The Pandora Paradox Page 7

  "I can do that," he said, seeming to force the words out.

  "You don't want me there?" Kage asked. Jason bit back half a dozen nasty remarks, knowing that's exactly what the little bastard wanted.

  "No. You'll be busy with Lucky tracking down our potential turncoat," he said calmly. "In fact, you'd better get to it." Kage narrowed his eyes, not wanting to give up so easy but not able to find another way to bait Jason into an argument.

  "When do you want to do this?" Doc asked.

  "Now," Jason said. "Let's go. Com suite two."

  The pair went up to the command deck and down the short corridor where there were four hatches. Behind each was an isolated, secure room with some of the most sophisticated com equipment money could buy. Suites one and three were just small alcoves, just big enough to two people side-by-side, but two and four were much larger, with plenty of space where Doc could sit comfortably out of the imager's pickup area and listen to what was being said.

  "I talked to Twingo about your encounter with this Tulden," Doc said as he pulled one of the padded chairs over to the far bulkhead and sat down. "It seems he is a bit unusual when compared to some of the absolute zealots we've encountered in the past, but—"

  "But that doesn't mean it's not an act," Jason finished. "I realize that. I still think it's worth a shot. I should also probably go ahead and tell you Mok wants me to try and cultivate this relationship as well. He thinks we can feed Tulden bad intel and help our own cause."

  "Captain, you're…clever…in your own way," Doc said haltingly, "but you're not an intel operative any more than I’m a tactical asset. We each have our talents, and this happens to fall in that area neither of us is very good at."

  "Diplomatically put." Jason fired up the terminal and began entering the information for a link from the data card Tulden had slipped him.

  While Omega Force might not have been an intelligence unit backed by the quadrant's lone superpower, they were steeped in the criminal underworld and had one of the best code slicers around on their crew. As such, their security measures for establishing a secure slip-com channel were quite similar. It was basically setting up a connection through a series of relay nodes that would mask the location and final address of the com node the user was actually sitting at. Omega Force used a system devised by Kage that would give even the best tracking AI fits if it tried to trace the channel to its source. He assumed Tulden would have something similar in place since the risk of using ConFed assets would be too great, all things considered.

  "That's new," he grunted, pointing at one of the monitors for Doc to see. There was a flashing message in Jenovian Standard that let him know an active link was being established. It gave a rough countdown timer to when it might go through, approximately seven minutes in this case, and it also had a designator at the bottom. This worried him a bit. It was obviously a unique designator that was either attached to him personally, since he was calling in using the provided credentials, or to the call, which would mean it was being recorded.

  "Perhaps we should kill the imager and scramble your voice," Doc said. Jason thought it over, thinking it probably wasn't a bad idea.

  "It probably doesn't matter," he said after another moment of thought. "He might just kill the channel immediately if I'm not here, and if he's recording the conversation, it likely means he has a file somewhere with my name on it anyway."

  "I just don't like this," Doc muttered quietly as the monitor changed to a new message indicating that the channel link was almost established.

  "Captain Burke," Tulden said as the channel resolved to show the agent sitting in a similar com suite, probably aboard his trawler. "I must say I'm surprised to see you've reached out to me this soon…or at all."

  "We pulled off a handful of trackers on our two ships," Jason said, not wasting any time with idle chatter. The longer a channel stayed open, the more likely it would be someone could break in or record the transmission to be decrypted later. "Since you were obviously homing in on us the entire time, I'm hoping you can tell me where they came from. We're assuming your people put one on the corvette-class ship while we were in formation with others from our…social club."

  "All I’m willing to tell you at this juncture is what you've likely already guessed yourself: you have traitors in your midst," Tulden said. "The trackers on your smaller ship you've just purchased were put on by the brokerage you used. We have a standing agreement with them to provide such a service if requested. I simply messaged them to tag any ship you bought."

  "Nice," Jason said. "So, you have no idea who might be working with you inside our fleet? It'll have to be someone who commands a ship…some pissant tech isn't releasing ConFed tracking hardware out the airlocks without someone spotting them." Tulden hesitated, seemingly torn between wanting to say more and knowing better than to trust Jason too quickly.

  "I actually don't know who it is exactly," he said. "That operation is being handled by someone else. They provided me with the tracking codes and let me know your ship was the most likely to be carrying the data core stolen from us. That was based on observations of shuttle traffic within your fleet formation."

  "That lines up with what I know," Jason said. "I think I can piece it together from there. You have yourself a nice—"

  "Not just yet, Captain," Tulden said. "I believe I have held up my end of the bargain and provided you with information you needed, or at least gave you confirmation of information you already had. Now, it is your turn."

  "The thing you want to know about, the thing you asked me on your ship? It calls itself the Machine," Jason said, his voice low as if he was afraid the Machine could hear him. Given they were speaking over networked communications systems, it very well could be listening, and they'd never know.

  "The Machine," Tulden repeated. "Sounds melodramatic enough."

  "But apt," Jason said. "It's not a physical being. It's an AI program that hitched a ride back from beyond the border worlds on one of your battleships."

  "If I wasn't already becoming adept at reading your species, I'd swear you were lying to me, Captain. An AI couldn't possibly be doing all this by—"

  "This one can," Jason interrupted. "And is. This isn't like any Kheprian adaptive AI you've ever dealt with, agent. This is an ancient being that had been lying dormant when it was awoken and made aware of our region of space. It's also insane."

  "Insane," Tulden deadpanned.

  "Or corrupted. Whatever technical jargon you want to use, the end result is the same; the thing isn't stable. I don't know what it wants or why it's taken over your government, but I do know there are only a few types of computer systems in the quadrant that it can run its full matrix on. Our latest intel suggests it has engineers on Khepri designing and building more compatible systems for it to propagate itself to."

  "We're at the time limit to safely keep talking on this channel," Tulden said. "I will be in touch as I try to verify this information for myself."

  "Be careful," Jason warned. "It is completely ruthless, and it can't be taken by surprise. Don't call it by its name anywhere near a public Nexus. It listens for references to itself, and it'll be a quick way for you to punch your own ticket, if you take my meaning." Tulden looked shaken but didn't respond as he reached over and killed the channel. Jason also backed completely out of his own relay network and shut down the com node on his end.

  "He's not what I expected," Doc said. "I think you screwed up giving him that much information about the Machine, but you already knew I'd say that."

  "I did," Jason said. "And I don't completely disagree with you, but we'll need to take leaps of faith from time to time."

  "If he starts poking around too clumsily, and the Machine realizes its existence is no longer a secret, it may attack before we're ready," Doc said.

  "Fair point," Jason conceded. "For right now, let's just focus on the things we can control."

  "The traitor in our fleet?"

  "Exactly."

  8


  Tulden paced the bridge of his ship. He was unsettled around the crew, though all of them were loyal Sepezz, the official name for the ConFed's notorious intelligence service. The Mogotrev-class trawler he was aboard had been assigned to him by the directorate, but the ship wasn't entirely under his command. The captain was still in charge of shipboard operations, and Tulden couldn't get a read on her to determine how much he should keep hidden and how much she could see and know to be discreet.

  Agents worked with almost complete autonomy, and no trawler captain would ever assume she was privy to the same level of information he was, but there was still a risk that, if he began acting too outside the norms, she would report it to her superiors. It was a part of the chain of accountability the directorate preached but rarely followed. They maintained control over such a vast organization with so many highly-trained, independent thinkers by encouraging them to tattle on their peers whenever something seemed off. Tulden had been the subject of two directorate tribunals when his actions had been brought to their attention. Fortunately, both times, he had been working to execute their orders, and he not only avoided prosecution, he'd received commendations.

  Captain Burke contacting him so soon after their meeting had surprised him. His recent interaction with humans had been a mixed bag. One had been a fellow intelligence operative who had double crossed him and tortured him to the brink of death, leaving his face crisscrossed with deep, angry scars the agency surgeons were still working on fixing. The other had been a young military officer in a forward recon unit that had been as earnest as he was naive. Against all odds, the latter killed the former, and now Tulden cultivated a relationship with the young officer, his instincts telling him the boy might be a bigger player in the region than anyone expected.

  Burke was an enigma all his own. Tulden had read reports on the human thanks to some of the more notorious company he kept. Crusher, the name the Guardian Archon of Galvetor went by, was hard to miss. Kage, the name one of the quadrants most prolific code slicers had adopted for himself, also ran with Burke's crew. Crusher was an easy one to figure out. He was immature and resented responsibility, so he was hiding from his station in life by playing mercenary. Kage was harder to get a read on. The code slicer could be wealthy beyond all measure by offering his services to one of the bigger organized crime syndicates or striking out on his own, but he stuck with Burke the whole time, minus a short stint in a Veran prison.

  "Is there something you needed, sir?" the captain asked, her demeanor crisp and professional.

  "I'm sorry, Captain, I had not heard you come up here," Tulden said. "I was merely observing."

  "Of course, sir."

  "How long until we reach our destination, Captain?"

  "One hundred and eleven more flight hours, sir," she said, clearly confused. "We can increase slip-velocity if—"

  "That will be fine," Tulden said. Her stiff demeanor and unreadable expression made him yearn for the days when he had his own ship. The directorate had told him the use of the trawler was a reward for exemplary service, but he was beginning to have his doubts about that. Perhaps it was time he made alternate travel arrangements and got out from under any potential Directorate Internal Security observers stashed away aboard the trawler.

  "I will be in my suite if I'm needed," he said.

  "Yes, sir."

  He walked the corridors of the small ship towards his assigned quarters, a plan forming in his mind. It was time to call in some old favors and drop out of sight for a while. What Captain Burke had told him about their potential foe had shaken him badly, but he needed more than the word of some merc gunfighter when it came to mobilizing resources.

  At least now he had a place to start. If this thing, this…Machine relied on operating in the shadows to hold onto its power, then Tulden's course of action was obvious. Expose it for what it was and let the inevitable happen once everyone realized how they'd been fooled.

  "I have finished my analysis of the ships in our previous formation if you are done actively trying to avoid me."

  "Lucky, I'm not avoiding you," Jason groaned.

  "I believe you are."

  "You're entitled to believe whatever you want, but I'm not avoiding you. This ship isn't that big, and you've been sequestered in your little dungeon down there chewing through decryption routines." Jason hoped his poker face was more convincing than when he actually played poker. While he hadn't been actually avoiding his friend, the truth was somewhere in that gray area that made his answer not completely honest.

  "You are unconvincing. There was recently a ground operation, and you took Crusher and Twingo, but not me. I normally—"

  "There was a suspected ConFed Intel trawler in the area," Jason cut him off. "I wanted you here in case they tried to board. I took Twingo because I needed an engineer. Are you an expert on looking over a starship and determining spaceworthiness?"

  "Yes."

  Shit.

  "Nevertheless," Jason said, wanting to end the conversation before it became uncomfortable for them both, "I needed Twingo with me, I needed you here. I really feel like that should be the end of the story."

  "What are you not saying to me, Captain?" Lucky asked softly.

  "What makes you think—"

  "Jason…please. I need to know what's going on."

  There it was. Lucky was going to push the issue, and there was no easy way for Jason to avoid the conversation he hadn't wanted to have with his friend until he could sort it all out in his own head.

  "Do you remember all the details of your mission when you went alone on that Eshquarian ship?" he asked, bracing himself for the things he was about to say.

  "Of course, I do," Lucky said. "My memory is functioning perfectly."

  "When the Eshquarians reclaimed the ship, they found some bodies stashed in some fairly creative places," Jason pressed on. "They'd all been killed with precision and in ways that wouldn't have alerted the crew. In and of itself, that wouldn't have bothered me. We've all killed in the course of accomplishing a mission, and I certainly won't lose any sleep if you popped a couple private contractors to keep your cover."

  "It was necessary," Lucky said.

  "Perhaps," Jason said. "I don't second guess my crew…normally. But let's move on to when we raided that parts depot. Those were just regular troops doing a job."

  "And?"

  "And Crusher went up to where you had moved ahead and saw bodies strewn all about. He said it was clear you'd killed them, and it was just as obvious it wasn't necessary. I was telling the truth when I said I hadn't been avoiding you, but these incidents are giving me second thoughts about using you in a tactical capacity right now. You were never one to indulge in needless violence or to—" Jason couldn't finish his sentence because an armored hand had shot out and closed on his throat. His eyes bulged from his head in surprise as Lucky lifted him from the ground.

  "YOU ARE TRYING TO PUSH ME AWAY!" the battlesynth roared, his voice deafening in the confined of the corridor. "I WILL NOT LET YOU TAKE MY FAMILY FROM ME!"

  Lucky's hand tightened, and Jason saw flashes swimming in his vision. He didn't have long, and he knew trying to match his feeble biotic strength against Lucky's powerful actuators was pointless. He dropped his hand to his right thigh and drew the sidearm he habitually wore even when on his own ship. It was a smallish plasma pistol designed not to burn through bulkheads or hull plating, so it wouldn't do much against Lucky…but it was all he had.

  He pulled the pistol around in front of him, intent on aiming up into the bottom of Lucky's chin and hope he didn't get splattered with deflected plasma. His vision tunneled, and his right arm wouldn't do what he told it. It was too late. Lucky was going to kill him. His finger tightened on the trigger reflexively, and the corridor exploded into sparks and smoke as the plasma bolt slammed into both Lucky's left foot and the deck.

  Jason felt himself fall and collapse to the deck in a heap. His vision cleared as oxygenated blood resumed its tr
ip to his brain. He was vaguely aware he'd landed on part of the melted deck and the smell of cooking meat wasn't an indicator of a stroke…he was actually cooking. When he looked at Lucky, trying to bring the pistol to bear again while his muddled mind tried to compartmentalize what had just happened, the battlesynth just raised his hands and stepped away. Even with the deployed facial armor, Lucky looked…stricken? Shocked? He certainly wasn't as aggressive as he'd been a moment ago.

  As Jason struggled to his feet, Lucky fled. When Jason tried to follow, his wobbly legs gave out, and he splayed out on the deck again, groaning.

  "Lucky!" he tried to yell, but his damaged throat wouldn't make any noise. He almost didn't hear the heavy footfalls coming from behind him or the strong hands rolling him over onto his back.

  "What the hell is all this?!" Crusher demanded. "You get drunk and accidentally shoot a hole in the deck? How typical. Whenever I have a little mishap, all I hear is about how it's 'coming out of my cut' or that I'm 'too reckless.' But, apparently, it's completely fine when the captain does it." Mercifully, Jason passed out before Crusher could really get a head of steam going.

  "How do you feel?" Doc asked.

  "Not bad actually," Jason said, looking around the Devil's well-appointed infirmary. "How long have I been out?"

  "A full day. The damage to your trachea and spine was severe enough I had you sedated. So…what happened?"

  "I must have fell and—"

  "Not in the mood, Captain," Doc said. "I know exactly what caused that injury, and I know you didn't accidentally fire a weapon on the command deck. Lucky's hands are quite distinctive, you know."

  "Where is he?" Jason asked.

  "Locked himself back in the server room," Doc said. "He scrambled the hatch codes and disabled both the intercom and internal security systems."

  "Who else knows about this?"

  "Just me. I decided since he had quarantined himself, I'd wait for you to wake up and decide what you wanted to do about it." Doc leaned back in the white padded chair he'd pulled next to the bed. Jason closed his eyes for a moment, remembering the terror he'd felt when Lucky had grabbed him. The crushing pain in his neck, the roaring of the modulated voice…