“What about the strange news?” Gabriel asked.
“I searched through the computers and…” Bale ventured to explain, “…found spyware; sophisticated spyware, too, embedded in a hidden boot file called ‘Dani’.”
“I guess Doran was right.” Gabriel replied, “Still, it’s not that surprising; corporate espionage in the tech sector is common enough.”
“That’s not all,” Bale continued, “the timestamps date back nearly five years.”
“A mole in deep cover for five years?” Gabriel said, “Now that is impressive.”
“I thought we’d just ruled out the presence of a mole?” Viker asked.
“The research labs run on an airtight computer system,” Bale explained, “Like I said earlier, someone with access to the labs had to have personally installed the spyware.”
“That doesn’t mean there was an agent here for five whole years,” Viker responded sceptically, “Someone could have planted the spyware and left it to transmit on its own.”
“An airtight computer network, by definition, is totally disconnected from any other network,” Gabriel pointed out, “it couldn’t have transmitted anything.”
“In which case,” Bale continued, “the mole would have had to periodically download the spyware’s latest observations, then smuggle the data out somehow.”
“The automated logistics system can take cargo to and from the landing pad without anyone having to physically inspect it.” Cato suggested, still preparing Doran for transport.
“Which means that the mole must have known how to use the logistics network.” Gabriel concluded, “Any clues on who the mole was?”
“The spyware would never reveal the identity of the person who planted it,” Bale replied.
“Anybody on the staff roster who looks suspicious?” Gabriel suggested, “Someone with a name that includes ‘Dani’ in it, maybe?”
“There’s three Daniels, one Danielle, and a Dr Penelope Daniels.” Bale answered as he searched through the records, “Other than that, nobody.”
“What about ‘Lawrence Kane’?” Viker asked.
The squad turned around to see Viker examining a set of hatches on the wall. They were mortuary alcoves for storing corpses; only one of them had a name.
“‘Dr Lawrence Kane’.” Bale read from the staff roster, “‘Project Liaison Officer from Jupiter Engineering Co.’s headquarters in Asgard City’. Every time he visited this facility, he made at least one trip to the medical bay for some kind of blood disorder. The records say he had to send regular blood samples back to some lab on Asgard.”
“And probably slipped a data chip full of stolen research into the blood samples.” Cato speculated, “Then used the facility’s own system to smuggle the samples out.”
“Do we know what happened to Dr Kane?” Gabriel asked.
“It just says ‘status: deceased’.” Bale answered inconclusively, “No information on how or when. Is he even in there?”
Viker pulled open the mortuary hatch and the tray extended automatically, releasing a cloud of refrigerated vapour into the air.
Sure enough, there was a body inside. It was a man’s corpse, with skin that was a pale shade of blue. He was still wearing clothing, and he had a holographic ID tag still attached to his chest. Viker tapped the ID tag and it lit up with a name: ‘Dr Lawrence Kane’.
“Mystery solved.” Said Viker, pushing the tray back in and shutting the hatch, “Partly.”
“So, what did you get out of the prisoner?” Bale asked, changing the subject.
“The elevator down to the ‘temple’ is at the other end of the facility, and the access code is 52133.” Gabriel replied, “no biometric lock, apparently.”
“He gave it up just like that?” Viker asked incredulously.
“I sliced his hand clean off and he practically orgasmed as a result.” Gabriel answered, “He wanted us to go down there.”
“Doran’s ready,” Cato announced, “and his suit has a week’s worth of oxygen.”
The empty casket was brought out by the conveyor system and elevated to the right position, and Doran – his suit now reassembled – was carefully placed inside. Once the casket was sealed, internal padding filled with special memory gel expanded to fill the leftover space to minimise shocks to the valuable cargo.
Cato then used the system to file an off-world transport request for the package. Once approved by the system, the sealed casket was plucked from its stand by a set of robotic arms and taken inside where it disappeared into the guts of the logistics network.
“Which would look worse on our reports,” Cato wondered as the wall panel resealed itself, “putting Doran in a coffin to save his life, or losing him in the mail?”
Bale and Viker chuckled, and even Gabriel couldn’t help but crack a smile, until he remembered to deauthorise Doran’s ID from the squad’s comm. system.
“We still have a mission to complete,” Gabriel reminded the squad, “let’s move out!”
“The ‘Dani’ spyware copied and stored virtually every single file on the system,” said Bale, “including a map of this ‘temple’. So we won’t get lost in the lion’s den.”
“Do we even know what this ‘temple’ is?” Cato asked.
“We’ll find out once we get there.” Gabriel replied.
“You might want to take that thing’s sword, just in case.” Viker recommended, “Masterminds know what other fricking monsters they have waiting for us.”
Gabriel nodded, and walked back over to the semi-Human corpse he had been interrogating. He took the magnetic plate that stored the jumper’s sword and slung it over his own shoulder, the strap tightening of its own accord. Then he retrieved the jumper’s sword, checked that the cutting field was switched off, and returned it to the magnetic sheath.
Perhaps Viker’s earlier outburst was right, and Red-eye really had assigned him a squad of operators for cannon fodder. With no backup and no way of contacting the DNI for support, their odds of survival weren’t exceptional.
And Viker’s use of the phrase ‘suicide mission’ was more accurate than he knew.
THE TEMPLE
Kingpins of industry and finance like Jezebel Thorn dominated much of the interstellar economy; and Aster, like everyone else she had known growing up, regarded them and the other fleeksters with a mixture of envy and contempt. Being roped into one of their schemes was galling.
The children entertained themselves and each other in the back of the sky-taxi, oblivious to the turmoil that occupied their mother’s thoughts all the way back to the apartment. Madam Jezebel would never harm her own grandchildren, but taking them from the medical centre was clearly intended as a message to Aster personally.
Above all, Aster regretted her impulsive decision to go snooping around Lawrence’s office after explicitly telling Felix not to. And now, thanks to that incriminating video, she had no choice but to go along with Jezebel’s blackmail, or risk being framed as the mole.