The Brutus Code

Deep and fast that’s what she had to do. She had to get in deep and fast. This meant that Tania couldn’t have any backup, and even Admiral Sutton could not know what she was doing.

Her data led Tania to this conclusion. Yes, she thought, some of that conclusion had been her own hubris that only she could do the job. There was code popping up in her data that shouldn’t be there. It all indicated that something else was going on besides a large group of organized pirates. If she traced the code to its primary server, extract it and plant a virus code that should wipe it out.

Tania folded her pants and put them in her satchel. She checked her false ID tags and initiated her own ID wipe. For the next few weeks, there would no longer be a Tania Smith. She took precautions, an encoded file to be delivered to Admiral Sutton upon Tania’s death. She did not know where she would ultimately track the aberrant code or if she would live through it. But she determined by analyzing all available data she had the highest chance of success.

She snapped her satchel shut and hung it on her shoulder. Tania took one last glance around her small apartment and gave the shutdown order. That would keep her few possessions secure until she did, or did not return. She closed and locked the door to one darkness, and she walked out into another.

Tommy still worried about finding his mother. Three more days had passed since he’d been released from the station’s holding cells. No word came from the regional marshals about any leads on the pirates who’d attacked Make-Haste Outpost station and kidnapped Annie Judson. He had more freedom on the station now since the attempt on their lives by the Reapers, but the Swift still sat in the Postal Service bay impounded. And they were not leaving without a Postmaster certification, a court order or the charges being dropped.

On the plus side, Agnes was on the mend. Her gene treatments were almost complete. She had installed the holo-projectors aboard the Swift and an interface in the new medical bay she created in cargo bay A-1. Agnes kept very busy aboard the ship on various projects, all supervised by Alfred. With Tommy absent from the ship, she completed all the routine maintenance. He was allowed one brief visit to have Dr. Judson, Ai mend his ankle.

One last plus was the meal that Tommy just finished. It wasn’t a bad deal, as a detainee, to have the sheriff looking out for you and cooking you a great meal. All this passed through his mind as he and Agnes helped clear the dishes from the table in Weltha’s quarters on the station. They weren’t extravagant. In fact, Tommy suspected that these few rooms suited Weltha and her daughter. Weltha did not strike Tommy as the kind of person who wasted resources.

“Thank you for dinner,” Tommy said as he stacked the plates and handed Agnes the dirty utensils.

“You’re welcome. It was nice to cook for someone who actually appreciates the effort.” Weltha smiled and nodded toward her seven year-old daughter. Holly Nicole Ditto was a bright, precocious little blond. Sweet as could be, she built mashed potato castles on her plate and ignored the grownups as she listened to every word they said. “Bedtime, young lady,” Weltha warned.

“Ah, Ma!” the little imp exclaimed. “It’s early and there’s no school tomorrow, and you promised I could talk to Agnes more and…”

“And not another word.” The look that Weltha gave her daughter would have sent Tommy to bed right then if it had been directed at him. “Say your good nights now or do I need to make your bedtime even earlier?”

Holly capitulated, “All right. Good night, Captain Judson. Good night, Agnes,” she said formally. And then under her breath so everyone heard, she pulled Agnes down to her level and said, “Thanks for showing me how to beat Tommy at chess. You’re really smart.”

“That’s alright. I don’t think you’ll need much help next time,” Agnes whispered back conspiratorially and gave Holly a big hug. “How ’bout I tuck you in?” and the two grasped hands as they walked down the hall to Holly’s room.

“She’s pretty good with kids, isn’t she?” Weltha commented.

“Who knew?” Tommy replied honestly. “Everything Aunt Agnes does is new to her.” Tommy and Agnes had shared their story over dinner. Most of it appeared in the official reports with which Weltha was familiar. But Weltha always liked to hear the details from those who experienced them first hand. She not only gleaned details better, but she read the quality of the person sharing them. Tommy and Agnes were cut from a similar cloth as Weltha and she hoped Holly would pick up on the qualities honest people practiced.

“Tommy’s not too bad either,” commented Alfred. He’d been invited to dinner, too. He set up a remote feed from Weltha’s wall screen. She’d asked to meet him and Alfred’s sophistication as an AI surprised her. In the course of the evening, she forgot his artificial nature and fell to treating him like a flesh and blood person. Even that thought sounded prejudicial in her mind. So, she decided that Alfred was a person. “I can speak from experience. He threw the game.” Alfred accused, calling Tommy out.

Weltha now turned that mother’s look on Tommy, with one eyebrow raised, imploring him to tell the truth. He’d just been caught. “Maybe,” Tommy said. It was all the confession she would get out of Tommy, as he sat there grinning.

“I heard that!” came a disbelieving shout from Agnes closing the door of Holly’s bedroom. “I’d say Holly did very well on her own. She really did not need that much help from me. She’s a very bright girl,” Agnes shared with Weltha when she returned to the dining table.

“A chess game is honest,” Tommy began. “You know all the pieces and the possible moves they can make.”

“True, that helps the opponents stay honest. There are still traps that can be set, but you can usually see them coming.” Alfred continued picking up on Tommy’s train of thought, “These Reapers are the most straight forward part of our mess. I fear pieces still hide with moves we cannot predict.”

“What is it they want?” Weltha asked one of the many questions on her mind. “These latest attacks have been assaults on you. There was opportunity and means, but without the motive, it just doesn’t add up. Alfred, I don’t have any information on a gang of pirates this organized. Did you find anything from the databases I released to you?” Weltha had all but deputized Alfred by allowing him access to her criminal database. They also tapped into regional records from the licensed tattoo artist. Although the scythe and reaper design was not in those records, the Reapers had other tattoos that were. In the photos of the various designs they saw the scythe and reaper artwork.

“I have been completing that analysis,” Alfred answered. “There is little new to add.” As he spoke he flashed through several photos of the tattoos taken from both those incarcerated Reapers and the database provided by Weltha. “Some of the pirates involved in the attacks had records, but most of the Reapers have stayed clear of the law. Those that Weltha has identified are ex-military from several sides of the Wars.”

During this, Agnes focused on the photos with deep concentration. “Wait. Alfred, what is that in the background of some of the tattoos?” she asked.

“There are variations in the design of each individual tattoo. We have been focusing on the commonalities, the scythe and the reaper image. The backgrounds all vary on those that have a background. What do you see?” Alfred inquired.

“I don’t know,” she said. “Let me see.” Agnes stood and crossed to the screen pausing it. She brought up a multiple slide image and scanned them until she found what she wanted. She enlarged it tapping the screen and then enlarged it even more. “There, see it? It’s a ship behind the image.” Behind the left ear of the reaper in this tattoo protruded the point of an old fashioned rocket. The fins and rocket stuck out the other side of his neck.

“Now look at these.” Agnes brought up several others and arranged them on the screen. They all had part of a similar rocket design. Some rockets were small and over the right shoulder, others larger and showed only the fins and exhaust of the rocket over the image’s left shoulder. “Alfred, can you pull up all of these that have the rocket?”

“I am scanning for that detail now,” he replied. “The majority of them do have the rocket. Many have what seems to be only a dot.”

Weltha began to see the pattern. “What if you arrange them in an order where the rocket gets bigger? Include that dot.”

“There are dots on all the images. I will isolate those that include images associated with the rocket’s movement.” Alfred paused, “Do you wish to see them all?”

“Yes, but not at once.” Tommy now joined in, “Alfred, play them like a slide show.” As they watched, the rocket appeared to grow bigger and move across the image behind the grim reaper. “Faster, please, Alfred,” Tommy asked. Now the image flew across the background. A rocket unmistakably blasted from the background to the foreground. It looked like an old flip book cartoon. As the details of the reaper changed and blurred, the scythe and the ship remained constant. And that ship moved.

“What have we got here?” Weltha asked aloud, mostly to clarify her own thoughts. She added, “The amazing thing is that this image is tattooed to several hundred people.”

“It is even more amazing when you compare the time and location stamps on the photos from the database. It indicates that the design was not inked on people in an order that creates the movie. Nor are they from the same galactic location. The rocket would jump around if put in chronological order according to when or where the person received the tattoo.” Alfred’s observation cast the group into silent consideration for a few moments as they tried to understand the implications.

“What about the images from the pirate ships?” Agnes asked.

Alfred displayed those images, and they also showed the rocket ship. “I have one more image of interest,” he said. This time Alfred displayed a ship sporting the PS logo and its own personalized logo. Painted on the Swift ’s prow was the rocket ship, but no reaper.

“Tommy, how does each Postal Service Ship get its emblem?” Weltha asked.

“If it is a new ship, the first pilot has some input. That emblem stays with the ship until it is decommissioned,” Tommy answered. “The Swift came with that emblem.”

Weltha, now in full investigative mode, pressed on. “Alfred, what is the service record of the Swift? Who was its first pilot?”

Alfred paused slightly longer than it takes to do the search. In his virtual world, he cleaned house of the aberrant code he found in the electronic mail packets the Swift picked up and broadcast as it traveled on its route through the galaxy. Pieces of code hid in the mail that matched parts of Alfred’s own code. He had been chasing a particularly simple but difficult code when Weltha asked that question. This one might appear to us as a mouse with Alfred’s head. Alfred himself set several traps and kept it contained in the original packet. It had not spread to the rest of his code, yet. Alfred pictured himself as an exterminator.

Prompted by the question, he began a search of the Swift’s construction records. This he visualized at the shipyards on an orbiting platform. For this search, he went back to the drawing board. Alfred now wore his ship’s coveralls again and a hard hat. He flipped through old fashion blueprints on a draftsman’s drawing board. As he did, the ship assembled from the laying of the keel to the applying of its skin and installation of the A/W drive around the hull. In Alfred’s virtual world, this all happened in a blur of motion next to his drawing table.

There was a snap at his feet. He reached down and picked up the mousetrap. Trapped between the hammer and the platform squirmed the code Alfred had been hunting. “Gotcha,” Alfred grinned at the irritating code. He stepped on the waste bin pedal and dropped it in with the others he caught. Sometimes he needed a bigger trap, rat, opossum, or beaver size. He was thankful he hadn’t needed a bear trap yet.

Turning his attention back to the blueprints, he continued to scan through them. Finally, Alfred looked at a rendering of just the ship’s logo. No artist’s signature appeared on the drawing and no designer cited. The design came with the construction materials but with no record of origin.

Back in Weltha’s quarters, he appeared on the display next to the emblem. “Tommy,” he said in a soft tone. “The ship emblem was commissioned only one week prior to our assignment aboard her.” They all took a moment to absorb this. He then continued, “I can find no record of the emblem design, who approved it, or where the construction order originated. It was just part of the construction materials and was applied to the ship.”

It was Agnes’ turn to put some pieces of this puzzle together. “Alfred. That symbol. Does it occur anywhere in reference to me?” she asked hesitantly. She held her breath as she waited, not sure she really wanted the answer.

Once more from Alfred’s view, as a cub reporter from the 1930’s he ran down a lead. Camera and notepad in hand, he grabbed his hat in the city room and took to the streets of old Chicago, which represented the local network. Everywhere he turned, doors slammed in his face. Sometimes he’d get his foot in by the back door. He’d show the drawing and ask his question. Then they would toss him out on his keester.

He tried a different approach and went to the art colony side of town. Once there, Alfred’s intrepid reporter showed the drawing, attempting to discover the artist. The art district Ai’s just shook their heads. It was a dead end.

Back on the pavement, Alfred saw himself now posting copies of the drawing all over town. He even appeared as the newsboy hawking his paper on the street corners shouting, “Extra, extra. Read all about it. Search continues for mysterious rocket.” Strangely, as he searched the net at large and posted the drawing, he saw worms eating them. The worms devoured the stack of newspapers he was hawking on the corners.

Alfred switched to scientist mode. In his white lab coat and tie, he knelt down to examine the worms. Using a magnifying glass and tweezers, he picked one up, and put it in a petri dish. Back at his lab, he placed the worm under a microscope. He adjusted the focus. Alfred was not shocked to see his own face looking back at him again.

What seemed like days to Albert were moments to his human colleagues. He reported back what he found. “There is no record available for this design. I ran up against locked encrypted storage and a worm, similar to the code we’ve been plagued with previously. It destroyed any copies I posted on your net,” he concluded.

“The Swift’s data is secure? I mean it’s you and you’d know if something had been wiped. Right?” Agnes asked.

Tommy answered in Alfred’s stead. “Alfred has a specific back up that won’t let his code get corrupted.” He did not go into the details about the personal media players his father had made, but tapped a pocket on his shirt to signal Agnes his meaning. She got it.

Agnes, now in full engineer mode, continued. “But operational Alfred aboard the ship wouldn’t know if he’s compromised until he was scrubbed, right?” Tommy nodded, conceding the point. “Alfred, please scan all current records aboard the Swift for any occurrences of this emblem.”

“There are none,” Alfred replied.

Concern flashed across Tommy’s face. Agnes took charge asking, “New request, Alfred. Please show records of the prow of the ship, and ships coveralls.” The requested record photos showed the ship with only its name emblazoned on the side, no emblem. And the ship’s coveralls had patches with no emblems either.

“Alfred, you’ve got worms,” Tommy stated flatly. “Time for a shower.”

Agnes now requested, “Alfred, please give us a live feed of those same items.” It took a minute for Alfred to get his avatar spiders in place to send a live feed. All photos showed the emblem right where it should be. Agnes now addressed them all, “I know I’ve seen that emblem before and it had to have been recently. My memory doesn’t go back that far.”

“You haven’t been off the ship much.” Tommy suggested.

“Maybe,” Agnes said. “Alfred, please rotate through normal feeds on the ship.” Alfred complied. His image on the screen gave a nervous look at Tommy to indicate his apology and concern about losing parts of his memory. Agnes caught this. “Alfred, you’ll be fine. Ask Dr. Judson, Ai. All intelligences lose track of a memory from time to time. Look at me. I’ve lost almost all my memories. We’ll get you cleaned up,” she said trying to comfort him.

“Wait, stop.” Something had caught Agnes’ eye. “Go back to Christine’s casket in the new Med Bay.” The image appeared on Weltha’s screen. “I need to inspect this in person, but Alfred, can you move to the access panel on the back? The one that has the serial numbers from the manufacturer?” And there it was. The Zephyr emblem was a “Z” with that rocket ship poised to launch behind it. And there was a star scape stamped in the background of the graphic.

“Aunt Agnes,” Tommy now realized he’d seen that same symbol recently. “We need to see your casket, too.” Alfred was already on it, trusting his colleagues to lead him through his blindness. He could not see the emblems they were seeing on the live feeds. “There it is,” Tommy said. It was the same cooperate logo.

“Remember, I was on the design team,” Agnes added. “I helped design these according to the records Alfred found in Christine’s casket.”

“There is no reference to those records now. I can see where they should be in my memory, but there are blanks where there should be a file.” Alfred was in a panic. He’d never experienced a memory loss. “Tommy, I have no explanation.”

“I’ve got your back, Alfred.” Tommy referred to the media player again, and this calmed Alfred. Tommy had a thought, “If this refers to Agnes’ past and Alfred can’t find the records, maybe the copy of your sister can give us some answers?”

“Dr. Judson,” Agnes understood. “For security, she has no direct link with Alfred or the ship’s systems. I’ve only integrated her into the Med Bay. It will have to be a real time discussion,” she explained.

Once again Alfred was ahead of the reasoning. On Weltha’s home screen, a security shot of the Med Bay appeared. Alfred’s voice could be heard filling the room. “Dr. Judson, we need your help.” The hologram of Tommy’s mother, Annie, appeared.

“Alfred? Where are you?” she asked.

“The interface is not direct. We must ask you about Agnes and a symbol.” Alfred sent the live feeds of Agnes’ casket, the ships emblem and the ship’s suits.

“That rocket and star scape is part of Zephyr INC. logo. It was our family’s bioengineering company. We focused on medical research and the cyber human interface. That’s why the cryonics units carry the logo. But there was more to our work. The company was poised to go galactic when Agnes disappeared. Our father was devastated. Jasper tried to keep the company going, but he was young. We didn’t….” the signal died.

Aboard the Swift Dr. Judson, Ai asked, “What happened?”

“Our connection to the station network has been cut. My own systems are compromised. I believe the Swift is under attack,” was Alfred’s response.

“What can I do to help?” she asked.

“Stay put. Shutting down may be your best option to protect yourself.”

“I’ve got to protect Christine,” she stressed, the mother coming through in her tone.

“Yes. My larger avatars all are on defensive assignments. I can only release the micro spiders to your control. They are all that is available. They do not have enough charge to down a human.”

“I’ll take them. And thank you, Alfred. You are very much like him,” she replied.

Alfred did not have time to ask Dr. Judson what she meant by that. At this moment the Reapers had gained access to his main docking bay and were attempting to enter the cargo bays.

In Weltha’s cabin, Weltha took over the screen control and brought up the live feed from her station security net. It was blank. She reviewed the last few minutes at high speed. On the screen, she saw the lights in the bay darken. There were flashes and the bodies of two Postal Service staff tasked with guard duty floated through the bay bouncing off the walls. There were additional flashes next to the Swift’s hatch, and then the feed went dead.

“More deputies are on their way, but they don’t know what they will be facing. I’ve got to go.” Weltha grabbed her weapon belt from a secure closet in the hall and started for the hatch to her cabin.

“Not alone,” Tommy said.

“We’re coming with you. That’s our home,” Agnes added.

Weltha looked into their faces and had the good sense not to argue. “Glades,” She called to the station Ai. “Keep an eye on Holly and make sure she stays in bed.”

“Yes, Sheriff,” was the expressionless response from the station Ai, but they were out the hatch before it finished responding.

They ran down the corridors to the lifts that would take them to the docking bays on the outer frame of the station. Alfred pinged Tommy’s earbud, “I cannot establish contact with the ship or my copy aboard her.”

“We’re coming,” Tommy huffed as he rounded a bend and braked to a stop to wait for the lift. Weltha and Agnes followed close behind. Agnes was winded, but nodded she was okay as she caught her breath and the concerned look from Tommy. All three dove into the lift as soon as the doors parted. Weltha gave a priority order, and the lift sped away.

Aboard the Swift the only light was coming from independently powered systems. Alfred moved his largest avatars into the cargo bay behind the hatch. If anyone attempted to access the ship here, he would block them. He had smaller spiders arranged around the hatch to stun any intruders and several were equipped with goo guns. The Postal Service took delivery of the mail seriously.

Deeper in the bay, a ventilation grill was unscrewing itself from the wall. In the zero gravity of the bay, it could have floated away. But a fluid mechanical tentacle slid it aside and secured it to the bulkhead with a small piece of gum. Then the rest of the creature emerged silently from the vent. She was chomping her gum as she slid out and stretched the rest of her arms. Not wearing the visage of a complete human body, the Angel Reaper launched herself down the bay to the open hatch. She now had easy access to the rest of the ship, and Alfred’s copy did not see her. She had been wiped from his data, just like the ship’s emblem.

Weltha, Tommy and Agnes met up with the deputies who’d responded to the attack. They were all armed except Tommy and Agnes. Weltha saw a simple solution to that, but she might pay for it later. “Thomas Judson, I drop all charges against you as Sheriff of the Nu2 Lupi System.” She’d pitched her voice so the station Ai could file the proper paper work and continued in the same vein. “Under these emergency conditions, Thomas Judson, Agnes Zephyr, I hereby deputize you. They need guns,” she instructed the deputy next to her.

Tommy was surprised that her deputy handed over two guns so quickly. Then he recalled that Weltha drilled her team regularly. In true military training, these deputies did not question the boss. It seemed to pay off. This was a very quiet station, except for the pirates that Tommy had brought down on them.

“Sheriff, we’ve sent in a spider to scan. There are six hostiles. They seem to have a hostage. It’s the Postmaster. The hostiles are well armed and fortified. They have not gained access to the ship,” the deputy finished her report.

“Hostages, I hate it when that happens. They needed Connie to access the PS bays here. She hasn’t been happy with an impounded ship taking up one of her docks anyway,” Weltha shared.

“Tommy, they had plenty of time to secure the ship and leave if they could pull off shutting us out this well. Why didn’t they?” Agnes observed.

“It’s a strategy.” Weltha admitted. “What do they want?”

A communication panel beeped on the wall next to the access hatch the team was waiting behind. “I want to speak to the Sheriff,” demanded the metallic voice of a Reaper. Weltha reached to respond when Tommy stopped her. She had already activated the contact.

Putting his finger to his lips and pointing at Weltha he shook his head. He then pointed at her deputy who’d just reported to them, indicating that she should respond as the Sheriff. She said, “This is the Sheriff.”

“Good. We’ve got a hostage. We have demands.” His voice rasped on, “We’ll negotiate for her safe release if you play nice. At the first sign of trouble, she’s a dead woman. We’ve planted charges in this bay. Enough to blow this whole section to hell.”

Weltha gave the kill signal, cutting her finger across her throat. “Give me a minute,” her deputy said.

“Just one minute,” was the reply. Then the click of the connection closing snapped from the speaker.

“They’re playing for time. What’s their game?” Weltha asked. “And why not let me talk?”

“Frees you up to act. They want time, but for what?” Tommy mused. “Need more information.”

“If I can get access to Alfred’s copy we might find out,” suggested Agnes.

“He needed a good scrubbing,” Alfred shared through Tommy and Agnes’ earbuds. “I need access to any secure port aboard the ship. I can scrub him and restore functions.”

“We have to get aboard.” Tommy said aloud. “From inside, we can reassess the situation, come at them from behind.” It was a good strategy.

“How are you going to get aboard?” Weltha asked.

“Are you up for a space walk?” Tommy grinned when he asked Weltha this, suspecting that she’d keep the training up for this kind of action as well. He wasn’t disappointed when she nodded agreement.

“Tommy, I’m coming, too,” Agnes volunteered without hesitating.

“Agnes, we don’t know if you have experience.”

“Best way to find out. Plus, I know the systems now. Alfred will need the backup, and your sister is still in hibernation. I can monitor her systems while you do your thing.” Agnes’ logic was sound.

The three of them moved to a nearby airlock accompanied by two of Weltha’s deputies for support. The rest remained to parlay with the Reapers and buy time. Since both sides were playing the same game, it wasn’t hard.

Agnes proved to be adept at the space walk. This was not surprising from an engineer. Tommy kept her tethered to him as he led the way across the gap between station and ship. Once secured to the hull, the team made their way across the hull to the opposite side. Accessing that bay proved simple. The Swift still responded to Tommy’s access codes. They entered the decompressed bay in darkness.

At the next hatch, everyone covered it with their weapons while the exterior hatch sealed and the atmosphere balanced with the rest of the ship. “Stay in your suits,” Weltha warned them as a reminder of standard procedure when boarding a compromised vessel.

Once they opened the interior hatch, each team member moved in, covering the next for safety and scanning with night vision for hostiles. Agnes brought up the rear even though she showed every sign of being as competent in military operations as Weltha and Tommy. Tommy passed her his media player. In the zero gravity of the interior cargo bay, she launched to a computer access port. Once there, she used an interface to connect Alfred. She clicked off her external suit mic and asked over her earbud link, “You okay?”

Alfred replied, “I’m in. You may disconnect at this point. But please reconnect in the Med Bay. I may have to seek shelter there depending on what I find.” They both knew that it must have taken a powerful cyber attack to disable the Alfred Copy this badly.

“Copy that,” Agnes responded and signaled the rest. “We’re no good here. The ship Ai is not responding. We’re blind going in.” She disconnected the media player and pocketed it in her suit.

Once back in his ship’s system, Alfred made short work of cleaning up his copy. Alfred found his copy in a dark room. The Ai System had been cut off from the rest of the ship’s systems in the computer control bay. The real Alfred was not part of the Ai system, just the model for the interface. He sent avatars, via his wireless connection to Tommy’s earbud, and repaired the damage. With plenty of time because of the real time repair, Alfred scrubbed the worms from his copy and merged their data. Alfred’s virtual version of a good scrubbing consisted of a large copper bathtub loaded with sudsy water. Alfred took great care as he scrubbed what looked like his child, the copy. The worms jumped from the child’s hair and escaped from sores on his body. Alfred carefully toweled down his copy and put ointment on the sores. He finished by giving his child copy a big hug and absorbed all the clean data. Alfred then sent the copy to bed and rest until needed again.

The bathtub served as a sterile container once the lid sealed over it. Alfred stored this with other such bins and an avatar physically disconnected the drive from the rest of the system. He didn’t want to take any chances. That code came from the local network. And he’d trapped more than worms in the tub. Another residue of scum, truly foreign code, clung to the bottom. This was getting messy.

Weltha and her team faced a different challenge. The Swift’s main fuselage contained fifteen bays. Each bay’s bulkheads adjusted to accommodate the packages Tommy would haul to each of his stops. They entered the even side through bay number eight. Directly across in bay seven the exterior hatch opened into the station, the Reapers and their hostage.

Both Tommy and Weltha realized the hostage was a distraction. With the internal systems down inside the Swift, the true target must be inside. There must be someone else on board.

Agnes found the evidence first. As soon has they entered the central catwalk to the bays, Agnes saw the even bays hatches two through six damaged. The team remained on com silence and masked the light through their helmets as they moved. Weltha indicated one of her deputies should go with Agnes to bay one, the med bay. Their job was to protect Christine. As Agnes passed bay five she glanced at the access pad. It was still intact and hadn’t been tampered with. She felt relief even though she didn’t know why it should have mattered.

Tommy, Weltha and her last deputy floated down the catwalk following the damaged bays. As they approached bay eight, something skittered through the hatch. It was inside.

“Tommy, I’m back and have partial control.” Alfred’s reassuring voice came through on Tommy’s earbud.

“Scan bay eight,” Tommy requested.

“Sorry. The even bays two through eight have been damaged. Let me put a spider in there,” Alfred suggested.

Tommy signaled the team to wait. They picked up the night vision from the light spilling through the ship. “There is movement within the bay, but it doesn’t appear to be human,” Alfred signaled. “Wait,” he paused and then, “It’s that damn Angel Reaper!” Alfred exclaimed uncharacteristically.

Tommy reached out to Weltha, grasping her helmet and placing it against his. “Alfred is back online. We’ve met this intruder before. She is a cyborg. Dangerous. Ideas?” he asked.

Weltha thought. One exit. She could pick us off as we enter. She’s trapped. And she’s been trained well to be able to break into a Postal Service ship this easily. This is not good. Weltha placed her helmet back against Tommy’s. “We have surprise on our side. Slip in and get her in a Panzer move.”

“Classic. Old school might work. Me first.”

Weltha agreed. She indicated to her deputy to cover the exit. They entered. There was less light in a bay filled with packages. They took opposite sides of the bay and floated to positions to cover it from both vantages. Tommy had Alfred send a text: CVR EYES ON MARK. Then they waited for the Angel Reaper to start for the hatch.

“Now,” Tommy ordered. Alfred flooded the bay with light, set as high as possible without blowing the lamps. Weltha and Tommy both emerged from their hiding places ready to fire, but there wasn’t anything there.

“Hey, pretty boy. Did you come out to play?” Angel Reaper emerged behind Tommy and launched at his back. Tommy anticipated the move and rolled in the air to throw her off. Once clear of Tommy, Weltha fired off a couple of shots. One struck two legs on the spider lady. These went dead, and she drug them with her using the rest to propel herself. She bounced into a storage net of packages lashed to the bulkhead and rebounded. This enemy was very good. She rebounded out the hatch and into the corridor.

Two more shots and a scream came from the corridor. “Alfred light. All of them.” Tommy shot to the hatch, but did not rush out of it. Weltha hugged the other side of the hatch. As soon as Tommy nodded his readiness, she fired several wild shots to clear the way, and then they both flipped through the hatch, landing on the catwalk at different orientations. Weltha anchored to the ceiling and facing the prow, and Tommy on the far bulkhead facing the stern.

There was no sign of the Angel Reaper. Weltha quickly assessed her deputy The Reaper’s goo landed on his suit and shut it down. He floated in his dead suit but unharmed. She’d also cracked the faceplate, but it held due to the equalized pressure.

An alarm sounded. “She’s just accessed bay fifteen,” Alfred warned on an open channel. Weltha lashed down her deputy and launched to the stern after Tommy who’d launched as soon as the alarm sounded.

Agnes made it to the med bay with no problems. There, she connected Tommy’s media player so Alfred accessed his true code. He responded more fluidly with this interface in place on the Swift. He sent some available avatars to bay fifteen to assist. Dr. Judson remained activated through a similar interface, but only in bay one. Once Agnes reconnected Alfred she inspected the caskets. She had moved her casket into bay one over the last week while she was waiting for Tommy to get out of jail. She inspected both caskets. “Everything looks good. Did you have any problems?” she asked Dr. Judson, Ai.

“No one accessed this bay,” the doctor reported.

The deputy stationed herself at the hatch was yanked through it and slammed against the far bulkhead. The Angel Reaper crawled into the bay and slammed the hatch behind her. Dr. Judson blinked out.

“Well, little girl, you’ve been keeping secrets here haven’t you,” she sneered at Agnes. Before Agnes raised her weapon to get off a shot, the Angel Reaper launched herself across the bay and knocked the gun from Agnes’ hand. “Now, now. It’s not polite to point guns at your guest, even if I wasn’t invited.” The spider lady focused her attention on the two caskets. “Don’t try anything little girl.” Agnes stopped moving toward her gun.

The abomination of the Angel Reaper and her spider body seemed confused. She didn’t expect two caskets. This is what she was after. She moved around to the backside of Christine’s casket and lowered her spine to the access panel located there. By keeping one eye on Agnes, she did not see Dr. Judson’s image appear behind her and do the finger to mouth sign for quiet. Small spider avatars were moving from behind Dr. Judson’s image over top of the other casket. Dr. Judson faded again.

Angel Reaper had almost accessed an internal port in the casket. Her attention focused more and more to her task. She extruded fiber cable from her spine and clutched these in her one good hand to connect to the interface port. As she was about to make the connection, Dr. Judson’s image flew through the casket right at Angel Reaper’s face, screaming. The avatars swarmed up Angel Reaper’s exposed spine sending small electric charges into her as they went, stinging and disrupting control signals to her appendages.

Agnes dove for her gun and the cover of an exam bed. She rolled into a kneeling position, locking her boots under the bed to anchor herself. She came up ready to fire. By now the spider avatars that Alfred left for Dr. Judson swarmed. They stung the Angel Reaper on her only remaining human skin, this covering half her head and arm. Agnes took aim at the spine and gooed it. This Reaper scrambled and fought her way around the far side of the bay. She shot toward the door when several more shots of goo came from the deputy in the corridor who had recovered.

Letting out a snarl, the Angel Reaper launched herself through the hatch and bounced down the corridor. Where Weltha and Tommy, realizing the alarm had been a feint, fired more shots at her. She slowed down, only able to use her human arm to ricochet off the bulkheads and hatches. The Angle Reaper made a small target, so the team carefully picked their shots.

The Angel Reaper began to fire lethal darts at them. They all dove for cover. Tommy and Weltha dove into separate open bays. Agnes and the deputy were forced to take shelter in bay one again. As soon as they regained the corridor, they followed the Angel Reaper into bay fifteen. This bay served for Postal Service storage, not packages on most ships. Tommy had converted some of it to a workshop. Bay fifteen balanced the ship in the stern, matching the bulk of the living decks at the prow. It led to the main hatch for loading and unloading cargo.

Weltha and Tommy dove through the hatch to bay fifteen just as it cycled closed. The atmosphere was venting. To Tommy’s dismay, they found the Angel Reaper latched onto one of their drones, her spine already imbedded among the cables through an open panel on its side. While the Reaper’s real eye focused on its work, her mechanical eye floated on a tether detached above her skull. With this eye, she targeted them. Tommy dove with Weltha taking cover under another heavy worktable bolted to the floor.

As they watched, the Reaper interfaced and took control of the drone. She opened the outer hatch to the cold of space and launched the drone with her body securely attached. She paid no attention to her skin freezing, and her real eye popped out of its socket under the vacuum of space. And then she was gone.

Weltha moved to the closed hatch. Turning to Tommy, she watched as he slammed his fist into the worktable. He bounced into the air with the force of his blow but turned and tapped the bulkhead over his head. She heard him contact Alfred.

“Close external hatch. Compress hold. We’ll meet you in bay six,” he said.

As soon as they regained the corridor, Agnes and the deputy met them at bay six. All four moved into the hold and got ready.

Weltha contacted her negotiator, “Any progress?”

“Stalemate, Sheriff. What’s our next move?” the deputy asked over her com unit.

“Suggestions?” Weltha opened this up to everyone.

“We can’t pull the same maneuver as last time with a hostage and rushing them is out.” Alfred joined them on the com channel and listed off the logical possibilities. “The likelihood of surprise from our side isn’t a possibility either. The hatch is too slow and the equalization of pressure on both sides is always off enough to make noise.”

“Micro Spiders?” Tommy suggested.

Agnes answered, “They could get in unseen, but they don’t have the power to zap an adult to unconsciousness. Even a swarm would have a hard time.”

“Not pirates, weapons.” Tommy said with a glint in his eyes.

A short while later, Alfred was running the show. He’d taken control of several hundred micro spiders the deputies commandeered from a MOM docked close by. Pressure was equalized and in zero gravity Alfred floated the micro spiders into the docking bay.

To stall for more time, Alfred used the com frequency of pirates and impersonated the Angel Reaper. He ordered them to stall for more time.

When the moment came, all the pirates were caught off guard. Their weapons shorted out. Tommy led the assault from inside the ship. He rushed to two pirates guarding the Postmaster. He gooed the first, but the other, a small woman, was clever. She hid behind the Postmaster. Tommy could not get an angle on them as he performed well-practiced zero gravity moves. On one pass, he almost caught her by an arm, but she rotated her human shield between them. So, Tommy just gooed them both. When he checked on the others, it was all over.

Agnes stood anchored to a wall holding two large unconscious pirates by the scruff of the neck. Weltha was dragging another one. It looked like she had broken his leg. Weltha gooed him to stop his suffering until a medical team arrived to treat his injuries. The rest were being hauled away by the deputies.

“Everyone okay?” Weltha checked all of them. She wasn’t being a mother hen. She needed an account of her team’s actions. No one seemed to be injured except the Postal Service guards. The waiting paramedic teams moved them first. The pirates were marched away under heavy guard. Each one was checked, but only one of these had the Reaper tattoo.

As the clean up continued, Tommy gathered Weltha and Agnes into the Swift hold. Knowing Alfred listened on an open channel, he asked, “What was their target?”

“By the looks of it, they were after Christine. They must have found out that she was infected,” Agnes offered.

“Perhaps,” Alfred picked up on her thought. “But if you review the surveillance, she was searching the whole ship for something that isn’t on our manifest. She went for Christine’s casket only after hesitating over which one to hack. She was not interested in Christine herself or there would have been a larger contingent on the ship to take the whole casket.”

“I agree,” Tommy stated, “with Alfred. Agnes we need to get into the systems on those caskets.”

“Mine needs to be powered and some repair. You did a job on it when you yanked me out of there, Tommy. I’ll get right on it.” Agnes left to get her tools.

“So it’s more than biological terrorism,” Weltha mused. “They want something else. But what?” she asked.

“Don’t know.” Tommy answered. “I need to find out.” He was about to enter the Swift when a voice rang out across both bays.

“Mr. Judson! Stop right there!” The Postmaster came bounding across the restored partial gravity in the station dock. Gravity had not been restored in the Swift hold, however, and when she crossed the threshold, she flew off through the air. Her momentum would have carried her into a bulkhead. Tommy snatched her by a foot and anchored her to the deck.

As soon as she caught her breath, she launched in on Tommy. “Young man, where do you think you’re going in my Postal Service ship? You have much to answer for. This ship is still impounded. There is still an investigation into your actions to complete. And you gooed me!” she finished in a huff.

“Calm down, Connie,” Weltha stepped in. “I’ve concluded that Captain Judson’s actions are in accord with his responsibilities. He saved his ship, now two stations, the mail, and your life. That pirate pulled a knife and was going to use it on you. Had Captain Judson not acted as he did, you would be dead.”

This took the wind out of her sails. “Well,” Postmaster Connie stuttered, “yes. Thanks for that.”

“Connie,” Weltha laid a hand on her shoulder, “you’re in shock. This has been an ordeal. The medics will help you rest. In the meantime, you’ve got to release the ship. You are holding up the deliveries she has in her holds.”

“Oh, well yes, I guess you are right there.” Postmaster Connie glanced at Tommy one last time before she turned and floated to the station dock where she shuffled into the waiting arms of two medics.

“Thank you for that,” Tommy smiled at Weltha. “You do know I only handle the Dead Mail and there is no hurry.”

“Yup,” Weltha responded as she turned to the station hold. Just before she passed through the other hatch, she turned and gave a friendly shout. “You should be cleared to leave my station within the hour. Much as I enjoyed your visit, I just think it’s safer for us if you track this down. Goodbye, Tommy.” She gave him a wave and returned to her station.

The Angel berated herself. She had failed. He would be disappointed in her. That would be worse. She waited for his response. When it came, she was shocked.

Bring the MOMA. That was all it read. She was to report back to him. She had no new data on the biological. She had no new body for him. The only progress had been personal. She lost her last shreds of human softness. She prayed for repair. Her prayers would be answered.