The Pandora Machine (The ABACUS Protocol Book 2) Page 7

  “Why isn’t she responding, Adrien?” Alec asked, frowning as he attempted the call again.

  “There is no answer at the other side, Alec, perhaps you should try again later.” Adrien was good at stating the obvious, much like quIRK had been. At least he hadn’t tried to start any more arguments. Alec had enough of his own issues to sort through without some machine getting his goat.

  “But, she always answers, at least, when she’s on the job she does. Not that I call her on her own time, of course.” Alec couldn’t believe he was justifying himself to a century-old calculator. Get with it, Alec, he thought, re-reading the list of scheduled flights. There had to be something big going on over there, but he hadn’t been made aware of any drills or maintenance.

  “Of course, Alec,” the machine replied. Alec bit his tongue and glanced again at the hub.

  “Adrien, open an emergency feed to her office. Something is going on, and we need to know what, especially if they need help. Audio and video override authorized.”

  The image on the screen flickered alive, and the familiar backdrop of Annette’s small office came into view. There was no sign of life in the room, its pristine organization untouched. “Her shift started half an hour ago, she should be in there!” Alec said, running a hand through his hair before continuing: “Okay, get me the control room, there’s always somebody working in there.”

  His hands shook as he changed the from the familiar vista of Annette’s office to the control room—the heart of galactic travel. Bodies of functionaries were draped over their workstations. One, an Elyssian Alec had met on a tour, lay on his back, his face flushed and his arms stretched toward for the controls. Nothing moved, and Alec remained transfixed to the image on the screen as he sank into his chair.

  Moments passed, and Alec fought the dizziness and nausea as desperate, jarring thoughts ran through his mind. Annette’s face swam through his consciousness, superimposed on the discarded husks that littered the control room. He took a few deep breaths.

  “Turn that off, Adrien,” he choked out, and he cradled his face in his hands before continuing: “Try all channels, even in the inactive parts of the station. Get somebody on the line!” Get Annette on the line, he wanted to scream. It had to be just an accident, and she was coordinating cleanup. She needs to be all right, he thought, the sense of panic rising in his throat.

  Long minutes passed, leaving Alec alone with the gnawing in his stomach and the pain pounded behind his eyes. He chewed a fingernail while hoping she was just about to call him back, expecting her smiling face to look at him, and tell him how he could help.

  “It has been fifteen minutes, Administrator Stone. There is no reply on any channel. I recommend emergency procedures.”

  “Keep trying, damn it ... get my team leads, any available Epsilon Eridani management, Sven Brown and Vivian Skye in here. Take us to whatever status red alert is, and get me a copy of the Epsilon Eridani emergency procedures. This is not a drill!”

  Adrien’s voice read out an announcement, distorted through Alec’s steel door: “This is not a drill, emergency level three is now in place. All non-essential personnel to general quarters. This is not a drill.” The recording repeated, but the words barely touched Alec.

  He leaned back in his chair, tears stinging at his eyes. He didn’t care what it took, but he would find out what happened, and he would find Annette.

  His screen flickered to life, and his burning eyes were assailed by the array of lights that represented the necessary procedures for maintaining control of the Epsilon Eridani hub. Alec skimmed the situations. There was even one for hostile extraterrestrials, or pirates from a liberated Earth. Alec skipped down a few lines.

  Alec’s eyes continued to wander around the room, and he glanced over his shoulder towards the hub. After a long pause, his focus returned to the words on the screen. He drew in a series of deep lung fulls, holding each one in before exhaling. His eyes were drawn back to the view screen, sitting inert on the wall.

  “Call me back, Annette, please,” he whispered.

  “Administrator Jibu cannot hear you, Alec Stone. Would you like me to open a channel?”

  “What?” he asked, looking back down to his work. “No, no. She’ll call me back if—when she can.”

  The door buzzed. Alec looked up and rubbed his eyes. “Come in.”

  Vivian and Sven stepped inside. Sven’s arms were crossed, while Vivian’s hands were jammed in her pockets. “You called?” Sven asked.

  “Where in the hells is everyone else?”

  “I asked them to wait outside, at least until we find out what’s going on. Less confusion of orders later on, you understand,” Sven said, glancing back over his shoulder.

  Alec sighed. “Yes, yes. Come in. Have a seat.”

  They stepped into the room, the door closing behind them. Vivian sat down on the bench across from Alec’s desk, and Sven remained standing. Sven hovered over his desk, his eyes flicking from over Alec’s desk. “You’d better tell us what this is about, Alec,” Vivian said.

  “Red alert three isn’t something we see every day, or ever, I get it.” Alec gestured to his window. “Something bad happened over there. I’m not sure what it is, but ships aren’t coming or going, and,” he choked, forcing him to pause.

  Vivian leaned towards him. “And what, Alec?”

  “Everyone in the control room is dead. I can’t reach anyone.” Alec covered his face in his hands.

  “By the lights,” Sven whispered, his eyes going to the hub. “Can you reach anyone else?”

  Alec shook his head.

  Vivian stood up. Her face paled as her fingers navigated the interactive map of the hub that Alec had opened. “Adrien, can you show us the Kanadia Prime passenger dock on level fifteen section L?”

  “You do not have sufficient access Vivian Skye.”

  “Just do it,” Alec said. He pulled his face from his hands and waited, forcing his eyes to the screen. Kanadia Prime was the busiest hub link—it was always filled with travelers.

  “Access authorized.”

  “No!”

  “By the lights!” Sven said.

  Alec lowered his head to the desk. The hub’s inhabitants lay on the ground, unmoving, many slumped one on top of the other. It was as though their strings had been cut, and the puppeteer discarded them in mid-action.

  “Turn it off, Adrien,” Alec mumbled. “There have to be survivors.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Vivian walked out of the meeting, her head bowed. She was to access Janus’ logs and find out what happened prior to the fatal incident that appeared to have claimed the lives of everyone onboard the Epsilon Eridani hub. Alec stressed that presuming the entire station had been lost would be premature, but Sven’s hollow look and Jules’s slouch indicated otherwise. She wasn’t sure what came after her initial task, but she was determined to be on the front lines during this crisis. New Damascus hadn’t replied to her messages in almost a month, and she resigned herself to needing to plan a new career path.

  “Sven, I need to talk to you,” she said, after Jules had walked off to organize his team. They would be going to Epsilon Eridani and attempting to conduct a rescue. Sven’s company would provide the talent that would replace the control room staff and reopen communications with the rest of the galaxy.

  “Sure, what’s on your mind?” He flashed her a quick grin. Vivian envied how he could seem so confident during a crisis.

  “I want to go with you. I think I can be an asset, and you’ll need somebody there who can automate systems and check the computers for faults.”

  “Alec would disagree with you, he thinks it’s too dangerous. You should stay here, Vivian.” Sven looked over at her, his smile a memory.

  “I can take care of myself. I survived a madman trying to kill me with my own computer project. I can do this. You need your best people, and nobody else on this station can replace me where any kind of quantum informatics equipment is concerned.”
Vivian grabbed his arm and pulled him around to face her. Her eyes locked on his, and they shared a long, hard stare.

  “Only if you’re ready for this, Vivian. We’re going to the control room before anyone cleans things up. There’s horrible stuff in there, and I only want you to go if you’re sure. If this is about ego, or your career, there are other ways than charging off on a rescue mission.”

  “Sven, I know what you’re thinking,” she began. “I know it’s going to be bad in there, but I need to do this. I got into this to help people, and I’m not letting my friends carry this burden by themselves. I have skills, and we all know we need to get the Hub running again, as quickly as possible. Let me help. I’ve been through a lot, and I can take care of myself. I’m not some fresh-out-of school kid.”

  Sven was silent, looking at her intently, searching her face for a fatal mote of fear or uncertainty. He sighed. “Okay, you’re on my team. We’re providing administrative and logistics support. Get your tools, you know where we’re meeting.”

  Vivian nodded once, and Sven stalked off down the hall, shaking his head. She turned and sprinted down the empty hallway towards her lab. Her stomach gurgled, but a part of her felt free, finally beyond the reach of Bryce and the insanity of the Extra-Galactic Observatory. Now, it was her turn to bring some order to the universe.

  Her lab was in its usual state of order, and she began downloading Janus’s logs into her workstation. As it ran, she gathered her tools into a toolbox, and sent out a request for an anti-grav trolley. Her heart pounded through her chest, and the flow of blood rushed through her ears as she contemplated leaving the dull monotony of Calypso Station for an adventure. I’ve come too far to sit around on some space station and let life pass me by, she thought.

  “Results complete. No computer failure indicated by logs from past twenty six hours. Two mechanical malfunctions and fifty one incidences of human error were recorded.” Adrien interrupted her reverie.

  “Were any incidents related to the control room?” Vivian kept her questions simple; a complex question would return much more data than she had time to review.

  “Those records are protected by Administrator Jibu and can only be accessed by individuals with alpha-level security clearance.” Vivian sighed; she only had gamma-level clearance. She’d have to ask someone to unseal those records—another waste of time.

  “Pull up anything that I have access to, and put it on my data pad. I might as well review what I can, Adrien,” she said, taking a seat at her aging station, glancing at the chronometer in the corner. She would be as thorough as the situation allowed. “Set the timer for forty five minutes and remind me if I go over an hour. Seal the door.”

  “Understood.”

  As she skimmed the reports, her mind considered the possibilities. The hypervigilant part of herself, the fragment of her consciousness that saw sentient computers in every shadow and accident screamed with renewed vigor when she considered the facts. But, what could she do if a malevolent intelligence or person had supplanted Janus’ programming with their own?

  If that was the case, there was one more thing she could use, and she bolted out the door after her equipment was packed, with only a data pad in hand. She was going to bring along a direct link to quIRK, in case she’d need an ace in the hole when dealing with Janus. She dodged past groups of workers on her way back to her quarters, blind to their startled glances and minced oaths.

  Vivian didn’t have time to care—she needed a direct line to quIRK.

  ***

  Vivian returned to her lab with only a few minutes to spare, and her pocket data pad loaded with a secure and direct link to quIRK. It had been problematic to setup, but in the end she had been surprised by her own ingenuity. The pad also featured a mute button, which was essential for quIRK’s survival in a public place, given that he was stowed in the knee pocket of her least favorite pair of cargo pants. Rambling about antiblue or cats was the last thing she needed right now, especially in a tense situation. She’d given him a quick rundown of what little she knew, and he’d agreed to help—blissfully unaware that she wouldn’t have given him a choice in the matter.

  She arrived, and was surprised to see Jules loading her bag onto the anti-grav trolley. She glanced over at the monitor, relieved to see that she’d remembered to clear her terminal before leaving the room. She’d sent the offending files to Alec and Sven for clearance, feeling ashamed that she needed their help after asking to come on this mission.

  “Hey, I was hoping I’d see you before our big adventure,” he said, a smirk gracing his lips. He was dressed in plain blue coveralls, and the trolley was loaded with other equipment and supplies.

  “Well, here I am. I just needed to change,” she said, putting her hands on her hips.

  “Good idea. I wouldn’t want to ruin something I actually liked. Who knows what we’ll run into over there. Between you and me, I packed extra underwear, too.” He winked and looked away, and set to reorganizing the contents of the trolley.

  “Your secret is safe with me, but I’m not so sure Adrien will keep it to himself. Do you need some help?” she asked as she moved toward the unit. The butterflies returned to her stomach, but instead of gnawing, the mounting tension she felt in his presence was muted but exhilarating. She hadn’t had the opportunity to spend time with him in days, and the invites a potent memory of their game of squash was still fresh in her mind.

  “Well, maybe there’s something you could do for me.” His voice was soft, and he set down the bag he was holding.

  Vivian stepped closer. “What is it?”

  Jules stepped over to her, breaching the gap between them. He looped his arms around her in one easy motion, before drawing his face down. His lips met hers and his warmth passed through her. Time seemed to stop for that one, perfect instant. She wrapped her arms around his waist, enjoying the tension of his muscles and pushed herself to her tiptoes to compensate for his impressive height.

  Their moment was broken by Adrien’s impassive voice. “One hour has passed, Vivian.”

  They broke off the kiss, and Jules sighed: “Bad timing… the story of my life.”

  “My internal chronometer is accurate to thirty attoseconds, the timing is not wrong,” Adrien said.

  “Keep telling yourself that, Adrien. Time to get going.” Vivian smiled as she pulled her arms from around Jules’ waist. Her heart pounded in her chest, but for the first time since she’d left Aurora it wasn’t from stress, fear, or exercise.

  “Damn computers, they have no sense of fun.” Jules winked and activated the anti gravity units on the base of the trolley. A dim blue light emitted from its base, and it gently rose into the air.

  “Somebody should fix that,” she said, wondering if Jules would have liked quIRK.

  “Well, that’s an adventure for another time. Let’s get this errand over with, and then we can continue where we left off.” Jules planted a gentle kiss on her forehead as he guided the cart out of the room.

  Vivian stood mute, her face flushed a deep purple. She then shook her head and bolted out the door after him. She’d worry about how to explain what just happened to quIRK later.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The shuttle interior could only comfortably seat five. Six people were squeezed into its confines, legs and elbows jabbing into sides and backs. Vivian sat between the two front seats, next to the pilot. She’d turned away from the view screen and pretended to be fascinated by the holographic status displays, when in reality she was avoiding the man’s sour breath. With the exception of the foul-smelling pilot, the entire crew was Auroran. For the first time, being surrounded by people with tinted blue skin and hair seemed foreign to her, despite having spent the first twenty-five years of her life on Aurora. And then she’d passed her twenty-sixth birthday in a coma, but she tried not to think about that. Instead she became preoccupied with the memory of Jules’ lips on hers, and his thick fingers running through her hair. It was preferable imagery to what aw
aited her on the hub.

  Sven shifted, jabbing his foot into her side. All were silent in the small spacecraft—radio chatter and a mechanical hum were the only sounds. There was little to talk about. The likelihood of finding survivors now seemed to be an impossible dream, and they anticipated walking into a tomb. They’d still heard nothing from the station, and Alec and Sven had been puzzled by the sealed documents Vivian had forwarded on to them. They were going in blind, and not one of them was trained to deal with a disaster of this apparent magnitude. Eyes remained downcast, and the stale, recycled air was oppressive.

  Sven cleared his throat. He was dressed in plain coveralls, a contrast from his usual business attire. All eyes turned to him, and he spoke: “I know this isn’t what we signed up for. It’s not what we do. Thank you all for being here. Our objective is to contact every established colony and request help. There isn’t anything else we can do. Stay calm, don’t wander off, and remember: we are a team.”

  The crew mumbled their ascent, and one man spoke up: “Why hasn’t anyone come through the ports to investigate? It shouldn’t all be up to us.”

  “Security procedures require a ship to have clearance on both ends. Nobody in this galaxy travels through the hub network without the express permission of the Epsilon Eridani administration. Right now, that’s the five of us. There was no automated emergency plan created for a total loss of all life on the Hub. It just didn’t seem possible. Almost every compartment is its own distinct unit, with redundancies that should have kept a systemic problem from spreading.”

  “What comes next?” Vivian asked.

  “We wait for help, and pick up the pieces. Only one director of the Governing Board has been accounted for. This is only the beginning. I don’t know what that means. I’m just a businessman from the Borealis Plains back home on Aurora, not a politician or an administrator.” Sven shrugged. “We do our jobs, help out as needed and bill the hours to whoever takes over.”