The mage hurried down the corridor with his two hangers-on in pursuit.
****
Deeks bent over the prone form of Technician Redmond and tossed his bloodstained clipboard to the floor.
"Sorry, Redders," he said. "You should have let me on your terminal when I asked."
Stepping over the equally unresponsive Drexelica, the Technician seated himself at the console, humming as he accessed the central control database. "Don't worry, my love," he crooned, leering at the drugged girl. "In a few moments, a bloody army won't be able to get in here. And then, you and I can have all the time we want together, while the security guards dance to my tune for a change. We can canoodle to our hearts' content while they concentrate on taking out Armitage and your erstwhile friends for me."
His hands danced across the keys as if he were playing a piano concerto, looking forward to the libidinous pleasures in store.
[Back to Table of Contents]
Chapter 12: Enemies
"Do as I tell you, bitch. Open up to your lord and master. Show me what you can do for me; you know you want to!"
Technician Deeks maintained a constant stream of chatter as his hands fluttered over the terminal keyboard. He had learned all of his hacking skills in a piecemeal fashion over many years. He had rarely been left unsupervised for more than a few minutes, so he now gloried in not having to look over his shoulder every few moments for the approach of a senior Technician.
"Tech subsystem A: protocol settings. Password: 18ACCESSTECH117," he muttered, a smug smile on his face. The passwords were changed on a monthly basis, but Deeks had seen Terrence, in a rare moment of laxity, throwing a small piece of paper in the bin just three days before, instead of incinerating it as the onerous rules required. Retrieving the scrap, Deeks had discovered the Haven hacker's touchstone; a departmental admin password.
"So, Technician Deeks; what is your access rating?" he chanted to himself.
"Level one, read-only? Surely such a lowly status is below the requirements of such a master of Technology? It's level eight for you, my boy, as befits your mighty status."
His monologue went unheard by the unconscious Redmond, who had been further subdued by a massive and possibly lethal dosage of sedatives, and the drug-befuddled object of his deepest desires.
Once he had accessed the Tech Admin area, he was able to open up Terrence's user account, giving him access to the Security subsystem in the case of emergency. There was additional password protection for this area but, unlike the master access code, this was an "operator discretion code"; it was not assigned by computer, but by the user himself, and it was not updated as a matter of routine.
It might take a little while to get in here, Deeks thought, but our anally-retentive, pin-brained friend, Terrence, just lives for his little electronic domain. It shouldn't take too long for a master hacker to find out his access code.
****
An urgent beep sounded in the Control Room, and a red light flashed on a panel. Xylox looked round from his station by the open doorway.
"What is that, Armitage?" he barked.
The nervous Administrator, not looking at the Questor, mumbled "Remote Tech Admin access."
"What does that mean?" the mage demanded.
"Someone's accessing the Technical Administration area on the main computer server from a remote terminal," Armitage replied slowly, as if addressing a stupid question from an insistent child. It seemed as if the Haven chief was regaining a little of his arrogance.
Xylox felt none the wiser after this cryptic response. He hated Technology in all its aspects, but he now began to think that complete denial of this ancient art might not be the best course of action in this den of electronic iniquity.
He paused for a moment, rubbing his chin in uncharacteristic indecision. He did not want to set the evil Administrator loose on his foul devices, but he suspected that somebody might be setting another trap for his team.
"Do you have anything to do with this?" the thaumaturge snapped, his brows hovering like grey birds of prey over his narrowed eyes. "I will know if you lie, and I can make you beg me to kill you, if I so wish."
Armitage hauled himself from under his console, and staggered to his feet. "I swear this is none of my doing, Questor," he stuttered, in an evident attempt to seem frank and honest, but succeeding only in appearing shifty and guilt-ridden.
Nonetheless, Xylox's Sight indicated no deception. "Is this some attempt to take control of this area by Technological means?"
"It could be, although I doubt it," Armitage replied. "It's probably just some Tech accessing the technical database for an unauthorised research project, but I can't tell anything without accessing the system myself. However, I will say that the only person who might normally be expected to employ such access is Senior Technician Terrence."
Armitage folded his arms across his chest as if delivering a defiant ultimatum, casting his eyes at the bloody form of the dead tech.
The mage considered the Administrator's response with care; Armitage did not appear to be lying, and he could always monitor the Haven chief's aura for incipient deception. Although Xylox had strong scruples about using his Sight on fellow mages without their permission, he would not extend this courtesy to a despised scion of Technology.
"Warrior Tordun; be so kind as to resume the watch. I will ensure that this wretch does not attempt to gull us, on his life."
Xylox stepped towards Armitage. "Play us false, and I will make you wish that you had never been born," he threatened. "Find out who is doing this thing, and be quick about it."
****
"So, what do you boys normally do around here, when there are no rampant mages in residence?" Grimm asked of his uncommunicative escorts.
"Maintenance, supplies, store inventory. All the crap jobs," one of the men muttered, his voice dripping with mingled resentment and resignation.
The label on the breast of his uniform read 'Tattler', a singularly inappropriate appellation, in the young thaumaturge's opinion.
"It sounds to me as if you should consider a career change," the mage said, attempting to make conversation. His words fell on stony ground as the escorts held their tongues. Nonetheless, Grimm felt happy, almost ebullient, and he refused to let these two dull individuals spoil it.
He was about to make a further attempt to elicit a little more openness from the guards when they rounded the corner into Black sector, only to be greeted by a metal wall of a form only too familiar to Grimm.
"That's odd," Tattler said, his expression a melange of confusion and concern. "We've got some screens down, but not through here. We came by this way when the alert was raised, and it was open then."
"Open it," the Questor said, all light-heartedness departing his voice.
The guard hurried to comply, tapping a rectangle of numbered keys with his fingers. Grimm guessed that the red flashing light and the low beep from the panel did not indicate success.
"Well, I'll be damned!" Tattler said. "You try, Emmers."
Emerson stepped up to the metal wall and went through similar motions, to the same effect.
"We're locked out," Emerson said to his comrade, his expression troubled.
The mage felt anxiety rising within him like bile, and he took refuge in righteous anger.
"Are you saying you have no inkling of the reason for this blockage?" he demanded.
Grimm's eyes narrowed and his hands flexed as if prepared to emit death at his least word of command.
Emerson's face reddened. "I swear we have nothing to do with this, mage," he stammered, in evident fear of some brutal magical reprisal.