The Pandora Machine (The ABACUS Protocol Book 2) Read online

  “You’re stuck here with me.” Vivian pressed her thumb against the fingerprint reader, and entered a code from an algorithm she’d developed as a student. Nobody would enter her quarters uninvited if she could help it, especially if the computer stayed down and was unable to provide surveillance. She had too much to hide. The sentient stow-away in her luggage would become Exhibit A if New Damascus found out Larissa had lied on Vivian’s behalf. “Did I get a room with a view?”

  “I hope you like asteroids and Phaeton, if that’s what you mean. I made sure you got a room with windows that passing ships and construction crews can’t see inside. I figured you’d want your privacy,” Alec said.

  “Asteroids are nice, I’ve never seen those before.” The Aurora system was unique in that it had relatively few asteroids, not that any could be seen from the planet’s surface.

  “That’s interesting. Elyssia has rings, which makes these asteroids pretty boring in comparison. Anyways, I’ll let you get settled. If you need anything repaired, come see me, because the reporting tools aren’t operational. Everything is broken! I’ll never complain about those damn telescopes or quIRK again!” Alec didn’t even wait for her to reply before turning on his heel and walking down the hallway.

  Vivian entered her room expecting a disaster area, but instead found a pleasant, cream-colored square room with an adjoining bathroom, plus intact furniture. A double bed sat against the wall facing the windows that dominated the far side of the room. Asteroids speckled the horizon, and stars illuminated the void beyond. While it lacked the glory of the Milky Way or the tranquility of the open sea, the view was still beautiful in its desolation. Her travelling bag rested on the bed, and a desk sat next to it, with an old fashioned screen and terminal installed in the wall behind it. Real bookshelves and dressers lined the wall next to the bathroom. Vivian smiled—Alec had chosen her a room with adequate shelving to house her collection of Auroran hardcovers.

  As forewarned, the computer didn’t work, so Vivian set about unpacking her bags instead. Nothing had been touched; quIRK’s miniature incarnation was still in its flute case, and appeared to be working. Vivian pressed a small sequence of buttons—a code she and quIRK had established to let him know she was safe. She closed the wooden box and slid it under her bed. She wondered if he would be upset over being left in isolation for so long.

  After organizing her books into the shelves and putting her clothes away, all sorted according to her standards, she turned her attention to the desk. It was a retrofitted older model with no holographic display, and it appeared to have no ability to run autonomously. She concluded that it would not be possible to install quIRK there—as much as she needed his presence, she didn’t want to risk his safety on an archaic system.

  It would be a problem for tomorrow—getting the computer back online took priority over quIRK. Vivian had been awake for more than twenty hours and was running on determination and a fading cup of caffeine. She double-checked the door’s lock and began to prepare herself for sleep. She hoped the station wouldn’t come apart at the seams while she slept.

  Outside her window, the asteroids and Phaeton hung in seeming stasis in the distance, and Vivian fell asleep under the auspices of a dead, empty sky.

  Chapter Ten

  Bare surfaces peeked out from under boxes of components that were stacked on the workbench in Vivian’s lab. The storage units were closed, with paper notes stuck to the doors. Vivian’s handwriting was scrawled on each, a rudimentary form of organization taking place. Ventilation had been restored, every trace of dust had been scoured from the air and surfaces. The lights flooded the room in harsh white light—Vivian made a note to have them changed before the holographic displays she’d ordered were installed. It had taken Vivian a day and a half to prepare the list of tools she would need. She’d had to test and attempt to calibrate every one of the decaying tools that had littered what passed as the informatics lab, and what little had survived decades of neglect tended to be the simplest low tech hammers and screwdrivers. The list was long, and expensive, but without these tools she had no hope of probing the depths of the downed computer core. Other than Alec’s attempt to reinitialize the system, nobody had been in the lab for more than fifty years. Vivian wondered if the administrators at Epsilon Eridani were incompetent, short-sighted, or both.

  She hefted another box of broken tools onto the anti-grav dumpster she’d requested. What few tools remained would fill a single drawer. She’d been sorting the spare parts for obvious defects until new tools arrived. Vivian opened the door and pushed the bin in front of her towards the recycling labs. She considered investing in Dynamo Quantronics, if only because problematic quantum computers meant a great deal of business for them.

  She jammed the map under her arm as she pushed the cart through the maze of corridors. She’d mastered that particular route, but finding Alec’s office would be a new adventure. Vivian left the trolley in the care of the waste disposal technicians, and proceeded to find Alec. She technically worked for the Epsilon Eridani Governance, but in reality she reported to Sven and Alec. Better yet, as far as she knew, Sven wasn’t insane… and Alec was a known, comfortable element.

  After a series of wrong turns, she made it to Alec’s office. His desk’s surface was covered in polished black screens—all of them powered down and as dark as space. The window behind him overlooked the shipyards. A red couch sat, facing the window, flanked by potted palm trees. A small tabby cat was curled up on the cushions, fast asleep. Sven stood across the desk from Alec, but their discussion came to a halt the moment she entered the room.

  “Good to see you Vivian, please tell me you have good news,” Alec said as he ran his hand through his cropped hair.

  “I have a list of tools I need, does that count?” She held out the electronic pad.

  Alec accepted the pad and skimmed down the list. “By the moons, Vivian, I think you forgot to ask for a safe and a shiny blue toolbox! Can’t we just borrow these from the Eridani crew?” he asked, tossing the pad onto his desk.

  “If you want your computer back, I need tools. Everything in the lab is ancient and corroded beyond use. The probability errors alone would make the job take forever,” Vivian replied, trying to frame her needs in a context that would relay the urgency of the situation. She crossed her arms. “Even as old as Janus is, his equipment is too new to be of use to us.”

  “We need to get this dealt with. The inefficiency, and the manpower costs alone means these tools will pay for themselves within a week,” Sven said, skimming over the list.

  “I know. At least this will make Dynamo Quantronics happy,” Alec said “They’re all over our Governance board because of a fried shipment. As if Calypso Station has anything to do with Janus’ defects, we’re lucky the lights are still on in here.”

  “A fried shipment?” Vivian asked.

  “Yeah, Janus routed an unshielded freighter into the Auroran system. Billions of credits worth of live parts blinked out in an instant, however that works. It was insured, but Dynamo Quantronics are none too happy, and rescue efforts in the Helios system are a logistical nightmare.” Alec slumped down in his chair as he finished speaking, and Sven simply nodded.

  “Let’s keep focused on what we can do. We’ll get these parts, fix our own problems and then worry about rescue missions and the Governance Board.” Sven’s voice was even and steady as he spoke. Vivian found herself nodding this time.

  “That’s the plan. Now, if you will both excuse me, I have a meeting with the maintenance teams to get to,” Alec said, pulling himself back up in his chair. He rubbed his eyes.

  Vivian walked out of the room, flanked by Sven. He spoke first: “I understand your days won’t be busy for a while.”

  “There’s always documentation to review,” she replied. “A century’s worth of logs is quite a bit to take on.”

  “I can imagine.” He stopped and grabbed her arm before continuing: “How about dinner, you and me?”
/>   Vivian stopped mid-step. “You mean like a date?”

  “Exactly like that.”

  “I—I can’t. Thank you, but I already have plans with Jules.”

  “Oh, I understand. Maybe another time?”

  “Maybe, sure.”

  Vivian excused herself at the first turnoff and headed towards her quarters, her mind swimming. Something about Sven lately seemed acrid—off. A little voice in the back of her mind told her to keep her distance. She realistically had little to do while waiting for her shipment, so she elected to spend the rest of the day immersed in a good book, and seeing if either Jules or Alec was free for a game of squash. For once, somebody else could live a life of adventure and insurmountable problems, and she would relax and enjoy the ride.

  Chapter Eleven

  Vivian lay by an open access panel, probing the junctions and parts that made up the nameless computer that had faithfully run Calypso Station for almost one hundred years. For the moment, all appeared to be fine, but she was only investigating the digital interlinks; starting with the simplest reason for core destabilization was always the best approach. Although she was only familiar with the ABACUS-1 model through historical footnotes in textbooks, she’d used her downtime to bring herself up to speed. The core could be accessed via tunnels that ran between the decks of the station. Dimly lit, her hands and tools cast sharp shadows on the metal grates and ancient panels that housed the computer.

  This was her third day of investigating the computer’s mysterious shutdown, but it had taken a full week to receive the tools and parts she’d requested. Before they’d arrived, Vivian had spent most of her time holed up alone in either the lab or her quarters, examining broken parts and reading a century’s worth of manuals, update notes, and repair logs. While nobody had blamed her or confronted her about the computer’s status, she could sense their accusing eyes boring into her as she passed, and her isolation in the dining hall and recreation areas confirmed her feelings. She had barely seen Alec in over a week, and Sven seldom dropped by to check on her. Jules was always busy manually coordinating the logistics of the Borealis Corporation’s shipping operations. Vivian found herself drawn to the man—his reasons for leaving Caesarea mirrored her own experiences as an outcast of mainstream Auroran society. Her only other friends were Muon and Lepton—quIRK’s cats. Vivian had been shocked by their growth when she’d first seen them again. quIRK would have been proud.

  Maybe he would still be proud.

  Vivian straightened, her head grazing the top of the tunnel. An errant thought pulled her free from the mundane task of checking systems. Her heart raced. If she was required to rebuild the core, why not use quIRK? After all, he was sitting in a box under her bed, with no access to the outside world. Vivian doubted he was happy, if such a thing were truly possible. With a few adjustments, she thought she might be able to install and integrate him into the existing system. Vivian stroked her chin. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to take that chance. quIRK was eccentric, and Alec would be sure to recognize him and start asking questions, or even be forced to report the incursion. Larissa wouldn’t be around to save her this time, and Vivian would prefer that Bryce shouldered the entirety of the blame for the Extra-Galactic Observatory incident. The whole quIRK debacle was Bryce’s fault, after all. She had just saved quIRK’s innocent life that had resulted from Bryce’s madness.

  On the other hand, if Vivian did install quIRK, she’d have someone to talk to. There was so much she needed to talk about, but there was nobody here she could trust. Not anymore. Vivian had a career to worry about, building a life among the stars, a life where she could choose from all of the infinite possibilities the Milky Way galaxy could offer her. She couldn’t let a moment of weakness and trust in another human derail her dreams. It would be nice to have quIRK around, if only to be a confidant who will keep your her secrets, and maybe too, he could shed some light on the insanity of her new life.

  She returned to work, squinting at the relays as she scanned each one, making note of every reading and anomaly. She wanted to get access to her Gal-net account and get in touch with the New Damascus Science Authority. Maybe she could get reinstated, and leave the whole mess of her past and present behind.

  The door buzzed, interrupting her train of thought. She looked up the corridor, to the hatch five meters ahead of her. “Come in,” she shouted as she input the final series of measurements—the digital interlinks had checked out.

  “Dinner is served, domina.” Jules’ deep voice resounded through the tunnels.

  “I’m coming!”

  Vivian pulled herself forward on her forearms and knees, reaching the ladder in record time. She was embarrassed by the disarray of her tools and clothes, but the smile he gave her made her forget all about it. Jules was carrying a tray, and the spicy aroma of Auroran curry had already spread throughout the lab. Nobody had visited her in days, and so she was blindsided by a friendly face bringing her food. Alec had only delivered food a few times, and that was when quIRK had hounded him into it.

  “Domina?” Vivian wasn’t familiar with the term, but she was too hungry to care what it meant.

  “It’s a Caesarean thing.” Jules shrugged, and continued: “I haven’t seen you all day, and I figured you could use some company. Now, have a seat on a real chair,” he said as he pulled the room’s only chair up to the small work table that stood against the wall. He sat on the edge of the work table between her and the still-open door.

  “That smells good! Thanks, Jules,” Vivian said as she picked herself up off the ground and stretched.

  “Alec said you lose track of time when you get into something. I wish my guys had half your work ethic.”

  “And what else did Alec tell you? And since when did you have guys?” Vivian asked, closing her eyes as she sat on the office chair.

  “Just that you’re the best at punching guys who get fresh with you, and since I made foreman last week. Restructuring, you know. Since Alec got promoted.” He eyed her food until she took her first bite.

  Vivian gulped down a mouthful of half-chewed food. “Wait, Alec got promoted?”

  Jules nodded. “The station administrator won the Eridani lottery and quit the next day. Lucky bastard.”

  “It’s your gain! Congratulations!” she said, smiling.

  “Yeah, but you know, I don’t feel like I earned it. I just got paged in with Alec and we both had new jobs.” Jules crossed his arms in front of him.

  “Come on, I’m sure they promoted you for a better reason than that. You work hard.”

  “It just feels like I’m being handed things. I left Caesarea because I didn’t want to play that game. I wanted to earn my way just like everyone else does out here.”

  “I thought it was because you didn’t want to get assassinated,” Vivian reminded him.

  “That too. It’s complicated, I guess. That’s how it is, back home.”

  “Well, think of it this way: if you weren’t good enough, they’d have promoted somebody else. One of those lazy guys who does half the work and always eats lunch on time. I don’t think they made a mistake.” Vivian spoke between mouthfuls, but from what little she knew of Jules, he was a hard, honest worker.

  “Well, when you put it that way it makes sense,” he said, laughing, then continued, growing more serious: “How about a game of squash tonight? You and me. I’m stronger than Alec. Maybe you’ll even break a sweat. Besides, he’s too busy trying to get the lady administrator over on the hub to notice him.”

  “I’d like that,” Vivian said with a smile. For some reason, hearing that Alec was pursuing somebody other than her stung a little, but Jules’ open smile made her forget all about Alec.

  “Excellent. I’ll reserve a court for after the cafeteria closes and grab the rackets that are still in one piece. But for now, I have to remind some guys that their breaks are over. Later domina.” He winked and slipped out the door, leaving Vivian alone with the rest of her meal.

  F
or the first time since she’d left the Extra-Galactic Observatory, she grinned. Maybe Calypso Station wasn’t going to be so bad after all.

  Chapter Twelve

  Vivian rolled her shoulders as she checked the final connections leading to the central quantum shell, the core that housed all of an ABACUS-type quantum computer’s higher functions. It had been slow going, and it had taken sixteen-hour days, but Vivian had managed to complete all of the checks for the pre-restart sequence that would take place in only four days. Spurred on by the promise of another game of squash and maybe catching a vid with Jules, she had redoubled her efforts to complete the job. If nothing else, it would look good on any future job applications.

  Soon she’d be testing the command sequences and vocal inputs. Alec and Sven would have quite a surprise waiting for them, if all went according to plan. Vivian liked surprising people and surpassing their expectations. Alec had figured it would take her another week, at least, in his report to Sven. Vivian hated Calypso gossip—it always made her look bad. She missed her life on the Extra-Galactic Observatory—and quIRK’s objectivity.

  The problem had been simple enough—it seemed that the computer had been compelled to run software that was several decades too advanced, and had crashed waiting for input it was unable to extrapolate. Vivian had been able to clear the anomalous programming and theoretically at least, the ancient supercomputer should now power up. Vivian finished tapping her final notes into a hand-held pad, in case somebody down the road would need to revisit her work. She intended on being alive in a century, but fixing archaic computers wasn’t the kind of consulting work she had in mind.

  Vivian keyed in the restart authorization and watched the optical cabling light up in sequence. She’d allowed for a limited start up sequence—the computer’s awareness would only apply to the inside of the lab, to minimize initialization time. Older models introduced into large space stations or planetary systems could experience overload. She could then control its reintroduction to working life, one wing and business at a time.