Synthesis Page 2

  ‘There’s a SpecOps agent on the station.’ Her eyes were wide.

  ‘Really?’ He’d dreamt of getting an exciting job like that, but Special Security Projects and Operations was well out of his league. It would be a dream come true just to meet an agent!

  ‘Apparently, he’s here interviewing … Something to do with redundancies.’ She folded her arms. ‘As much as I can’t stand her, I hope Bannik doesn’t get the sack. She gets the job done.’

  ‘Oh, Gods! Do you know who they’re firing?’ If SpecOps had sent out an agent to issue redundancies, something big had to be going on.

  ‘Not a clue, I just heard the rumour going around that they’d selected someone based on their psych test.’

  ‘Oh.’ He swallowed hard.

  Karan grinned. ‘Don’t be such a depresso, you’re awful.’ She leaned against the wall of the lift in mimicry of ‘I’m a little teapot’ with one hand on her hip. ‘I’m a mechanical depressive, here’s my handle, here’s my support mechanism.’ She laughed at her own joke.

  He laughed. She was so stupid sometimes.

  ‘Look, you’re good at your job,’ she said. ‘I’m sure you’ll be here for a long time to come.’ The lift stopped and they both stepped out. ‘I’m off to the changing room. See you around – and cheer up!’ She headed off down the corridor.

  It was fine for her; she was bright and bubbly all the time. If SpecOps was making redundancies based on psych tests, he was for the chop. He was only a security programmer after all, and they’d surely think him too prone to panic and idle daydreaming to even consider keeping him on.

  ***

  As he entered the security department his supervisor, Eleanor Bannik, stepped out of her office, directly into his path.

  ‘I need to have a word with you, Thorsson,’ she said, her stony glare boring deep into his skull.

  ‘Can I ask what about?’

  ‘Just be in my office at 09.00 tomorrow.’ The Ice Queen spun around and slammed the glass door behind her. What on Earth had he done wrong? Was it – he swallowed – the redundancies?

  He sat at his desk to begin the day’s tasks and, before he had time to dwell on his situation, an alert sounded from his workstation.

  ‘Security breach detected,’ the computer said.

  ‘What kind of breach?’

  ‘A systems breach in the maintenance subsystem.’

  ‘What effect has the breach had?’

  ‘Code has been inserted and is redirecting funds from the core banking system.’

  ‘Where did it originate?’

  ‘The maintenance terminal in bay thirty-five, on level three of the habitation ring.’

  ‘Is anyone in that bay?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘So, how did a hack originate there? Do you mean nobody is actually in the bay, or nobody is registered to it?’

  ‘Nobody is registered as currently occupying the bay.’ It was so unhelpful; whoever wrote the main security TI needed to be shot.

  ‘Scan the bay. Is anyone present?’

  ‘Sensors are not functioning.’

  ‘Gods! Turing Unintelligence.’ Sebastian ground his teeth. Obviously it was going to be one of those days where the interface’s intelligence simulation wasn’t even going to try. ‘Check the terminal – is it being accessed via the screen, keyboard, plug-in module, or what? If it’s a manual intervention, send someone down there to catch them!’

  Karan ran past seconds later, heading out of the office, stun-stick and handcuffs hanging from her belt. Sebastian hunched over the screen, nibbling his nails, watching the dot – her dot – move down the corridors to the bay.

  Ten minutes later, she burst into the office pushing a bald, purple-robed figure – an Antari – in front of her, its hands cuffed behind its back. Sebastian stared at them as they walked past on the way to the brig. ‘Gotcha,’ he said under his breath.

  The Antari drifted by, almost as though pushed on a trolley, and turned to look at him. The tops of its ears folded into points, and its lips curled, turning the ordinarily serene Antari expression into a fanged snarl. Hacking was forgivable if it wasn’t malicious, and helped to make the system better, but not when it was like this; this scumbag had been leeching off the system like a vampire. At least that was another out of the way.

  Karan filled out the arrest log at the desk and prodded the Antari through the door as Bannik came by. Her stare was as flat as ever, with not even a hint of recognition or gratitude on her face. This was it. He was toast. He’d never get a promotion or a better job – and he was going to lose this one.

  By 17.00 he’d completed the day’s tasks; all the required security fixes had been put in and new protocols written. It was good to finally get out of the office – even though it brought tomorrow closer.

  That night, sleep came in short passages punctuated with a jumble of work-related images that drifted through his mind, snagging on his consciousness. Tiny problems magnified a thousand times consumed all of his attention while meaning little.

  The images eventually stopped, leaving him hanging weightless in the dark. How had he come to be in that predicament? It was like zero G. What a strange feeling. Almost like falling.

  As the wind whistled in his ears, it didn’t occur to him it might be dangerous. He caught a dry, dusty odour and the darkness peeled back to reveal the walls of a grey rocky shaft hurtling past. Something trailed down through the centre of the tunnel close to him – a rope? He reached out and grasped it. The rope bit into his hands, cutting deep. His fingers stung at first, then burnt, and the sensation erupted in a roar of pain that consumed his arms. He gripped tighter and tighter, but fought against the reflex to hold on, and let go. The bones of his fingers were exposed and etched with deep striations. He held his hands away from himself in disgust … and screamed as the floor of the shaft rushed up to meet him.

  Chapter 2

  As Sebastian hit the bottom of the shaft, he jerked awake. He could do without nightmares, especially before being dragged in front of his supervisor. According to the bedside clock, it was 03.10. He lay on his side watching the minutes roll by until he lost consciousness.

  Somehow, he woke before his alarm and got ready for work on time, but the disturbed night’s sleep had left him more tired than before he’d gone to bed and, with Bannik wanting to speak to him about something, the morning didn’t look promising.

  The office was unusually quiet when he arrived. His co-workers looked away from him when he met their stares – it was the sort of expression he’d expect to see on people’s faces at a family funeral. He hoped he wasn’t about to walk into his own.

  He approached his supervisor’s receptionist. ‘I’m here to see Bannik.’

  The woman tapped away at her keyboard. ‘Please, take a seat.’

  He sat on the low box-seat opposite the desk, picked up an infoslate from a nearby table, and scanned the day’s headlines to distract himself from whatever lay ahead. More terrorist bombings on the outlying colonies. He sighed.

  ‘What’s that?’ the receptionist asked, looking up from her work.

  ‘Those idiotic ITF bastards again. They’ve bombed one of the far colonies, trying to get rid of alien influence.’

  ‘I don’t know what their problem is … My great-great-grandparents were on one of the Gliese expeditions.’

  ‘Which one?’

  ‘682b, the one they found the first node on. Bronadi first contact.’

  Sebastian’s heart skipped a beat. ‘The Fluorescent Lightingale? You never told me that.’

  Her mouth twisted in a wry smile. ‘You never asked. Anyway, if it wasn’t for us finding that node after the exodus, we wouldn’t be out here now, and none of us would have jobs. And that’s down to aliens.’

  He grimaced; if he still had a job.

  ‘Did you read the Flying Dutchman article?’ she asked.

  He scrolled down the page, but before he could begin reading, she chirped up again. ‘Somethi
ng’s been spotted in the Pegasus constellation, travelling at near lightspeed. Nobody’s got scans of it, but it’s been seen on and off over the last sixty years heading towards a group of uninhabited systems.’

  ‘What do they think it is?’

  ‘A ghost ship. Seriously, people would be mad travelling that fast in this day and age. I wouldn’t want to do it. Not for a long trip.’

  ‘Me neither.’ He shuddered at the thought of losing family to the ravages of time and put the slate down. He didn’t want a head full of depressing terrorism or paranormal nonsense, not if he was about to fight for his job.

  ‘She’s ready to see you now.’

  His stomach fluttered, and to calm himself he imagined the receptionist had done her make-up without a mirror; her wonky lipstick made her look like an inadequate clown. Suitably distracted, he smiled, but as he walked into the office his face fell.

  Bannik sat at the long, black glass desk. To her left sat a man Sebastian had never seen before; he was severe and gaunt, with wide, narrow eyes, high cheekbones and a thin mouth to match. His short, black hair was oiled or gelled and stuck to his scalp, giving his fringe a serrated look. His uniform was a prominent combination of charcoal grey and white: SpecOps. The man attempted a smile – it would have looked warmer on a crocodile.

  Bannik gestured to the solitary chair opposite.

  Sebastian sat down and folded his hands in his lap, trying to hide their trembling while his stomach quietly knotted itself.

  Bannik leaned forwards on the desk and laced her fingers together. ‘Let’s get down to business, shall we, Mr Thorsson? This is Agent Marcus Gladrin, of SpecOps,’ she said, gesturing to the man. ‘Firstly, I have to inform you that your duties have been allocated to several other members of the security department.’

  ‘Mr Thorsson,’ the agent said, ‘your time working here as a security programmer has come to an end.’

  Sebastian’s mouth fell open. ‘I—’ He tried to speak, but the knot in his stomach got tighter and his throat dried, choking him off. How was he going to pay for Erik’s education without a job? What was he going to do instead? How was he going to live?

  The agent put his hand up. ‘Please, let me continue.’

  It was hard to stop shaking, but Sebastian forced his mouth to close. He fixed his gaze on Agent Gladrin’s piercing black eyes and nodded.

  ‘The other team members will now take over your non-specialised duties.’ Agent Gladrin paused to take a drink from the glass in front of him. ‘And you, Mr Thorsson, have been chosen, based on your psychological profile, for a new security position on the station. It should not interfere too much with your day-to-day duties, although they will take a lesser priority. You will still report to Bannnik for your station duties when required, but for others, to me. Think of SpecOps as an expansion to your scope of work.’

  The statement hit Sebastian like a brick to the face. They were offering him a SpecOps job? ‘I-I’m pleased to meet you, Agent Gladrin. But I don’t understand. Why my psychological profile? I thought my test results were awful. I thought I was here to be made redundant!’

  ‘Quite the contrary. We always look for those with a specific mindset. An ability to readily pick up new skills and think outside the box. The test you took when you applied for your current post indicated that you would have these traits, and we have been watching you for the last few weeks to see if this was indeed the case. I apologise for causing you any undue stress. We don’t publicise when we’re about to recruit. People would intentionally tailor their behaviour if they knew.’

  A wave of relief washed over him, but it was short-lived. How had he not known that someone had been watching over his shoulder?

  ‘I put your name forward to SpecOps after some of your most recent projects impressed the security board.’ Bannik grinned. It had been her watching him. No wonder he hadn’t suspected a thing.

  ‘Yes, quite.’ Gladrin cast a fiery glance in her direction. ‘Rather than interviewing potential recruits in the traditional manner and putting them on probation, we give them an introductory task to complete. A uniform and other equipment will be deposited in your locker shortly and Bannik will forward the details of your allocated shuttle to your terminal. You will also be given your own office for privacy purposes. I suggest wearing your uniform at all times during official business – it has a certain weight behind it.’

  Sebastian reeled. It was a lot to take in. ‘A shuttle?’

  ‘All Special Projects and Operations employees get their own personal shuttle for use on assignment.’ Gladrin waved his hand in the air. ‘It saves on red tape and is more efficient if they have their own vessels, given the dynamic nature of the work they do.’

  ‘I see …’ He still hadn’t caught up with the bit about the uniform.

  Gladrin dismissed Bannik with a wave of his hand. She pursed her lips, grating the chair backwards as she rose. He returned the expression with an unflinching stare and waited until she’d gone before speaking again.

  ‘Your task is to analyse a new technology for us, recently acquired from a terrorist cell that was developing it secretly back on Earth. We don’t know whether the item is functional or not, nor do we know what its purpose is, but the technicians tell me it doesn’t contain explosives, so you’re cleared to work on it. The item will be delivered to your locker along with the other equipment. The box is print-locked to your thumb print for security.’

  Sebastian nodded.

  ‘We usually pair up agents with those of complementing skills. It’s often more effective to allow agents to select others to work with, but given the distinct lack of other SpecOps agents on this station, I will allow you to choose another station employee to bring in on the project instead. Remember, this is a test of your resourcefulness, not specific knowledge, and a large part of resourcefulness is in knowing who to trust and how to get the most out of those whom you do.’

  He went to ask a question but the agent spoke first.

  ‘Do not speak to your co-workers about this assignment. It is for you and your chosen partner only.’ He craned his neck to look past Sebastian. ‘This includes your supervisor and higher ranking staff. Now, do you have any questions?’

  ‘No … I think that about covered it, although I don’t understand why this task doesn’t go through normal research channels.’

  ‘We fear terrorists may be using this technology in their attacks. SpecOps often has a need for discretion, and on this occasion we cannot afford the potential security leaks associated with using third party research companies, especially when insurgents could be anywhere.’

  ‘I understand.’ It was the reason Sebastian was employed to develop the station’s security software in the first place.

  ‘So, who would you like to have work with you?’

  He shrugged. ‘Who should I choose?’

  Gladrin tapped the desk with a finger. ‘As SpecOps assignments often involve a lot of travel, sometimes to dangerous places, I suggest you choose someone with whom you could trust your life. Someone adaptable, and whose skills complement your own.’

  ‘I know just the person.’

  He held out an infoslate. ‘Put the name there,’ he said, pointing to a box on the presented form.

  Sebastian typed in the name and handed it back.

  ‘Born 2228, ex-marine with honourable discharge. Oh.’ The agent read the form and raised an eyebrow. ‘An interesting choice. I’m not sure how that’ll work out, but EarthSec says the records are clean. Very well.’ He stood and held out his hand. ‘I very much look forward to working with you in future and seeing your results.’

  ‘As do I, and thank you for the opportunity. It’s been nice meeting you, Agent Gladrin.’ Sebastian rose and they shook hands.

  He turned to leave and Gladrin caught his arm. ‘As I said, your normal work duties take a lower priority. Any time you spend on work in relation to your assignment will be paid for. The same goes for your partner. This is effecti
vely a research assignment, and research takes time, effort, and, often, legwork. I imagine your partner might need a little help, so focus on those needs first. Feel free to use any resources necessary. I need you to be an effective team.’

  Sebastian smiled and thanked Gladrin again, and as he left the office his palms began to sweat. To work under his own steam again, without boundaries, freedom. But what a responsibility!

  He made his way out of the office and Bannik appeared from nowhere, arms folded, her stony expression giving nothing away. ‘The equipment has been delivered to your locker. I imagine you have a lot of work to do, Thorsson, so you’d better get to it. I expect everything finished before you start working for SpecOps.’

  He nodded and stepped around her on his way to his desk. His own office! It was surprise enough to still have a job.

  He worked fervently, putting the finishing touches to several long-standing projects – one thing he didn’t want was her breathing down his neck – and by mid-afternoon the jobs were complete. He couldn’t wait to see what was in his locker and finally be out from under her thumb.

  ***

  He walked through the open archway of the changing room and passed the aisles of benches. The blue brushed-metal walls watched his every move on the way to his locker. If only Gladrin hadn’t told him about the terrorists, and had just given him the box with no information. He touched his palm to the lock and his bladder tightened. The locker door swung open.

  His casual clothes hung at the front; nothing seemed out of place. His old canvas rucksack, slumped in the corner triggered a vague memory, something recent, but he couldn’t place it. He’d had the thing since his eighth birthday.

  He’d sat playing in the sun on the terrace outside his small family home, pushing a toy shuttle along the grass. He looked up at the trees in the recovering forest on the edge of the urban zone as a car silently pulled up at the gate. A tall, elderly man with white hair climbed out and hobbled up the path on his walking stick.

  Sebastian ran down the steps, arms outstretched. ‘Afi!’