Chapter Thirteen
I had been sitting in the bridge conference alcove with Morgana, Chris and Mark for the past several hours. We were reviewing the last of the information I had downloaded from Smith’s datapad. It was late in the evening on the third day following our departure from Toula and all of us were starting to get bleary eyed. The four of us had been spending most of the time since leaving Toula pouring over Smith’s files. We were hoping to learn something that would give us an insight into the inner workings of the pirate Brotherhood. While we had gotten little sleep over the past few days, our efforts had not been wasted.
The depth of access the pirates had into what seemed to be the database systems of every transportation combine in existence was frightening. Suspended above the surface of the table were dozens upon dozens of image windows displaying everything from the cargo manifests to the flight plans and crew rosters of ships registered to a myriad of different companies. The lists included information on cargoes that had been shipped from every major world during the past several months. Many of the shipments I recognized from reports I had reviewed back on Haven. They stood out to me because each one had been hijacked in recent pirate attacks. And this was only part of what we had discovered.
Apart from the information on the transportation combines, we also found files on a number of pirate ships and their captains. These were cross referenced with the different cargoes they were credited with hijacking. It was all here, neatly categorized and detailed, enough evidence to convict every one of these crews for piracy and murder. The only problem was finding them. Smith’s records did not include specific information on each ship’s movements. And with every new thing we learned about the pirates new questions popped up as well.
“It’s no wonder the pirates have been taking down the most valuable cargoes,” Chris said as he grabbed another window with his finger and pulled it in front of him. “With all of this information at their fingertips they could pick and choose exactly what they wanted to go after.”
“We always suspected there was more than pure luck guiding their attacks,” I said. “It’s just unsettling to realize how far reaching their intelligence is.”
“Which makes it all the more puzzling why they would hijack a shipment of mining equipment,” Morgana commented as she reduced the window she had been viewing and traded it for a new one. Before we left Toula, I had Barney had break into the shipping containers that were crowded into our hold. All we found was heavy duty mining equipment. A quick check of a few random serial numbers confirmed that it was the same shipment Morgan had told me about just before I left Haven.
“They obviously didn’t steal this cargo for its value,” Chris said, “so they must need the machinery for something.”
I nodded. “Agreed. But the more important question is: how are they getting all of this information in the first place? They would need to have inside people in every one of these companies to pull all this data together.”
“It doesn’t seem possible that they could have that many moles in place,” Morgana said.
“No, it doesn’t,” I agreed. “The only other explanation is that they’ve somehow found a way to hack into all these databases.” I thought about it for a moment then turned to Mark. “Could they have something like the tapeworm we used on Smith’s datapad?”
Mark shook his head. “I doubt it. Our people only just perfected the technique. And it wouldn’t do them any good even if they did have one. A tapeworm might be able to get past the firewalls on someone’s datapad, but database systems are something else. Their processing power and storage capacity allow them to run much more sophisticated protection than anything you can fit on a simple pad. Besides, as far as I know, every major business these days is running the Praetorian security platform. Nothing can hack that.”
“I’ve heard of Praetorian,” I said. “Our military uses it. The joint chiefs swear by it.”
“What’s so special about Praetorian?” Chris asked. As Mark opened his mouth to answer Chris held up a hand to interrupt him. “In simple terms, please.”
Mark composed his thoughts for a moment before beginning. “Praetorian is based on a learning algorithm. Basically that means that it’s able to think for itself. It can spot dangerous programs on its own, even ones that it was never programmed to recognize as viruses, and come up with ways to neutralize them. In all the years since it was first put on the market there’s never been a single case of a virus getting past it.”
“Wait a minute,” Morgana said. “Doesn’t Praetorian also make anti-virus software for datapads?”
“They do,” Mark admitted. “In fact they’re the leading manufacturer of anti-virus software for anything run by computer, which is just about everything these days. But those are simplified versions of the full scale program. Like I said, a datapad doesn’t have the processing power or storage capacity to run the full program. They make up for this with regular updates. Whenever one of the full versions encounters a new virus it sends data on the program back to the company and the solution for the virus is then distributed in the next update broadcast.”
“So let me get this straight,” Chris said. “It’s impossible for them to hack into these databases and they can’t have spies in every transport combine in existence. Then how the hell are they getting all of this information?”
No one had an answer.
“Excuse me, Jason, but you wanted to know when we were getting close to the rendezvous coordinates,” Bobby said from the helm. “We’re five minutes out.”
“Thanks, Bobby. Okay, everybody, we’ll have to get back to this later. It’s time to get ready for our guest.”
I shut down the display and the group of us stood and assumed our stations. Across the bridge everyone began making the changes that would turn our cutting edge command center into the patched together bridge of a dilapidated transport.
“Anything on sensors?” I asked once the bridge had undergone its transformation.
“The space ahead reads clear,” Morgana said.
I hadn’t expected to pick up anything. If the pirates were bringing us deeper into their ranks they would be sending one of their top ships to meet us, and those wouldn’t show up on a regular sensor sweep. I sat brooding silently for the next few minutes as a tense quiet fell over the bridge. Soon Bobby was counting down the last seconds before dropping us out of hyperspace. A flash on the main screen and we returned to sublight. Nothing was visible ahead but empty space.
“Scan the area,” I said.
Morgana ran a new sweep. “Nothing.”
I turned to the helm. “Bobby?”
“We’re dead on, Jason,” Bobby said as he double checked his board. “Someone should be here to meet us.”
I was itching to flash the area but had to restrain the impulse. I knew the other ship was out there, but I didn’t want to tip our hand and let them know that we were aware of the stealth technology they possessed. We would just have to wait and play their game.
An urgent beeping from Morgana’s console drew everyone’s attention.
“Ship decloaking ahead,” Morgana announced.
A second urgent beeping sounded from Mark’s weapons board. “They’re scanning us for a target lock!” he said. “Should I—”
“No! Take no action,” I ordered. “They could have fired on us while they had their stealth system engaged. They’re just trying to rattle us.”
“It’s working,” Bobby said quietly.
On the screen ahead of us, the black ship became visible as a vague outline as it activated its running lights. We held our position as it moved closer and we were soon able to make out more details. Its lines followed the classic design of a Fleet military vessel, although any identifying markings had been removed. As it drew near I could also see that it was nearly twice our length. I turned to Morgana who was already running a focused scan on it.
&nb
sp; “Its engine emissions match those of the Retribution, one of the missing aurora class subs from the Gnosis scrapyard.”
“I’m glad they were able to find a use for all those stolen ships,” Chris commented dryly.
“Message from the pirate ship, Sir,” Tom said. “We’re being ordered to hold position and await their shuttle.”
On the main screen we could see a small craft detach itself from the pirate sub and head toward us. I was curious to see who was coming aboard my ship so I put Chris in charge of the bridge and left for the gangway hatch with Morgana.
We arrived at the hatch just as the shuttle locked onto our hull. I stood in front of the doors while Morgana went to the hatch controls, a drawn needler ready in her hand. When the docking light flashed green I motioned for her to open the hatch.
Two people stood in the doorway when the doors retracted. A gruff looking pirate wearing a protective vest and helmet stood holding a woman by the arm. The tinted visor of his helmet hid the top half of his face. All that could be seen of his features was a stubble covered chin and a slash of a mouth that was drawn down into a frown. In his free hand was a blaster pistol which he pointed at me as soon as the doors opened.
It was his companion however who captured my entire attention. She was stunning. She was several centimeters shorter than the man, with the top of her head just reaching his nose. She had an elfin face with full, pouty lips, large doe eyes, and a wavy mane of honey blonde hair which cascaded past her shoulders. She was wearing a nondescript flight suit that could not hide the very feminine contours of her body. She also seemed intimidated by the man who was gripping her by the elbow. Seeing her discomfort bothered me for some reason.
Morgana took a step away from the hatch controls so that she was in the man’s range of vision. His head snapped in her direction when he noticed her and he tensed as he recognized the weapon she was holding. His body and head may be protected, but a hit in either the arm or leg from one of her neurotoxin darts would stop his heart before his body hit the deck. After a moment he returned his attention to me.
“Are you Pell?” he asked in a gruff voice.
“I’m Captain Pell,” I said. “You want to put that away, please? My security officer doesn’t like weapons aboard our ship. They make her nervous.”
He considered his situation for a moment, then slowly lowered the pistol, although he didn’t holster it. Morgana kept her gun trained on him.
The pirate took half a step forward and shoved the girl roughly through the hatch. She stumbled against me then quickly drew back. For an instant she shot the pirate an angry look, then looked up at me warily. Without another word the pirate reached for the control panel inside his shuttle and closed the hatch. Morgana went back to our panel and closed our ship’s doors as well to allow the shuttle to undock. Moments later the shuttle pulled away from our hull and headed off.
I turned to study our new arrival. She was cowering against the bulkhead. My first impulse was to put my arm around her and reassure her that everything was going to be alright, but I thought she would probably shy away from me.
“I’m Cordass Pell,” I said. I motioned to Morgana. “And this is my security officer, Alex Feign, Miss …?”
“Angela,” she said softly. Her voice was barely more than a whisper. “You’re supposed to take me to the bridge.”
“Right. It’s this way.” I gestured toward the main stairwell and she stepped timidly up beside me. As I started toward the stairwell I looked over at Morgana. For some reason she was frowning as she studied the young woman. Then I noticed that she hadn’t yet put down her pistol. A moment later she noticed me watching her and after a beat she reluctantly holstered her weapon. Although she had put her gun away, Morgana followed closely behind us all the way to the command deck, keeping a wary eye on our visitor.
All activity came to a halt when we stepped onto the bridge as everyone turned to gawk at our guest. She dropped her eyes self consciously, then looked up at me.
“I need to be there,” she said quietly, pointing at the helm station.
I nodded to Bobby who jumped up from his seat and gestured gallantly at his vacant post.
Angela walked to the helm and smiled shyly up at him. She reached into a pocket on the leg of her flight suit and pulled out a device about the size of a palmpad. She seated herself at the helm, studied the control panel for several moments, then placed the device near the upper right corner of the console where it magnetically affixed itself. Then she sat back and waited.
The face of the device glowed on and columns of symbols raced across the small screen. Moments later different parts of the helm console began flashing on and off by themselves. Bobby instinctively reached for his board, but before he could touch any of the controls Angela’s hand shot out and closed on his wrist.
“It’s alright,” she said in her quiet voice. “It’s just the governor. It’s supposed to do that.”
Bobby looked at me and I waved him back as I stepped up to the helm.
“Exactly what are you doing?” I asked as I came up beside her.
“I’m not doing anything,” Angela said nervously. “It’s the governor. It’s how I fly the ship.”
At that moment the other bridge systems began flashing on and off. Surprised exclamations erupted around me.
“… just came on by itself!”
“… have no control …”
“… won’t respond …”
From the corner of my eye I saw Morgana scowling at her console.
“Captain, something has taken over our bridge systems,” she said. “None of our boards are responding. Communications, sensors, drive systems—everything is off-line. We have no control over any of the ship’s functions.” A moment later her console went completely dark. Once that happened her head snapped up in Angela’s direction and she drew her needler.
Angela’s eyes went wide when she saw the pistol aimed at her.
“Captain, I promise you it’s not doing anything to damage your ship!” the young woman said.
Morgana stepped up beside me and continued to hold her gun on her.
“The captain asked you a question,” she said. “What are you doing?”
Angela spoke quickly, her eyes never wavering from the weapon aimed at her. “I … I don’t know exactly how it works. All I know is that the governor plots our course and takes over the ship’s functions.”
“I thought you were a pilot,” I said.
“I am. But he doesn’t trust anybody with the coordinates of the base we’re going to. That’s stored in the governor’s memory. Without it I couldn’t get us back there. Now that it’s in place your ship will fly itself there all on its own. But when we get there you’ll need me to bring us in. The channel is too tricky. You need someone who knows the way to get the ship through safely.”
“Who is this ‘he’ you mentioned?” I asked.
“The commandant. He’s in charge of everything.”
“And just who is this commandant?”
“Please, Captain, I can’t tell you anything more.”
“Can’t or won’t?” Morgana growled.
Angela met her hard gaze briefly then turned to me. “Please, Captain, I can’t tell you any more. He … he has my father. If I don’t do what he wants he’ll have him killed!” She dropped her face into her hands and sobbed.
Morgana looked like she wanted to throttle her but I placed a hand on her arm and pushed her gun down. For a moment I thought she was going to argue with me but then she reholstered her weapon and stepped back.
I placed a hand gently on Angela’s shoulder. “Who is your father and what does this commandant want with him?”
She sniffed back her last few tears and looked up at me with red rimmed eyes. “He’s a structural engineer. The commandant needs him to finish his base.” She took my hand in both of hers. Her skin was soft and warm and her touch sen
t a tingle up my spine.
“Please, we need to get moving! They’re watching us!”
I pulled my hand out of her grip, uncomfortable with the effect she was having on me.
“Get us under way, then,” I said gruffly, forcing myself back into character. “I’m sorry about your father’s trouble but I’m here on business. Take us to wherever you’re supposed to take us and be quick about it.” I returned to the command seat and dropped myself down into it. Like the other consoles around the bridge, my command board was completely dark. I was getting a bad feeling about this arrangement.
Angela turned back to the helm and powered up the engines. She was just reaching to engage the drive system when she paused, her hand hovering above the activation controls.
“Captain Pell,” she said uncertainly. “There’s something wrong.”
I frowned then tapped the face of my inactive board. “You need to be a little more specific.”
“I … well, it’s your navsys. It’s supposed to give me an ETA for our arrival back at the base.”
“And?”
“It says that we’ll arrive in just over twelve hours. But that’s not possible.”
Of course. With that device of hers overriding our controls the navsys would calculate our ETA based on the actual output of our new engines.
“Just ignore it,” I said. “Our engineer’s been trying to fix that glitch for some time now. Mostly we just sort of guesstimate how long it will take us to get somewhere.” I started to reach for the intercom, but saw that it wasn’t working. I turned to Morgana. “Go down to the engine room and tell Ian we’re still getting that false reading from the navsys.” As she passed my seat I lowered my voice and added. “Tell him to cut the engine output. I don’t want her to know what this ship’s really capable of.”
As Morgana exited the bridge Angela finished her preparations and engaged the main drive. The stars slowly drifted to port on the bridge display as the ship came about to a new heading. Moments later we made the jump to hyperspace. Angela’s eyes were glued to the readout on the console in front of her as she watched the ship accelerate.
“Captain Pell,” she said, “this says your ship is moving at better than light factor 80!”
I stood and ambled over to the helm. I looked down at the board for a few moments then gave the side of the console a sharp slap.
“Ignore it,” I said with a shrug.
“But, Captain—”
“I said ignore it. Do you really think this ship is capable of pulling that kind of speed?”
“Well, no.”
“I told you. It’s some kind of glitch… Look.”
The velocity indicator suddenly began to drop. In moments it had settled at 11.8.
“See,” I said. “It’s just a glitch. What’s our ETA now?”
She checked the readout again. “One hundred twenty-six hours.”
“I assume that’s more in line with what you were expecting.” I looked around the bridge once more. It was unsettling to see every console completely inert. “Well, since you’ve taken control of the ship away from me, I’m going to relax. Chris, you have the conn.”