“I’m glad one of us has good news,” Colonel Almeida said on the viz, as Lincoln finished an impromptu debriefing of the team’s lunar exploits. Thumper had rigged him up a secure line from the hop that was serving as their new temporary home, at least for the next few hours.
“Sir?”
“Central Martian Authority’s got Higher all worked up,” Almeida said. “Looks like the Martians are moving ships, tightening up their corridors. Official word is it’s all part of routine exercises, joint maneuvers between all the satellite communities, planned months in advance.”
“And we know it’s not,” Lincoln said.
“Opinions vary, as they usually do. But they put a war ship right out front, the CMAV Relentless. You don’t move a vessel like that into a spotlight position unless you’re sending a message. And piled on top of the recent unpleasantness, you can appreciate why it makes some people upstairs nervous.”
“The important question to answer is whether or not the Martians even know about the recent unpleasantness.”
“Fortunately, I’ve got some of my best people looking into that,” Almeida said.
“Just some?”
“Jury’s still out on the team lead.”
Lincoln chuckled. “What’s our response?”
“To the Martians? The usual chess match,” Almeida said. “Everybody’s doing one thing and saying they’re doing another. State’s holding a bunch of emergency meetings. We’re contributing ships to a multinational force, deploying forward to monitor the exercises.”
“Monitor, huh? Sending the usual suspects?”
“Not quite. All our friends and cousins of course, India, the Iranians, but even the Eastern Coalition’s kicking in a few support-only vessels.”
That caught Lincoln off guard. “And everybody’s OK with that?”
“Yeah, funny how messing with trade routes on the far end can make all the spats at home seem less important.”
“What about on the Martian side?”
“Apart from moving a bunch of ships around, it’s business as usual, for the most part. Complaining about unnecessary aggression, that sort of thing. This is all high-level games of state sort of stuff right now. Average man on the street probably isn’t paying too much attention to it yet. But as much as it’s stirring up our folks, you’ve got to assume all their people who don’t exist are working just as much overtime as our people who don’t exist.”
“Any idea what kicked it off?”
“Maybe nothing. Maybe something we don’t know about. Maybe this is what they’d been planning to do all along,” the colonel said. “Obviously, certain elements are taking it as proof that this is all part of a grand strategy to position for war.”
“Sending a bunch of ships to ‘monitor’ exercises sounds like a pretty good way to guarantee something bad happens.”
“Which is why it’s all the more important that you get me something concrete to work with. Hard to trust people who say they don’t want to start a war when everyone’s acting like they do. We’re way right of bang on this, captain. I’m counting on you to rewind the timeline.”
“At least you temper your expectations.”
“What’s going on with your man Prakoso now?” Almeida asked.
“Wright’s talking to him,” Lincoln said. “Figured it was best for us to hold on to him for now, see what we could get out of him before we turn him over to NID.”
“That’s a good call,” Almeida said. “Some of Mr Self’s people have already been down here knocking on my door to assume custody.”
“What’d you tell them?”
“I told them the next time you contacted me, I’d be sure to impress upon you the importance of turning him over at the earliest possible opportunity.”
“I’ll consider myself so warned.”
“I said I’d do it next time you contacted me,” the colonel said. “Unfortunately, you’ve been on mission and dark, and I have no idea when I might expect to hear from you again.”
“Ah. Understood, sir.”
“Do what you need to to keep your tempo up. I don’t want a bunch of paperpushers getting in between you and the raw data.”
“Roger that. Might be a while then, if we can convince him to help us. Maybe longer if we can’t.”
“Whatever you need. Just get it done,” said Almeida, and he started to say one thing, but stopped himself to say another. “Oh, one other bit of news from the Secret World. One of the CMA’s northern representatives was found dead in his room a few nights ago. On one of those luxury hops, further out towards the belt. He was one of the reps from the Martian People’s Collective Republic.”
The MPCR wasn’t the largest settlement on Mars, but it was an economic powerhouse and an important player in the power dynamic. Technically the Central Martian Authority superseded any one colony’s authority and kept things balanced on the red planet. Everyone knew the influence that the MPCR could wield, though, if it so chose.
“Turns out, of course, because nothing’s ever easy, he wasn’t just a diplomat,” Almeida continued. “He was a courier for CMA intelligence, had a habit of moving sensitive info around using his credentials.”
“Assassinated?”
“News says it was a heart attack. Personally, I think it probably had more to do with the sharp thing someone stuck through his brain stem.”
“Any chance that was someone on our side trying to stir the pot and see what floated up?”
Almeida shook his head. “That someone would have gone way off into deep black territory to end up there. He wasn’t on anyone’s radar, really. Not a high profile concern. In fact, the only reason we know about the intelligence angle is because NID was developing him as an asset.”
“Maybe CMA found out. Had someone kill him to keep him from talking with us.”
“We don’t think so. The Directorate hadn’t made the approach yet, they just had an agent watching him. No one’s quite figured out how to crack the Collective yet, at least not safely. But that’s the thing, isn’t it? We can’t tell if he got it on our account, or if he earned it on his own. NID’s getting paranoid. Even more so than usual, I mean. Couple of buddies of mine over there are starting to wonder if they’ve got a leaky pipe somewhere.”
“But you think that’s why Mars is moving their ships,” Lincoln said. “Because their guy got whacked.”
“Well, no, I’m not sure I’d say that exactly,” Almeida answered.
“No, I’m saying that is what you think,” Lincoln replied. “If talking about one thing reminded you of the other, then you think there’s a connection, whether you realize it or not.”
Almeida paused.
“Huh. Now that you mention it, it does sort of make you wonder, doesn’t it? But something like that, by itself, probably isn’t enough to warrant that kind of reaction. Typically, you wouldn’t expect a political loss to lead so directly to a military response.”
“Maybe they’re in the same jam we are,” Lincoln said. “Can’t broadcast the loss if you aren’t sure who the actors are. Better just to pretend everything’s exactly what it seems. The thing that worries me is that these sort of events are like roaches. Once you see one, you can’t help but wonder how many more there are running around that you haven’t seen. Or haven’t seen yet.”
“You’re saying the CMA’s been hit more than once?”
Lincoln shrugged. “Just saying it’s possible. We don’t know what we don’t know.”
“You’re starting to sound like NID.”
“I’ll pretend you didn’t say that,” Lincoln said. And then shook his head. “I don’t know what we’re going to find out here, but I don’t think anybody’s going to be happy about it when we do.”
“What’s next on the agenda?”
“I was thinking we’d come home, regroup. But if NID’s getting grabby about Prakoso, we probably ought to find a reason to stay out a little longer.”
“I thought you might say that,” the colonel said, and he smiled.
“Uh oh.”
“I’ve got you set to link up with the USS Christopher T. Curry. It’s not a fancy ship, but I can get you on it for free, and people generally don’t start asking questions until I start spending money. She’s on her way out as a backing force in case things go pear-shaped on us.”
“Might not be a bad idea to head Mars-ward,” Lincoln said. “Probably going to end up there at some point anyway.”
“Let’s hope not,” the colonel said. “I’ll have Kennedy pass on the details. Expect a runabout in a few hours.”
“Roger that.”
“Chase this thing down, captain,” Almeida said. “Wherever it leads. That’s what you’re built for.”
“Yes sir.”
Lincoln shut down the connection and returned to the main room where the team was gathered. NID had found them a temporary hiding place on the hop; an unused office suite on the outer ring of the station. It was probably intended for maybe three people, or as an executive office for one. Lincoln had made his call home from the bathroom. Wright was working Prakoso in an attached meeting room, while the rest of the team sat around waiting for the news. Though, of course, the team had varying degrees of what “sitting around” actually entailed.
Mike was stretched out on the floor with his head on his pack and a hat over his face, grabbing a little sleep while he could. Thumper and Sahil were likewise on the floor, but for entirely different purposes; Sahil was feeding Thumper drills on her groundwork, giving her the opportunity to practice moving into a variety of takedowns and joint locks. Lincoln knew well how strong Sahil was, and how unlikely he was to let anything be too easy for anyone. Thumper’s fluid transitions from one hold to another made him realize just how much he would not want to tangle with her.
Through the window of the meeting room, Wright saw Lincoln. He signaled to her, and she got up to join the group. She closed the door behind her, but stayed next to it, angled so she could keep an eye on Prakoso.
“Gonna be a little while until we get to breathe real air again, folks,” Lincoln said. “We’re hopping a ride out, so we can be closer to the action.”
“Action?” Thumper said, releasing Sahil from an arm bar and rolling up to a seated position.
Lincoln nodded. “CMA’s making moves on their approach corridors. UAF and friends are sending vessels forward to monitor the situation. Mom’s got us set up on the USS Curry.”
“Aw man, the Curry?” Mike said from under his hat. “Isn’t that like a laundry ship or something?”
“Nah,” Thumper said, “It’s a garbage barge.”
“It’s a Marine transport,” said Wright.
“Yeah,” Thumper replied. “That’s what I said.”
“And that’s the last time you’ll say it until we’re well clear of any Marines,” Wright said.
“Come on, Mir, it’s all in good fun,” Thumper said.
“The interservice rivalry thing is a great way to get remembered, Thump. The less anyone recalls about us or our time on board, the better. Understood?”
“Yeah, OK. Roger that,” Thumper said, and then she looked over at Lincoln and made a we-never-get-to-have-any-fun face.
“What are we doing about our little buddy?” Wright asked.
“He’s coming with,” Lincoln answered.
“Not sure that’s a good idea,” Wright said. “Pretty sure the navy isn’t going to like us bringing a potential threat on board.”
“Yeah, I don’t think we’ll tell them that part.”
“Trying to keep up with him and keep it quiet? It’d be easier to just let NID have him.”
“Easier, sure. And that’d be the end of the trail for us. NID would lock him up somewhere, and we might as well go on home and wait for the next call,” said Lincoln. “So he goes with us. At least until we know for sure we can’t use him.”
“You want to take a crack at him?” Wright asked.
“Nah, I’m sure you gave him a good run. We’ll give him a break for a while, try again when we get on board the Curry. Runabout should be here in a couple of hours.”
Wright nodded. “All right. I’ll let him know.”
She went back into the small office and closed the door behind her. Lincoln was fairly sure that Wright’s version of keeping Prakoso informed also involved a few more rounds of questioning. After Wright had closed the door, Mike gave it a moment before he spoke from under his hat.
“Knock knock,” he said. Lincoln glanced over at him, and then back at Thumper and Sahil. Sahil just shook his head. Don’t encourage him.
“Come on guys,” Mike said. “Knock knock.”
“All right man,” Lincoln said, more out of pity than out of any desire to hear the joke. Sahil made a face at him. “Who’s there?”
“Master sergeant,” Mike said.
“Master serge–”
“QUIT JOKING AROUND!” Mike bellowed. Thumper barked a laugh, and even Sahil cracked a smile.
“All right now,” Lincoln said, chuckling and only feeling a little bad about it, since Wright wasn’t in the room to defend herself. “You guys make sure you’re all set to move when it’s time. I don’t want to keep that runabout hanging around any longer than it has to.”
It was hard to avoid drawing attention on the Curry. Everyone the team interacted with was polite and professional, but there were plenty of stares and whispers. It almost certainly didn’t help that Colonel Almeida had sent along a care package for them. Their suits. Even though Lincoln hadn’t gotten a chance to run one live, after the pain of leaving them behind for the Luna trip, seeing those crates was like being reunited with a long-lost friend. Luna hadn’t been the place for them. But now, not knowing what exactly lay ahead, it made sense to keep the suits nearby, just in case.
The specialized crates were kept locked safely in the Curry’s armory. Somehow, that made everything worse. The armor would have undoubtedly attracted some level of attention; but even just having a few mystery boxes on board sent the rumors pinging around the ship like a low-velocity round. The team and their guest tried to keep to themselves as much as possible, but there wasn’t a lot of privacy to be had on the vessel.
After three days of trying to keep a low profile without much success, Lincoln found himself accosted once more in the ship’s mess by a couple of eager young sailors and decided to take a different approach.
“All right,” he said, leaning close, and motioning to the two young men across from him to follow suit. “I’m not supposed to say anything, but you guys look like you can keep your mouth shut.”
“Yeah, absolutely we can,” one of them replied; a Petty Officer Third Class Trudeau by his uniform.
“Well… I don’t want to say too much but… I do a lot of work with you know… special people.” He gave them a meaningful nod.
“Oh man, I knew it,” Trudeau said. He nudged his pal, who was still just staring at Lincoln. “You guys are SEALs aren’t you?”
The navy’s special operations force had a long and proud tradition, one that had begun all the way back when people were still stuck on one planet.
“No, but…” Lincoln checked over his shoulders before continuing. “You ever hear of applied intelligence?”
“No,” Trudeau said, eyes wider. “What’s that?”
“I mean I don’t like to brag about it, obviously, but we do some pretty serious work.” Lincoln shrugged a shoulder and picked at the food on his plate.
Trudeau pressed him. “So you’re like, a secret ops kind of guy? Sneaking in places, getting intelligence, that sort of thing?”
“Well, I mean… I’m in the information division.”
“Information?”
“Well,” Lincoln said. “You know, information support, technically.”
Trudeau’s face changed. “Information support?”
“Yeah, I’m in the 301st Information Support Brigade. But don’t tell anyone that, I don’t want it to get around.”
And now Trudeau’s expression melted into something more like disappointment. “The 301st? What, do you like, fix computers or something?”
Lincoln played it up. “Well, I mean, yeah, but it’s for super important stuff. Secret stuff, like you said.”
“Aw man, are you kidding me?” Trudeau said, standing up. His silent friend followed suit. “I thought you were some cool guy, not just some egghead wannabe. Information support…”
“Hey, keep it down,” Lincoln protested, but Trudeau just waved a hand at him and stomped off. It didn’t take long after that episode for Trudeau’s shipmates to lose most of their interest in their quiet guests.
And quiet they were. The team knew the drill, but even Prakoso seemed to understand the situation; either that, or the nature of the life he led had made him instinctively capable of blending into whatever environment he happened to find himself in. Whatever fire the small man had left in him had been quenched in the custody of the team. He was already a quiet man, gentle in his movements and tone of voice. Watching him, listening to him, it seemed impossible that he was at all capable of the violence he’d laid on Lincoln and his teammates. Undoubtedly being surrounded by a ship full of Marines had some effect on his desire to try his luck at another escape. But there was more to it than just that. Something seemed to have broken in him, since that last attempt; as if they’d witnessed the wild thrashing of a beast’s final rage before its submission to the will of another.
Lincoln sat with Prakoso in one of two compartments the crew of the Curry had cleared for their use. Like everywhere else on the ship, space was tight, but Lincoln couldn’t complain. He figured there were some junior officers somewhere on board who’d given up their quarters and were now probably sleeping eight men deep.
They’d given Prakoso a little time free of questioning, time to adjust and reflect on his situation. But the clock was ticking, and they couldn’t afford to let things drag on for too long. Lincoln was back at it, with Thumper leaning against the bulkhead behind him, keeping casual guard. Lincoln sat in a chair across from Prakoso, but had angled it slightly to soften the sense of confrontation. Contrary to popular opinion, Lincoln had always thought of interrogation as a game of relationship, not a test of power.
“You’re making this more difficult than it needs to be,” Lincoln said. “But only on yourself. You understand that, yeah?”
Prakoso shrugged his slight shoulders. “Always, it’s the same.”
“I’m trying to help you here, Yayan. What do you think is going to happen if you don’t cooperate with us?”
“What do you think will happen if I do?”
“We can protect you,” Lincoln said. “Hide you. Give you a new life. Anything you want.”
Prakoso just stared back at Lincoln. “Sir, all these things you say. Which of them do you believe I haven’t heard ten thousand times before now? From men just like you.”
“Surely it’s better than the alternative.”
“No, sir. For me, they are the same. All the same,” Prakoso said. “Prison.”
“Prison is what I’m trying to protect you from, Yayan. Hanging out with us, I know it’s not your first choice, but trust me, this is an all-expenses paid vacation in paradise compared to what’s going to happen if I have to release you to the people who really want you. I’m taking a lot of heat for you right now. I’ve got all kinds of threats coming my way on your account. I’m spending all my personal capital keeping you here, and I’m just about out. Pretty soon it’s going to be out of my hands, and chances are someone’s going to come take you away and they’re going to stick you in a hole somewhere on a hop out in deep space. If that happens, when that happens, you’re going to realize your old friend Lincoln here was telling you the truth, that he was the best chance you had, and it’s going to be too late. Once you’re gone, there’s nothing else I can do for you. But if you help me now, I’ll do everything in my power to make it right for you.”
“I cannot help you,” Prakoso said. And he looked down at his hands in his lap, and then added, “My part is done. They asked nothing of me more, not for days. Weeks.” He shrugged.
It was such a small moment, Lincoln almost missed it. But he realized that it was the first time Prakoso had acknowledged in any way that he’d been working for someone. Lincoln knew he had to tread carefully now, to coax the information out without overplaying it, without giving any signal to Prakoso that he was slipping.
“Then why were they still holding you?” he said. “If your part was done?”
“Control,” Prakoso said.
“And that was what you agreed to? Part of the deal?”
“It is never part of the deal,” Prakoso said. “And yet, always.” He smiled sadly then and took a deep breath. And his defenses came down. “This is not the life I wanted. Not what I meant to choose,” he continued, and shook his head. “I just wanted to solve interesting problems.”
And that’s how it usually happened, how interrogations most often turned for Lincoln; not a sudden, explosive breaking of the will, but instead a quiet unfolding of the heart.
“That’s what we do,” Lincoln replied. “We’re problem solvers. And that’s all we’re asking you to do for us. With us. Help us solve a problem. You didn’t know what you were getting into, I get that.”
“I knew enough,” Prakoso said, shaking his head again. “I always know.”
“Do you? Do you know enough about what they used your work for, Yayan?”
He shrugged.
“Do you want me to tell you the number of casualties?” Lincoln said.
Prakoso’s eyes glinted, some combination of anger and fear. Whatever he thought he’d done for those people, he seemed genuinely shocked that it had caused any death at all, let alone thousands.
“It’s a lot,” Lincoln added. “And a lot more will follow if we don’t do something soon. You can’t undo it now. But you don’t have to let it continue. You can help us stop it. You can stop it.”
Prakoso looked over at Thumper, then back to Lincoln, then down at his own hands again. Lincoln leaned forward and put his hand on the man’s shoulder.
“Help us stop it.”
“I would like to go home,” Prakoso said. “I would like only to go home. Whatever comes after, it would be worth it to see my home.”
“Then help us,” Lincoln said. “Help us, and we’ll get you home.”
“You will not,” Prakoso said, looking up. There were tears in his eyes, but he did not heed them. “You can not. Your people would never allow it.”
“I can’t help it if you escape,” Lincoln said. “And a man with your skill set… I bet once we lost track of you, we’d never be able to find you again.”
“You found me once.”
“We found Apsis,” Lincoln said. “Their fault, not yours.”
Lincoln could see the struggle in Prakoso’s eyes.
“I’m going to make that happen,” Lincoln said. “When you’re done helping us, I’m going to get you home. I give you my word on that.”
“I just wanted to solve interesting problems.”
They were so close, Lincoln could feel it. But he was at a loss for which direction to go. What further promise he could make, or what appeal would resonate, and tip Prakoso over to the right side.
“Captain,” Thumper said, from close behind him. “You mind if I talk with Yayan alone for a few?”
Lincoln looked at her over his shoulder. She was standing right behind him now, her fingertips resting lightly on the back of his chair. This wasn’t part of the plan, but something in her look compelled him to let her take over. He nodded and stood.
“All right, sure.” For a moment, he thought about adding a mild threat, making some comment about hoping she could get Prakoso to understand before NID came to take him away, but he caught himself, decided to take it a different direction. Lighten the mood, treat the moment as though Prakoso had already acquiesced. “And is there anything else you want me to do for you two?”
“You could get us some coffee,” Thumper said, and then to Prakoso added, “His coffee’s better than you’d think.”
Lincoln didn’t know what that was supposed to mean exactly, but he didn’t want to press it.
“You drink coffee, Yayan?” he asked.
The man shrugged his shoulders.
“I’ll see what I can scrounge up on this tub,” he said, and left the compartment. Directly across the passageway was the other compartment they’d been given for their use, and the crew had been kind enough to leave behind a personal coffee brewer. Sahil and Wright were nowhere to be found, but Mike was racked out on one of the bunks. He raised his head when Lincoln entered.
“Hey, cap,” he said. “Pop him yet?”
“Not sure,” Lincoln answered, as he walked over to the coffee supplies. “Close, I think. Thumper’s trying to close the deal right now.”
“And you’re doing what?”
Lincoln held up one of the disposable coffee cups.
“Sure, I’d love some,” Mike said with a smile, and dropped his head back to his pillow.
Lincoln took his time, not sure exactly how long Thumper needed to do whatever it was she had in mind. Ten minutes, maybe. When he was done, he handed a cup off to Mike and crossed back over to the other compartment.
Upon entering the compartment, Lincoln knew immediately that something had changed. Outwardly the difference in Prakoso was slight; his shoulders slumped less, his eyes weren’t as quick to avoid contact. But the atmosphere in the room had shifted, as if Lincoln had walked in and interrupted them sharing gossip about him. Thumper had moved her chair around even closer to Prakoso, at a ninety-degree angle to his; neither directly next to him, nor across from him. A position of mediation, or of counsel. She was leaning forward with her arms resting on her knees, but she sat back in her chair when Lincoln came in.
“You two aren’t up to something in here, are you?” Lincoln asked.
Prakoso looked up at Lincoln with a neutral expression.
“Common interests,” Thumper said with a shrug and a smile. Prakoso returned his eyes to his hands when she said it, but one corner of his mouth turned upward.
Lincoln handed Thumper her coffee, and then held the other cup out in front of Prakoso.
“So what’d I miss?”
“Just talking shop,” Thumper said. “Nice to get a chance to chat with someone who speaks the language.”
Prakoso took the coffee. “Thank you.”
He took a sip, and after a moment his eyebrows went up, as if in surprise.
“Pretty good, isn’t it?” Thumper said. Prakoso nodded.
“It’s just coffee,” Lincoln said. “It’s not like I do anything special to it.”
“It’s probably the love that makes it good,” Thumper replied. “’Koso here was just telling me a little bit about his recent work. It’s pretty cool stuff.”
“Yeah?” Lincoln said, trying not to react too strongly to the fact that she’d just called Prakoso by a nickname. “Care to share?”
Prakoso gave him the highlights, and Lincoln found himself gaining a new appreciation for Thumper’s knack for explaining technical things, which previously he’d considered unnecessarily detailed; most of what Prakoso told him sounded just shy of gibberish, but Prakoso was so enthusiastic about it, Lincoln didn’t dare interrupt.
“Which is all to say, the handshake protocol he developed… the one that interfaced with YN-773,” Thumper interpreted. “It’s mutable, self-modifying. Introduce it to a different codebase, and it can penetrate and inject new functionality, or override existing ones.”
“That doesn’t sound like something you’d use just once,” Lincoln said.
“No, it doesn’t,” Thumper said.
“And I helped them secure their relay,” Prakoso added. “A counter to prevent prediction attacks.”
“That’s impressive,” Thumper said.
“I didn’t develop the technique,” Prakoso responded. “Only the implementation.”
“Only,” Thumper said. And she smiled at him like he was a teen pop star. He seemed genuinely embarrassed by the look.
“The relay,” Lincoln said. “Is that something we can intercept?”
“There’s nothing to intercept,” Thumper explained. “It uses quantum simulation, same as our stuff.”
Lincoln gave her what he hoped was his most patient face, waiting for her to actually answer the question.
“Buddy, you don’t want me to get into that. But for all intents and purposes, you can basically pretend the thing here happens simultaneously as the thing over there, with nothing in between.”
“Oh, so magic,” Lincoln said. “You don’t have to make it sound so fancy.”
“It’s not magic, it’s math. And science,” Thumper said, a little defensively. “Anyway, the point is, that’s why we can talk across the solar system in real time. Once an encrypted system’s set up, outside of a really well-executed prediction attack, which our man ’Koso here apparently secured them against, the only way to listen in is to have an ear on one of the actual boxes.”
“Or to spoof one of your own,” Prakoso said. “But to do that, you would need to have physical access first.”
“If we got hold of one, could you crack it?” Lincoln asked. Prakoso shook his head.
“Really?” Thumper asked. “You didn’t leave anything behind for yourself? A back door? Just in case?”
“No,” Prakoso said.
“Are you sure? Because that seems like something I’d do. All that work, not knowing what it was going to be used for. It’d be easy. Why not?”
“Because I am not a fool,” Prakoso said. “I work very hard not to be a loose end.”
“We don’t necessarily need to know what’s in the message, though,” Lincoln said. “We know there’s a bad guy. We know he’s got someone delivering his mail. We don’t have to read the letters if we can just follow the mailman. Is that something we can do?”
Prakoso furrowed his brow in thought.
“The network has a unique ID obviously, but every box in it has a specific signature,” Thumper said, and she went into that look that meant she was thinking out loud, not necessarily trying to communicate anything meaningful. “If we tap one, we still probably won’t be able to do much with the messages getting sent around. We can maybe figure out what kind of traffic they’re sending, from the pops and clicks. Commo, navigational data, that sort of thing. But you’re right, depending on what we find, we might be able to track some of the return addresses. Figure out how many boxes are out there, maybe where they’re stationed. If we get lucky and they’re sloppy, we might even be able to pull something out of their access connections…”
“Theoretically, yes,” Prakoso said, and his eyes brightened, as he picked up the thread and his mind went to work on the problem. He and Thumper were two peas in a pod.
“If we could just find one… Was there one back at the safehouse?” Thumper asked. “Where Apsis was holding you?”
“No,” Prakoso answered. “But I know the seed for the one I secured.”
“I thought you said you weren’t a loose end.,” Lincoln said.
“I said I try,” Prakoso said. “I didn’t memorize it on purpose. It’s just the kind of the thing that sticks in my brain.”
Thumper was looking at him with barely veiled wonder.
“That’s like five hundred and twelve characters long, at least,” she said.
“Yes,” Prakoso said, a little sheepishly. “But only eight blocks of sixty-four. Anyone can do sixty-four.”
“And how can we use that?” Lincoln asked.
“We might be able to localize its signature, the next time they use it,” Prakoso said. “Might. It would be very complicated. And you would need some very special equipment. Very hard to get.”
Lincoln nodded. “Make me a list.”
Thumper and Prakoso went to work, and there was little Lincoln could do to help besides keeping them full of coffee and expensive gear. In the meantime, he spent a lot of time in the Curry’s weight room, and running drills in a hangar with the rest of the team. After a few days, Prakoso and Thumper emerged from their cave with exhausted smiles and some targeting data. Garlington Outpost 15-436. Flashtown.
“If we get access to this one,” Thumper said, “it’ll be a good starting point. Give us some idea of what we’re dealing with.”
Mike let out a low whistle and Sahil shook his head.
“I don’t see there’s any way to do that clean,” Sahil said.
“So we do it the way we have to,” Lincoln said. “And make sure someone else gets the credit.”
“We’re really gonna do this?” Mike said.
“Looks like,” Lincoln said. “I think it’s probably time for me to put that suit through its paces anyway.”