Voidstalker

THE OBSERVER

Night came and went quickly on Asgard, thanks to its unusually fast rotation as it orbited Odin. Before long, it was time to get up and start another day at work. Aster was up before the sun was, the better to prepare for the day ahead. The children needed some convincing to trust the imposing maganiel android – especially since it lacked a Human face – but ultimately they climbed into their learning pods without complaint.

Aster didn’t like leaving them alone with an armed escort robot, but the conventional household android couldn’t fight, and she would sooner entrust a mindlessly loyal machine with childcare duties than her scheming mother-in-law. Besides, if everything went according to plan, she could be rid of Jezebel Thorn for good.

It was the same route to work as always: a twenty minute mag-train ride straight to J.E. Co.’s head offices. But the journey felt more tense than usual, perhaps because she was about to violate her employment contract in multiple ways. She kept her eyes glued to her smartphone for the entire journey, wondering if she was being followed or watched.

As the mag-train stopped and the doors slid open, Aster joined the shoal of people who poured out onto the platform. She was trying hard not to look suspicious as she walked to the elevators, a little too hard as she barged into someone by accident. Aster ignored the man and kept on walking, marching straight through the elevator doors.

Aster and her colleagues all proceeded in silence down fifty or so levels to the research labs and queued up at the security checkpoint. There, everyone was required to check their personal electronics into storage before passing through the scanner gate. Aster passed through the checkpoint without incident and headed straight for her office, giving only perfunctory greetings to her colleagues as she passed them.

Once she was safely in her office, she began rummaging through the storage cabinet in her desk. There was all sorts of junk in her drawers that she had yet to clear out, but she eventually found what she was looking for: a spare blue data chip.

The data chips were actually colour-coded: blue was generic company information, yellow was confidential, red was highly sensitive, hence the red chip hidden in Lawrence’s office. Lawrence would have known about the colour-coding system; come to think of it, so would Jezebel if Lawrence had been her mole. But a blue data chip would arouse less suspicion, and Aster could pass off the colour difference as a necessary deceit to smuggle it out.

Plugging the chip into her computer, Aster deleted the generic reports and other data, instead installing a simple tracking program and keylogger from the company’s in-house security software box. That way, whoever tried to access the chip’s contents would reveal their location to the company’s security techs.

Aster removed the chip and slipped it into her pocket. Coming up with a decoy chip was easy, getting the data chip past the security checkpoint and out of the building was the real challenge. The same would go for the red chip.

Aster left her office and headed to the main laboratory floor. It was almost reassuring to see everyone starting the day like nothing had happened, flitting back and forth with data pads and other equipment, even though the company’s future was still in doubt. Thanks to her, its fate would probably be sealed.

Avoiding eye contact with everyone as she passed, Aster slipped into the side office where the activation key safe was and stood in front of the biometric scanner. The scanner flash-scanned her eyes and the door popped open. Aster snatched the chip out of the safe and stuffed into her pocket, with the blue decoy chip in her other pocket.

She hastily turned to leave and barged straight into someone.

“Oh! Sorry, Aster,” said Felix as he appeared stumble past her.

“Sorry.” Aster mumbled nervously.

There was an awkward silence between them as they avoided eye contact for a moment.

“Aster, I…” Felix began, his left hand clenched into a fist, “about yesterday…I guess it’s better to just let old ghosts rest, huh?”

“Yeah,” Aster replied, unsure of what to say to that, “…listen, I hate this too. But the best thing we can do to honour their memory is to keep working on the project.”

“Sure, that’s something to work for.” Felix said with a nod.

He didn’t really seem to believe it, and neither did Aster.

They hastily parted ways as Aster hurried back across the main lab floor to her office. Now all she had to do was leave the building, give the blue decoy chip to Jezebel and the red chip with the real data to the DNI, and everything should be fine.

Aster had to pass through the breakroom on her way back. But as she stepped through the doors, she found several of her staff gathered there being questioned by a team of security guards. Their uniforms were those of J.E. Co.’s in-house security team, and the staff looked anxious. One of them pointed a shaking finger at Aster as she walked in.

“There she is, sir.” The technician said nervously.

The security guards turned to her, then stood to one side as someone stepped forwards. He was instantly recognisable to everyone who worked for the company.

He was a stout man with a bushy black moustache and carefully combed, dark hair styled with white streaks. He was dressed in a smart blue suit, but had ditched the frilled collar he usually wore with it, and he had a scowl on his face even nastier than his usual frown.

“Dr Aster Thorn?” He asked gloweringly.

“Good morning, Chairman Darius.” Aster said respectfully.

“Come with me.” Darius ordered.

“Is there something–?” Aster tried to ask.

“Now.” Darius barked like a drill instructor.

Being spoken to in such an imperious tone by some pompous fleekster made Aster twitch involuntarily in anger. But this particular ‘pompous fleekster’ was her boss, so she swallowed her pride and did as she was instructed.

Then the power died.

The entire facility was plunged into pitch blackness amid scattered yelps of panic in the corridors before dull-red floor lighting activated automatically, guiding people to the exits. Aster was left disoriented by the sudden darkness, even as the backup generators kicked in after a brief delay, restoring power and light to the building.

“What the fleek!?” Darius bellowed.

The emergency floor lighting remained on, and staff members followed them as they hastily made their way to the exits. Aster was carried along with the crowds as she followed the floor lighting along with everyone else to the main entrance hall, pushing and shoving her way through to get enough space.

Blackouts were virtually unheard of. This was, after all, a modern city with a modern power infrastructure. It had to be a localised blackout, and since there was no emergency alarm or automated voice advising people to head for the exits, it couldn’t be an emergency shutdown. Someone had to have manually shut off the power.

Darius didn’t have to push or shove his way through the crowds, his security escort did that for him as they cleared the way for their boss.

“Everyone, shut up!” Darius bellowed, silencing the hubbub of panicked chatter, “It’s just a temporary power failure. Someone go and look at the systems to see what happened. Everybody else, get back to work. All work schedules will continue as normal today.”

The crowd murmured their acknowledgment and began to file back out of the entrance hall in a more or less orderly fashion. Darius wasn’t the most pleasant boss to work for, but at least he was back and giving some sort of leadership.

“You,” Darius pointed a pudgy finger at Aster, “You’re coming with me.”

“You think I had something to do with this?” Aster demanded incredulously.

“I don’t know what the fleek is going on,” Darius shot back, red-faced, “but I’m pretty damned sure Jezebel is responsible for it.”

Aster’s heart leapt into her mouth. Had she been found out already?

Two burly security guards tried to grab Aster, but she yanked her arms free and scowled at them, making clear that she wouldn’t be dragged away like some convict. Without another word, they escorted her to the elevator – in full view of her colleagues – following close behind Chairman Darius.

Apprehension built in Aster’s stomach as she was led into the elevator and escorted up to the top floors of J.E. Co.’s head offices. She put her hands in her pockets, holding the blue decoy chip in her right hand nervously.

Her left hand closed around air.

Aster’s stomach tightened into a horrified knot as she groped around frantically in her pocket for the red data chip. But she couldn’t feel anything in her pocket.

The red chip was gone.

* * *

‘You can’t kill your way to victory’, or so a great general whose name had been lost to obscurity is said to have remarked. In theory, that meant the key to victory was to break the enemy’s will to fight rather than to kill him outright. Or perhaps it was just a piece of strategic folk wisdom passed down through the centuries. In any case, Gabriel and what remained of his squad were testing that theory to destruction.

The Faithful hunted them through the endless, three-dimensional labyrinth of the temple, showing no sign of wanting to give up the chase. Time and again, the squad escaped from or beat back one hunting party only to be ambushed by another as they pushed through the maze of identical corridors and sub-chambers. The only ‘progress’ they could measure was in the number of kills they made.

They weren’t heading in any particular direction, either. There was no place to which they could fall back, and the mind-bending inconsistency of the gravity made it impossible to get their bearings one way or another. They would leave through the side of one sub-chamber only to emerge on the ceiling of another.

The Faithful, on the other hand, were accustomed to navigating through their temple, and made effective use of jump-packs and gravity belts as they bounced from surface to surface. But what the squad lacked in numbers and firepower, they made up for in tenacity and determination to survive; and they managed to fight their way through wave after wave of fanatical pursuers to the bottom-most chamber of the temple.

Cato fired several bursts at the enemy behind them. But the attackers had formed a shield wall with their wrist-mounted personal barriers, and the bullets swerved sharply up into the ceiling or sideways with a series of clattering noises.

“Spare frag, anybody?” Cato called out.

“Nope!” Viker replied.

“None here!” Gabriel said.

“I’m out as well!” Bale answered.

This was bad. Each of their weapons fired tiny pellets of metal shaved off from a single block inside the gun’s frame, which meant they could expend tens of thousands of rounds without running out of shots. But their bullets were next to useless against those wrist-shields, and the squad had run out of explosives to overcome them.

Gabriel glanced around at the chamber, noticing that it was much larger than the cube-shaped sub-chambers they had passed through. The chamber was shaped like a hemisphere and was full of lab machinery arranged around some kind of basalt column in the centre stretching from floor to ceiling. But there was nothing that could help them fight back.

“Viker, cover me!” Gabriel ordered as he stowed his weapon and drew the xenotech sword he had taken earlier.

Viker understood his plan and raised his wrist-shield to cover him, advancing on the phalanx of enemies with Gabriel huddled behind. Gabriel wasn’t sure what effect the alien sword would have against energy shielding, but if the blade could cut clean through carbon nanotubing, it was worth a try.

Gabriel clicked the switch at the base of the sword’s handle, activating the energy field and causing the blade to shimmer ever so slightly. Cato and Bale provided covering fire as the two sides closed in on one another. Once they were close enough, Gabriel rolled forwards and swung his sword in a massive arc.

The xenotech blade scythed through the wrist-barriers as if they weren’t even there, creating a flash and a discordant whirring noise as it interacted violently with the shielding. The sword continued on through the bodies of all three shield wielders, cutting cleanly through their armour and flesh. As they crumpled to the ground, the squad of attackers behind them were quickly gunned down by Cato and Bale, eliminating the immediate threat.

Or so they thought.

Their motion trackers and other sensors became scrambled with junk data as something approached. At the other end of the corridor appeared a vaguely female figure clad in a black suit with a bulbous helmet and a featureless black visor who tossed an object their way. It bounced off the walls and rolled to halt on the floor in front of the squad; they dived into cover right before it detonated.

Bale and Cato managed to duck behind the corner and avoid getting hit, whilst Viker crouched down behind his wrist-barrier, the energy shield absorbing most of the force that came his way. But Gabriel was closest to the device when it detonated, and the shockwave sent him flying across the chamber like a ragdoll. He hit a robotic arm set up next to the central column, the impact of his body pushing the machine forward into the column.

The robotic arm was equipped with an electric arc projector, and when the projector’s prongs touched the column, close to a million volts were transferred to its surface. The column lit up like a carnival showpiece, illuminating an intricate pattern of circuitry that covered its surface and spreading across the ceiling, walls, and floor like a fast-moving rash all the way to chamber’s entrance.

The edges around the corridor entrance began to glow and a translucent wall appeared, sealing off the corridor from the chamber and trapping the black widow outside. It also meant that the squad was trapped inside the chamber. Gabriel picked himself up off the ground and looked up at the mysteriously reactivated column.

“About time for a deus ex machina stroke of luck.” Gabriel remarked as he deactivated his sword and stowed it on his back.

“What was that, sir?” Bale asked, the classical metaphor passing straight over his head.

“Nothing.” Gabriel replied, “We’ve got some breathing room. Look around the chamber for supplies or anything we can use.”

Mindful of the shimmering barrier, the squad fanned out to explore the chamber.

In addition to the suite of ceiling-height robotic arms meant to probe the glowing column, several thick cables had been attached to it using special clamps, forming crude connections between the alien machine and the banks of computers and scanner equipment that lined the walls of the chamber. There were no guns or explosives anywhere to be found; although, being a field laboratory, that wasn’t terribly surprising.

In one corner was a spectroscopic analysis chamber with an oblong shaped block suspended in the middle. The analysis had been left to run on a continuous loop, bathing the basalt-coloured block in a sensory light while the computers mindlessly churned out the results onto the unattended holographic screens.

“Does anyone see any square-shaped holes on that column?” Gabriel asked as he examined the oblong block.

“Yeah, there’s one right near the bottom.” Viker replied, “Why?”

“I’ve found a piece that might fit.” Gabriel answered, reaching in and plucking the block out of the chamber, the sensors deactivating automatically as it was removed.

“I’m not sure it’s a good idea to switch this thing on, sir.” Cato said hesitantly.

“But it’s already been switched on.” Viker pointed out.

“And you want to activate it even more?” Cato shot back.

Gabriel’s instincts landed him solidly on Cato’s side. He had dealt with xenotechnology before, and you never just switched on an alien device without first knowing exactly what it was, what it would do when switched on, and how to switch it off again.

“Colonel, what do you want us to do with this thing?” Bale asked.

The squad didn’t have the experience that Gabriel did, but they understood the dilemma all the same. They were safe – or trapped – inside the chamber thanks to the machine they had inadvertently revived. That didn’t mean it was a good idea to switch it on all the way.

One of the computer screens began to flash, brightly enough to illuminate the chamber, arresting the attention of the squad. As they turned to look at it, the flashing stopped and a pair of shapes appeared on the screen: a rectangle with a gap in the side, and a smaller block moving across the screen until it filled the gap.

“Spooky coincidence, or a message?” Viker wondered aloud.

“I vote we ignore the machine telling us to switch it back on.” Cato said.

“For what it’s worth, I second Cato.” Bale added.

A banging sound coming from the corridor snapped their attention back. Someone or something on the other side of the energy barrier was striking it in an effort to break through. Just as they were wondering how hitting an energy field could make a noise like that, the lights in the column began to flicker and grow pale.

“That electric jolt must be wearing off.” Gabriel said, kneeling down in front of the socket in the column with the block in hand, “and once it does, the barrier will probably fail.”

“Are you sure we can hold them off once they break through the barrier, Cato?” Viker asked, tightening his grip on his gun, “because I’m fricking not.”

The brightly-lit alien circuitry continued to flicker, and the glowing energy forming the barrier around the threshold grew fainter and weaker. Seeing that the energy barrier was weakening, the enemies on the other side began to bang even harder, causing the translucent barrier to light up each time it was struck.

“Nothing ventured, nothing gained.” Gabriel said as he inserted the block into the slot.

The tepid and flickering lighting in the column re-illuminated and became bright green, re-energising the circuitry and restoring the barrier to full power.

“RESTORED.” A booming voice reverberated throughout the chamber.

The squad instinctively raised their weapons, fanning out in search of the source of the voice. They were so focussed on the apparent threat that it took them a moment to realise that the voice had spoken to them in Standard Human Speech.

“Identify yourself!” Gabriel demanded using his helmet speakers.

“YOU FIRST.” Said the voice, seeming to emanate from everywhere at once.

“Voidstalker.” Gabriel answered, declining to give his actual name or rank.

“A stalker of the void.” the voice said, lowering its volume, “one who hunts by means of stealth through the emptiness of space. A curious choice of self-identifier.”

“That’s what you can call me,” Gabriel shot back, “now what do we call you!”

The voice was silent for a moment.

“No appropriate self-identifier exists,” the voice answered, “but if you desire to ascribe a designation, you may use the term ‘observer’.”

“Ok, ‘observer’,” said Gabriel, “have you been watching us this whole time?”

“Correct.” the observer confirmed, “the observer has been observing your kind ever since you first gained entrance to the observatory.”

“Observatory? You mean this place?”

“Correct.”

“What were you ‘observing’?” Cato asked.

“Permitting one’s subordinates to speak out of turn is a behaviour the observer has not observed amongst your kind before.” The observer noted condescendingly.

“Answer the question!” Gabriel snapped back impatiently.

“The observatory’s purpose is beyond your ability to comprehend,” was the imperious response, “but it has traversed the void between countless stars to fulfil it.”

“‘Void between stars’?” Gabriel asked, “This is a ship?”

“Correct.” The observer replied, “However, it is no longer capable of interstellar travel. The observer’s own systems were reduced to minimal functionality. Only sensory capacity has remained fully functional.”

“How long has this ship been here?”

“The observatory’s landing occurred approximately 605,936 local solar years ago.” The observer replied, “Your kind gained entrance to the observatory through a breach in the hull approximately five local solar years ago.”

“That’s just over a million Terran years,” Viker said over the comm. in amazement, “that means it’s been lying here since before Humanity invented fire…”

“The observer can detect your transmissions, but is unable to decode their content.”

“The thing we found in the central chamber, what was it?” Bale asked.

“The Swarm.” The observer replied. “It was contained safely in the central chamber of the observatory until your kind disturbed it approximately one local solar year ago in an effort to study it. One after another, it corrupted their minds and instead of studying it, they began to display behaviour towards it indicative of extreme, superstitious awe.”

“Is that why they began doing all those sick experiments on each other?” Cato asked.

“The observer observed that the earliest test subjects were those who refused to be ‘enlightened’.” the observer explained, “Later subjects were volunteers. It was then that those of your kind who have settled within this ship began to self-identify as the ‘Faithful’. However, the observer prefers the term ‘Enthralled’.”

“The thing you called the ‘Swarm’,” Gabriel said, “the Faithful’s leader referred to it as the ‘Voice’. What did he mean by that?”

“When the Swarm enters the body of an organic host,” The observer explained, “it initiates temporary neural fusion, resulting in neurological data transfer directly into the host’s mind. The Enthralled refer to this process as ‘enlightenment’, since it imparts technical knowledge otherwise beyond the host’s grasp. After the Swarm leaves the host, the effects of the neural fusion remain long afterwards in the form of a ‘voice’ or ‘whispering’.”

“That explains the tech advantage they have.” Said Viker.

“Furthermore,” the observer continued, “the data transfer appears to be bi-directional, permanently imparting a portion of the host’s own memories and knowledge to the Swarm.”

“So they know what it knows, and it knows what they know.” Gabriel said.

“Correct.” The observer confirmed.

Gabriel’s stomach tightened when he realised what that meant.

“Colonel…” Viker said over the comm., having had the same thought, “Ogilvy...”

“The Swarm knows what he knows.” Gabriel’s blood ran uncharacteristically cold.

“Before they became enthralled to the Swarm, your kind deemed it unacceptable to exclude an individual from a conversation by means of secrecy.” The observer noted.

“You said you still had sensor functionality,” said Gabriel, “Can you track the Swarm?”

“The observer has full sensory capacity throughout all chambers and passageways of the observatory.” the observer replied, “The observer detects 732 distinct life signs, excluding your own, including one possessed by the Swarm.”

“Where is the Swarm right now?”

“On the other side of the barrier.” The observer responded.

The squad snapped to attention and trained their weapons on the barrier.

“Can it get through?” Gabriel demanded, having run out of ideas on how they were supposed to fight an enemy like this.

“Unknown.” The observer replied, sounding unconcerned.

The translucent barrier began to glow, releasing a bizarre whining sound as an armoured foot, then a knee, and finally a body stepped through as if the barrier weren’t there. Ogilvy looked like a supernatural plague made manifest with his jet black eyes, his mouth twisted into a demonic snarl, and the cloud of alien particles that orbited his body like a dark storm.

“Correction.” the observer observed wryly, “Yes, it can.”

The squad opened fire, but to no avail. Ogilvy didn’t even flinch as the bullets struck his Swarm-generated shielding and were violently slapped away in all directions.

“Observer! We need an exit, now!” Gabriel shouted.

A section of the basalt-black wall flashed green, repelling a quarter tonne bank of computers away from it and across the room straight into the possessed operator’s torso, pinning him against the wall. He screamed in rage, the Swarm buzzing violently in a reflection of his fury as he pounded at the bank of computers that trapped him.

There was a whirring sound and the glowing circuitry on the central column suddenly died. Then the column itself began to move, retracting smoothly and noiselessly into a slot in the domed ceiling, and opening up a manhole sized escape route in the floor.

“Here is your exit.” The observer informed them congenially, “It will take you directly to the…untranslatable…at the opposite end of the observatory.”

“Why do we need to go there?” Viker demanded.

“The observer requires your assistance in containing this threat.” the observer informed them, “By restoring the…untranslatable…in this location, all local systems have been restored to full functionality. Once you have repeated the action in the other five chambers, the observer will be able to do more than merely observe.”

“Down the hatch, boys!” Gabriel ordered.

Anywhere was better than here, and the squad members hopped into the hole one after another without complaint, each one vanishing suddenly as a powerful gravity field sucked them downwards at high speed.

The Swarm-possessed Ogilvy finally tossed the bank of computers to one side, freeing itself from the imprisoning weight. Then it turned and fixed its evil, alien gaze on Gabriel who stared back through his visor.

“You must go now, voidstalker.” Said the observer.

Gabriel snapped out of the staring match and took the plunge.

* * *

Aster’s blood ran cold in her veins for the entire elevator ride up.

The red data chip was gone. Had someone snatched it out of her pocket during the blackout, or had it simply fallen out amid all the jostling? It really didn’t matter how the data chip had vanished; the important thing was it was gone, along with whatever leverage she might have had over Jezebel Thorn.

On second thought, it was probably an incredible stroke of luck. Chairman Darius must have gotten wind that Jezebel had a mole in his company, and the shared surname made her the obvious suspect. If a data chip full of J.E. Co.’s secrets were found in her possession that would be clear proof of guilt; whereas the only thing on the blue decoy chip was company spyware which she had installed.

The elevator arrived near the top of the tower, and the guards led Aster past a series of swanky offices and conference rooms, with Darius pacing ahead of them. She’d never been up to this part of the building before; this was where the actual business operations of the company took place: accounting, sales, client relations, and so on. Presumably, this was also where they took suspicious employees to be questioned.

The closer they got to their destination, the faster Aster’s heart raced. In fact, her apprehension was turning to palpable fear. But why should she feel afraid? After all, she was innocent – mostly. She hadn’t stolen or sabotaged anything, and she hadn’t passed on any sensitive information to J.E. Co.’s competitors or to anyone else. She hadn’t actually done anything to violate her employment contract, let alone the law; so this ought to be a breeze.

Finally, after passing through a security door, they arrived at an interrogation room. It was a windowless chamber with a single chair in the centre, a neuroimaging scanner on a robotic arm suspended overhead. It was oddly spacious for an interrogation room, with one whole corner given over to a monitoring booth with a bank of holographic screens where her neural activity could be monitored.

“Have a seat, Dr Thorn.” Chairman Darius ordered her, and she did as instructed.

The chair was more comfortable than it looked – probably to make the subject lower their guard – but as soon as Aster settled into the chair and gripped the armrests, the restraints closed around her wrists and ankles, securing her to the seat. Aster breathed and relaxed; she had things to hide, but nothing illegal. As long as she stayed calm, she would be fine.

The neuroimaging scanner descended from the ceiling and settled into place around her head, illuminating her head with a soft blue light as it activated. Over at the monitoring booth, Aster could see a mirror-image of her neural activity on the holographic screens; that was probably a design oversight on the part of the engineers, since the subject wasn’t supposed to be able to monitor their own progress.

The two guards left the room, leaving Aster alone with the chairman and a technician.

“Let’s begin, shall we?” said the chairman, stepping into the booth with the technician.

Aster gulped, but kept a straight face. Normally, a trained interrogator was required to conduct a neuroimaging-assisted questioning. So why was the chairman going to do it himself? Was he really that paranoid?

“Is your name Aster Thorn?” the chairman asked.

“Yes.” Aster replied calmly.

“Are you a licensed pilot?”

“No.”

“Are you married?”

“Yes.”

“Have you ever met the Masterminds?”

“No.”

“Do you have children?”

“Yes.”

“Are you hiding anything?”

“No.”

The serene blue readout displaying Aster’s neural activity flashed a tepid yellow as her brain caught up with her mouth. Darius exchanged a glance with the technician while Aster pursed her lips and tried to stay calm.

She had blurted out ‘no’ without thinking, then remembered the decoy data chip still in her coat pocket. The readout would show various shades of four colours depending on how truthful her statements were based on her brain activity. Blue was truthful, yellow was mildly untruthful or evasive, orange was substantially untruthful, and red was a blatant lie. A numerical score would be more accurate, but the colour coding was more visually intuitive.

“How do you know Jezebel Thorn?” Darius demanded.

“Uh…sir?” the technician said haltingly.

“What?” Darius snapped irritably.

“In order to provide unambiguous results, the system requires unambiguous yes/no questions.” the technician was visibly nervous about interrupting him, but managed to hold her composure under the chairman’s withering stare.

Darius nodded and turned back to Aster.

“Do you know Jezebel Thorn?” he asked, this time in a calmer voice.

“Yes.” Aster replied.

“Have you ever met Jezebel Thorn?”

“Yes, I have.”

“Have you met Jezebel Thorn recently?”

“Yes.” Aster said honestly.

“Are you on friendly terms with Jezebel Thorn?”

Aster looked her employer dead in the eye.

“Yes.”

The holographic readout flashed bright red. Darius exchanged another look with the technician before looking back at Aster with a suspicious scowl.

“She’s my mother-in-law.” Aster explained innocently; the readout stayed blue.

Darius’s scowl softened ever so slightly, almost sympathetically.

“Let’s continue then. Have you ever handed over sensitive company information to an unauthorised person or entity, or facilitated the disclosure of sensitive company information to an unauthorised person or entity?”

“No.” Aster said truthfully. If the chairman were a trained interrogator, he would have known to ask the two questions separately, but no matter.

“Have you ever attempted to sabotage this company’s products or research?”

“No.”

“Have you ever conspired to smuggle data or components out of this building?”

“No.” Aster replied more or less truthfully.

The readout registered a faint yellow blip.

“Have you ever smuggled data or components out of this building?” Darius asked, his suspicion rekindled by the yellow blip.

“No.” Aster answered.

“Have you ever used your personal override code to access restricted areas?”

“Yes.”

“Did you use your personal override code yesterday?”

“Yes.” Aster replied.

No point in lying about that.

“Have you used it more than once since yesterday morning?”

“No.” Aster answered, registering blue on the readout.

Darius didn’t follow up with another question. Instead, he exchanged yet another look of suspicion with the supervising technician, making Aster nervous. Had she slipped up? Were they testing her in some other way? Or did they know something she didn’t?

“Have you used your personal override code more than once since yesterday morning?” Darius repeated in a more aggressive tone.

“No, I have not.” Aster replied again, her own suspicions now piqued.

“Have you ever disclosed your personal override code to anyone?”

“Never.”

The readout remained blue, and there was another exchange of suspicious glances.

“Have you ever used your personal override code to access another employee’s office?” Darius asked, his eyes narrowed to leery pinpricks.

“Yes.” Aster confessed, nervous about how much trouble she might already be in.

“Was it Dr Lawrence Kane’s office?”

“Yes.”

Aster’s pulse was starting to race faster than it should. Her personal override code was a prerogative of her position and seniority, and using it didn’t violate any company rules. So why this line of questioning?

“Did you have an accomplice?”

“What?” Aster asked, nonplussed by the question.

“Don’t pretend to be stupid!” Darius snapped, “Did you have an accomplice?”

“An accomplice to what?!” Aster snapped back.

“ANSWER THE FLEEKING QUESTION!” Darius bellowed, red-faced.

“No! No I did not, and do not, have an accomplice!” Aster shouted back.

The readout fizzled to grey before returning to its normal blue colour.

“That was inconclusive, sir.” The technician said nervously.

“What the fleek do you mean ‘inconclusive’?” Darius demanded.

“Subjecting her to undue stress or anger muddles the readings and makes it difficult to determine whether she’s telling the truth or not.” The technician explained.

Perhaps they should have swapped roles.

“I did not, and do not have an accomplice.” Aster intoned.

The readout remained a cerulean shade of calm.

“Your personal override code was used to access Dr Lawrence Kane’s office twice yesterday,” Darius asserted, “and yet you’re telling me that you only used it once.”

“I accessed Lawrence Kane’s office using my personal override code once.” Aster replied, registering blue on the readout.

“Are you hiding anything?” Darius asked.

“There’s a data chip in my pocket that I was planning to use later.” Aster responded truthfully, “then suddenly the blackout occurred and you brought me up here.”

On its own terms, that statement was entirely truthful, whilst leaving out details and context that would have made it sound suspicious. The blue readout bore out her thinking.

Darius pointed to Aster and snapped his fingers. The technician nodded and stepped out of the booth to approach Aster, who felt suddenly vulnerable as the technician rifled through her pockets, digging out the blue decoy chip and returning to the booth with it. Darius took the chip from her and glared at it under the light.

The door burst open and one of the guards barged in looking panicked.

“Sir! There’s a…” the guard began to speak before trailing off.

“There’s a what?” Darius demanded, annoyed at the interruption.

“It’s about the power loss just now.” the guard replied.

Darius followed the guard outside, the door sealing behind him with an ominous clang. Aster gulped nervously and tried to sit still as she avoided eye contact with the technician.

After a minute or so the door was opened again, more violently than necessary, and Darius re-entered with a furious look on his face. Instead of returning to the booth, he stormed over to Aster and grabbed her by the scruff of her shirt.

“Did you disable the power generator?!” he demanded angrily.

“No!” Aster answered, taken aback by the chairman’s outburst.

The readout fizzled into an inconclusive shade of grey before turning blue again. Darius looked back at the technician who nervously shook her head. Turning back to Aster, he reluctantly released her and took a step back.

“Did you cause the blackout?” Darius demanded, his tone only slightly calmer.

“No.” Aster replied, keeping the readout blue.

“Do you know who caused the blackout?” Darius demanded.

“No.”

“Have you ever used your personal override code to gain access to restricted areas other than another employee’s office?”

“No, I have not.”

“Then why was your personal override code used less than ten minutes ago to gain access to the primary power conduit for this building?”

“Sir, the questions need to be–” the technician tried in vain to explain.

“I know they need to be yes/no questions!” Darius snapped at her.

“I have no idea who caused the blackout or what you’re talking about.” Aster replied calmly, trying to keep her breathing level.

The readout stayed blue.

Darius stood over Aster like an angry drill instructor overseeing the punishment of a cadet, visibly fuming with frustration. Evidently the blackout had been sabotage, and he was convinced that Aster had had something to do with it. But even though people lied, the neuroimaging scanner didn’t.

After a full minute of silent fuming, Darius turned away and snapped his fingers at the technician who nodded and deactivated the machine. The neuroimaging scanner was lifted back up to the ceiling and Aster restraints unlocked, releasing her from the chair. Aster stood up, rubbing her wrists to soothe the welts, then looked up at Darius.

“Dr Aster Thorn,” Darius said in a more formal and level tone, “you mostly passed the lie detection session, but the fact remains that your personal override code was used to access Dr Lawrence Kane’s office twice – not in itself a violation of company rules, but curious given that the Directorate of Naval Intelligence was so interested in him.”

“I went in to his office exactly once,” Aster said truthfully, “I don’t know who could have gotten my personal override code.”

“Probably the same person who used it to enter the power conduit chamber and cause the blackout,” Darius answered with calm authority, “thereby disabling security long enough to sneak out during the confusion.”

Aster felt her stomach tighten as she realised that someone had tried to frame her.

“In any case,” Chairman Darius continued, “the secrecy of your personal override code is your responsibility, and you are therefore responsible for any security breaches resulting from its use or abuse. I am hereby suspending as project-lead pending an internal investigation; your security clearance and other associated privileges are also suspended. Go home and don’t return until further notice.”

Aster’s spirit crumbled.

“…Yes sir.” She replied, feeling utterly crushed.

* * *

Between the wealthy Clouds and the Undercity far below, the middle levels of Asgard City were a patchwork of homes, shopping centres, industrial complexes, and other assorted real estate. Buried in the maze of back alleys was an entertainment club, the sort of place in which Jezebel Thorn normally wouldn’t be caught dead.

She had occupied a private room, flanked by two android servants, and was passing the time by wrinkling her nose at this foul place. The lighting was dim, her chair was uncomfortable, the surfaces were less than spotless, and the decor was a crime against good taste.

And then there was the nature of the establishment itself. It was an ‘entertainment’ club where the main feature was a stage and a set of vertical poles which female entertainers used to flaunt themselves in front of a pack of drooling male patrons, all set to faintly gyrating dance music. Jezebel had come in through a side entrance, partly for discretion’s sake and partly to avoid having to witness the lurid spectacle.

There was a knock at the door and a person entered without asking to be allowed in, slamming the door shut behind him and laying back against the door. Jezebel sat and waited patiently whilst he caught his breath. He was late, but as long as he’d acquired what she wanted, she could wait another minute.

“I got it.” He said breathlessly.

“The blue data chip?”

“Blue data chips are for non-essential data only,” he replied, reaching into his left pocket and pulling out the prize, “red data chips are for sensitive data. This is what you want.”

Jezebel motioned for him to approach and give her the chip, not deigning to get out of her seat to collect it. She took it from him and held it up to the dim light with her finger and thumb, smiling like a shark smelling blood.

“Well done.” She replied, getting up to leave.

“I’m sick of doing this.” the informant exclaimed, “everyone on Loki is dead, and now the company could well go under because of the scandal. I’m sick of being your rat.”

“‘Mole’,” Jezebel corrected him, “a ‘rat’ would be an informant for the authorities. Plus, I prefer to think of you as an unofficial observer of sorts.”

“Whatever, I’m sick of being your mole or observer.”

“Not as sick as your partner, I bet.” Jezebel quipped cruelly.

“We’ll manage without your financial help,” he said defiantly, “so are we done?”

“We are.” Jezebel confirmed.

She snapped her fingers and the two androids grabbed the man by his arms and kicked him behind both knees, forcing him to the dirty ground. He struggled in vain against the superhuman strength of the androids as they gripped his arms and each kept a foot planted on the back of his knees to hold him there.

“What the fleek are you doing?!” the informant shouted, struggling frantically.

No one could hear him. The thick walls dampened most of the noise he made and the thumping dance music beyond drowned out the rest.

“You’ve been incredibly useful to me over the years,” Jezebel replied coldly, “but as you pointed out, J.E. Co. is about to go under, so I no longer require your services.”

“You bitch! You bitch!” he screamed, struggling like a wild animal.

One android forced the informant’s left arm down to his side and held him by his black and gold hair while the other placed a gun in his right hand, forcing his fingers to close around the gun’s handle. The android then used its other hand to push down on the inside of his elbow, forcing the gun to his temple.

Jezebel turned away from the staged suicide and looked at the blood-red data chip in her hand, smiling in quiet satisfaction as her erstwhile informant’s screams and struggles were silenced with a single gunshot.