S Morden - No Way

“If you’re asking me to reprogram it, then you’ve picked the wrong guy. Turning stuff off, I can do that. Silicon Valley shit? Nope.”

“Why not give me a chance to explain, and then decide?”

His arm was aching, and it was making him irritable. He took a breath, and then another one. Because he could. “Just keep it simple.”

“The new code must have been either installed and activated recently, or installed at a past time and activated only recently. The computer regularly backs itself up. An earlier version of its memory will have the kill switch set to off. All you need to do is load up that version instead of the version that is currently running.”

“If you can’t get into the computer, what makes you think I’ll be able to?”

“Because the keyboard in Comms doesn’t go through the wifi system. At that point, you’ll have bypassed what’s locking me out. Now, you’ll need to restart the computer—”

“If I’m doing that anyway—”

“Let me explain, first,” she repeated.

“Sorry.”

“You interrupt the boot sequence, and you access the system set-up screen. From there, you can then tell the computer where to look for its operating system. You direct it to a different path, and then let it continue from there. The problem is solved, at least temporarily, with very little interruption of the core life support systems.”

“But the kill switch might still be in there.”

“Yes, which is why I’ll have to find the process afterwards and delete it permanently.” Yun tilted her head on one side. “What do you think, Frank? Can you do that?”

“I… guess so. You’re going to have to go through it, line by line. And what happens if I forget a step? It won’t be like I can just ask you to remind me.”

“I’ll write it all down for you.”

“On what?” The tablet was useless. They didn’t have paper or pen.

“You, Frank. Hold still.”

She turned Frank towards her, and dragged her glove across his partially frosted faceplate, cleaning it as best she could. Then she reached into her—into Leland’s—utility belt and held up a stubby pencil. A grease pencil.

And she began to write the instructions Frank would need across the clear plastic, in English, backwards, and right to left.

[Transcript of 9News broadcast Sheila Tan 3/11/2049 0732MT]

ST: Extraordinary scenes here as hundreds of law officers, acting on a warrant obtained by the Federal Aviation Authority and backed by the FBI, perform an early morning raid on the Denver offices of Xenosystems Operations. XO’s chief Paul Leander was taken into custody, and files and computers have been leaving the high-rise Tower of Light ever since.

XO has been under the media spotlight in the last several days due to the failure of its communications links with Mars Base One and the Ares IV mission currently in residence on the red planet, but this raid came right out of the blue. The search warrant cites multiple breaches of the Commercial Space Launch Act, but we don’t know exactly what those breaches are, what they mean for XO, or what impact this will have on the astronauts on Mars. This story is developing, and a press conference with FAA officials is scheduled for ten [10] o’clock Mountain Time.

[transcript ends]

Frank was helped up onto the buggy—no point in walking the mile or so to the base—and he settled himself in the seat. The controls relied on squeezing the accelerator paddles, but it’d work just as well with one as with both, and there wasn’t anything else he needed to do, even strap himself in. It was straightforward enough, literally as well as figuratively, to drive over to the base, squinting out at the world around the blue pencil-marks across his field of vision.

Whether he’d get there with his suit still working was something else entirely. Yes, he knew he could press buttons on his suit controls that would tell him he’d turned his transmitter off, but whether that was enough, or whether XO had installed some sort of backdoor that allowed them access to his life support without him knowing…

He was about to find out. And there was nothing he could do about that. Either he’d realize in time, and manage to steer the buggy back over to the river, where the others would try and restart his suit again, or he’d black out and just carry on until he hit something. Or fell off the edge of the Heights and into the crater below.

He was back in a world of silence. Whatever he’d done, he’d cut himself off from the voice comms. It was just him and the buggy for now. And he didn’t care what Fan said, the morphine was definitely wearing off. He couldn’t turn around anyway, to see them all for what might be the last time, but maybe that was for the best, because there were also the two M2 crew lying dead on the ground right next to them. Whatever they were, whatever they’d done, they deserved their names at least. Jerry could supply those.

Frank raised his good hand, then took hold of the controls and eased the buggy away. It rumbled and rocked, carrying him onwards.

The base slowly grew larger, and he caught himself holding his breath. That was stupid. Instead, he took his hand off the wheel, and propped open his suit control pad so that he could see whether it was powered up or blank. Then he carried on, one eye on the diminishing distance, one on the little read-out. If it went dark, he’d know instantly.

It stayed stubbornly on.

Was he close enough? Was he past that point already?

The buggy was slowing to a crawl. That was him. He was easing back on the trigger. He checked his suit again, and it was still fine.

“Fuck it,” he said to himself, and purposely closed his fist. The buggy picked up speed and, surely, he was near enough now that if something was going to happen, it would have already happened. There was the base… the base that looked wrong. Deflated. Not all the way, but the outer skin wasn’t as taut as it usually was.

XO were trying to kill them slowly, having failed to kill them quickly.

He steered in the direction of the yard and pulled to a halt beside it. Getting down from the buggy was an art he hadn’t mastered one-handed. In the end he sat on the edge of the frame and pushed himself off while still holding on. It worked, more or less.

His heels hit the soil, he flexed his knees, he straightened up. He focused on the list in front of his face.

It was only a few skipping strides to the airlock at the end of the crew hab. He hauled himself up the metal steps, and pushed the airlock cycle button.

Nothing happened. He looked at it, and saw the telltale wasn’t lit.

Fine. Play hardball then. There was more than one way to open the airlock. Except not this one, because they—no, he—had left the inner door open, precisely so that no one could open the airlock, with or without power.

He needed to stay frosty, when he was feeling anything but.

The cross-hab, then. He climbed down the steps, walked around Comms/Control, and to the cross-hab airlock. The telltale on this airlock was off too, but he should be able to open this one manually. He got his fingers into the recess on the external hatch, gave it a tug, and pulled the lever down to vent any airlock air to Mars.

A whisper of gas crystallized near his feet, turning to ice and falling as glitter onto the top step.

He returned the lever to upright, opened the airlock door, and stepped inside, closing the outer door behind him. There was another lever behind another hatch, next to the inner door. He tugged on it, and the cubicle repressurized with a sudden whoosh. Sound returned, and with it the noise of alarms.

Frank took a moment to check the pressure. It should have been five psi. It was south of four. Breathable, but like being up the top of a mountain. He needed to check on Jerry before he tried anything with the computer.