PERSONAL RECORD: DESIGNATION ZETA4542910-9545E
PALLAS STATION
478.2.6.07
Jordan, Zhen, and I remained in the computer room much longer than we had anticipated. Although we were prepared to return to the upper levels after Attlee had finally departed, the roaches and another power fluctuation conspired to keep us locked in the underbelly of Pallas Station. Insects had massed near the hangar while the marines loaded the shuttle. Even after the marines drove them away, discouragement and regret pinned down my spirits.
My headache returned, and Jordan insisted that I sleep on the aubergine sofa instead of the mat. I conceded. Zhen brought out another jet injector, and by that point, the discomfort had grown to an unbearable level. I accepted it. Her face pale, she settled on the floor beside me, the sound of knitting lulling me to sleep.
I woke but once that night. Zhen still sat beside me, staring through the doorway at the monitors, her grandmother’s pendant in her hand and her cheeks streaked with tears. I debated rising and bringing her a blanket, but witnessing her tears felt like eavesdropping. I closed my eyes and faced the wall.
In the morning, when the only communication from the control room was a note from Quincy, telling us to hold tight, I insisted we reconfigure a communications link to listen in on their chatter. After all, I reasoned, if Skip and his ilk could do so, why should we not?
We did, just in time to listen to a call for backup, as somewhere on the station, unwitnessed by the monitors, the marines stumbled across a knot of the terrorists. We listened to shouts and the percussive cracks of weapons’ fire. Jordan nodded to Zhen, who walked me back to the sofas and stayed with me, where we could barely hear the external speakers. After an eternal minute or two, the terrorists scattered. The marines apprehended a man, but he swallowed a pill and died before relaying any information. When Zhen informed me that the two that had been captured after the drone killed that man had done the same, Jordan appeared at the door and shushed her. They both fell silent, casting furrowed glances in my direction.
When Thalassa’s shuttle landed, Zhen was knitting in the chair, and Jordan stood behind her. I squeezed between them in time to see Nate’s tall silhouette disembark. Hope lifted me, but though I thought I recognized Lars, I did not see Alec. I glanced at Zhen, whose knitting needles clicked instead of shushed. Muttering imprecations, she scowled at the yarn and unraveled several rows.
Before anyone gave us a signal that our escort was coming, a flurry of activity in the control room combined with chaos over the communications link. A small ship had lifted off from a cave seven kilometers away. All marines took defensive positions, in case the ship fired upon us. Though truly, there was not much we could have done, deep underground, and when I said as much, Jordan’s expression tightened.
The small ship simply . . . left. Chatter over the communications link verified that the craft had even avoided Thalassa.
“Good riddance,” Zhen muttered.
We pulled on our caps, but as I did, my gaze drifted to the five drones.
“I do not wish to reactivate the Elder’s drone,” I said.
“Then don’t.” Zhen folded her knitting into her pack, which she stuffed between the blanket-wrapped paintings.
“We do not have enough microantigravity units to carry it.” I bit my lip. “I should activate a drone for you, Zhen.”
“There’s no need now that the criminals have left.” Jordan squinted at the door, then said, “Actually, I don’t see why we need to take any of them out of here.”
“No, without the need to deceive anyone,” I began, but an idea flashed so brightly that I exclaimed, “Oh!”
Jordan raised a brow, and Zhen demanded, “What?”
“Has my AAVA drone finished transmitting all information to Thalassa?”
Zhen lifted a shoulder. “I think so.”
“Double-check.” I yanked off my cap and gloves and dashed to Lorik’s slave drones.
“Moons and stars, what are you doing?”
My fingers flew over panels and through commands as if I had never had a headache, flawed memory, or tingling hands. “I am leaving drones here, Zhen, as Jordan suggested.”
A slow smile curved Zhen’s lips. “Good.”
I held up my hand. “Wait.” Without a single glance at the monitors, I ran back to my pack and pulled out the tools and wiring. “Jordan, I need your assistance.”
“What do you need?”
“Fetch the lavender jammer. Attlee’s Elders have left, and with no further need for the AAVA drone, with Zhen’s help I can turn Lorik’s slave drones—the larger ones—into jamming devices. The other three can remain here, hidden, and the Consortium will not find them, for without a drone, no one will be able to access this room.”
Zhen’s expression shifted. “So, bugs aside, the station will be safe.”
I smiled. “Exactly.”
“And any Recorder who wanted to flee the Consortium could hide here. Having met a few dissidents lately, I’m pretty sure there are more than three of you.” Zhen was already tugging off her cap and gloves. “Tell me what to do.”
The next hour flew past. Jordan listened to communications and watched the monitors as Zhen and I created the safest place in the system, right in the middle of a moon that would kill the unwary. It was the best gift I could give to others like me, though it was unlikely that anyone would ever find it. Still, creating a sanctuary seemed the right thing to do.
My contentment was compounded when Jordan called out, “Company incoming,” for in my heart, I knew it meant Nate would be here soon.
“I’ll be glad to be done with this place,” Zhen said. “When?”
“Quincy said they’re gearing up to come and get us in half an hour, so we’ve got time to eat first.”
“That’s a lot for a small, hard-to-read datapad, J.”
Jordan tapped her ear. “Ross and his ship left, so things are back to normal.”
“About time.” Zhen opened a container and tossed each of us a package.
As loath as I was to eat another packaged meal, I peeled back the wrapper, but when I saw the contents, I reread the label. It was not a mistake.
So that was what fish loaf was.
I moved the bland vegetables away from the alleged fish. Beans should be green, not a dull brown, but in comparison to the grey block of protein, they seemed a gourmet choice. I ate them instead and, thinking no one would notice, slipped the remainder of the meal into the rubbish.
Jordan eyed me.
I rechecked the water closet and under the sofas to confirm we had left nothing behind when my communications link crackled. My heart leapt in the expectation of Nate’s voice.
“Venn?” a baritone asked. “Kyleigh?”
Chills swept over me as surely as if I had been ejected onto Pallas’s subzero surface.
Not my Nathaniel.
Julian Ross.
“I need to speak to Venetia Jordan or Kyleigh Tristram,” he demanded. “Or that Recorder. Put her on.”
“Moons and stars,” Zhen hissed.
“Venn, I know you’re out there. I don’t know about Kye,” he continued. “I need to—”
“Too spacing late,” Jordan growled.
“Then put the Recorder on. I know she’s with you.”
“Identify yourself,” Jackson barked, startling me further. I had forgotten he, too, would have been connected via communications link.
“Julian Meredith Ross—”
A sharp snap popped in my ears, and the link went silent.
Jordan’s jaw was taut, and her eyes were like lasers. “Looks like the departure was a decoy.”
“Two can play the decoy game.” Zhen turned to me. “Sorry, but we need drones after all.”
Jordan’s tone gentled. “I know you don’t want to carry a weapon, but you’re going to have to do it again to keep Zhen safe. And you need the Elder’s drone.”
All peace forgotten, I somehow managed a weak acknowledgment before turning to the drones resting on the floor and in the alcove.
“I will need to ensure that a short-range connection allows for communication, since we have created the jammer. Zhen, give me your blue datapad. And Jordan, yours as well.”
They handed them over without complaint. I copied mine to both, opened the access panels, and inserted them into interior slots. I held my breath and activated the drones.
The power level on the Recorders’ drones had plummeted, but the marines had left small charging units, like the ones I had used on Lorik’s drone earlier. I attached the cables and lashed the units over top.
“Zhen, do you have a preference?” I asked.
For five seconds, there was silence, then she said, “That’s a joke, right?”
“Indeed, it is not.”
She poked her head around the corner. “I don’t have a favorite drone. You go ahead and pick the best one.”
“The one that belonged to James is a more recent model. I believe that they simply reprogrammed a previous Recorder’s drone for Daniel, which though older has more extensive capabilities. Its programming, however, seems—”
“Void take them, I won’t be using it. It’s a prop.” She withdrew into the other room again. “They look exactly the same to me.”
Unable to decide, I activated both and tied them to my datapad using an uncommon frequency, then adding and expanding Lorik’s directive and verifying it with his codes. They hovered at eye level while I added an order to remain in close proximity.
Having done all I could, I checked the time. I had procrastinated long enough. Jordan watched from the corner of her eye while I slid my navy-blue datapad into my pocket and reactivated Lorik’s drone.
>>No network detected. Assigned Elder not detected. Consortium device accepted. Enter CDN.
Once more, I entered my designation and Lorik’s codes.
>>Codes accepted. Temporary access resumed. Length of time remaining, three hours, thirty-one minutes. Welcome, Aberrant Zeta4542910-9545E.
Less than four hours? That gave me pause. Angling my back so neither of my friends could see the drone’s screen, I asked, >>Consequence of temporary access ending?
>>Illegal access punishable to the fullest extent of law, per AAVA section 41.7.13B.
Removal for citizens and reclamation for Recorders.
“Very well,” I said aloud.
>>Power low.
“Power will be sufficient for the task at hand,” I said, ignoring the look Zhen threw at the drone and me.
>>Protect.
For a full minute, I stared at the single word on its screen, at its threat and its promise.
Well. I would have full control of an Elder’s drone for over three full hours, and we would reach the upper levels and relative safety before then. I would simply shut it down before it turned on me.
Jordan straightened on her chair, squinted, and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Blast it—I should have—Zhen! I need you to read this for me.”
Zhen strode in, leaned over the screen. “They’re on their way. We need to be armed and ready to go.”
“Helmets on.” Jordan tossed me mine.
Zhen blanched when James’s drone encircled her arm.
“It is merely mimicking mine,” I reminded her.
“The Elder’s.” Zhen’s sharp tone snapped over the external speaker. “Not yours.”
“As you say.” I fidgeted, adjusting the drone’s tendril around my arm. “Why would Julian Ross wish to speak to me?”
“Don’t know,” Jordan said tightly. “And I don’t care if I never find out.”