Derelict: Halcyone Space, Book 1 (27 page)

With enough time she knew she could brute-force her way in, but she paused, her hands stilled. Maybe this was the new and improved Ro. Certainly her father wouldn't recognize her anymore.

"Try it now," Barre said.

She frowned at him, but he didn't explain. "Okay, I'll bite. Halcyone, initiate systems-level diagnostic, authorization Maldonado, Ro, engineer, Daedalus station."

Soft tones played through the bridge — a brief fanfare that did sound a little like a command. The room fell silent. Ro gave it another minute before shrugging and turning to her micro.

The AI played the fanfare back, slightly shifted in tone and speed.

"Maldonado, Ro, proceed."

"Nice," Micah said.

"How'd you do that?" Ro asked.

Barre took a step back and Ro realized how harsh her tone had been.

"I figured she listened to music before, so I set up a translation algorithm on my neural, and had it push the result through the speakers."

"So now what?"

"What do you mean? Just run your diagnostic, or whatever you need to do."

"And it all goes through you?"

"Well, through the algorithm."

"Which conveniently is located on your neural."

Barre glanced back at his brother. "We're wasting time."

"Fine." Ro clenched her teeth. For now, they didn't have much choice, but she was certain there had to be a way to establish primary control over the AI. She blew her breath out in a rush and rolled her shoulders. "Halcyone, run communications diagnostic."

A brief flurry of notes filled the bridge and faded away. "Communications functioning at 92%. Dead sectors report available. Select verbal or visual display."

"Visual. Pass it through to my micro."

One tone echoed through the air. "Report complete."

Ro frowned at Barre before focusing on the AI. "Halcyone, run diagnostics for the following systems in order. Life support, navigation, propulsion: interstitial drive, propulsion: jump drive, sensors: internal, sensors: external. Push visual reports only. Verbal status every five minutes. Acknowledge."

The instrumental piece played longer this time before the slightly hesitant voice returned. "Diagnostics running. Life support in progress. 40% complete."

She wanted to wipe the smug smile off Barre's face. "This is likely to take a little time." She held up her hand to keep him from snapping at her. "I know, we don't have unlimited time, but I also can't see putting Jem in more danger."

He glared at her, before turning away. "Fine."

"We should probably get some rest. I'll babysit the diagnostics for a bit."

Shrugging, Micah flopped down on one of the acceleration mats. Barre curled up near Jem without another word.

Ro sat leaning her back against a console and cracked her stiff neck before picking up her micro. The virus had left behind some damage in comms. Nothing critical, nothing that should prevent them sending out a broadcast, but little on this ship worked the way it should.

A chime reverberated through the bridge. "Life support functioning at 76%. Within acceptable parameters for minimal crew. Proceeding to navigation."

That was better than she expected, given the age of the ship. She scrolled though the extended report. Air and water reserves looked good. The scrubbers had a few thousand hours of life left before they needed to be replaced. That surprised Ro. The ship must not have been in active service for long.

The mystery of the bridge nagged at her. There was no sign of forced entry or external combat. It looked like someone's attempt to destroy all the consoles from inside the bridge itself.

Ro navigated her way back to the files they nabbed earlier. They had more audio files to play. Maybe some of them held clues. She tossed the most recent of the files over to Barre's micro and waited as his conversion and enhancement program churned. The crackle of static burst through the quiet bridge.

"Shit!" Barre bolted upright and banged his head on the underside of one of the consoles. "You could have asked."

"Same old Ro," Micah said, rubbing his eyes.

She glared at both of them, trying to think of the perfect comeback when a babble of voices blared from Barre's micro.

"… not responding! Interstitial engines off … collision course."

Another burst of static turned everything to gibberish.

"… locked me out, Captain … . day, mayday, mayday, this is transport vessel …."

"Jesus, Merryweather is down. Halcyone's gone crazy."

The collision alarms in the background of the recording echoed through the bridge and sent chills down Ro's spine.

"Abandon ship! Get to the life …"

The crackle of an energy weapon discharging was no different today than forty years ago. Ro flinched, imagining the panicked shooting, the chaos, as the ship hurtled closer and closer to the asteroid.

"Harris! Stand down! … going to get us all …"

"… want to die,
" came the high-pitched reply. Ro filled in the "I don't" that she knew had to be missing.

More weapons fire burst through the bridge and the recording stopped.

"Shit." Barre's face had turned ashen.

"Well," Ro said, trying to keep her voice level, "now we know what trashed the bridge."

"Poor bastards," Micah said.

"Do you think any of them made it?" Barre asked, standing and looking around with wide eyes.

"I don't know," Ro said. "The ship landed pretty much intact, so someone had to have gotten control before the crash."

"Someone or something?" Micah asked.

That was a good question. "Someone cleaned up in here." She surveyed the damage. "At least the bodies."

"That's a lovely image, thanks," Barre said, grimacing.

Ro looked up at her companions and all the warmth leached out of her face. The AI could have killed them all. Ro could have killed them all.

"Navigation report complete."

Halcyone's flat voice filled the bridge. "Interstitial engines functioning at thirty-seven percent. Radiation levels in engineering eighteen percent above ALARA."

As Low As Reasonably Achievable was never a fixed target. Those levels were probably solid for nuke tech forty years ago. They were high compared to a modern ship. They'd have to monitor it if they were going to be aboard for any length of time or if she had to work directly in the engineering compartment. The radiation would only be a problem if the AI didn't actively kill them in some other way first.

"So now what?" Micah said. Ro figured he wasn't talking about the nav report.

Barre took a step closer to her. "We call for help."

She wanted to find a way to argue with him. This was her project, her freedom, her ticket out of dead-end Daedalus. She looked down at Jem, watching his chest rise and fall in a slow, shallow rhythm. Blinking her eyes clear, she looked away.

"Jump drive off line. wormhole mapping functions off line."

"Ro — we have to call for help," Barre repeated, his deep voice thick with worry.

"I know." The memory of the doomed crew's conversation echoed around them in the silence. "Can you keep the AI from going all fight or flight? Because otherwise, I'm not putting a peep through the ansible." Without navigation, if the AI spooked again, they could end up within spitting distance of Daedalus and never know it.

Barre didn't answer.

Micah tapped his fingers across a melted console.

"Internal sensors fully functional." The AI continued through its diagnostic, oblivious to the undercurrents of emotion in the bridge.

"Barre?" Ro asked.

"Send your signal. I'll manage Halcyone."

Part of her had to bite back the question she wanted to ask:
Are you sure?
Of course he wasn't sure. It was a forty-odd-year-old half-demented AI, hauling around a ship that should have been consigned to the scrapyard decades ago. Hell, if he were sure, she wouldn't trust him.

"Okay, then. Time to make some noise."

Nomi swept into comms, the click of her boot heels and her rapid footfalls the only outward sign of her anger.
As soon as she relieved Jenkins, her focus lasered back to finding Ro. She slid her micro under the console, resting it on her thighs as she dug into the program Ro had left her.

"Ensign Nakamura?"

Nomi froze, her hands jerking from the micro and slamming into the underside of the comms console.

Lieutenant Odoyo stood behind her, leaning over Nomi's chair. "A word, please."

She swallowed hard. The other staff glanced her way briefly before returning to their silent work. Odoyo stepped back. "Follow me."

Swallowing hard, Nomi palmed her micro and slid it back into the pocket of her tunic before pushing away from her borrowed work station. "Yes, sir." Her voice wavered.

Odoyo led her into a small alcove on the far side of the communications room. The door sealed behind her and she stood at attention, hands still at her sides, eyes front, waiting for the lieutenant to lay into her. The sound wouldn't leave this room, but transparent walls let everyone know exactly who was being dressed down.

"Something wrong with our interface?" Odoyo's voice was dangerously calm. Her still, composed face gave nothing away, but her dark-eyed stare made Nomi want to crawl under a desk.

"No, sir."

"Then explain yourself."

Nomi met Odoyo's gaze with her own, hoping it seemed as direct. Standing in a confined space in the shadow of this imposing woman, Nomi regretted her impulse to channel Ro quite so fully. "I had an idea that might allow us to narrow down the ship's location to a single ansible sector."

Odoyo leaned forward and waited.

Even as Nomi's discomfort increased, she was impressed by the lieutenant's ability to intimidate with the slightest of motions. The silence lengthened as she considered how much to tell the lieutenant.

"I received a private communication from Rosalen Maldonado, sir. I believe I can trace its path back through the ansible network and find the satellite that first pinged it. However, I didn't want to use resources already allocated through Hephaestus until I had the chance to test my theory."

"A private communication."

Her cheeks heated up again. "Yes, sir."

Odoyo held out her hand and waited.

Nomi clenched her jaw and reached for her micro, unlocking it before handing it over to the lieutenant.

The woman scanned it slowly, as if the message were pages long instead of a few short lines. Her lips pressed together briefly. "Her father. Alain Maldonado."

"Yes, sir," Nomi said.

"So presumably, she knows you're aboard."

Nomi blinked at the change in subject. "Yes, sir."

Odoyo handed Nomi her micro. She reached for it, a tiny tremor betraying her eagerness to get it and her only link to Ro back.

"Upload what you have to a virtual machine on Hephaestus's network. I'll reallocate half the consoles to your search."

Nomi rocked back on her heels, nearly stepping out of position.

"If you succeed, we will consider your security breach simply a matter of misplaced enthusiasm for duty."

Odoyo didn't have to tell her what would happen if this didn't work.

"Dismissed."

Nomi saluted and spun on her heel before fleeing the overly exposed room. By the time she'd returned to her console, everyone in the room had stopped their work to stare at her. Some were openly curious. Others, she would have sworn, were a little disappointed. She set her micro down on the console and paired it with the ship's AI.

"Interesting," a quiet voice said from beside her.

Nomi swiveled in her chair and stared up at Jenkins, confused. Two hours hadn't nearly passed. "I thought you were off shift."

"Odoyo pulled all of us back to see if we could piggyback on what you're doing."

"Oh." Nomi scanned the comms center. Every work station had several crew crammed into it.

"As soon as you tell us where to listen, there won't be a micron of that sector we can't cover."

Now if she failed, she would fail spectacularly and publicly. And succeed or fail, Maldonado would certainly find out what she'd been trying. Nomi pulled her hands through her short hair.

"Okay. Since you're standing there, you may as well help."

"You're the boss, Nakamura."

"Can you pull up a list of ansible node-idents?"

"Sure," Jenkins said, "But you're going to drown in data."

"How about just the sector headers?"

"Easy."

"Can you display them in 3-d map mode? But only the sector headers." The first ansibles didn't have the ping-back and error correction they had now and messages used to get increasingly garbled in transit. Nomi remembered playing "ansible" as a child. No matter what message they started with, it always ended in gibberish and peals of laughter.

Jenkins leaned over and manipulated what looked like a web of stars strung across the reaches of space until ansible clusters collapsed in on themselves, a short string of alphanumeric characters next to each one.

"Good. Thank you." Nomi turned to her familiar micro, now controlling a small virtual machine through Hephaestus. The interface looked just like it had when Ro's message first pinged through, but her little program was now supported by the full processing speed and power of the ship's AI.

Nomi sifted through the utilities on her micro, looking for a basic code parser. If she could isolate the headers and the appended idents, she should be able to track back to the ansible that had originally routed Ro's message.

It didn't take long for the AI to spit out a reverse chronological list of sectors the message had bounced through. That was too easy. Wouldn't Ro have deliberately masked the idents or randomized the path somehow? Nomi shook her head, infected by Alain Maldonado's mistrust and paranoia.

"What have you got?" Jenkins asked, breaking through her distracted thoughts.

"Give me a minute." Nomi stared at the disarticulated message, isolating the content from the context. "Here. Can you map them?"

"Got it."

Nomi tapped her fingers against the console as she stared at the map, willing the random strings of numbers and letters to resolve into a coherent path.