Vertigo: Aurora Rising Book Two (9 page)

Hmmm. A small grouping of qutrits in the upper right quadrant had remained untouched by the routine. He stepped closer, letting the gossamer envelop him so he could study it from the inside, and rapidly identified the problem. The filaments connecting this region to the rest of the cluster hung fragmented and thin, not sufficiently strong to convey the necessary signals.

Found it. We need to have her run generative recursion routines on 10A0-P-9I to exercise and strengthen the aperiodic functions in the sector.

Excellent work. I’ll have Programming add it to the set for when we bring her back up this afternoon. Drop by my office as soon as you’re out. You have a visitor.

Uh, sure…ma’am.

A year into this job and he still had the damnedest time with the military formality. He tried, especially for Jules because he liked her, but protocol wasn’t his thing. Not the social kind, anyway.

End session.

The web vanished, replaced by antiseptic light illuminating translucent white walls, ceiling and floor. He exited the simulation room, grabbed some water at the kitchen kiosk and headed upstairs.

Project ANNIE took up two floors of the EASC Special Projects building, not counting the mammoth basement to store the physical hardware. Thankfully the building was across the complex from the HQ tower and hadn’t suffered any appreciable damage in the bombing. He had a cubbyhole office down the hall but spent the majority of his time in the labs. Though ANNIE was Jules Hervé’s baby, since she served as head of the entire Special Projects Division her office was up on the 6
^th
floor.

As much a techie as a military officer, Hervé didn’t run an overly formal operation. He stepped aside at the entryway to allow an admiral to pass. She looked familiar; he thought perhaps he’d seen her on the news recently. Then, as in previous visits, he walked into Hervé’s office without requesting permission. On seeing she had further company though, he hastily retreated to the doorway. He really should try to observe minimal decorum…but odds were he wouldn’t.

She acknowledged him with a smile in spite of his rudeness. “It’s alright, Devon. Come in.”

Her guest was a middle-aged guy in Navy BDUs. “This is Colonel Richard Navick, our Naval Intelligence Liaison. Colonel, meet Devon Reynolds. He’s…you don’t actually
have
a real title, do you? He’s our lead analyst in the test/quality group for Project ANNIE. But more importantly, he’s the best natural quantum coder I’ve ever met.”

Her gaze flicked to the Colonel. “And he’s not military. He’s here as an independent contractor, because there’s no one in the military as gifted as him.”

If he possessed a scintilla of humility he’d be flattered, but in truth it was less a compliment and more a simple factual statement.

The man offered a hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Reynolds.”

Devon’s interaction with high-ranking officers other than Jules had been limited, and he found he had no idea of the proper way to react. He started to take the hand, then jerked his own up in a salute, then remembered as a civilian he wasn’t required to salute and yanked it back down for a hasty shake.

Navick chuckled lightly. The act revealed kind eyes, and Devon relaxed. “Sorry, sir. Still getting used to this whole military routine.”

“Not a problem. We’d arguably benefit from a bit less military routine around here.” Navick tilted his head toward Jules. “Brigadier Hervé speaks highly of your skills.”

“Did she say anything about my, uh, attitude, sir?”

“She said you have a healthy disrespect for pretty much everything and everyone. But she also said you’ve earned the right to it.”

He beamed, as this was a compliment. “Appreciated, ma’am.”

She gave a small nod and circled around her desk. Navick directed his full attention to Devon. “It’s a nice day outside. Want to take a walk?”

The breeze coming off the Strait carried a slight chill, but Devon welcomed it as it took the edge off the harsh, charred odor of debris and machinery from the Headquarters wreckage and accompanying cleanup.

He strolled beside the Colonel as they crossed the courtyard at a gait so leisurely it felt like a performance. The man subtly guided them away from the people traversing or lingering in the courtyard and toward the shore walk that ran along the edge of the Island. Away from not only prying ears, but prying eyes as well.

Not until the path had curved down to the rocky shore and trees sheltered their movement did Navick finally speak. “I imagine you’ve done a little hacking in your spare time, no?”

“A little, sir.”

“The Brigadier says you’re almost as good at spotting patterns and glitches as an Artificial.”

“With respect, sir, I’m
better
at it than an Artificial. I may not be able to analyze as many data points as fast as a synthetic can, but if you want to find something specific? I’m the better bet.”

“Cocky, too.”

“I imagine Jules—Brigadier Hervé—probably mentioned that as well.”

“Probably. Much of the information ANNIE analyzes originates from my people and assets. If you’ve been working on ANNIE for a year now, you’ve likely gotten familiar with the nature of intelligence data merely by watching it flow through the system.”

“I’ve figured out a few things here and there.”

“I’m sure you have.”

A wave crashed into the parapet with enough force to send a light spray of icy Pacific water over them, and he took the opportunity to roll his eyes at the sky. Military types, including the less priggish ones, were so
uptight
.

“Sir, I appreciate this whole dance—feeling each other out, establishment of relative power and whatnot—but it’s okay, we can skip it. I’m guessing you believe there’s corrupt or falsified data hiding in some military or intelligence records. You’re not sure who you can trust in EASC, so you want somebody on the outside but not too
far
outside. You expect whatever you’re seeking will be hard as hell to find, but you can’t put ANNIE on it since everything she does is poured over by a dozen officers in triplicate. And above all, you need somebody who won’t be spooked by
whatever
they find. That more or less cover it?”

Navick came to a stop on the path. One of the ubiquitous benches lay behind them, but the man made no move to sit. “Not a bad summation. More or less.”

“You asked for me, though you didn’t know it was me you were asking for. And I do relish a challenge. So what are we talking about here?”

Navick scrutinized him for a moment, dark hazel eyes guarded. Then he shrugged in acquiescence and resumed walking. Devon’s estimation of the Colonel increased several degrees. Not many officers on the Island would have taken the arguably insubordinate speech in stride, and absent a speck of prideful preening.

“I’m proposing to give you the access codes to a metaset of records covering the five days leading up to and including the bombing. I strongly believe they were tampered with at multiple junctures. I’m not going to tell you where, when or in relation to what. It’s important you not be biased going in. Your highest priority will be to prove the records were compromised. If you can do this, it will be enough.”

“But…?”

“If you can, try to recover the original, unaltered data.”

His steps slowed, allowing a cyclist to pass them and disappear around the curve ahead. “You realize it may be impossible, even for me. Qubits are fickle, inconstant creatures.”

“I do. Whether you’re able to recover the original data or not, I’d ask you to attempt to trace the hacks to their source. A successful trace on one is all I require. I want to know who did it. Failing that, I want to know from where it was done.”

Devon’s mind was spinning through the details—the ware and modifications he’d need, the best avenues of attack, a new piece or two of gear to speed the process—and he didn’t immediately notice Navick had veered up a path spur and back toward the complex. The meeting was nearing an end.

He jogged to catch up. “How should I contact you?”

“When you have any results—or decide you won’t be able to find anything—have Brigadier Hervé send me a message asking me to stop by to review the results of ANNIE’s latest intel cross-analysis. Instead, I’ll come see you. Under no circumstances send me any details or any information at all over messaging or comms. We talk in person
only
.”

“Old-fashioned spy style, huh?”

“Every now and then it’s the best way.” Navick’s step hitched as he gave a throaty groan. “Dear Lord, I sounded like an old man, didn’t I? Still, it’s a truth learned from experience, most of it bad.”

Devon laughed indulgently. “I’ll take your word for it then.”

A rapport had been established…and the Colonel was an easy man to like. But what he was asking for was not child’s play, nor was it standard military procedure by any means. “Sir, I’m not an idiot. Couple of parsecs away from one in fact, and you know this. What you’re asking me to do…well, as risky as it is for me, it’s a lot riskier for you. I don’t have to be military to know it might mean your career, even if you are Intelligence. You just met me—why trust me with so much?”

Navick considered the question thoughtfully, as if he were deciding exactly how frank he could afford to be. “I wouldn’t last long in this job without getting fairly adept at sizing people up quickly. You’re a genius and a rebel, but you’re a good kid. You’ll do this for the challenge but also because you value the truth. I don’t think you’ll sell me out—you’re after a different kind of glory. Hackers take great pleasure in exposing corruption, so much so they’ve made a cause of it for the last three hundred fifty years. You find what I need, and I assure you we will be doing quite a lot of that.”

He paused to give a melodramatic sigh. “And I’m told there are less than a dozen people in the galaxy who possess the intellect and skills to do what I’m asking of you.”

Impressive answer. He should have realized there was depth and wisdom beneath the man’s quiet, unassuming demeanor. “Seven, sir.”

An eyebrow quirked in question.

“There are seven—counting me—and three of them are in the Federation. One is serving a ten-year prison sentence on Demeter, and the other two, Abigail Canivon and Gerard Bordelon, are a lot farther away than a lunchtime stroll.”

“So they are.”

He extended a hand. “It would be my pleasure, sir.”

Navick shook his hand warmly. “In that case, you should probably call me Richard.”

They parted ways at the courtyard. Devon spent the walk back to Special Projects thinking not about the ‘what’ of the assignment, but the ‘why.’

An exanet query revealed the Colonel was a personal friend of Admiral Miriam Solovy, and Miriam Solovy’s daughter had been implicated as an accomplice of the Senecan Intelligence agent accused of perpetrating the bombing. To seal the deal, Solovy had been the woman leaving Jules’ office as he had arrived.

Either Navick was willing to go a long way indeed to bail out a family friend…no, the investigation would lead where it led. There had been no mention of altering legitimate records, only discovering altered ones. So Navick genuinely believed Alexis Solovy was innocent.

Which meant there was a decent chance he didn’t believe the Senecan was responsible for the bombing. Which meant he believed someone inside the military or government
was
responsible for it, or at a minimum involved in perpetrating it.

Devon’s step hastened. This was hardcore, and he couldn’t wait to get started.

8

SIYANE

P
ORTAL
P
RIME,
U
NCHARTED
S
PACE

A
LEX WAS LOATH TO ADMIT
Caleb had been right. But as she ascended the stairs, freshly showered in fresh clothes, the alluring aroma of Peronan coffee in the air…she had to admit he had been right. A decent night’s sleep had restored both her energy and her determination, two things she needed in order to properly investigate this odd and disturbing planet cloaked in the void. Quickly.

But properly.

Caleb greeted her with a kiss and a mug, both of which she accepted happily. She eased into one of the kitchen chairs as he brought over a plate of croissants and oranges.
Damn, he really was rather wonderful.

She began devouring a croissant. This would be a fast, if tasty, breakfast. “So I was thinking. I want to try retuning the instruments a bit. We haven’t picked up any unusual readings on conventional bands, but there is clearly
something
technological here. Tech is likely powering the light source, and tech is definitely powering the cloaking shield. If that tech isn’t going to show up on conventional scans, we’ll have to get creative.”