “That’s more than I would have liked.”
“I concur,” a new voice agreed, a swirl of orange announcing the arrival of Didem. The AI’s avatar bore an expression of concern. “And how many of those were not logged in any official system record?”
Right to the heart of it. “Five,” he said, pulling out his phone and turning on its display to bring up the map he’d put together. Six different points glowed across a diagram of one section of the station. Five of them were marked in red. “Each of them could be disabled, but I’d recommend a full removal, just in case.”
Didem looked … unhappy. Not that he could blame her. Each port he’d found was a possible backdoor into her systems. Especially now that UNSEC had the Lockpick. Whether or not they could replicate it, Didem was taking no chances that a single well-placed agent could bring her entire system down, effectively putting the AI in a coma as long as the device remained connected.
The fact that so many of the access ports he’d found so far hadn’t been on any official diagrams made the situation all the worse. Didem hadn’t known about them in the slightest, and he’d only found them after the AI and Samantha had requested his help securing the station against internal attack.
And we don’t know if these hidden ports are the result of deliberate malice on part of UNSEC when they built the place, or just some sort of lazy oversight. And there was no way to know, but the questions they posed had to be hanging over the AI and leaving a lingering fear of what other surprises might lurk inside the station’s systems.
“Send it to me,” Didem said, her voice almost hot with anger. Not at him, he knew, but at whoever had omitted the ports from the original blueprints. Or removed them.
He tapped at his phone, flicking the file into a shared state where she could download it. “Done.”
“Thank you,” Didem said as Sweets’ phone noted that the file had been copied. “I’ll dispatch construction bots immediately to remove those ports from my network. Until then, however, I can add those locations to what we’ve already found and see if there’s a common pattern that could lead to more. There are likely to be more, after all.”
He nodded. “Definitely. Unless the parts of the station I checked today are unique in some way—and there’s not much reason to think that they were—then there are probably more ports like them across it.”
“On the other hand,” he continued. “A lot of them don’t seem like they were placed with malicious intent. Not that it helps you regardless if they’re used. But that could be one thing in our favor. If they weren’t part of an ulterior plan, then it’s less likely anyone else will know about them and make use of them.”
“Be that as it may,” Didem said with a shake of her head, armored dreadlocks shifting. “The more of these you can aid Apatos in tracking down and identifying, the better. I must account for every eventuality.” With that the AI vanished, her avatar breaking apart. As soon as Didem was “gone” Sn0wbird let out another sigh and sank back.
I should say something. “Rough day, huh?”
Apatos nodded. “Very rough.”
Say something else. “Want to tell me about it?”
She gave him another smile, though again it didn’t reach to her eyes. “Oh,” she said with another shake of her head. “You know. It’s just … everything. Half the system is still terrified about the All incursion yesterday, or reeling from the knowledge that Ibis is just gone. The provisional government is split over how to handle things. Half the citizens are panicking that the All are going to come here next, and then there’s the Oversee—”
Her jaw suddenly snapped shut. Too suddenly. “Still can’t tell me about it, huh?” he asked.
Apatos shook her head. “No. I’m sorry, I just …”
“Does it have anything to do with the massive amount of stuff Didem’s been shipping up from Pisces? Or the All ships Didem blew apart yesterday? Or those manufacturing sites on the moon you’ve been sending those mercs to check out?”
Apatos shook her head again. “All I can say is that the orbital defenses did their job, and are being resupplied.”
This time it was his turn to shake his head, and he opened his mouth, about to point out that of anyone in the Pisces system, he, Jake, and Anna were among those who probably knew the most … But then he snapped his jaw shut. I don’t know why there’s all this new secrecy, but … Maybe it’s not my problem.
“All right. Well, I’ve got to get to my meeting with Quiin. I can go over more of the station subsystems tomorrow.”
“Will I see you later?” There was a hopeful tone to her voice.
“I don’t know.” It was an honest answer. “Anna mentioned something about talking with me and Jake tonight about some stuff.”
“I see.” Her reaction was composed. Controlled. “The triumvirate.”
There’s that word again. He’d noticed her using it once before to refer to their little trio.
“Well, maybe then.” Even amid her controlled reaction, there was the faintest sense of disappointment. Or maybe that was in his head?
“Maybe.” He backed out of the room, the door sliding shut and the panel going red almost as soon as he was gone. Locked.
In a way it hurt. Worse, he could feel a faint flame of anger somewhere deep inside his chest. When did I become a pariah but not at the same time? He turned, heading for the elevators that would take him back to his cabin. When did any of us? We were the ones who encountered the All first. We were there when the first drone woke up.
And now it feels like Didem and Apatos are keeping secrets from us. Like we’re right back where we were before any of this started: in the dark.
When in the hell are they going to trust us? When will Sn0wbird—?
He closed his eyes as he waited for the elevator, letting out a breath. Easy. You’re just frustrated.
Still, it was hard to feel that it wasn’t valid. They’re keeping something from us. From the public, I could understand. But why us?
Maybe because I’ve got a bad habit of letting information slip at the worst possible time? some part of him suggested as the elevator doors parted and he stepped inside. Sure, every time it was the smartest thing to do at the time, and both times it worked out, but …
Dang it, that’s a really fair point. It might not be totally accurate, but … He waved his hand at the controls, the elevator doors sliding shut as it began moving to the floor he and the rest of the group had been assigned to. Why else would everyone start being cagey over the last week? It can’t just be because of what happened between Sn0wbird and I, can it?
There was something else itching at the back of his mind as well. Triad? The elevator doors opened once more, depositing him near the top of the station. No, triumvirate. Right after I mentioned meeting with Jake and Anna. That’s the second time she’s used it around me. What’s a triumvirate?
He slipped his phone out of his pocket and tapped at the display. Triad, triumph … Aha. Triumvirate. Huh. He stared down at the definition on his screen. A political regime composed of three people with power. See ancient Rome.
He frowned. What could that have to do with why everyone’s started acting odd? Is someone worried the three of us are going to try and make power moves politically? Not only was the idea ridiculous, but … I don’t think any of us even want power. How would we even do that? A tap opened the door to his cabin—or rather apartment—and he set his bag down on the table.
It’s not like we’re that powerful, he thought as he began to get changed for his meeting with Quiin. I mean, we’ve gotten some public attention, but not a ton. Anna’s the one with the most public focus of all of us, and that’s because she keeps taking on all the dangerous stuff and coming back. Like leading the team that saved those people on that colony ship yesterday.
But me? Or Jake? He shook his head as he peeled his shirt off. A few people know Jake, almost by rumor and reputation. Same with me. Who’s going to follow me in some sort of revolution? I wouldn’t even be a good choice as a figurehead.
But maybe … that’s what they’re all worried about? The idea felt ridiculous. But something’s definitely going on. And for some reason they’re trying to keep us disconnected from it.
Could it be the elections? There was plenty of talk on the Pisces datanet about the establishment of an official government, even amidst the chaos and uncertainty that had swept over known space. Some argued that with the only outcome of Earth’s civil war being a unified force, Pisces needed a unification of its own, something more concrete than the Joint Fleet. Others argued that the longer they waited, the greater the chance of Didem being simply an AI dictator grew, considering that she controlled orbits and all fuel and material deposits to the planet’s surface.
And if the Joint Fleet ever makes an announcement about the Overseer, those groups and everyone else is going to go nuts. No, he corrected. Worse than nuts. They’ll go ballistic. Most of the people on Pisces still aren’t having a great time with the idea that the place is a giant alien artifact of some kind. If they knew it was awake? And talking?
Granted, there were some suspicions of that already. No one had missed the sine-wave signal that the planet had broadcast for several weeks. Nor missed its abrupt cessation. The dataweb was alive with theories of all kinds, from panicked worries that the planet was going to kill them all with a new wave of drones to theories that the All were the original builders somehow, and that they were coming back to reclaim their world.
Right, Sweets thought as he collected his things and left his apartment. If they only knew.
Then again, the truth of the matter was, in its own way, a lot worse. And with how wild things are right now … when the truth finally gets out …
It was getting out, in small fits and spurts. There was no way to contain the enormity of the information the Overseer had given the Joint Fleet, especially as they needed to react to it. Little details about the All were already over the datanet.
What a mess. The doors to the elevator opened once more, letting him in. Glad it’s not my problem to deal with.
Well, most of it anyway. Some of it was Sn0wbird’s, and that was part of the reason she was so stressed out. And another barrier between them despite the new—and somewhat sudden—connection between them.
The elevator trip was a short jaunt, over and done in moments and almost unnoticeable. He stepped out into a much different hall, one that was a bit more occupied than the levels above it, several people looking his way.
Refugees, all of them. From other systems in the wake of the revolts, or more recently in response to the All attacks on human colony worlds. Even in a few cases people that had fled the surface of Pisces after the events of North Shore, trying desperately to get out-system before another drone attack occurred again.
Not that they’d made it. Nor would make it anytime soon. Now they were slowly being shuttled back down to the planet’s underwater cities as space opened up. A place most had fled because they no longer wanted to be there.
Didem really didn’t offer them a choice however, since as she saw it, any who couldn’t make a case for staying were simply freeloaders inside her own station. And with so much construction and expansion already draining the AI’s resources, there wasn’t a lot of room for those waiting for a shuttle to Earth that likely wouldn’t come for months, years, or maybe ever.
Ahead his destination came into sight: The station’s recently renovated and improved gymnasium. Through the open doors he could see racks of workout and training equipment, but also several newer, recently added sections sporting high-G training areas and in the very center a setup which was almost identical to the one he’d seen aboard the Casimir: two matted areas for sparring and hand-to-hand combat training.
They weren’t quite identical. There was no hard-light trainer for one, the emitters being a commodity in short supply with the current military build-up. And the padded floor was a different color made from slightly different material, probably organic-based and grown on Pisces. Or scavenged from some other part of the station. Maybe even some of the padding from those old lounge chairs.
The forward of the two mats was empty. But on the second …
“Hey!” Quiin ceased shadow boxing and gave Sweets an easy wave. “There you are! You’re early!”
“Never early enough,” Sweets replied, shaking his head and dropping his towel and water by the side of the mat. “You always beat me here. You must be taking it easy on all those marine trainees.” He grinned.
Quiin let out a quick laugh. “Taking it easy? Me? On marines?” He shook his head, the white, gene-modded stripe in his hair flashing back and forth. “Have you ever known me to take it easy on anyone I’ve been asked to train?”
“Well,” Sweets said, slowing and kicking off his shoes since Quiin was shoeless. “Let me think.” He put on an exaggerated look of deep thought as he began to stretch. “No. Never. Not once. You are a horrible, brutal taskmaster of a trainer.”
“Hey.” Quiin put a hand to his chest, an expression of mock hurt on his face. “I gave you rest days, didn’t I?”
“I seem to recall you kicking my butt all over the mat before every one,” Sweets noted.
“True … but then who totally took down an UNSEC loyalist after you convinced me to defect?”
”I don’t recall there being much convincing.”
Quiin shrugged. “Still, you wouldn’t have done that without all my training. Say what you will, but I get results.” He boxed against the air once more, grinning. “And you keep coming back. I must be doing something right. You could be training with that mercenary, Neres, and your buddy Tames.”
Sweets shook his head. “She’s got her hands full getting him used to his augments and his new skinsuit.”
“Admit it,” Quiin said, hands and feet a blur as he fought the air. “You missed me, and you were pleased with the results.”
Sweets rolled his eyes. “You’re right. I’m actually looking to sponsor you for a home fitness program.”
“Hey,” Quiin said, slowing and holding out a finger. “That’s actually not a bad idea.”
“Still looking for something to do that isn’t being … whatever it is you do for Didem now?”
“I am,” Quiin replied. “Of course, with a war on, my options are limited. And I’ve been promised a very lucrative paycheck assuming we all aren’t dead in the next few months.”
“Planning ahead then.”
“Yeah, well that’s why they hired me. Plus …” Quiin danced back across the mat, flipping into a handstand that was, Sweets suspected, entirely for show. “There aren’t really many other options right now. I mean, there were … and then the All turned out to be everybody’s problem. Not much work for a guard on a trading ship if there are no trading ships.”
“Yeah,” Sweets said with a nod before tilting his head to one side, stretching his neck. “That’s true.”
“Exactly.” Quiin flipped back up onto his feet, the motion inhumanely smooth. “Sorry, not the best of topics right now. So if you’re done stretching …” He brought his hands up, assuming a relaxed, easy fighting stance. “Let’s go over some old routines. Ready for some throws?”
Sweets twisted and gave his side a final stretch. “Who’s getting thrown?”
“Depends on how much you remember,” Quiin said with a grin. He clapped his hands together, the sound echoing across the mat. “So come on, Candy. Show me you haven’t forgotten everything in the last two weeks!”
A few minutes later, as Sweets picked himself up off the mat, Quiin nodded. “Not bad.”
“You threw me three times,” Sweets said, wiping sweat from his forehead.
“And you’ve thrown me four,” Quiin countered. “You’ve made some minor slips, but you’re still doing pretty well.”
“You let me throw you those four times.”
“Well yeah, that’s how training works.” Quiin replied. “The three times I threw you were because you were sloppy. You telegraphed. You’re learning, Sweets, but that doesn’t mean you get freebies. Now let’s do the last one again.”
Sweets nodded, and once more Quiin rushed at him, hands outstretched. Sweets slipped to one side, following the motions, hands and feet sliding right past Quiin’s defenses … and with a jerk Quiin was rolling over him, slamming into the mat with a heavy thud.
“Good!” Quiin bounced back up off the mat like he’d been launched. “Much better. So you do remember. Well then, let’s mix it up a little.” Once more his hands came up in a fighting pose. “Hand-to-hand quick disables. Just like on—Well, back on the ship.”
Quiin had, Sweets’ noticed, caught himself before he’d mentioned the Casimir. Probably a good idea given this is a public gym. Anyone could be listening, I guess? He glanced past Quiin, eyeing some of the other patrons. Most of them looked familiar. But I guess better safe—
A flat palm struck him in the shoulder, sending him stumbling back. The same palm, now an outstretched hand, caught him by the shirt before he could fall, hauling him back up. “Candy?” Quiin asked, giving him a concerned look. “You there?”
“Sorry.” He shook his head. “Got distracted.”
“All right. You need a minute?”
“No.” He gave his head another shake. “I’m fine. Just need to focus.” He brought his hands up. “Okay, ready.” Quiin nodded, lifted his hands, and moved forward, and once again, Sweets found himself dancing back across the mat, dodging, darting around, and countering Quiin’s attacks.
