Shielded Sun: Mission 3: Black Ocean: Astral Prime, #3

SHIELDED SUN

MISSION 3

BLACK OCEAN: ASTRAL PRIME

J.S. MORIN

M.A. LARKIN

MAGICAL SCRIVENER PRESS

Copyright © 2018 J.S. Morin & M.A. Larkin

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J.S. Morin & M.A. Larkin — First Edition

ISBN: 978-1-942642-89-3

Printed in the United States of America

SHIELDED SUN

MISSION 3

The amber shield encircling this system blocked out most of the light from the stars beyond it, creating a greater sense of isolation than Hiroko had ever remembered feeling. It trapped the station in here with three warships, each growing more aggressive by the minute. It cut off all contact with the outside. And though she knew better, Hiroko couldn’t help feeling it would slowly suffocate her.

She stood before the window in her office, looking out at that faint, distant shimmer, fooling herself into thinking she might somehow see the ships.

Are they still out there? Kendra asked.

Hiroko started to turn to answer her assistant when the comm crackled and Lopez’s voice came over it. Kendra hadn’t been asking Hiroko.

The eyndar and Earth Navy ships are still at the system’s edge pounding away at the shield. The zheen ship appears to be traveling the circumference inspecting every millimeter of it.

Kendra snorted. And is any of that doing anything?

A slight pause before Lopez came back on. Negligible fluctuations in the shields.

Imbeciles. This was obviously some automated vaieen defense mechanism, maybe triggered by the custodian’s death. And these ship captains kept on measuring dicks, waiting to see who would piss off that automated system first. Hell, the vaieen tech might well vaporize them. And they’d fucking deserve it.

They … what? Had that just gone through her head?

Hiroko shook herself. The confinement must be getting to her. A calm mind was what she needed, not these mindless violent distractions.

Are you OK? Kendra asked.

I … I’m fine. She’d barely slept in the past two days. Between her ill-conceived exploration of the vaieen ruins and the almost continuous belligerence of the ship captains, what little rest she did get was hard won. And often haunted by visions of the demiurgical alien Calvin had killed down on that planet. If that vaieen alone had been the creator of all life in the galaxy, did that make it God?

If so, God was truly dead. Calvin had held Him in front of a firing squad.

But Hiroko couldn’t shake the thought that gods were eternal. Damnation will fall upon those who violate natural law …

Kendra cleared her throat. Uh … I think maybe you better sit down.

Hiroko flinched. She’d said that aloud? Ancestors, she clearly needed a good night’s sleep.

Taking Hiroko by the hand, Kendra dragged Hiroko around the desk and sat her back in her chair. I can’t imagine what you saw down there, but obviously you need some time to work through it. Unfortunately, those plasmabrains out there won’t cool off until this shield comes down.

Plasmabrains? Disgusting bastards who ought to catch a lungful of vacuum, every one of them. Especially the goddamned xenos. Did the zheen even have lungs? Probably not, but the sentiment remained the same.

Hiroko?

Chikushō! What was going on with her? She’d never had a problem with other species before. I … just need sleep, I think.

Clearly. We’ll get you to bed, but we need to come up with a plan first, right? ‘We have to formulate a strategy.’ That’s what you said when you called me in here. Which, by the way, you could’ve just said we need to figure out what the hell to do. Could’ve. Though I guess that wouldn’t have been the Hiroko we all know and love.

Hiroko rubbed her temples with two fingers. She couldn’t help but feel the vaieen would have rejoiced in Hiroko’s consternation. Maybe he’d have blamed her for his murder. She’d brought the expedition, and she’d browbeaten Calvin into fighting the custodian.

Finally, she stared up at Kendra. This is on Kane. And goddamn him for not figuring out this shield yet. What the hell am I paying him for? If he doesn’t get this fixed, I’m going to nail his testicles to the power core!

Kendra flinched, actually backpedaling several steps. Uh … you need to get a grip, Hiroko. You weren’t this worked up on Crash Day when we were all about to smash into a planet.

Hiroko shut her eyes and drew in deep, calming breaths. Kendra was right. She hadn’t given in to panic then, and she wouldn’t do so now. The shield had everyone on edge, but there was no immediate threat from the planet. The danger came from one of those ships growing impatient with the situation and turning this into a war zone.

Her mind somewhat stilled, Hiroko opened her eyes. Make sure Kane understands the urgency of the situation. Impress upon him the dangers of letting tensions continue to rise.

Kendra nodded. All right. Should I tell him about the danger to his balls?

Hiroko ignored that. Inform the eyndar and zheen ambassadors I’ll see them both in the morning. We need to get them to make their ships back down. Randomly firing isn’t going to help anything, and their weapons evidently lack enough potency to disrupt the vaieen shield.

Got it. Tell the ambassadors they’re impotent. Anything else?

Given that she was almost certainly missing something, her natural inclination would have been to keep running the problem over in her mind. But Hiroko’s mind was worn thin. No. No, I think I need to go to my quarters.

Kendra offered her a hand up. No shit. I’ll take you there.

I know the way myself!

Her assistant frowned, gnawing her lip. Yeah, but in your state, you seem likely to collapse on a moving walkway. So, come on. I’m taking you, and that’s that.

Roland Kane slid through the maze of shelves in Bright-Eyed Gadgets with practiced ease. When he discovered—with no hint of surprise—that the proprietor wasn’t minding the place, he let himself around the counter and started browsing the wares kept in protective glassteel cases. While the odds of discovering anything incriminating were low, Kane always held out a remote hope that he could find something to weigh against the leverage Jace had on him.

Data crystals, portable holo-projector, subcutaneous bloodstream injectors, personal encryption scrambler. Shady stuff, at least some of it—at least potentially. The injectors could be used for treating chronic conditions, not just illegal narcotics. Scramblers could just be outlets for paranoia. Those data crystals might contain deviant holos, stolen blueprints to military vessels … or nothing.

Blank data crystals were worth solid terras and could be easily slipped into a pocket or palmed. Like Kane’s search itself, there was most likely nothing there.

Can I help you? Jace asked from the doorway to the storeroom out back.

Kane stiffened and bit back a yelp. Damn ghost. Yeah. You can answer comms.

Didn’t like what I was reading.

You weren’t supposed to, Kane snapped. I’ve got my fifth work request complaining about buggy computer systems, and I’m getting the picture that they’re not bugs at all.

Jace came around to the customer side of the counter and propped his elbows on it. Sounds fascinating. But not my problem.

It is if you’ve got your tentacles in places they don’t belong.

Jace smiled mischievously. That’s personal.

Kane looked around, wondering where the hidden cameras and mic pickups were located. He could hardly believe the place wasn’t bugged. We had an arrangement. You help keep the eyndar from blasting us to dust; I let you take a peek at the power distribution monitor. Informational only. No other systems.

Jace scrunched up his lips and frowned. Not how I recall things.

Kane grabbed him by the shirt. Look here, you limp sack of stuunji droppings. I want you to delete any unauthorized accounts you’ve got in the station computers. Admin. Foundry. Tech support. Remote diagnostic. Whatever you’re using to mess with my station—

Fujita’s station, Jace pointed out calmly.

Kane shook him by the collar. Don’t you go acting like you’re friends with Frowny-chan. That shit don’t fly with me. Whatever hooks you’ve got in this place, cut ’em loose.

He was breathing hard now, working himself up into a near frenzy of righteous indignation. It would have been the first time in a long while that he’d held the moral high ground in such an arrangement—if not for the fact that he’d let Jace Jarvis into those systems in the first place.

Never trust a data wrangler with your passcodes.

That was first-year primary school stuff. It was the sort of advice moms gave their kids, right along with put on a sweater; it’s cold out and don’t bother your father when he’s drinking. Kane had known he was in for a rasher of shit the minute he’d made that deal. At the time, the long-term repercussions didn’t seem that bothersome. That didn’t mean he’d stop working to undo it.

Kane hated dealing with repercussions.

I don’t know what you’re talking about, Kane, Jace said, prying Kane’s hand loose from his shirt. He backed a pace away from the counter and out of Kane’s reach. If you need help digging into who’s scanning your most sensitive personnel files and accessing delivery logs, I’d be happy to help for the right price.

Never said what they were into, Kane replied with as much menace as he could muster. Jace was playing him. They both knew it was him. But on the chance that it was Kane who had the recording device, the slippery tech weasel wasn’t going to get caught on the record admitting it.

Jace shrugged. Stands to reason. You were put out but not worried. It’s not like whoever was in your systems was tinkering with the life support on Concourse M or the force fields sealing the refinery from vacuum. If that had been the case, you’d have been down to see me for help a lot sooner.

At times, it was easy to fall into the trap of believing that Jason Jarvis was the tech shopkeeper he appeared to be. He’d fooled everyone on YF-77 for six months. Hell, Kane knew better and let himself forget more often than not. But this man was dangerous, well connected, and had enough dirt on Kane to clog a public waste reclaim.

Want five terras worth of advice, free of charge? Jace continued when Kane stood there fuming. I wouldn’t look too deep into this matter. Close out the work requests unresolved. If anyone complains, just tell them it’s an old station with an old computer. These glitches are bound to crop up from time to time.

Kane gritted his teeth. How often?

Jace circled around the counter and ushered Kane out from behind it. "Oh, not often. Certainly not daily, I’d imagine. Just speculating, but whoever is responsible probably has other duties, other responsibilities to attend. They can’t just have their hands in the cookie jar day after day after day, no matter how delicious those cookies are. Plus, there needs to be time for someone to refill that cookie jar. No one wants to steal cookie crumbs. That’s just … well, sad, really. Who’s that desperate for cookies that they’ll risk getting caught just to lick up crumbs? Jace thumped a hand heavily on Kane’s shoulder. And who’s got the time to chase down cookie thieves when there’s so, SO much wrong on this station?"

Better just be cookies, Kane muttered as Jace guided him to the door.

Jace chuckled. Tell yourself whatever you like, but even the most specialized of dessert aficionados wouldn’t limit himself to just cookies. That’s absurd. There’s a whole galaxy filled with pies and cakes and tarts and … well, not being a dessert connoisseur myself, I couldn’t say. But I wish you the best of luck with all your other fine work keeping our station spinning and mining and not getting shot full of holes by rabid eyndar.

Kane turned at the door when Jace released him. Letting the puny