Trident's Forge, page 20
she said.
* * *
Theresa spent another three hours at her post before the crowds finally thinned out enough for her to stand down and hand off her watch to another constable. What she saw once she opened her front door did nothing to improve her mood. Reclining in perfect comfort on her couch, wrapped up in her Afghan, sipping her sweet tea, Chao Feng smiled radiantly.
“What the hell are you doing in my house, Feng?”
“I let myself in. I hope you don’t mind.”
“I do mind, actually. I’ve been on my feet all day, I’ve gotten very little sleep, and all I want to do is get out of this sweaty uniform, take a hot shower, and then lie on that couch and watch something mindless until I fall asleep. And how did you ‘let yourself in,’ anyway?”
Feng stretched like a cat, the first of which to exist in more than two centuries had just been decanted a few months earlier and was now acting as a surrogate pet for everyone still living in Avalon module.
“Captain Mahama may have neglected to repeal a few of my command permissions from my time as first officer.”
“Which are of course completely illegal for a private citizen to have, so of course you’ll be reminding her to disable them as soon as possible,” Theresa said.
“Oh, naturally. First thing tomorrow.”
“Uh huh. I’m going to go take a shower. If you’re not off my couch by the time I finish, you’re getting the stun-stick.”
“For a nonviolent B&E suspect? You wouldn’t.”
“I’ve already used it today. That always seems to raise my appetite for police brutality a few notches.”
“Fine, but you may change your tune once you hear what I have to say.” Feng sat up and set his glass on her coffee table.
“Coaster,” Theresa chided. Feng obliged. “All right then, let’s hear it.”
“Last night, you asked me to get a list of queries on the satellite gap.”
“You have it?”
“I do, it’s printed out on flimsies on your kitchen table. Never went over the network or through my plant, so you can do your cross check without raising any red flags. But, I’ve gone one better.”
Theresa cocked her head curiously. “Go on.”
“Those disabled satellites? They weren’t disabled. They were commandeered.”
“What?” Theresa nearly shouted.
Feng nodded. “I couldn’t believe it either, but it’s true.”
“How? How could that happen?”
“Embarrassingly easily,” he said. “We’re still trying to reconstruct exactly what happened, but it looks like someone broke into the sats’ OS and triggered a series of fake hardware error messages over the course of a few weeks, leading up to a cascading failure that looked to the handlers on the Ark like a complete system crash. We tried a hard restart and reboot, but when that failed, we wrote the sats off.”
“Why didn’t anyone try to repair them?”
“Because we’re phasing out the original Pathfinder sat network anyway. They’re all over two hundred years old, remember. They’ve been in storage the majority of that time, but even in space, components deteriorate over time. It wasn’t worth repairing them when we already had their replacements in the manufacturing queue.”
Theresa waved her hand. “OK, fine, but two sats going down in the same way at the same time? Didn’t that raise any eyebrows?”
“Might have, except the hacks took place three months apart and mirrored two other actual sat failures that we saw previously. We just assumed it was a repeat.”
“OK,” Theresa said. “How’d they get such deep access to the OS and other software?”
“That’s the embarrassing part,” Feng said sheepishly. “They weren’t encrypted or firewalled. All the hackers needed to do was fake their network address to look like an authorized user and they were in.”
“They weren’t even password protected? Are you fucking kidding me?”
Feng shrugged. “The people who built and programed them didn’t think to put a jail on the Ark, remember? Besides, why would someone want to steal a GPS satellite? What good would it do?”
“Well that’s the question, isn’t it?” She rubbed the raw spot on her shoulder where her rifle sling had dug in. “Any fingerprints?”
Feng shook his head. “Our techs are still looking into it, but whoever it was seemed to cover their tracks very effectively. People outside of the crew don’t seem to understand just how juryrigged the Ark’s OS is at this point. It’s a two century-old quilt of updates, patches, and workarounds. A digital archeologist would probably have a field day uncovering all of the firewall holes and backdoors in the code. It’s like the ship. We couldn’t ever afford to shut anything down or risk a crash, so we just fixed problems on the fly.”
“I still can’t believe there wasn’t some security, especially after what happened with Kimura. The crew should have hardened everything.”
“Those were chaotic times, I don’t have to tell you. All of that takes time and manpower. We landed a few weeks later, everyone was swamped with setting up Shambhala and it fell off the priority list. It’s being fixed now, believe me. There won’t be a repeat.”
“Thank goodness for small favors. So, you have the sats back now? They won’t be able to exploit the gap anymore?”
Feng sighed. “About that. Our ping triggered some buried command and the sats emptied their station-keeping thrusters into decaying orbits and burned up in the atmosphere.”
“How thorough,” she said bitterly.
“Quite, but at least they’re not under control of whoever hijacked them anymore. What do you suppose they were up to?”
“No idea, but whatever it is, I’m sure I don’t like it. Any other hardware that just happened to go missing in the last year or so?”
Feng frowned. “What do you mean?”
“I don’t know. Drones, rovers, suborbital relay balloons. Those sats were multi-functional GPS and com platforms, they could have set up their own shadow network with ground assets for all we know.”
“God, I should’ve thought of that,” Feng admitted. “I’ll run an inventory search and make a list of everything else that’s gone offline in the last year.”
“Go back to Landing, just to be sure.” Theresa plopped down in what was normally Benson’s chair and put her feet up. “I don’t like the smell of this. It’s beginning to feel just like the Laraby case.” Remembering who was sitting on her couch, she quickly amended to, “Edmond’s case. Sorry, Chao.”
Feng waved her off. “It’s fine. Besides, I played no small part in that. To be honest, I’m still surprised you’re trusting me with this now.”
“Devil you know, I suppose.”
“Touché.”
Theresa glanced up to see a surprisingly warm smile cross Feng’s face. He hadn’t had it easy these last few years, she knew. While you wouldn’t know it from looking around his house, Feng’s personal fortunes were much reduced. He still grieved for his late wife, and felt the shame of deceiving her for so long. And while his position as the gofer between the Ark and the provisional Shambhala civilian government gave him considerable influence, he was basically an outsider, not fully trusted by either.
It was his fault, but that didn’t prevent Theresa from sympathizing. She was about to say something comforting when a call came in on her plant. She growled and checked the ID: Acting Administrator Merick.
“Well this should be good,” she said just above a whisper and connected the call.
Theresa and Feng’s eyes met across the room.
The connection dropped. She stood and motioned for Feng to do the same. “C’mon, we’re wanted at the Beehive.”
“What for?”
She shrugged. “Only one way to find out.”
“They know we’ve been speaking,” Feng said once they were a few blocks away from her house.
“They know we’ve been in the same room together a couple times. That’s all. And at this point, we don’t know who ‘they’ even are.”
“What should we do?”
“Keep working the angles and try to stay out in public. The more visible we are, the riskier it’ll be for someone to take a shot at one of us.”
“Metaphorically speaking, of course,” Feng hastened to add.
“I’m not so sure,” Theresa said weightily. “I’ll try to make sure one of my boys keeps an eye on your son until this blows over.”
Feng straightened his shoulders. “I appreciate that.”
“Don’t mention it.”
They reached the Beehive steps a couple of minutes later. The demonstrations were still going on, but had lost steam around dinner time. Korolev, who Theresa could have sworn had been relieved at the same time she was, noticed their approach and opened a link.
They reached the council chamber. Feng stepped ahead to hold the door for her. Inside, all the usual suspects were seated around the table, with Merick in the large chair so recently occupied by the late Valmassoi.
“Ah, chief constable,” Merick stood to greet them. “And Mr Feng. Thank you for coming on such short notice. Please be seated.”
Theresa and Feng took two open chairs as far apart as they could, with Feng sitting in his usual spot just outside the circle.
“I’m here,” Theresa said a little impatiently. “What’s the problem?”
“Chief constable, I hardly need to tell you the gravity of today’s shocking events…” Merick said, transitioning smoothly into the cadence of a politician giving a campaign speech. Which, she figured, he very well could be. The special election would either confirm his interim appointment or choose a new administrator altogether. He had a mighty narrow window to solidify his position with the public. A desperate politician was an unpredictable one.
“…and after careful deliberations, this council has decided that it’s in the best interests of Shambhala’s citizens to expand our defensive capabilities. Pursuant to that goal, you have been tasked with recruiting and training a reserve force of no fewer than one hundred new deputy constables to supplement your existing officers, should they become necessary.”
“A hundred?” Theresa said, not even trying to mask her surprise.
“Is that going to be a problem?”
“It’s unnecessary,” she replied. “That’s twice as many officers as I have now. Equipping them alone would wreck my budget, to say nothing of the man hours we’d eat up training them.”
“Funding will not be an issue,” Merick said. “Just send us an updated budget reflecting your expected requirements and–”
“I’m sorry,” Theresa interrupted, “But did the crime rate suddenly triple without my noticing?”
“Not at all,” Merick said. “Your officers have upheld law and order admirably. This reserve is intended more for, external threats.”
Theresa crossed her arms. “You mean the Atlantians.”
Merick didn’t bother with an evasion. “That would be the immediate threat, yes.”
“They’re on the other side of an ocean and don’t know how to build boats. Not exactly what I’d call an immediate threat.”
“Oh, climb down from your high horse, constable,” Gregory Alexander said, joining the conversation.
“I’m sitting down, Mr Alexander.”
“They attacked our peace delegation and killed half a dozen of our people.”
“They did no such thing,” Theresa reminded him sternly. “The Atlantians lost people too, quite a few more than we did from what I hear. They were victims just as much as we were.”
“Of other Atlantians,” Merick pointed out calmly.
“Yeah, well, we haven’t been great about that ourselves recently.”
“Kimura’s attack was the work of a madman and a handful of brainwashed disciples. This was larger than that,” Alexander broke in.
“We don’t know what this is,” Theresa countered. “My husband is busy figuring it out as we speak.”
Merick raised his hand. “And he will be given every opportunity and assistance in doing so. And once he does know who is responsible, this reserve force will be ready to round the perpetrators up and bring them to justice.”
“You want me to ready an invasion.” Theresa said, dumbfounded.
“Well it’s not like we have an extradition treaty with them,” Alexander said to a round of laughter.
“My constables are keepers of the peace, acting administrator,” Theresa said, placing just the tiniest emphasis on “acting.” “What you’re talking about is the beginnings of an army.”
“It’s just a precaution, chief,” Merick said reassuringly. “With any luck, they won’t be necessary.”
“Where am I supposed to find the people? We’re not exactly dealing with high unemployment around here.”
“Look outside,” Alexander said, motioning to the demonstrators still milling about on the street. “I’m sure you’ll find some patriots willing to donate their time.”
Theresa could scarcely think of people less qualified, yet more enthusiastic to sign up to fight the savage natives than the idiots she’d just spent the entire day babysitting. The thought of it turned her stomach. She had half a mind to explain the fact.
“We’ll manage,” she said instead.
“Excellent,” Merick announced. “Mr Feng, will you coordinate with Captain Mahama and the Ark’s manufacturing department to make sure Chief Benson has everything she needs?”
“Of course, administrator. She has my full support,” Feng said. Theresa hoped no one was wise to his double meaning.
“Then this session is adjourned.” Merick stamped a handleless hammer on the table and rose to leave. “Chief constable, a word in private?”
Projecting calm annoyance, Theresa stood and followed Merick into the hallway. They walked a short way deeper into the atrium, away from prying ears.
“Chief,” Merick said just above a whisper. “I just wanted to tell you personally that I didn’t bring this motion to the table, nor did I vote for it. But support was… quite strong among the rest of the members.”
“They’re panicking,” Theresa said accusingly.
“They’re responding to public pressure,” Merick corrected. “That’s their job in a democracy, remember?”
“They’re supposed to lead the people, not succumb to their ugliest impulses.”
“Just go along with this for now. It will let the council tell people we’re taking steps to protect them. Things will calm down in a few days.”
Not if whoever’s whipping up the crazies keeps stirring the pot, Theresa thought.
“Anyway,” Merick continued, “I can see you’re uncomfortable with this assignment, I can’t say I blame you. But with Sergeant Atwood’s death, you’re the most logical choice for it. Just think of it as doing what you can from here to help Bryan.”
“Oh, Bryan doesn’t need any help finding trouble. I shudder to think what he’d do with a hundred-person army backing him up.”
Merick snorted. “Me too.” Then he put a hand on her shoulder. Theresa managed not to flinch. “Let’s just hope we don’t have to find out. Goodnight, constable.”
Theresa nodded. “Administrator.”
She ran into Feng again near the front door. “What was that about?” he asked quietly.
“Pandering.”
“What are you going to do now?”
“Right now? I’m deputizing you.”
Feng paused, shocked. “Me?”
“You. Welcome to the Tactical Reserve, Constable Feng.”
“Are you mad?”
“Livid.” They were outside now. Korolev was finally coming down from his watch. Theresa grabbed him by an elbow and whispered. “Pavel, I have some new training for your football buddies to do. Set it up.”
“Okaaay,” he said, confused. “For how many?”
“All of them.”
Twenty
Kexx pawed at the broken pieces of the crashed drone, running zer fingers over their glassy-smooth surfaces, trying to pick up tastes and smells as well as the texture of the object. It was, strange. Most of the pieces had no taste at all. Even rocks had distinct tastes. The obsidian of spear points was the only other material Kexx knew that had no taste at all. But these parts were light and flexible where obsidian was hard and brittle.
Other parts had a bitter taste reminiscent of certain types of river stones, and were impossibly strong and stiff for their weight. Benson called them “metal,” another human concept to add to zer growing list. The strange little spinning wings on the corners seemed much too small to keep such a large bird in the air, but Benson said they made up for their small size by spinning very fast. One of them had snapped off at the root. Here, there was a faint trace of blood, probably from striking an animal in midair, but the blood had dried, making it almost impossible to tell what it had come from.
Kexx raised zer head. “This isn’t helpful. I need to see a body.”
“I’m sure I saw one of them go down in the crops,” Benson said. “I’ll look around.”
Kexx waved zer off. “Just shout if you find something. And watch for uliks.”
