Oolite Bulletins

mossfoot wrote:

And by tipping his hand the way he did, it meant that he had no intention of seeing me leave this ship alive.

Que dramatic music here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a1Y73sPHKxw };]

I looked across the table at Commander Adams. He looked at me.

Bear in mind all those thoughts had gone through my head in like a couple of seconds, jumping up, dropping and bouncing around like I'd hit the super-multiball at a Hoopy Casino's pachinko lounge. The important thing right now was to figure out what he thought I was thinking. If he'd shown his hand like that it was deliberate, hoping to get a response. Might as well go with the obvious.

"Your identity crystal?"

"One of my pilots." That implied to me that there was more than one of these things. I vaguely recalled feeling several as I groped for something to pocket. They must have belonged to the pilots in the sim chambers testing the A.I.M. program. Probably everyone in the gang bang that shot me down had one. "You seemed to have been putting it to, well I can't exactly say good use. But use."

"What, you got a tracking device on that thing? Downloaded the history off it?"

"You've been quite reliable in telling the whole galaxy about your little misadventures," said Adams.

So now I knew he'd been following my transmissions. That means he'd heard all my theories about 4004 and how much I'd pieced together. And I already knew from the Snoopers that news agencies like GNN and the Chronicle were sniffing around in the directions those theories lead.

My concerns about escaping alive were not misplaced. If anything, I'd kind of low-balled the trouble I was in. I had a feeling things wouldn't stay polite for long.

I looked at my fingernails. "A fan, huh? Yeah, I've got a few these days. Must be making you a bit worried."

"Not terribly. Your ramblings are mostly relegated to the conspiracy bin, I'm told. I mean, space ninjas? Really?"

"It's like nobody in the universe has heard of poetic licence," I muttered to myself, though I wouldn't doubt it if Adams' men wore black uniforms and face masks at this point, given that they all carried these uber-crystals that could hack computers, hyperradio, other ships, and who knew what else. What kind of black ops were going on here?

Adams shrugged. "Some people find it difficult to distinguish extreme sarcasm from sincerity without the proper context."

"Poe's law," I said.

Look it up if you don't already know. English major. Sue me.

Adams now leaned forward, serious and straightforward the in the manner that earned his men's respect, and my annoyance. "Quite. You're a fool, but you're not an idiot. You know how much trouble you're in, and you know how unlikely it is you'll be leaving this ship alive. So if you answer my questions, we will see what happens next in the most painless way possible."

Unlikely. See, you always have to leave a hint of hope while facing them with grim reality. Take note, future interrogators!

"Death isn't the only option," Adams said, reading my thoughts. "I have my crystal back, so you can't use your pirate radio skills to interfere with what must be done."

Not Naval business, not galactic security. What must be done. Yeah, table six's ordered some Mein Kampf with a side order of Machiavelli, hold the morality.

"We can leave you on a low tech world in an Anarchy system. We have your ship and your accounts. I'm confident you wouldn't be flying anywhere again in your lifetime."

Remember, future interrogators, build on that hope. Let them think it could actually happen--if only you cooperate. Oh, and that "in your lifetime" bit was a nice touch, since it leaves the question open as to how long that might be. Plenty of wiggle room there for when he decides to finally twirl his mustache... if he had one. I guess he could borrow the one I'd made, I didn't need it anymore.

It was time to take the flippant dial and crank it up to eleven. "Can I just cut to the chase, baldy? You don't care about what I know. You want to know who else I've told and how much. You want names and a list, am I right? Something for your goon squad to quietly go after and investigate with their magic keys to the city for wherever they go, then decide how to deal with it. You're all calm and collected, but let's be honest. This is about damage control. I mean, how hard is it to keep my dad in the dark about your little operation here?"

Give Adams credit, he wasn't the monologuing type. I wasn't going to get some grand speech from him, nor was he going to tell me anything he didn't want me to know. My dad's involvement, or lack thereof, fell into that category.

So it's up to me to fill in the gaps here. I was pretty sure I had a general grasp of things. I'm fairly good at reading into people's intentions and the phrase "What must be done" spoke volumes.

I'm sure A.I.M. had been developed strictly for Navy use, but was probably being held back by one or two members of the team, who introduced bugs they could easily remove themselves and refined the program further on their own.

Adams has his own loyal black-ops squad, multi-role operatives who could handle ground operations as well as fly. Jack-of-all-trades types, but not super-agents. If they were, they wouldn't need to use A.I.M. in space combat or require super-ID crystals to infiltrate places. No, loyalty is the quality being sought after here, and technology was used to shore up their deficiencies. Even the code name made sense now. Pilots were given handles based on their personality. Maverick, Iceman, Joker or--if you happen to be a closeted pervert--Goose. My guess was the real Mossfoot wasn't the fastest pilot on this guy's dream team.

So Adams has A.I.M., and uses his space ninjas to contact the various pirate factions across the galaxy incognito, offering them this game changing tech. Maybe he gives them a taste, a freeware version. Hell, maybe that's what was used during the attack on the Princess Cruise and who knows how many other minor raids around that same time.

But he waits until the right moment to release the full version or give them the unlock key or whatever, and the pirates agree not to use it until the time is right--when the Navy is away facing down a possible Thargoid invasion, when they can't possibly return to help with the crisis.

Adams knows that the local GalCop defenses will acquire this tech from captured ships and start using it themselves (if they took too long, no doubt he'd have made sure the Navy's version was sent in the form of emergency aid). That leveled the playing field again, but not before the galaxy was shaken up, scared, off kilter, mistrusting of one another, and the whole political dynamic is thrown on its head.

And then the Navy returns, ready to help enforce this new order. Focusing their attention on the rich and influential worlds, and leaving the rest to fend for themselves, which only creates further instability, and thus a greater need for Navy presence.

So what about the black box of that Navy surveillance cutter on the edge of civilized space? Dollars to donuts says they'd accidentally seen the final meeting between Adams' men and the pirates. The cutter somehow gave their position away, and learned first hand how effective the new software was. It wasn't until things had calmed down that Adams decided it would be safe to send RRS on a salvage mission for it. It kept Adams from having to involve his men directly, and RRS wouldn't have the ability to decrypt a naval black box.

The real question now is, to what end? No doubt there's some delusional 'greater good' at stake here, but what? Were there dreams of going full Empire brewing? I could have asked but, like I said before, the man wasn't the monologuing type.

With the balls of the pachinko game in my head finally stopping their latest flurry, Adams pulled out a notepad and stylus and slid them over to me.

"That list now, if you would be so kind."

At this point I'd appreciate a shout out of those enjoying the story by answering this simple question:

How's the logic holding together? As you can see I'm trying to tie up all the threads established from pretty much the beginning of my run and want to make sure its holding together in your opinion.

As I am fond of pointing out to people, I am a coward. I talk a good game and know how to cheese people off and get away with it. But at the end of the day the only thing that matters is that I walk away with my skin intact.

I took the pad and started writing.

Don't judge me. If you were in my position you'd do the same thing, or at least consider it. What could I do? They had me. I was trapped on board my father's Behemoth-class battleship with his own XO either power-mad or working on orders from someone who was. This guy could use me as reactor shielding if he wanted and he'd surrounded himself with men who wouldn't even bat an eye at that fact.

Hell yeah I was going to write down names. I didn't get far, however, before he pulled the pad away from me and started reading.

"Aaron A Aaronson. Guy Incognito. Mr. Underhill..." Adams sighed as he continued down the list. "Abrahamo Linconi. I.C. Weiner. Seymour Butts. I Had Your Mum And She Was Fantastic? That last one is not even a name."

"Nope, just a point of fact."

I smirked. I'm a coward, but I'm not stupid. My information was the only thing keeping me alive.

Commander Adams buzzed for the guards to enter. "Take him to the secondary engine room. Make sure you're not seen."

"Yes, sir. What then?"

"Stick him in the thrust reactor."

Okay, so maybe I'm a little stupid. Who knew he was so touchy about his mom?

***

The men escorting me did so with their weapons out. If I had been a ninja I could have disarmed them and disappeared into a puff of smoke, then start a guerrilla style war from corridor to corridor as I fought my way to freedom. Of course I wasn't a ninja so it was a moot point.

"So, um, I'm guessing it would be pretty pointless for me to offer you a bribe, huh?" I asked them.

"Pretty much," said the one behind me. They were taking me down some side corridors, away from the main lanes of shipboard traffic. The guard in front would go ahead to make sure the next path was clear before continuing.

"And if I start screaming for help?"

"We knock you out and drag you by the feet the rest of the way."

"Well, at least I'd be unconscious when you threw me in the reactor."

"Oh, we'd wake you up first," said the guard in front, checking the next corner.

"Do you have any idea what a pain in the butt you've been?" said the one behind me. "Adams was on our ass day and night till we found you. Then you went and didn't die? Talk about rude."

"And don't forget Mossfoot, sheesh. Does he have a bone to pick with you." It took me a second to remember they weren't talking about me. "He's still on flight deck cleaning duty."

"You think we should call him down? Give him the honors?"

"Naw. The Commander would call that inefficient. I'll record it. Give it to him for his birthday."

I almost, almost smiled, because not only had their little conversation confirmed that they were part of Adam's black-ops team, but that they were about as bright as I'd imagined. This I could work with. Maybe.

The trip to the secondary engine room was a lot shorter than I'd hope, by about fifty or sixty years. Only two people were there at the moment, and from the exchange of nods with the guards I knew I hadn't found allies.

"Engines offline?" the guard in front asked one of the engineers.

"For now. We just finished a maintenance check of the thrust nacelle. She's scheduled for a startup in five minutes."

"Sounds good. Open her up."

The second engineer went over to an access hatch to the main reaction chamber and opened it.

I raised my hands in front of me. "So, look, guys, aren't you unhappy with your lot in life? I mean, wouldn't you rather be the guys in charge instead of taking orders all the time?"

One of the guards laughed. "Why the hell do you think we're part of Adam's elite unit, dumbass? Throw him in!"

"No, wait! Art! Music! Have you ever considered something less violent?" Why did I have the sneaking feeling I've read about this scenario before and it didn't work out for that guy, either? "I'll give you my ship! My money! My collection of rare spoons!"

"You collect spoons?" One of the engineers asked.

"Well, no, but I could very quickly if you're interested."

"Get on with it!" the guard shouted.

The second guard pushed me through the access shaft and I tumbled down the curved side of the thrust chamber unceremoniously. The door shut with a clang.

I got up and dusted myself off. It was kind of like being in an empty subway tube with no tracks. I looked down the hall to where the reactor fed straight through, which for the moment was mercifully dark. Maybe I'd get lucky and the shields that kept the air in here during maintenance would go down first and I'd be blown out into space. But as soon as the other end started glowing, I was... well, let me put it this way: The Atomos is approximately two hundred thousand tons in mass, and these engines pump out enough energy to move her at the same speed as a Viper.

Far down the shaft, a blue glow began to grow, as did the high pitch whine.

"Ah bugger."

mossfoot wrote:

At this point I'd appreciate a shout out of those enjoying the story by answering this simple question:

How's the logic holding together? As you can see I'm trying to tie up all the threads established from pretty much the beginning of my run and want to make sure its holding together in your opinion.

Things make sense to me sofar, should a Deus Ex Machina event happen now, i hope it will fit in with the story.

Uh-oh. Out of the fat, into the fire...

Our hero could really use a nifty James Bond gadget right about now. Or failing that, an electronic thumb and a towel.

All neatly tied up .....

2 am in the morning and i finally caught up on the fiction...

excellent stuff. caught a few references but couldnt stop reading to write them down!!

Spoiler Alert: Well, you're hearing or reading this, aren't you? You figure it out.

The glow began to grow and I felt the slightest tremor under my feet as the thrust nacelle chamber prepared to receive about as much energy as...you know there really isn't a proper metaphor for this I can think of--it's that much.

I scampered up the side of the chamber to where the door had been, sealed so smooth and seamlessly I wasn't entirely sure it had ever been there.

"Hey! I got names! Lots of names! Tell Adams I'll give him a goddamn phonebook!"

(It didn't occur to me until later that I was perhaps the only person on the ship who knew what those were. Sometimes the benefits of a classical education aren't so much benefits but annoyances.)

The glow continued to grow, as did the high pitch whine behind it. I had no idea how long it took these things to fire. Hell, maybe the chamber had already been flooded with enough radiation during the buildup that I was dead and didn't even know it.

I started to pound the crap out of the curved wall. "Come on! He needs me! He knows I'm a blabbermouth! He knows I've talked to people! He can't risk not knowing what I know!"

The glow shifted to a brighter shade of blue. Okay, maybe he could. I pounded on the wall until my hands were bruised.

Just then the seal cracked, the door opened, and I was dragged inside and dropped to the floor. A computer announced that the firing sequence was on standby.

Looking up, I saw Commander Adams staring down at me with the closest look to amusement as I'd ever seen on him, with the guards and one of the engineers around me like some kind of football huddle. One of them was recording the moment on a datapad, grinning like an idiot.

Adams looked to the guard with the datapad and held out his hand. The guard reluctantly handed it over. Adams tossed it inside the reaction chamber. The other engineer sealed the door and restarted the firing sequence. A few seconds later, I felt a pulse through my whole body as the thrusters kicked in and the Atomos began to move.

Adams sighed. "Over a thousand years of technology and still some people are foolish enough to record their actions," he said. He handed me the datapad and stylus again. "The list, if you please."

I talked. By God, I didn't just talk, I squealed, I sang like a canary, I spilled the beans, I ratted out every person I knew with their real names and their current location: Diziet, Redspear, Brother Mathias... I'd have snitched on my mom if she wasn't already dead.

When I was done he picked up the pad and looked it over. Satisfied I wasn't jerking his chain again he said, "Take him back to the brig. I'll decide what to do with him once I check these." He sniffed the air before he left. "Oh, and get him a new pair of trousers. There is such a thing as dignity."

***

"Back already?"

Whatshername looked a bit less haggard now. She sat in her cot wearing the featureless grey jumpsuit all guests of Her Majesty were given. The guards had handed me one as well before they tossed me back in the cell next to her.

"You couldn't give me a bit of privacy to change first?"

"What's the matter?" the woman asked. "Afraid to change in front of a girl?"

After such an emotionally draining ordeal, I needed to get back to my old self. "Honey, I don't need an excuse to strip. It's just this is a bit more...awkward than you might realize."

"Crapped your pants, did you? Afraid of me seeing your backside look like you fell in a mud puddle?"

I admit it. That made me laugh. "There is such a thing as dignity," I said, echoing Adams words.

"No, there isn't. There's life. And if you want to live, dignity needs to be on the bottom of your priority list. Life is a lot messier and uglier than a pair of soiled trousers, so who gives a crap? Other than you, obviously." She gestured to my lower half. "If it makes you feel any better I'll look away. It's not like I want to watch. Gross."

Assurances aside, it was still embarrassing to change in front of her. I used my old clothes to clean up, tossed them outside of the bars, and put on the fresh jumpsuit. I felt better in clean clothes at least.

"Look, we're all dressed up for the most boring soiree in the galaxy."

She turned back around. "Oh, so you've been to Esredice?"

"It is indeed a boring planet." I looked the woman over, and clearly she was doing the same to me. Each of us trying to figure out where the other stood or whether it mattered given the situation. "So if you're name's not Brandi..." I ventured.

"It's Violet. For real." She sighed. "If they caught you and by the look of your clothes you've given them what they want, they're probably not going to keep me around much longer. So, be honest, given that you're the reason I'm here, what's next for me? Prison, or disappeared?"

I didn't want to lie to her. "Probably disappeared."

She looked away, dark hair covering part of her face. "Damn. Well, that sucks."

"The same goes for me, if it's any consolation."

"Nope. Not really."

I bent my head down so I could make sure she could see me smile. "Hey, kiddo. It's not as bad as you think."

"What, death?"

"Death? No, that's horrible. I mean our situation."

Violet looked back to me. "How do you figure?"

"Look, I just ratted out all my friends, even though I'm know I'll end up dead in the end anyway. But look at me. I'm smiling, right? Why do you think that is?"

"Because you're an idiot and don't know any better?"

"I'll give you half marks for that, but no. Let me tell you a secret." I leaned in close to the bars and she did the same so she could hear me say, "You think this is my first time in this brig? I wanted to be sent back here."

Then I backed up to the center of my cell, and started doing the Chicken Dance.

"Trust me, Violet. Dignity is at the bottom of my priority list."

mossfoot wrote:

I bent my head down so I could make sure she could see me smile. "Hey, kiddo. It's not as bad as you think."

"What, death?"

"Death? No, that's horrible. I mean our situation."

My fav line!

Wave-your-hands-like-they're-a-bird
Wave-your-arms-like-they're-a-bird
Wave-your-butt-like-it's-a-bird
Clap-Clap-Clap-Clap!

Violet was not impressed by my slick dance moves, but to be fair, five minutes of the Chicken Dance should be anyone's limit.

"Are you done yet?" she asked.

"Nope."

She rolled her eyes and turned back to her cot. "Wake me for the execution."

"Will do!"

The door to the brig opened, and finally I could stop. A man in an enlisted uniform came in, wearing a full head mask that looked like fractal static.

Violet didn't know what to make of any of this. "The hell?"

"You rang?" he asked, then wrinkled his nose. "Ah, geeze, who crapped their pants?" He looked down at my pile of clothes down at his feet. "Never mind."

"About damn time, Paradox. My arms were about to fall off."

"Well excuse me if security's gotten tighter since the last time you were here. Brave new world, you know. Fair warning, we're out of pizza."

"Would someone explain to me what's going on?" Violet asked.

"Violet, this is Paradox. Say hello, Paradox."

"Hello, Paradox."

"So you two are a comedy duo?" asked Violet. "Great, but I'd rather have fried chicken for my final request."

Paradox pulled off his static mask, revealing the middle aged wizard of supply and demand. "Snarky. I like her."

"And I liked you better with the mask on. What is going on, already?"

"Paradox works in the quartermaster's office and is the best kept secret on the Atomos. If you need something done, he can probably do it for you. If you need something done illegally, he can definitely do it for you."

"I've had this ship wrapped around my finger since before his dad was in charge," said Paradox. "So, when I saw boyo here being escorted by guards yet again, I kept an eye on the monitors and waited for the signal."

"The Chicken Dance," said Violet.

"Exactly. So, what is it this time. You smuggling in, or smuggling out?"

"Out."

"Alright," he held out his hand.

"Sorry. Bigger than that."

"How big?"

I held my hand up to the top of my head .

Paradox quirked an eyebrow. "You can't be serious."

"Deadly."

"Look, bringing you pizza or getting rid of contraband is one thing, but breaking you out? Do you have any idea what's going on in this ship these days?"

"More than you realize," I said. "Weren't you following me on the monitors?"

"I've got work to do, plus that Navy stuff they keep bugging me about. I just waited for you to show up back here."

"Well, I almost didn't." I gave him a quick breakdown of events, and as I expected he knew even more.

"Yeah, Adams has his own game going on this ship. It started about a year ago, surrounding himself with guys he trusted, giving them special training and equipment access. He's got these special ident crystals that are--" he gesticulated his mind being blown. "But I didn't know what they were up to. They communicate mostly in person, never online--at least, not in any way I know of. I figured he had his own scam going on, but that's where my interest ended. As long as he wasn't getting close to me, and I didn't track on his radar, I didn't care."

"You should have."

"After what you just told me? Yeah, I should have." He thought about what I'd told him for a moment. "This gang can't be everyone."

"What do you mean?" asked Violet.

"Well, if the prodigal son here is right and that whole pirate reboot thing is tied back here, I don't think Adams is the one in charge. His operation... it's got more of a cell vibe behind it, you know? Not the head of the dragon if you know what I mean."

"So who's the head?" asked Violet.

"Well, it's not the Captain, I can tell you that much. Poor guy is clueless about Adams."

I'd guessed as much, but it was still a relief to hear it confirmed. It meant we stood a chance.

"I'd thought about pointing him in the right direction, help him figure it out on the sly. You know, in case Adams was actually competition. But I figured I'd wait and see."

That might have been for the best. I could imagine Adams going full blown coup under the right circumstance. I pointed to the camera in the corner of the cell.

"Those are all looped, right?"

"You think I'd have taken my mask off if they weren't?"

"What is that anyway?" Violet asked.

"Pattern recognition layout for my image overlay program. I can walk through the ship looking like whoever I want as far as the cameras are concerned, or erase me altogether. Obviously a bit of a problem if anyone is around in person, though."

"So what about the guards outside?"

"What about them? They were called away, won't be back for," he checked his datapad. "Two minutes. Ugh. Just a sec." He tapped a few buttons. "There. Steam valve busted, they'll need to take the long way around. Call it five minutes."

"I love this guy," I said. "I swear, I'd marry him if I swung that way. Hell, I might anyway."

"Easy now, you might not love me for long. I haven't agreed to break you out."

"After everything I've told you?"

"Especially after everything you've told me. I break you out and my life expectancy on this ship is about the same as a fruit fly with cancer. I'll have to cut and run, and I've been working this ship for twenty years. This is my base of operations."

"You telling me you don't have a nest egg set aside somewhere?"

"Doesn't do me any good if I can't get to it, does it?"

I considered the problem, and reluctantly sighed. "I'll give you my ship."

That intrigued him a little. "Your ship, huh?"

"Yeah, we all get out of here together, scramble their sensors before we go so they won't know what system we went to and keep jumping till we're clear. You drop me off on a nice high tech world and continue on your merry way."

"What are you flying?"

"A Hobby, one of the Neolites."

"Pffft. Not much of a ship, that."

I sighed again. "And I've got about twenty grand in my account."

Paradox smiled. "That should just about cover it. Okay, I'll see what I can do. Give me a half hour to come up with something."

"Good, but for the record the engagement is officially off."

mossfoot wrote:

At this point I'd appreciate a shout out of those enjoying the story by answering this simple question:

How's the logic holding together? As you can see I'm trying to tie up all the threads established from pretty much the beginning of my run and want to make sure its holding together in your opinion.

Gets a thumbs-up from me.. nice job of thread-tying, IMO.

For the record when I introduce forum member cameos like this (and so far I've had Diziet, Redspear and now Paradox show up) it's never meant to be them or their in-game characters if they happen to use the same name. It's just a tip of the hat to them for one reason or another. Diziet for correcting my mispronunciation of the Fer-de-lance , Redspear for creating a great unique skin for me to fly around in, and Paradox for something that will be revealed in the future

An hour later we were all in a bar on Lave, celebrating our escape.

"Well, that was an incredibly unlikely series of events!" said I.

"You can say that again," said Paradox. "I thought we were all goners. But I learned a valuable life lesson."

"And I learned the meaning of love," said Violet, holding me around my waist, her laugh tinkling like a wind chime.

I grinned. It was indeed a good day. "That's right. And we couldn't have done it without this device." I held up the mystic glowing orb that--



Okay, okay I'm just messing with you.

"Hey, dumbass. You think your friend is going to bail on us?" Violet was laying back in her cot, arm covering her eyes to block out the bright white lights that they never turned off.

"Whatever happened to 'flyboy'?"

"You just gave your ship to a con artist who we'll probably never see again. It was time for a change."

I chuckled, but she wasn't entirely wrong, either. Paradox was a good guy, but at the end of the day he did look out for number one, lest he accidentally go number two... like some dumbass pilots I could mention.

But a half hour later Paradox was back, dragging in two bodies. He dropped them down on the ground.

"The guards," he explained, covering their heads with fractal static masks like the one he'd worn. "And just about the right size. They're not Adams men, though, so be gentle. Even if they wake up, those masks won't come off without some help. Should buy us some time. Now start stripping."

We got out of our jumpsuits, which left me naked as a jay bird again, but only for a couple of minutes. Then we were in Navy uniforms and they were in prison jumpsuits, their faces like some kind of digital Rorschach test.

Paradox tapped his datapad a few times and both our doors opened. "Perfect. Now, just one last touch and we can be going." With that, he stabbed me in the face.

"OWWW! Goddammit, Paradox!" Paradox pulled the hypo from my forehead, which had only penetrated a few millimeters.

"Baby. That's why I didn't give you any warning." He handed Violet another. "Shoot up. Doesn't matter where, just in the general area of the face."

"I know. I've used these before."

My face wasn't swelling, not exactly, but it was changing. Filling out in different places. Violet jabbed her hypo under her chin. In a few moments her jaw filled out, as did her cheeks, while her lips shrunk a bit, making her look more masculine. I touched around my face, trying to figure out how different I looked.

"You look gorgeous, boyo."

"For a caveman," said Violet. "Nice cro-mag head."

"It's enough to fool the cameras into not recognizing you and setting off the alarm. Where we're going we won't be able to avoid people. And trust me, we got uglier on board. Now, stick close to me. I've planned for an emergency egress for decades, but didn't expect to have company."

The foyer to the brig was empty. "Where to first?" I asked.

"Back to my den, unfortunately. Have to close up shop before we go."

"You mean the quartermaster's office?" asked Violet.

"No, that's where I was got the drugs and other equipment I needed. I mean my office. Home, really."

We followed him out of the foyer and down the hall. The thing about two guards flanking an enlisted man is that you attract a lot of attention, but not a lot of eye contact. People tend to act as if looking too long might get them mixed up in the affair. But as we continued I began feeling more and more uneasy.

"We're heading to the bow of the ship," I said.

"Yep."

"Where the officers are."

"That's right. Now, stop acting like you're guarding me and walk in single file."

We did as he asked as he took us deeper into officer territory.

"I'm pretty sure my dad's cabin is down here."

"That it is. I'm parked right next to it, well, sort of."

Before he could explain, he used his ident crystal on an access door to one of the air recycling rooms. We followed him in, ducking under vents and trying to block out the noise.

"This is home?" Violet asked.

Paradox smirked. "Well, I don't sleep here, darlin, if that's what you're asking. But this is, as they say, where the magic happens."

He took us to the back of the room, right behind the main pumps, where he opened an access panel for one of the vents. Only it didn't lead to a small narrow tube we had to wiggle through like in the movies, but a long but narrow room, maybe a meter and a half across by five meters long, with barely enough room to stand. We had to stand in single file as Paradox set himself down in front of a narrow desk and computer terminal.

"Found this deadspace in the hull my first year on board. Not listed on any of the schematics. That's when I knew I'd found a home."

"Within spitting distance of my dad's cabin," I said.

"I know, if the symmetry were any more perfect I'd cry. This place is EM buffered by the machinery there, meaning casual scans can't pick this place up, but also I can't receive. I installed hardlines around to get past that, patching into the main network. From here I can see pretty much everything that goes on in the ship, monitor all communications, hack the system, whatever is needed." Paradox sighed. "I'm gonna miss it." He started tapping away.

"So are you going to send the ship into chaos or something?" I asked. "Give us cover for our escape?"

He shook his head. "I'm not the only computer expert here. If I start messing with too much stuff they'll notice and start messing back. Too unpredictable. I'm just here to make sure certain doors are green lit for us to the hanger bay, then purge the system. With luck they'll never find this room, but if they do there won't be any useful data on it that could lead them to me."

"Wait. There is one bit of hacking I need you to do before we go."

"What?"

I explained to him how I'd ratted out everyone I'd talked to about the Mossfoot identity crystal. "Can you make that information disappear?"

Paradox nodded. "If it's networked in." He checked his system. "You're in luck. It's not networked in normally, but he's got it docked. Probably running checks on the names. Blanking data...aaaaand...power surge! That'll ruin his day."

Looking around the small narrow room I noticed there were some shelves with various useful items. Counterfeit credit chits (Navy use only, damn), ident crystals, blank requisition forms already signed by the captain...

"Wait. How much do you know about Adams special identity crystals?"

Paradox did that mind-blown gesture again then went back to typing. "Most awesome piece of kit I've come across since I came on board. No way R&D here developed it, the man hours would have been outstanding and they're busy on more navy-type stuff. No, that's definitely Section W stuff."

"Section W?" I asked.

He never took his eyes off the screen. "I'm surprised you didn't know. You said you had one. Didn't you ever check it out?"

"I tried, but on normal terminals it never shows anything out of the ordinary. I saw the words Section W show up once on a GalCop pencil pusher's datapad, but that's it."

"Section W is officially an intelligence gathering arm of the Navy, but it doesn't take a genius to know what the W stands for: Wetworks. The XO here has friends in some very low places."

I almost hesitated to ask, but there wouldn't be another chance. "Did you ever..."

"Hack one? Hell yeah. You think I'm going to let him keep that toy all to himself? I worked a variation of the system into my own crystal, running underneath the official software."

"You can do that?" asked Violet.

"The crystal itself isn't such a big deal. Just next-gen stuff, holds more data, can be more intricately programmed. Navy already uses it, and we'll see them out in public in five years. What makes this special is the programming."

"Can you make us a copy of one?" I asked. I figured Violet would need all the help she could get when we got out of here.

Paradox shook his head. "No can do. I had to build mine up from scratch based on what I learned snooping around some borrowed crystals. Hardwired right into the program is a quantum key that will not allow itself to be copied, only transferred. Trying to force a copy breaks the whole thing down, corrupting both sides."

"Damn."

"So can you steal one?" Violet asked.

"Yeah, if you ran into Adams' men. But we want to avoid that, darlin."

"No, I mean remotely. If one of those crystals are currently docked somewhere, could you transfer the data here?"

Paradox smiled. "I like the way you think. But we're cutting things close as it is. Still I'll... hello." Paradox looked closer at the screen, then laughed.

"Oh, you're going to love this, boyo."

I bent down to look over his shoulder. Only one Section W restricted ident crystal was currently docked into a terminal on board, transferring its surveillance data to the ship's computer.

Mossfoot.

I smirked. Honestly, how could I not? "Do it. And blank whatever data it transferred if you can."

"Righto. But then we have to go. We're behind schedule as it is."

While we waited for Paradox to finish I turned to Violet. "I've got an idea."

Most excellent!

It's very tense isn't it?!

BBD