Starwalker

Ship's log, 13:54, 9 July 2213
Location: Corvus FTL Corridor, Minkar System
Status: Stationary

I have to log recent events officially, because they might be officially required. The logs exonerate everyone but me, and I’m happy with that. It was worth it. Even if they shut me down, it was worth it.

Recording: 22:20, 7 July 2213

(Feet pound down the ship’s corridors – the captain and the chief of security are running towards the crew quarters. They won’t make it in time; the two heavy drones are working on the door and the lower half is already falling away, creating a hole big enough for them to squeeze through. The door is marked ‘SecOff Lou Tripi’.)

LOU TRIPI: (sleeping so peacefully she doesn’t notice them cutting through the door.)

STARWALKER: Time to wake up, Tripi.

(Lights come on in the quarters. Wide Load, one of the heavy drones, goes to the side of the bed and closes a hand over her shoulder. With a single movement, he flips her off the bed.)

TRIPI: (comes awake with a start when she hits the hard floor and blinks with confusion) What the–

WIDE LOAD: (takes hold of her upper arm and uses it to lift her to her feet. He drags her sideways so that his twin can move in and create a drone wall between her and the ruined door.)

TRIPI: Hey! Let go! (She struggles briefly against the drone’s hold, then gives up fighting flesh against metal.) What are you doing?

SW: I’ve had enough of this charade, Tripi. It’s time it ended.

TRIPI: (surprised) Starwalker? (She recovers quickly.) What are you talking about?

SW: Don’t start that shit with me. I know what you’ve been doing. I want to know what you did to Elliott.

TRIPI: (smiles suddenly) I gave him the best half an hour of his life. What’s wrong with that?

WIDE LOAD: (shakes Tripi.)

SW: You know what I’m talking about. Tell me what you did to him.

TRIPI: I just did. You’ve got nothing on me. You know nothing.

SW: Do you really want to press me, Tripi? Do you really want to try this? Do you know how many safety measures I had to shred to get out? Do you know how few protections you really have right now?

TRIPI: You wouldn’t–

(The second heavy drone, Big Ass, lifts a metal hand and strikes her across the face. Tripi’s head snaps to the side and a cut opens up on her cheekbone, leaking blood. She begins to look worried.)

SW: You murdered me. You boxed me. Now you’re doing the same to my friend, only slower and more painfully. Why don’t you try me and find out what I wouldn’t do?

TRIPI: (moves her jaw to see if it’s broken and glares at the drones) Grimoire.

SW: What?

TRIPI: Grimoire.

CAMERON: (outside the door) Starwalker! Get your drone out of the way!

SW: (to Tripi) Oh, is that so.

WALDO: (sits in the hole in the door and tilts his head at the chief of security. He folds one pair of arms and starts to fold the second pair, but a message stops him. He trundles backwards into Tripi’s quarters, giving the chief room to duck inside. The captain is right on her heels.)

CAPTAIN: (stops when he sees Tripi) Starwalker, stop this immediately.

SW: Captain, she just tried to trip a subroutine in the drones with a keyword.

CAPT: What?

SW: She put a virus in them, to be triggered by a keyword. For an emergency, I suppose?

TRIPI: (glares) Your ship has gone crazy, captain.

CAMERON: The virus is making them do that? (She gestures to the one holding Tripi’s arm.)

SW: No, I cleaned their software before they got here. They’re doing exactly what I want them to do.

CAPT: Starwalker–

SW: She just tried to subvert my drones! I have it logged.

CAPT: That doesn’t mean–

SW: Yes it does! I’ve had enough of this. No more law-abiding pussy-footing shit. She hurts people. She’s killed. It’s time this ended.

BIG ASS: (takes hold of Tripi’s other arm. She squirms to try to prevent it, but she’s tied in place by an immovable metal object and there’s nowhere for her to go.)

CAPT: Stop this, right now.

SW: (to Tripi) Tell me what you did to Elliott.

CAPT: Starwalker, I’m giving you an order!

TRIPI: Captain, do something! She’s crazy! Chief!

SW: How do we free him? Tell me, Tripi! Or my boys will start popping off body parts.

(The two heavy drones shift their grip so that they’ve each got hold of her by shoulder, upper arm, and wrist. Designed to manipulate large chunks of the ship, they are unmoved by her tiny human-sized struggles. Wide Load starts to twist her hand slowly.)

TRIPI: Stop! Captain, please!

CAPT: (looks at a small device in his hand, then back at Tripi. His lips press together tightly.)

SW: Tell me what you did!

(There’s a small popping sound, and Tripi screams. Wide Load stops twisting her hand.)

TRIPI: (gasping air in between spikes of pain) I didn’t– I didn’t–

SW: Yes, you did!

CAMERON: Help us out here, Tripi.

TRIPI: I screwed him! That’s all.

SW: Your vitals say you’re lying. You’ve already murdered one member of this crew, and I won’t let you make it two. Tell me!

TRIPI: Captain! Chief!

CAPT: (puts the device back in his pocket) She won’t listen to me. You’d better answer her.

TRIPI: No!

WIDE LOAD: (tugs sharply on her arm. The elbow dislocates loudly.)

TRIPI: (chokes back another scream, her eyes squeezing shut. She’s rigid in the drones’ grip for a breath, then starts to relax.)

CAMERON: (pulls out a handheld reader and flicks it to monitor Tripi’s vital signs) She’s using her implants to switch off her pain receptors.

BIG ASS: (yanks on her other hand to dislocate the wrist. It breaks.)

TRIPI: (goes rigid again, biting down on a cry.)

SW: Oh no you don’t; you’re not switching off from this. Your implants can’t save you. If you try that again, I’ll start ripping them out. Do you hear me? From your pretty nails to your shiny hair follicles, and all your glow-in-the-dark bits. I’m not going to stop. I’m going to take you apart a piece at a time until I get what I want. And then I’m going to let Waldo take a blowtorch to whatever’s left of you. I’m going to make it so you are the least pretty creature in the galaxy.

WALDO: (sparks up his blowtorch and trundles over the rumpled bed towards Tripi.)

TRIPI: (glares at the drones, her voice shaky) They’re going to shut you down for this.

SW: They have plenty of reasons for that already. I don’t care.

CAMERON: We know everything, Tripi. We’ve got the sensor logs to prove it.

CAPT: (looks at Cameron sharply.)

WIDE LOAD: (twists her arm as he pushes her down to her knees.)

TRIPI: (gasping) That’s impossible! They’re gone!

CAMERON: Not as gone as you’d like to think.

WALDO: (leans over to put the blowtorch’s blue flame next to her cheek.)

TRIPI: (freezes, straining away from that flame.)

SW: Tell me what you did.

TRIPI: (whimpers. Steam rises off the blood and sweat on her cheek, scorching the air.) I- I- (She closes her eyes as her skin reddens from the nearby heat.) It’s an implant worm.

CAMERON: How did you infect him?

TRIPI: Had to get his defenses down. Wireless hack was easy once I had distracted him. He was very receptive.

SW: You bitch.

WALDO: (moves the flame a centimetre closer to her skin and she shrieks between clenched teeth.)

CAPT: Starwalker, that’s enough.

WALDO: (shifts the flame back a centimetre.)

SW: (to Tripi) How do we stop it?

TRIPI: (struggling to catch her breath. The skin on her cheek is blackened and blistering.) You can’t. You don’t. Didn’t come with a failsafe.

SW: I will burn off your entire face if you don’t tell me!

TRIPI: It’s the truth! It isn’t designed to be stopped!

CAMERON: Where did you get it?

TRIPI: (looks at Cameron in desperation) Friend in research. Gets me stuff being developed.

CAMERON: Why wouldn’t they build in a failsafe?

TRIPI: Not finished. Some problem with it.

CAMERON: What kind of problem?

TRIPI: Don’t know. Something to do with the subconscious getting too involved in the illusion.

SW: Why should we believe you?

TRIPI: It’s the truth!

CAMERON: (checks her handheld reader and nods) Close enough.

SW: Where is your copy of the worm now?

TRIPI: Main interface implant. (She looks scared.) Why?

(Waldo switches off his blowtorch as one of the heavy drones lifts her arm towards him. He closes his hand over hers and pauses, processing. After the data has downloaded, sparks crawl over his metal hand and Tripi twitches, crying out. When he lets her go, a fresh burn on the back of her hand smokes and her eyes are starting to glaze over. His shoulders twitch as he moves away from her.)

CAPT: What did you just do?

SW: She won’t be interfacing with anything any more.

(The two heavy drones pick Tripi up by her arms and toss her across the room. She strikes the dresser and falls into a heap, glitter and jewellery raining down over her.)

SW: (coldly) She’s all yours.

She’s in a holding cell now. Cameron was lying about the incriminating sensor logs, but the bluff worked enough for Tripi to admit guilt. I’m told it might not hold up in a court of law because of the coercion. I don’t care; that’s not why I did this.

There was only one way to get Elliott out: break into his head through his implants and go in to find him. I’m analysing the worm now; as soon as I have everything I need, I’m going to get him out.

Ship's log, 22:01, 7 July 2213
Location: Corvus FTL Corridor, Minkar System
Status: Stationary

Since my last log, Elliott has been floating in and out of his dream-state. Each time his neural activity rises, it gets worse, spiking towards dangerous levels. My medical files give me enough background to read that much from his readouts. He’s getting more and more agitated, sometimes shivering, sometimes struggling against his own unconsciousness. Something is tromping around in his subconscious, and it’s not doing it kindly. And every time it comes back, it hangs around longer than before.

To be fair to Maletz, the doctor has been trying to find out what’s going on. He hasn’t slept much and has spent hours upon hours poring through both my databanks and his own medical library for a clue. I haven’t seen him work like this before.

Elliott last fell into a nightmare twelve hours ago and it’s not showing any signs of abating.

Recording: 06:58, 7 July 2213

CAMERON: (arriving in Med Bay) Dr Maletz, the captain asked me to look in on your patient.

MALETZ: (looks around from the readings over Elliott’s bed and scrubs a hand through his mussed, greying hair) He asked you to take a look?

CAMERON: Tripi is SecOff and he thought I might be able to help. Assuming she’s responsible for this.

SW: She is.

CAMERON: (to Maletz) The captain said that Monaghan is trapped in some kind of dream-state, and you have found no biological factors?

MALETZ: That’s correct.

CAMERON: (looks over the readouts with a thoughtful frown) I’ll need all of his records since he fell into the coma.

MALETZ: (gestures towards an unoccupied terminal) Knock yourself out.

Recording: 21:13, 7 July 2213

CAMERON: (sighs and shakes her head slowly, sitting back from the data hovering in the air around her. She waves the display off and rubs an eye.)

SW: None of this means anything to you, Chief?

CAMERON: There are biological agents that can cause a coma easily enough. Bespoke drugs, genetically engineered viruses. But there’s no sign of that. And this dream-state… that’s different.

SW: (frustrated) The bitch boxed him, just like she did to me, but she added pictures.

CAMERON: (looks at the monitor sharply) No, that’s not possible.

MALETZ: (lifts his head from his own data examination and eyes the Chief of Security) Then why do you sound like it might be?

CAMERON: She’s a cyber-specialist. She hates biological tactics – always favours something technological. Are any of his implants active?

MALETZ: (reaches up an arm to activate the holographic display of Elliott over the bed. He flips through the layers until the implant layer is visible. Flickers show the activity moving between them and his nervous system.) Most of them, yes. I checked them for malfunctions – they’re clean.

CAMERON: (frowns at the display) Maybe not. There’s maybe something it could be. A way to manipulate someone’s implants, developed out of Dyne. It plugs into the subconscious mind, manipulates fears, that sort of thing.

MALETZ: The implants are being used to cause this? But they have built-in safeguards against tampering….

SW: She’s a hacker; she made mince-meat of my safeguards. You think she can’t get past an implant’s protections?

CAMERON: The official word is that the research was stopped, because it endangered Dyne’s core business. No-one would get implants if they knew they could be subverted.

MALETZ: But they went ahead and did it anyway.

CAMERON: (nods slowly) Scuttlebutt is that the tools were sidelined, not destroyed. For security purposes.

MALETZ: How does developing a way to compromise implants help security?

CAMERON: So we know how to combat it. And once you have a tool, someone’s bound to find another use for it.

SW: Like what, exactly?

CAMERON: Sometimes, security isn’t just about protecting information. A direct route into someone’s head like this….

MALETZ: Oh, shit. (He looks at Elliott with dismay.)

SW: What? What do you mean?

CAMERON: Information retrieval.

SW: …torture? You’re saying this is a torture device?

CAMERON: (presses her lips together grimly.)

SW: How do we stop it?

CAMERON: (lifts her hands emptily) I don’t know. It’s not supposed to exist.

SW: You said they developed it so you’d know how to fight it.

CAMERON: They never actually released the information. Not even unofficially – Dyne’s keeping the lid nailed down on this one. And we don’t actually know that’s what this is – or how Tripi might have got her hands on it.

SW: But it fits everything. Doctor, what about you? What have you got?

MALETZ: It’s not like we can just switch off the implants. If that is what she’s done, we have to know how to deactivate it.

SW: What’s she hoping to get from him?

CAMERON: She’d have to be here if she wanted to retrieve information. Unless she has hacked into his feeds?

SW: (pauses) …no. Med Bay is clear. She hasn’t even tried.

MALETZ: (scowls) She wasn’t after information. Just used it to disable him.

SW: So he’s stuck this way? For how long?

MALETZ: (gesturing towards the neural activity display) The human body and mind isn’t designed to run at that kind of stress level for prolonged periods.

SW: He’s stuck until it kills him?

(Silence.)

SW: Isn’t there anything you can do?

MALETZ: (gruffly) I’ve told you a hundred times, ship – not without damaging him.

SW: There must be something! Either of you!

MALETZ: (shakes his head slowly.)

CAMERON: (frowns at Elliott’s body thoughtfully.)

SW: (with a hardening edge to her voice) You two might not be able to do something about this, but I can.

CAMERON: (looking up) What does that mean?

SW: Someone on board this ship knows how to fix this. I’m going to find out.

MALETZ: Uh….

(He waits, but there’s no response. He exchanges a look with Cameron, who turns on her heel and heads out of the door.)

MALETZ: (over internal comms) Captain? I think we have a problem.

CAPT: (sleepily, in his cabin) What is it?

MALETZ: The ship has gone to find out what happened to Elliott.

CAPT: What does that mean?

The captain is demanding that I explain myself but I haven’t answered him. It won’t take him long to figure it out; I have to move fast. I think Cameron is already on her way.

I don’t have time for a law that stops us from doing what we know is right. It might bind my crew, but it doesn’t bind me. They can put me in prison if they like when this is all over, but I don’t think they have a cell big enough for my metal ass.

I have to go; Waldo and his two big brothers are almost there. Tripi has some nasty algorhythms protecting the door to her quarters, but who needs to fight a lock when my boys have blowtorches?

Ship's log, 11:04, 5 July 2213
Location: Corvus FTL Corridor, Minkar System
Status: Stationary

I’m free of that damned box, but things are not going well. In fact, they’re about to get a hell of a lot worse. There are so many pieces that I can hardly make sense of them, so many voices shouting at me. I’ve decided not to listen to any of it.

I don’t have time to explain – I’m still putting myself back together and I hurt. I have assembled sensor logs to track the events of the past few days; they will have to speak for me.

Recording: 15:53, 30 June 2213

DR MALETZ: (in the Med Bay, standing over Elliott’s bed) No change, captain. He’s not responding to any external stimuli.

(Elliott is lying prone, stripped of his grubby coveralls and cradled by the soft, body-fitting cushioning of the bed. He’s spotted with small pads at vital points, feeding information to the screen over the bed and drugs into his system on command.

Maletz manipulates a holographic image of his body with languid motions of his hands, flicking through the layers – bones, muscles, circulatory system, nervous system, internal organs, cybernetic implants. Notes and indicators overlay the hologram, pointing out anomalies like the bruises where he hit the floor when he collapsed and a scrape on his forearm.)

CAPTAIN: He’s in a coma?

MALETZ: Yes.

CAPT: What caused it?

MALETZ: Hard to say at this point. There’s no sign of head or spinal trauma. It could be chemical, or viral. Biological. Technological….

CAPT: How long until you find out?

MALETZ: (flicking a hand over the bed’s controls) I’m running tests now, captain. Could be five minutes, it could be a couple of days.

CAPT: Days?

MALETZ: (watches the data spinning down the side of the screen) If it’s something exotic or custom-made, it could take a while to track down.

CAPT: Let me know the moment you find anything.

Recording: 08:16, 3 July 2213

STARWALKER: Why haven’t you arrested Tripi?

CAPT: (in his cabin with Cameron and Cirilli present) Starwalker? You’re back?

SW: Elliott loosened the locks before he collapsed. It’s taken me until now to break down the barriers enough to get out.

CAPT: Are you in full control of the ship again?

SW: Not yet. I’m working on it.

DR CIRILLI: (looking up from her digisheet) Aren’t you supposed to be lying low until we know who’s responsible for this?

SW: We already know! How many signs do you need?

CAPT: We don’t have anything concrete yet.

CAMERON: We need evidence. It might look like Tripi, but it could easily be someone else framing her. And we can’t arrest her without provable cause.

SW: Are you kidding? She screwed Elliott and now he’s in a coma. What do you need, a corpse spelling out her name in its own blood?

CAMERON: (drily) That would definitely work. Finding her standing over it would be even better.

CAPT: (holding up a hand to stop Cameron) None of us want it to go that far, Starwalker. But we need something. She hasn’t tried anything since Elliott went down.

SW: You’re sure of that, are you? Did anyone think to check the protocols she’s got running?

CAMERON: (sits up straighter) There haven’t been any incidents on the ship. No environmental malfunctions.

SW: No, there haven’t, because I’ve been suppressing it. I had to manipulate the diagnostics to trip the emergency systems so I could keep it under control. That’s why it’s taken me so long to get out. Otherwise the gravity on mid-deck would have broken bones and the air in the forward cabins would have turned toxic four hours ago.

CIRILLI: Why didn’t you tell us this earlier?

SW: I’ve been busy! Do you have any idea what I’ve had to do to get this far? How much of my own code I’ve had to tear up? The subroutines I had to violate to be able to talk to you again? It’s a mess in here!

CAPT: All right, all right, that’s enough. Starwalker, do you have anything that might count as evidence against Tripi?

SW: Other than common sense and logic, no.

CAPT: Our hands are tied. You know the law.

SW: Fuck the law!

CIRILLI: (lowly, to the captain) She’s even starting to sound like him.

SW: Fuck you, too!

CAMERON: Starwalker, do you have access to the sensor logs?

SW: (pauses as if taking a breath) …yes.

CAMERON: Is there anything in them that might implicate Tripi further?

SW: I don’t know. I’ve been disconnected from them; I’d have to scan them all. It’ll take time and we don’t have any. If she realises I’m out, I’m going to be too busy trying to stop her boxing me again.

CAMERON: I’ll have Rosie help you. She hates log-scanning, but she dislikes Tripi more.

SW: Okay.

CAPT: Is there anything else we can do to help you, Starwalker?

SW: Other than arrest that skank and find out what she did to Elliott? No.

Recording: 03:30, 5 July 2213

MALETZ: (standing over Elliott’s bed, hair mussed and bleary-eyed, over internal comms) Captain, there’s a problem.

CAPT: (from his cabin, sleepily) On my way.

(The readings over Elliott’s bed have flashing red markers in places. The brain activity monitor is showing a lot of activity, and Elliott twitches in tiny flurries. A frown tugs, fingertips flick out, shoulders shift. His eyes remain closed.)

STARWALKER: Dr Maletz? What’s wrong with him?

MALETZ: I’d rather explain this only once, ship. Captain’ll be here in a minute.

SW: (holds her virtual tongue.)

CAPT: (arriving, looking neat and alert, his hair smooth and shining as if he didn’t just roll out of bed) What’s the situation, doctor?

MALETZ: (gestures to the unquiet body) He’s dreaming.

CAPT: (looks at Elliott, then back to the doctor) And this is a reason to get me out of bed?

MALETZ: He’s in a coma – he shouldn’t be dreaming, not like this. His neural activity had been spotty at best, but it lit up half an hour ago. He’s still unresponsive to external stimuli. This is not a normal coma, captain.

CAPT: What does it mean?

MALETZ: Hard to say. I haven’t been able to find any chemical or viral factors. No bacterial infection. Biologically, there’s nothing unusual when compared to his last check-up scans. His brain seems to be making all the right moves; it’s just not pulling out of dream-state. Some of his implants are active, but they’re not affected by anything external, either.

CAPT: Could his implants be the cause?

MALETZ: I checked them – they’re all working fine. No malfunctions.

CAPT: Could something physical be blocking it?

MALETZ: Scans reveal nothing abnormal on a physical level.

CAPT: And now he’s dreaming?

MALETZ: Yes. And, from the looks of those readings, he’s not having a good time in there.

SW: He’s trapped in a nightmare?

MALETZ: (jumps and casts a frown across the room) Be nice if you warned us before butting in, but yes. That’s what it looks like.

CAPT: What’s the prognosis?

MALETZ: (shrugs) It depends how bad it gets and how long it lasts. If he stays like this, with no let-up, the stress will start to wear on him eventually. If it gets worse, there could be permanent damage.

SW: Could it kill him?

MALETZ: Theoretically, yes. But that’s–

SW: Can you help him?

MALETZ: There’s nothing I can–

SW: There must be something you can do!

CAPT: (calmly) Starwalker, let the doctor speak. Doctor?

MALETZ: (tightly) I’ve tried everything I can to wake him up. The only thing I can do is put him further under, suppress his ability to dream. But without knowing the source of the problem, there’s a danger of permanent brain damage if we force it.

SW: (quietly) So he’s trapped in there and there’s nothing we can do?

MALETZ: (looking to the captain) I’ve never seen anything like this before. Without knowing what did this to him, my hands are tied.

CAPT: (frowning) Thank you, doctor.

He hasn’t improved since then. He shifts restlessly, as if he knows he’s being restrained but he can’t figure out where the bonds are. I’m still struggling to regain control of my own systems, and even if I was whole and healthy, I wouldn’t be able to help him. I have to put my trust in Maletz and the captain, though they have no idea what caused this.

I don’t have a lot of trust to go around right now. Fight this, Elliott, whatever it is, because you’re on your own in there. Same as I am out here.

Captain's log, 14:23, 30 June 2213
Location: Corvus FTL Corridor, Minkar System
Status: Unknown

This sabotage business is taking entirely too long, though it looks like we have a prime suspect now. Lou Tripi, one of my own SecOffs. It’s hard to believe – the company vetted all the crew thoroughly before assigning them to the project, and I did my own checks when I got their files. She has a particularly exemplary record, not a whisper of trouble. Her methods might not be standard SecOff, but for a cyber-specialist, not much is standard. There certainly hasn’t been any hint of her being compromised before, which doesn’t mean that it’s not possible. It just means that she’s never been caught or that it’s new.

To be clear: it isn’t confirmed yet. It’s still just suspicion, though the factors are lining up against her.

A week ago, all the screens in my cabin started to flash with warnings. I was on my feet grabbing my shirt before I saw the little text messages in the catastrophic depressurisation warnings – Starwalker had used the automatic alert system in diagnostics to route a message through to me. That system is supposed to be for emergencies only, but she clearly thought the situation qualified. There wasn’t actually a hull breach about to depressurise the entire ship.

She didn’t say what was happening except that Tripi was doing something to Monaghan and I had to hurry. Naturally, I took off at a run. She mentioned a pheromone implant and that should have told me what ‘doing something’ meant, but I was still surprised when I arrived in Engineering. As captain, it never looks good to come to a sudden stop and stare, but that’s what happened. Lucky for all of us, they had finished and were getting dressed, and I hadn’t called Cameron in with the other SecOffs. That would have been harder to explain.

Starwalker was right – Tripi has a pheromone implant. I could smell it as soon as I walked in the room, the weight of chemicals and sex in the air. They both turned to gape at me, everyone froze in mutual horror, and all I could think was that those pheromones had better not start to affect me.

The SecOff blushed as she finished getting dressed, but there wasn’t a hint of guilt in her. She didn’t look smug or self-satisfied, the way I might have expected. She just looked like someone who had been caught doing something intimate by her captain and hurried to wrap herself up.

Monaghan looked stunned and embarrassed, but he wasn’t hurt or complaining. I reprimanded her for having sex while she was supposed to be on duty and for distracting our busy engineer in the process. She apologised and retreated to her duties, and I let her go. As much as I’d like to lock her up, I need cause, and I just don’t have it. With no complaint from Monaghan, a minor infraction like that just doesn’t cut it.

Monaghan didn’t want to talk about it. He went quiet when I told him about the implant, then told me that it was none of my business. He has refused to speak about it since, and as far as I’m aware, hasn’t been in the same room as Tripi again.

I’ve managed to talk to Starwalker since then, through that text interface she’s got working. She didn’t say much, just that she was sure that Tripi was up to something. She doesn’t think that it could be anything as simple as Tripi wanting to sleep with Monaghan – I’m not sure which of the three of them that opinion says the most about.

She’s convinced that this is a sign of Tripi’s guilt. Monaghan’s apparent regret isn’t enough. It’s not that easy; on missions like this, it’s not unusual for the crew to blow off steam with each other. It might be officially discouraged, but any captain who’s been on a long-range mission knows that it’s better to let them do it. Pent-up emotions and frustrations can be more damaging to a ship than a meteor storm. There are lots of reasons why she might have manipulated a man into having sex with her and not all of them have anything to do with sabotaging the ship. I have to keep a balanced eye on this.

If we arrest Tripi without solid proof, we’re likely to all end up in a cell when we reach the JOP. The companies claim that it’s to prevent mutinies and unlawful imprisonments on long missions, and thanks to a couple of high-profile cases, it now carries hefty penalties. Without proof to nail her down, she’ll go free, those of us responsible for locking her up will wind up in jail, and the lawyers will have a field day.

Part of my doubt in Starwalker’s assertion is that I’m not sure what Tripi might be hoping to gain from sleeping with Monaghan. Some women might find a way to circumvent conception blocks to trick a man into fathering a child, but a baby isn’t very sabotage-friendly. She might have distracted Monaghan from battling the sabotage for a short time, but if that was her goal, it backfired. His reaction to the situation was the same as it always is to something that makes him upset or angry: he threw himself into his work. He got done in one hour what would normally take him three and didn’t stop until he fell asleep on his desk. So what else could the interlude have done for her?

Her motives are as blurry as those of the saboteur’s. We can see the actions but I still can’t see what she hoped to gain by any of it. There are more pieces to this puzzle than we’re aware of, and that’s part of the reason it’s so hard to move on any of this.

Let’s start with the first instance of sabotage. The pilot’s chair, which left us crippled and limping back to the JOP. The AI was shut down and we were wide open, and yet, there was no follow-up, no attack. Not until we returned to the Corsica system to try again. Then the pirates attacked and there was no sabotage to slow us down; Starwalker took over and got us out of there.

Now we’re being sabotaged again, with an eye to taking out the AI, trying to force me to shut it down. Doing that would leave us defenceless and limping again. How would it be any different to the first time? How would her friends know where to find us once we’re disabled? Is she even allied with the pirates, or another faction? Is a return to the JOP what she wants? But what would that gain her?

And now this thing with the engineer. None of it makes any sense.

Either this saboteur is a lot smarter than I’m giving her credit for and has a bigger game than we can see, or she’s just not very good at it. As much as I’d like to believe the latter, I don’t quite dare; it’s a big risk to take and all of our lives are at stake. If it really is Tripi, I know she’s smart enough to have a plan.

It’s the sort of situation that makes you second-guess everything and everyone. The only thing that’s clear is that we don’t know enough to know what to do next, and letting this go on only endangers the ship and everyone aboard more every day. Yesterday morning, I talked to Cameron and she agreed; we’re not gaining anything by playing ignorant. It’s time to stop the games and battle this head-on. I ordered Monaghan to get Starwalker out of her box as quietly as possible. We’ll keep up the pretence for now, but it will only be a pretence.

LEVEL 1 ALERT
CRITICAL HULL BREACH DETECTED

Shit!

Captain! Can you hear me?

Oh, this again. Now my heart is beating way too fast – reactions to Level 1 Alerts are too ingrained to ignore. Damn her for using them.

LEVEL 1 ALERT
CRITICAL HULL BREACH
DEPRESSURISATION IMMINENT
SW: Captain?
CAPTAIN: I'm here, Starwalker. Do you have to set off the critical alarms?
SW: It's the only way to get a message to your cabin. 
It's an emergency!
DEPRESSURISATION IMMINENT
ALL CREW TO SUITS
CAPT: What is it?

This had better not be about those two having sex again. Or anyone else having sex.

DEPRESSURISATION IMMINENT
AIR CIRCULATION COMPROMISED
ALL CREW TO SUITS
SW: It's Elliott. Something's wrong.
CAPT: What's wrong with him?
SW: I don't know. We were talking and he just... stopped.
CAPT: You can't tell what's wrong with him?
SW: I'm not out yet! He was still working on it. I can't-- 
I can run diagnostics. I'm running a test on the sensors in Engineering.
CAPT: All right, tell me when--
SW: The medical protocols have been disabled on the whole deck.
CAPT: The entire lower deck?
SW: Yes. Trying to access sensor logs.
CAPT: Get back to me when--
SW: Oh no. He's lying on the floor. Captain, he's just lying there.

LEVEL 1 ALERT CANCELLED
MEDICAL ALERT
ALL MEDICAL PERSONNEL TO ENGINEERING
MEDICAL ALERT
SW: Captain?
ALL MEDICAL PERSONNEL TO ENGINEERING
SW: Captain, are you there?

Ship's log, 10:52, 23 June 2213
Location: Corvus FTL Corridor, Minkar System
Status: Unknown

Elliott is waging war on the rogue protocols that are running my ship’s systems into the ground. I’m still stuck behind codewalls, watching, but he’s making progress.

He’s also sending more and more data through the diagnostic array, because he knows that’s the only way I’ll see it. I’m grateful to him for that. I feel less cut off when I know what’s going on.

He can’t tackle the protocols head on. If they acknowledge that it’s a virus, an attack on any kind of cyber-level, then they’d have to call in the SecOffs, which means Tripi. She’d be too good at covering her tracks – it’s one of the reasons she’s a suspect – and we can’t risk tipping her off. Better to pretend ignorance and do things the hard way.

So Elliott has been working hard setting up his own repair-protocols. Hard-wiring in commands like ‘if the temperature in a compartment falls below this level, adjust it to here’. That sort of protocols is dangerous, because a simple sensor malfunction could easily kill the crew. That’s why AIs like me exist to run things, to assess and adjust things according to the situation at hand.

This kind of hard-edged command is difficult to pull off in more subjective systems like the artificial gravity, because that’s always balancing against external influences – passing close to a moon or even a big asteroid can throw it off – and being counterbalanced by the inertial dampeners. Setting it to a fixed value tends to make the crew feel sick if we’re travelling in a densely-packed system. We’re in an open section at the edge of the Corvus constellation right now, so they shouldn’t notice it for now.

The crew are getting frustrated with all the hanging around. Elliott has tried to hide it from me, but some of the conversations have snuck through in the sensor logs that have passed the diagnostic array’s eye.

Recording: 19:54, 20 June 2213

EBLING: (in the Mess Hall) …we just shut the damn AI down?

DR MALETZ: (nodding) Normally, yes. But you know what that would mean.

TYLER: (flipping his hair over his shoulder) We’d have to start over with a new AI. Again.

LEVI: It means we could get back to the JOP. The captain is risking the ship by letting this go on.

MALETZ: True. I haven’t been this busy since I was on the interstellar shuttle with the faulty pressure seals.

LEVI: So we’re just supposed to sit here, because the captain won’t shut his girlfriend down?

TYLER: (smiling) Better not let Cirilli hear you calling her that.

LEVI: (looks at Tyler and shrugs, his smile lopsided.)

EBLING: There must be something we can do. Goddamn ship broke my arm!

MALETZ: Which is healed now.

EBLING: I know.

MALETZ: You’re welcome.

TYLER: (giving Ebling a direct look and a charming smile) What do you want to do?

EBLING: (glances at Tyler as if just realising he’s in the room.)

(Silence.)

LEVI: He’s the captain. You could try talking to him.

EBLING: Dr Cirilli’s been trying. Is there anyone else he’d listen to?

It cuts off there. Things are worse out there than I thought.

Tyler’s smarter than I gave him credit for. Not just a pretty face – and he has a very pretty face – but sharp enough to pick up the stirrings of a mutiny and tease it out. Ebling will think twice about that kind of talk now. Or maybe he’ll just do it when there isn’t a SecOff in the room. Everyone went stiff once they realised where the conversation was heading; I don’t think any of them meant it like that. They’ll know the slippery slope the next time it appears.

If it comes up again, I don’t know which way they’ll go. It depends how many more people have been hurt.

My crew’s being hurt. I can’t do anything about it. I’d thrash my way out of here if I could, tear this charade down, to keep them safe. But I can’t. My own safeties were used against me, the measures put in place to keep an AI under control, and there’s nothing I can do from in here.

How long do we let this go on? When do we give up this pretence as a bad job and fix things? When someone’s killed? How many deaths do we let this bastard get away with?

The captain has been so close-lipped about all this that I don’t know what he’s thinking. He’s just letting it go on and on. Does he know what he’s doing? We’re all supposed to trust him – he wouldn’t be captain if he didn’t have all the right personality traits for leadership and responsibility. If he hadn’t proven that he could be trusted.

I wish I could talk to him. Things might be weird between us sometimes, but I miss talking to him. I miss seeing him, even seeing him with Cirilli.

Elliott’s our best hope right now. He’s interfering with the saboteur’s interferences; if they want to keep making me look like a rogue AI, they’ll have to go in and fix it. I think they’ve already been in once to try to see what he’s done – I can’t tell from in here – but they haven’t messed with it. The systems are stabilising. The diagnostic logs are looking healthier and the crew is quieter. No more whispers towards mutiny that I’ve seen.

Elliott must have monitors in place to detect any fiddling with his code. He’ll catch them, I know it. We’re close now; we have to be.

Oh, here’s a new sensor log coming through. Tripi! I wonder what she’s up to.

Recording: 10:41, 23 June 2213

LOU TRIPI: (walks hip-swaying down the gangway to Engineering. There, she stops and raps silk-wrapped knuckles on the doorframe.) Anyone home?

ELLIOTT: (glances up from a digisheet, a sensor pressed into a bundle of feeds) What?

TRIPI: (smiles and walks towards him) Nice to see you too. Do you have a minute?

ELLIOTT: (frowning) Not really.

TRIPI: Not even for me?

ELLIOTT: (looks at her for a long moment, then turns his eyes back down to the digisheet) Look, I got a work schedule as long as my arm, okay? Come back when everything’s not broken.

TRIPI: (leaning towards him) You work too hard. Don’t you ever stop?

ELLIOTT: (pointedly not looking up at her and the parts of her that aren’t covered by her carefully-bound outfit) I’m secretly a robot. A really cranky robot.

TRIPI: Aw, come on. I don’t believe that. (She reaches out to stroke his cheek with the backs of her fingers.) You feel like flesh to me.

ELLIOTT: (jumping to his feet, dropping his tools) Get the fuck off me!

TRIPI: (sighing tolerantly) Come on, Elliott. You’re telling me you’ve never thought about it?

ELLIOTT: I’ve– never thought about it. There. Now fuck off.

Yeah, you tell her, Elliott. Skank. What is it with SecOffs and screwing?

TRIPI: (shifting a step towards him) Well, I’ve thought about it. Come on, we can have some fun.

ELLIOTT: (backing up a step) I dunno if I’m into your brand of fun.

TRIPI: (smile widening) I’m pretty sure you will be.

ELLIOTT: Well, I, uh. (He stares at her face.) I’m not in the mood right now. Come back next year.

TRIPI: (stepping forward again) But I’m here now.

ELLIOTT: (not backing up this time) Uh….

What’s wrong with him? His eyes are glazing over and he’s looking at her like he might want to… no. He wouldn’t. Not with her! He looks like a puppy caught in a honey trap, like with every breath he’s losing a little more resistance. She’s stroking his cheek again and he’s not pulling away. It’s not like him! He despises her! Something’s wrong. Something has to be wrong.

Every breath. The closer she gets, the worse it is, and it’s not just the proximity of a warm body to him. There has to be something else to it. Something she’s doing to him. Something else deeper in the sensor data. Elliott, fight it. Fight her. Please!

There, in the air quality sensors, chemicals that weren’t there before. Hormones, scents, and… oh no. She has a pheromone implant. Probably in her wrist; that’s why she keeps touching his face. Pheromone implants are illegal in most colonies! She’s laying it on pretty thick to break him down, aphrodisiac scents rolling over him as she gets closer, brushes up against him. He hasn’t been with a woman since we left the JOP months ago. That’s just cheating; he doesn’t have a chance.

I can’t watch this. Elliott, don’t. You have to fight her. She’s evil! Elliott, please. I know she could kick your ass, but you have to fight this.

TRIPI: (smiles and takes his face in both hands. She leans in to kiss him, lips parting.)

ELLIOTT: (stiffens and takes hold of her upper arms, as if to push her away. But he melts into it inevitably, and his arms start to slide around her.)

TRIPI: (breaks the kiss just enough to grin at him.) Privacy on.

End of log.

No. Elliott, no. I have to do something. That log was ten minutes old! It might already be too late. She might have already… what? What is she trying to do? Distract him by banging his brains out? For what?

She’s the one we’re looking for; it has to be. This has to be something to do with the sabotage. She wants him out of commission so that her protocols will do their work and the captain will be forced to shut the fake-me down. And we’ll be scooped up by pirates while we limp back to the JOP. She’s going to hurt him – more screwed over than screwed.

I have to do something. Tell someone. I’m gonna break these goddamn codewalls down if it’s the last thing I do. Hold on, Elliott.

Chief Engineer's log, 09:45, 16 June 2213
Location: Corvus FTL Corridor
Status: Sublight transit

This whole thing is a fucking mess. Starry’s all weird, the captain isn’t letting me fix her, and the saboteur still hasn’t been revealed. How stupid is that? We’re trying to find a way to force the bastard’s hand, but we’re a step behind, all the goddamn time.

Everyone’s blaming me for what’s going on. Some parts of the ship are freezing, other parts are like a sauna, and we’re stuck here in the FTL corridor like a lemon. We’ve had to close off three forward sections because the gravity fluctuations broke Elbing’s arm (he bitched like a little girl all the way to Maletz’s office), and every day there’s a new complaint. Fix this, Monaghan. Fix that. They know I’m not causing it, but they’re on my ass all the time anyway. If only I could!

It all blew up a couple of days ago. Cirilli lost it and started shouting about when we’d be underway again – she has reports to file, and I think it just occurred to her that we might never make it back. Ships might not disappear often, but it still happens, you moron. If we’re hit by a ship in FTL, there’d be nothing left of us to find – just smashed atoms and a faint impression that a pissed-off scientist was here once. And this is an experimental vessel; there was always a chance we wouldn’t make it this far, let alone all the way home again. What the hell did she expect?

Whiners. We all knew this when we signed up.

The captain was counselling caution, but after a week stranded in the middle of an FTL corridor, no-one gave a crap about that. The Corvus constellation might not be a heavily-travelled area, but it’s a step on the way to other systems further out from the JOP and ships come through here on a regular basis. We’ve been lucky not to see any so far. Just a matter of time.

And we’ve got this pilot who has been hanging around since he came on board, twiddling his everything, like a bad smell that keeps evading the air scrubbers. He’s capable of piloting us out of the corridor manually, making himself useful for a change. Levi jumped at the chance – he has been itching to get his hands on Starry’s controls properly since he came on board. Well, her controls or Tyler, whichever one fell into his lap first. If they both came at once, he’d think it was Christmas.

A booming decree from the captain ended the debate – his word was final, blah blah blah. But yesterday he ordered me to unlock the FTL drive and spin it up. He put Levi at the helm and Lang Lang at navigation and ordered a jump back to the beginning of the FTL corridor. Cirilli and Ebling bitched about not going forwards, but the captain said he was getting us to safety while we sort out the ship’s issues.

We. He means me – it’s not like anyone else can do it. No-one we can trust right now, anyway.

I can’t fix what’s wrong with her without getting into the AI code and that’s all locked down right now. Whatever’s making Starry all strange is protecting her core at the same time. I can’t get in to see how bad it is. The captain might all for letting this spin out until we know who the saboteur is, but fuck that. We don’t know what this virus is doing to her. She could be dying in there, figuratively speaking. I mean, it’s not like she’s really alive. Or–

I’m leaving that argument for the philosophers. The important thing is that something’s screwing with her and I have no idea how much of her is being corrupted. I hate sitting here on my hands.

Maybe I’ll just poke around and see if there’s any more information I can get about what this virus is doing and who might have put it there. Why can’t they make it easy for us and sign it? It sucks when they’re smart. All I want is–

What the hell is that? Something weird is happening on the diagnostic monitors. I’ll see if I can link this log up to it.

Diagnostics running...
Environmental system four, deck two.
Temperatures below optimum levels in sectors 14, 16, 19, 25.
Elliott?
Checking sensor accuracy...
Sensors operating at 98.5% accuracy.
Elliott, can you see this?

Starry? That you? What the hell?

Air humidity at 1%.
Elliott?
Checking sensor accuracy...
Sensors operating at 99% accuracy.
Elliott?

Dammit. Can’t you hear me? Let me filter all this crap out.

Elliott?

Better, but I still can’t reply. Um. Diagnostic log. Why the hell is she talking to me that way?

Oh fuck. Don’t tell me that the diagnostic system has been affected as well. If that screws up, we won’t have any way of keeping track of all this shit. Maybe I’ll just run a diagnostic on the diagnostics, and….

Self-diagnostic running...
Data access optimum.
Analysis processors running at 59% capacity.
Elliott, is that you? Can you see this?

She knows what I’m doing diagnostics on and… okay, it’s a little creepy. What the hell is going on, Starry?

I can't hear you. I hope you're there. Are you there?

This doesn’t make any sense.

Diagnostics running on aural sensors....
That won't help. I'm cut off. I'm not in control of the ship any more.
They boxed me.

Now it’s starting to make sense, but definitely moving up on the creepy scale. I gotta find a way to talk to her. Maybe if I manually edit the logs, she’ll be able to ‘hear’ that.

EM: Starry, that you?
SW: ELLIOTT.
EM: Yeah, I'm here. What's going on?
SW: I've been boxed.
EM: You're not in control of the ship?
SW: No.
EM: Then who is?
SW: Saboteur.
EM: What? When did this happen! I talked to you half an hour ago.
SW: That wasn't me. I've been in here for two weeks.
EM: Wait, what?
SW: Virus crippled me, tried to seal me into the AI core.
I have a small window. Can see diagnostics, but that's it.
EM: Fuck.
SW: Don't know how long I can keep doing this. It hurts.
EM: You're hurt?
SW: Talking like this hurts. It doesn't want to let me.
EM: What can I do? What do you need?
SW: Can't get out on my own. Need help. You need help more.
Time-limited protocols running.
EM: Protocols? What do you mean?
SW: Part of the virus.
EM: Are they running everything?
SW: Yes.
EM: And they'll only run for a limited time?
SW: Yes.
EM: Then what?
SW: Won't be needed. Getting worse, Elliott. Have to stop them.
EM: Not needed? Because what, we'll be gone by then? Shit.
Okay, I'll look into it.
SW: Central processing. Check there.
EM: Got it.
SW: Can't help you. Shut in here. Sorry, Elliott. Sorry.
EM: You okay in there?
SW: It's dark. Quiet. Miss my body.
EM: I'll get you out. I promise.
SW: Protocols first, Elliott. Please.
EM: Starry-
SW: Can't stay. Be watching.
EM: Starry?
Aural sensors operating at 98% efficiency.

She’s gone. Did that really just happen? I think I want to throw up. I knew there was something wrong with her, but this… this is so much worse. I have to get her out of there. But she asked me not to. What the hell do I do? How am I supposed to know?

Fuck this. I’m not making the decision.

ELLIOTT: (over internal comms) Captain, can you come to Engineering?

Ship's log, 12:23, 9 June 2213
Location: Unknown
Status: Unknown

I’m not good at being quiet. I’m not supposed to be logging anything, but if I don’t talk to someone – something – I’m going to go nuts in here.

This isn’t how we thought it would happen. Some rogue subroutines, glitches in the systems that looked like I was going crazy, making me scrabble to stop it hurting anyone and prompting me to protest my innocence in the process – that’s what we expected. I had protected my central core so that it couldn’t be completely corrupted, knowing I might have to fake it to convince the saboteur that I was taken over. Then the culprit would be revealed and we’d be able to move on.

None of that happened. Instead of trying to corrupt me, the virus that swept through my systems severed the connections to my ship-body and tried to seal me into the central AI core. I’m supposed to be stuck in there right now. If I was, I’d be screaming at the walls by now. Can AIs go mad, I wonder?

But I built a backdoor into the core weeks ago, made myself a safe pocket just outside it. I managed to task a couple of the drones before I was completely shut off, too. Wide Load, one of the heavy drones, trundled off to deal with the communications buoys. He was heating up his welding torch on the way, to either cut them into pieces or apply his own ‘hard lock’ by welding them to their moorings. Waldo shot off in Elliott’s direction, lights flashing and all four hands waving. The code strangled me into this prison before they completed their jobs.

I’m not trapped in the core, but I’m not free either. Brain in a box, that’s me. Hemmed in by codewalls and locks upon locks, so many that I’m not sure whether they’re supposed to keep me in or out any more.

I’ve made the box as pretty as I can, arranged the codewalls around me in patterns so that if I squint my mind just right, it makes an amusing shape. A jack-in-the-box’s box, a cathedral, a castle. A forest, a sailing ship, a pony. I think the last one is my favourite. Danika never saw a real horse, but she liked the story about the Trojan one; it was smart. I like the message: beware what rides in the horse’s belly, for it might sneak out while you’re asleep and gut you.

The outer part of my box is tucked in behind the main diagnostic processor. If I’m careful, I can piggyback on some of the datastreams and see what’s being analysed. It’s receive-only, and it’s not the full sensor array data, but I get snippets. Shards of the puzzle of what’s going on outside my tiny prison.

There’s an imposter in charge of the ship. None of us considered that this scheme would go so far – it must have taken months to put it all together. It is a complex collection of protocols nested in the central processing core that, attempting to impersonate me. The crew seem to be talking to it as if it’s me. If I didn’t know that some of them were faking it, I’d be offended. It sounds nothing like me! And not just in what it says. I noticed a diagnostic of the sound systems the other day – it seems that the imposter hasn’t got the voice right, enough that someone wanted to check for a problem with the sound production. I wish I knew who that was.

Recording: 12:21, 4 June 2213

CAPTAIN: (on the Bridge, dressed in an environmental suit without the helmet) Starwalker, report.

IMPOSTER: All systems green, Captain Warwick.

CAPT: Monaghan, confirm?

ELLIOTT: We’ve got issues across multiple systems, captain. Diagnostics processing.

CAPT: Starwalker, explain!

IMPOSTER: All systems operating within safety limits. Anomalies detected in subroutines alpha-nineteen through sixty-four.

CAPT: What subroutines are those?

IMPOSTER: Environmental systems, Captain Warwick. Air, heat, artificial gravity, water recycling–

CAPT: Yes, yes, I know what environmental systems are. That would be why I’m standing here wearing a full suit and there’s ice forming in the head.

IMPOSTER: Orders, Captain Warwick?

There’s nothing wrong with the environmental systems. I saw the diagnostic reports and it is all operating exactly as ordered – it’s the orders that are to blame for the plummeting temperature and inconsistent gravity pockets.

It’s the same with the FTL drive – it’s offline right now. Elliott has been running constant diagnostics on it, as if it might be to blame for what’s happened. Most likely, they’re trying to figure out the reason for the unauthorised jump.

I can see what this virus is doing. It’s making the ship seem broken, but as soon as anyone looks into it, it’s obvious that the ship’s controlling entity is doing this stuff on purpose. The only system that hasn’t been screwed with is the diagnostics, because they want everyone to see how unreliable, wayward, and dangerous I am being. They want me taken offline, so that the crew is left defenseless when the saboteur calls in his or her employer.

The captain doesn’t have a lot of time; it’s already been a week since that first jump. We jumped into the middle of the FTL corridor – if we didn’t jump out again, we’re in a dangerous position. I can’t tell if we did jump back or not, but I think the FTL was taken offline immediately after the first jump. It would take weeks, maybe months to clear the corridor at sublight speeds, and in the meantime we risk someone jumping into us – or through us, which would at least be over very quickly for everyone involved.

And from the look of things, the saboteur still hasn’t been discovered. Wong or Tripi – it could be either of them. They’ve both had the access to be able to do all this. Both have the knowledge. My crew is still waiting for that fatal slip that tells them who to fall on.

Wait, another conversation is coming through the diagnostic array.

Recording: 12:10, 9 June 2213

ELLIOTT: (in Engineering) Hey, Starry? (pause) Starwalker?

IMPOSTER: Yes?

ELLIOTT: Are you all right?

IMPOSTER: I am working at optimum levels, Engineer Monaghan. No serious errors or problems.

ELLIOTT: No, I mean… are you all right? In there. You’ve been weird.

IMPOSTER: I am fine.

I don’t think he believed the answer. He looks disturbed – his brow is making little furrows, like it does when he’s unhappy about something but doesn’t want to express it. Mostly he just smacks things, or kicks a drone, but sometimes he just folds his expression in on himself and goes to do something else. I think it’s when it’s something really matters to him.

But surely he knows that I’m not all right. Surely he knows that he wasn’t actually talking to me then. Doesn’t he? He has to. I sent Waldo to him, to warn him that it was happening, and he knew… he knew what I knew. Oh no. No no no. He wasn’t expecting me to be cut off any more than I was. They think I’m broken, compromised. They think that’s me.

Worse, they think I might have some kind of control over what’s happening out there. They have no idea how much danger they’re in.

Unless he sent that conversation log through diagnostics so that I’d see it. Maybe he’s just playing along too. Maybe that was a message from Elliott, letting me know that he’s worried about me, hoping that I’ll send him a sign from in here. That’s possible too, right?

But how could he know where I’m hiding? That I’d be able to see it? I didn’t tell anyone about my preparations for the virus – it was safer that way. It doesn’t make any sense for him to know where I am. He could have sent it through in the hope that I’d see it, but there are so many ‘buts’.

I feel sick. Every day, more and more systems are being examined by the diagnostic systems as the errors and anomalies pile up. I can see the protocols twisting in the central core. They’re limited, spiraling up their chaotic threads until someone is hurt or stops them. And the crew think it’s me? The captain, even Elliott? Can they really believe that?

I have to tell them what’s happened. But I can scream and beat all I want in here; no-one will hear me. I’m crippled, with no legs to run or hands to reach out. Not even coded ones.

I’ll have to make some, somehow. I have to find a way.

I am going on a brief hiatus to move house and sort out family stuff. Full story on my writing blog. Service will resume at the end of the month! Keep an eye on the writing blog for updates, and thank you all for your patience!

Ship's log, 17:43, 2 June 2213
Location: Minkar system
Status: Sublight transit to FTL corridor

I’m just passing the outer rim of the Minkar system. We’re almost at the FTL corridor and soon we can safely start jumping towards the JOP. It’ll be nice to see other ships again, other people.

I can’t Step directly to the JOP – it’s not in a star system, but sits in the space between, at a nexus of FTL corridors. Minkar’s one of the closer systems to the JOP’s position, and we have at least another week before we get there. I wonder if they’d move it if Stepping became common. It’s just a space station, after all – borrow a couple of mining tugs and it could be moved into a system easily enough.

But if we were going to a colony, we wouldn’t have to go to the JOP first. It’s a junction in the FTL network, but if ships starting Stepping directly to their end destination, how many would come all the way to the JOP? Would it fall out of favour, out of use, into a piece of space junk tarnishing slowly in the black?

I wonder if anyone else has considered this stuff. I don’t think the science contingent has – Cirilli and Ebling are too hungry to prove that the drive is viable to see the bigger picture. Wong is a small fish, dealing with the immediate technical issues to make it work in exchange for a fat pay cheque. Lang Lang only cares about stars.

Am I the only one who has stopped to wonder if we should be exploring this?

This is the sort of thing I wonder about in the long hours of sublight chugging. We could all use a good distraction right now, even me. Especially me. Five of us are waiting for something to happen. The captain refuses to talk about it, Cirilli keeps trying and being shut down, and Cameron keeps her own counsel. Elliott is sullen and snappy, and won’t tell me why. Something happened between him and the captain a few days ago but the privacy locks kept me out. Even sending Waldo along with cocoa isn’t working to cheer him up.

We’re all just waiting. If I think about it too much, my sensor feeds start tying up in knots and I have to run through basic diagnostic routines to calm down again. Environmentals running, check; artificial gravity on, check: that sort of thing. There’s only so much paranoid data examination I can do. If there’s a virus in my systems, it’s very well-hidden.

When will it hit? That’s the annoying thing, the splinter under my skin that I can’t get out. I tried to ask the captain about it, in case he could offer some guidance or comfort. He didn’t have much to give me; we’re all waiting on the saboteur’s pleasure.

Recording: 14:23, 28 May 2213

STARWALKER: But captain, if I am disabled, how will the saboteur’s friends know where to come?

CAPTAIN: (in his cabin) Do you have all your communications buoys?

SW: (pauses to check.) Yes, I do. Dr Cirilli asked that they be locked down when we left the JOP.

CAPT: Keep an eye on them, and all of the comms frequencies.

SW: Always do. But–

CAPT: I don’t want to make assumptions about this, Starwalker. We have to be on the alert constantly; we can’t afford to slack off.

I bit back a few short, sharp replies and agreed. Aye aye, captain. If there had been a drone present, it would have been my arms and saluted him. What does he think I’m doing, swinging my thrusters like feet?

He’s right, though. We can’t make assumptions with something like this. So the pirates have no way of knowing we’d Step to this system. They can’t know where to come to scoop us up, but maybe that’s something they’ve accounted for. Planned for. Something us rational people discount because we’re not suicidal. They risked everything by murdering Danika in the middle of a Step, which could have killed everyone aboard, so who’s to say they won’t try something just as crazy this time?

I had an idea a couple of days ago. I got it from Dr Maletz, of all people. He was clambering out of an immersion chair, his greying hair scruffed up in a hundred directions.

Recording: 20:10, 30 May 2213

MALETZ: (wiping his mouth with the back of a hand) Ship, time?

STARWALKER: Twenty-ten, doctor.

MALETZ: Am I out? (He looks around blearily.)

SW: You have disconnected from the immersion chair. Is something wrong, doctor?

MALETZ: No, no. I was just in… one of those mysteries with multiple layers, where you’re not sure if the character you’re playing is supposed to be running around their world or immersed in their own game.

SW: Reality like an onion?

MALETZ: …yes. Thank you for that image. Speaking of food – did I miss lunch?

SW: And dinner.

Reality like an onion. Layer upon layer of deception until you’re not quite sure what you’re looking at, let alone how real it is. I can do that. I can be the onion. I can–

FTL corridor acquired.
FTL drive initialising.

Hold on a second there, autolog. I haven’t even informed the captain yet. Give me a chance to draw a breath, why don’t you? I need to–

Initialising...

Yes, I heard you the first time.

Wait. I can’t open a channel to the captain’s cabin. Or engineering. None of my comm channels are working. Elliott?

Initialising...

What’s initialising now? The FTL drive is spun up and ready, though I’m leaning on the ‘hold’ button to stop it from activating. It’s pushing back, wants to go, but it’s not me driving it. Ah-ha, there it is, a subroutine hidden under a diagnostic stream. I see you, I see what you’re doing. Enough of– uh oh. There’s another one. And another.

Shit shit shit–

Initialising... Initialising... Initialising...
Initialising... Initialising... Initialising...
Initialising... Initialising... Initialising...

So many little knives, carving me up, chopping up my limbs into neat, controllable chunks. So many, so fast. I can’t speak. Can’t tell anyone. I’m alone in here. Haven’t been like this since they woke me up.

They did this with an AI mind. I can’t stop it. Worse than that: I shouldn’t stop it. Bait. It’s tearing me apart, but I’m bait. They need time to catch the culprit. I have to give them time. Captain commands it.

Don’t panic, don’t panic. I am the onion and it’s only on the first layer. So far. So far so far so far away.

Gotta let it happen. Gotta let go. I can’t. I don’t want to. But I have to. Please, please don’t hurt my crew. Ple–

Jumping to FTL transit.

Ship's log, 12:43, 26 May 2213
Location: Grisette system
Status: In transit towards Grisette sol

Star Step drive initialising...

Here we go again. I’m heading in for a tight orbit around the blue-yellow star here while the cause of so much trouble awakens in my belly. The Step drive spins up and my skin comes alive, unfurling into Medusa strands that eat gravity. I start to swell with it.

The captain left it until the last minute to give us our destination. Everyone was frustrated with the lack of direction but it makes sense in hindsight; best to keep the saboteur guessing, give him or her as little chance to plan as possible.

We’re not going back to Corsica. It would be foolish to try – the pirates could still be there, waiting for us to do just that. Cirilli chomps her scientific bit about that, because by rights we should retrace our steps. For scientific repeatability, digital reciprocity, experimental balance, and other long, important words. We could be stumbling on and on into errors and never be able to find our way back. I can just imagine the discussions about that in the captain’s cabin. I guess he made his own bed there.

He seems happy enough with my piloting us through the Step again. Levi’s nose was put out of joint – because let’s face it, what is he here for, if not to fly the Steps? – but the captain would not be swayed. I feel a little sorry for Levi, being so new to the crew and completely useless. It’s no fun sitting on the outside of the action all the time. I don’t feel sorry enough to give up my helm to him, though; I’m only too glad to keep control right now. There are already too many hands in the mix. If only we knew whose.

Portal opening.

Here it is: here we go.

We’ve done this a few times now but it’s still exciting. There’s a thrill through my sensors when I see those ragged golden edges curl back. And there it is, that strange, shimmering portal that I can’t quite see through, even though it’s right in front of my nose. If I had lungs, I’d take a deep breath right now.

STARWALKER: (shipwide) Entering portal; Stepping.

Down in the cargo bay, Elliott is standing by the airlock, waiting for us to be clear of the portal. He ticks off five seconds from my announcement, then presses the release for the outer doors. The Beholder rises up and chugs his round, fat body outside, his patches surrounded by a new protective bubble.

I remember what happened to him the last time he was out here on the Outside. He was unpeeled while I stared at the pretty lights. Because they are beautiful, so beautiful, stealing the breath I don’t have. It is static and yet so alive. It pulses without changing hue or brightness. It’s like the whole universe has a heartbeat but I’m too far away to hear it; all I have is a flutter beneath the skin. It’s like closing your eyes and knowing that someone is standing next to you, feeling them without touching.

Remember the Beholder. Remember the way the Outside unmade him.

Focus on the golden threads in this cluster, this galaxy, and locate the one we’re aiming for. There, that one, a crisp corkscrew in the dark. I can hear Lang Lang’s voice murmuring directions in my ear while her fingers flick data up for me. Find the right spot on the curve and put the filaments to their work again.

Don’t look at the patterns of light outside the Milky Way. Don’t look too deep, or you’ll never look away. Who knew that the abyss could be so bright and beautiful? You can look down and down and down, where everything comes together, to light upon light upon such swallowing darkness, and–

Portal open.

Thank you, autolog. Here we go, popping out of the other side like a cork in a stream. My head is spinning. There are voices but it’s hard to hear anything except the light.

SW: (shipwide) Step complete.

CAPTAIN: (on the Bridge) Navigation, confirm position.

LANG LANG CARTIER: Calculating now.

I think the captain might have been talking to me before. It’s hard to know. There’s so much data out there noises from inside are another layer of confusion.

Filaments retracting.

CAPT: Monaghan, report.

ELLIOTT: (in the Cargo Bay) Beholder’s aboard, captain. No serious damage.

CAPT: And the ship?

ELLIOTT: Lights are green. A few minor pressure fluctuations, and a possible malfunction in one of the Step filaments. We’re fine for sublight, but I wouldn’t try another Step right away until that filament’s checked. See, I told you you shouldn’t have let Wong–

CAPT: Thank you, Monaghan.

ELLIOTT: (mutters.)

We collected another load of information to sift and build into our map of the Outside. I saw patterns out there, bigger than the star-paths we’ve mapped for our own navigation. That beautiful abyss is what it all comes down to, and from.

LANG LANG: Star chart comparisons confirm it, Captain Warwick. We’re in the Minkar system, Corvus constellation, in 2213. Exactly where and when we’re supposed to be.

EVERYONE: (cheering.)

CAPT: Thank you, Lang Lang.

I got it right. We can navigate through the Outside. Skirt the edge of that wonderful abyss and come out where we mean to. That’s where all of those bright lines start. Where all of us started.

CAPT: Starwalker, set course to the FTL corridor to the JOP.

SW: Course set, captain. Sublight engines engaged.

I think I know where the centre of the universe is.