Spider’s Web
Part 2
For the next several days, Moyra Kelly remained glued to her console as much as she could physically cope with. She only took breaks for necessities, including stretches to keep her hip from seizing. She kept one screen open for what had become the command channel while she worked with complex code and random chitchat on the other screen.
:: Strike in one confirmed, :: Jenkins messaged the command team.
:: Good, :: DalesOP replied. :: Initiating Breakdance. ::
Moyra switched over to private comm with TripleShot. :: Need you to get Disco Inferno ready. ::
:: With pleasure. :: Moyra could almost hear the angry staccato typing. Trip’s sister hadn’t been found yet. Damocles’ buddy promised to keep looking, while survivors attempted to get back into some semblance of order.
Damocles continued to work furiously through his military contacts, attempting to determine who in the chain of command survived. He reported to Moyra that the damage was substantial, although perhaps less than the UN anticipated. They were going to need a lot of resources to have any hope of fighting back. The UN hadn’t even landed much on the surface yet, although the data coming in from the now-occupied stations made it clear they were about to land in force.
Skylight, on Skywheel Two, funneled as much information as she could safely manage from every ship that showed up. She coordinated her own little network of dabblers topside, each feeding data to her and down. As soon as Moyra was able to find a place to have things sent to, she’d have them start altering everything in every way possible.
Several gutter balls rolled around while Jenkins attempted to expand from the diplomatic ship’s network over to the recently arrived military transports, but one throw finally hit a couple of pins. Necessarily, progress was painstakingly slow. Between those two sources, Moyra intended to scramble the database to destroy the logistical controls in place. With DalesOP and TripleShot off playing matador for the UN’s security teams, there was a fair chance they could get the deep foothold necessary to completely compromise the UN network in-system.
Then, it would simply be a matter of keeping the defensive teams distracted with surface level attacks while they worked underneath it. “Simply.”
In main comm, the pre-shelling bullshit chatter continued. Braknck whined about how they hadn’t gotten a good money hit in weeks, and what was taking so long.
:: Most of the cretins that cretins like us prey on aren’t keen on hanging around when the UN shows up, maybe? :: TripleShot replied. :: And it’s not like that ship showing up wasn’t a big dance number to telegraph their intentions. ::
:: I’m broke! I can’t buy Sparkle and I’ve been out for a day already! ::
:: Thought it was just a simple pleasure, :: Moyra snarked.
:: Fuck you, Hesp, :: Braknck replied.
:: Sorry, I have work to do. You’ll have to be content with your palm. ::
The expected crude comments shut Braknck’s complaints up, while he joined in trying to top them.
:: You know he’ll turn us in for a bounty, :: Damocles said in the command comm.
:: Kinda counting on it, actually, :: Moyra typed, sighing. She had already dropped a note to Bowler Hat. The risk of compromising their other activities felt way too high, but Bowler Hat always came through when other income came slowly. He said once he preferred to pay them a retainer if it kept them from meandering into other pockets.
She doubted he would disapprove of their current focus. The UN was notoriously bad for business.
:: Laters. :: For once, she was actually headed outside of the apartment, rather than heads down in working out bugs in Sa1amander’s project. Her brain needed the break to work through the code issue.
Isibéal met her at the door. “Be careful,” she said, pressing a kiss to Moyra’s forehead. She helped Moyra shrug on her backpack and arm crutches. Moyra usually shunned the power brace, because she always felt it made the pain worse. Besides, given how long it had taken to walk again, while the doctors carefully rebuilt and regrew her pelvis, she didn’t want to lose the ability altogether. She saw a few people at the specialty clinic like that.
“Always,” she replied. She didn’t always need the crutches for walking around town. Some days, she didn’t need them at all, but it was better to have them than not.
She stopped at her favorite restaurant, which was almost empty. The few patrons barely whispered to each other. More filtered in as it got closer to dinner time, but it stayed relatively quiet. She chatted pleasantly with Charles, the owner, until her comm chirruped for attention, and he faded away to let her deal with it. Sa1amander’s application was sending notifications it shouldn’t be, and she tapped into the program.
The “game” screen came up, a standard block stacking clone, harkening back to the earliest days of computers. She immediately lost the first level in the particular command structure required to flip into the “administrative” side.
She read TripleShot’s frantic message, relayed by Sa1. :: Troops, Hesp, troops. They’re attacking Jefferson. Powered armor and armored vehicles. Lost most comm signals already. Emergency system managed to get out the alert before it got slammed shut. Let Dam know! Shutting my systems down, safeties engaged to slag if necessary. ::
:: Trip: Be safe. Stay low. Hugs. :: She loved that boy more than anything right now, and her heart twisted to think he was at risk. :: Sa1: Confirm Dam has received info for relay. Did Skylight get any warning just missed? ::
:: Trip’s offline; already told him about that for you. Dam received info. Has relayed. Will contact you separately. App is buggy, but best option ATM. Skylight warned of gear shifting between Three and ships, but learned of landings after shift. Couldn’t comm safely. ::
Moyra ground her teeth. The app was beyond buggy…and still their safest networked communication. Fuck, they needed deeper access to everything. For a fleeting moment, she regretted they—she—had kept their focus so narrow prior to this.
They needed more. More access, more hands, more eyes, more links. Skylight’s warning might have done…something. What, Moyra wasn’t sure.
Sound of a crash yanked her attention up to the screens above her. She tapped out of the “game” before securing the mobile and typed a reminder. Note: Auto time outs on access.
Hamilton was a good div’s trip northeast of Jefferson. Charles had one over-the-air station up on all screens. The newscasters looked a combination of scared and furious. “—confirmed reports of UN troops assaulting the main downtown area now. Other stations alerted us they were being brought offline by force. We only have limited video input from citizens on the street,” the female anchor said. “We are relaying everything we get. Please stay inside for your own safety. We will remain on the air as long as we can. Repeat, we have confirmed reports of UN troops—”
“Has anyone heard from family?” Moyra asked loudly. Her question broke the horrified fascination. Several shook their heads, and immediately started reaching for devices. Some voiced frustration that their network provider was down. Two managed to reach out, and Moyra got the information for the networks in use and listened to what was relayed.
A warning klaxon started playing over the infoset’s speakers. “Troops have entered our facility. I expect our broadcast will be shut down shortly. Good luck. May God and Goddess be with us all.” The male anchor’s calm voice and expression belied the import of the situation. The anchors continued talking, reiterating advice to stay quiet and inside, until the signal abruptly died. No cut screen, just black silence.
The silence echoed in the diner until someone shuffled in discomfort. Moyra just stared at the black screen. “They take control of Jefferson, and then what?” someone asked.
“If the monologues from the sat feeds are anything to go by,” Charles replied, “They’re a mite ticked we haven’t been wholeheartedly happy to embrace their benevolent dictatorship after ‘saving’ us by KEWing our bases. So they’re going to start in with the sticks.”
Moyra waved Charles down and handed him her payment. She headed home.
Isibéal met her halfway home from the diner, while she played up her limp on the crutches. “Ah, good. I hoped you’d be on your way back.”
“It got quite uncomfortable.”
“Quite.” Isibéal made a show of helping Moyra back home and into the flat.
The real conversation resumed as soon as Moyra verified certain pieces of equipment were still working. “Was there no warning you could share?” Isibéal asked.
“Too little, too late. We need to fix that.”
She moved the mobile’s connection to the encrypted hardwired lines, and then tagged into the “game.”
A message from Damocles waited.
:: I have contacts who need to meet with you, in person, soonest. I can be with them. ::
:: Important ones? You’d have to be, to verify them to me. ::
:: Very. They wanted me to be “in command” but…you’re better. You can make this work. ::
:: That’s intimidating. ::
:: Some of the very best on offer have perished, Hesp. You’ve collected most of the rest. I think it’s time to tug on some lines, though. And only you can do that. ::
:: If they’re willing. I’ll try. You know where. When? ::
:: We’re en route, before Trip’s message got through even. Call it a dinner date. ::
:: You’re penciled in. :: Damocles and his guest weren’t flying in. Dinner tomorrow was a land trip. Just how far out had he found this VIP? She let Isibéal know about the visitors’ ETA.
She jotted down the note to Sa1amander about having the device screen time out of the app, regardless of security settings, along with a brief thought about the annoying code issue. She bit at her lip while she stared at the mobile’s screen. They needed more hands. Regardless of this VIP, they needed more hands.
But just because Damocles trusted this VIP, didn’t mean she could. Dare she risk the entire black- and grey-hat hackers by contacting them now?
Troops have entered our facility. The anchor’s calm, controlled voice echoed in her mind. Troops have entered our facility.
Not all of the BGs would be willing to pitch in. A handful—including Braknck—would be willing to sell themselves to the highest bidder, although she expected they would regret it later. Still…she sat down to check in, and start tugging on strands.
In response to her query about possible payment, Bowler Hat requested as much information as they could possibly collect for every UN official or politician in-system. Her team would continue to collect their bounty in exchange. She provided what they had on the initial “diplomat.”
She flicked through the channel updates, and dropped off a note in the main comm about a payment en route. Braknck’s inane response bore little worth responding to, but he at least seemed mollified.
She gave DalesOP information on the networks which were working after the initial Jefferson invasion. He immediately dug into looking at the technical, logistical, or geological differences between those providers and those already shut down.
:: We will need to replace Trip’s work until it’s safe for him to come back online. Or shift to a different Op? :: DalesOP commented.
:: Don’t know yet, :: Moyra replied. :: I see Dam’s offline too. Sightseeing? At a time like this? ::
:: You know Dam, :: DalesOP replied.
The casual shrug she “heard” in that reply convinced her to tap the BGs. Damocles had not felt it prudent to tell even DalesOP, their mutual best and oldest friend, about the VIP needing to see her in person. Perhaps not even that a VIP had been located, and was interested in tapping their resources.
Even as she started to compose the initial query in her mind, she realized she needed to reach the whites, too. But only a handful of that crowd had the right mentality for the work in question, at least until—if—they received “official sanction.” Others might be worth bringing in…later. Possibly much later.
Two divs later, she and Sa1amander resolved the most pressing bug. In between bits of that task, numerous contact queries went out to the right kind of individuals. Some ran their own networks, like she did, and others were specialists in specific gear that might be useful. All of them had useful contacts, occasionally through second and third layers.
They also did not know her as Hespera or Moyra. Those who did were riskier, given the situation. She’d respond if they tagged her, but for now, she needed to keep the personas and names separated.
* * *
The door read Samantha Peterson in an elegant script, and Moyra Kelly ruthlessly pushed the nostalgia down. Memories were for later.
She spared a few moments and burned restless energy to give the office a once over, both cleaning and verifying integrity. She settled in to review information from her mother’s work with the military years ago. Damocles and his VIP-in-tow would be arriving soon, and she needed the refresher.
A polite knock roused her from reviewing the files, where she’d made notes that might be of use now. She checked the security feeds, and verified it was Damocles at the door. An older man she vaguely recognized stood by and at least one guard attended them. She buzzed them into the room.
“Miss Peterson,” Damocles said. “Thank you for meeting with us under such short notice. Please allow me to introduce Colonel Naumann and Blazer Davis.”
Moyra shook hands with Naumann. He did not let go, staring at her intently. “My condolences on your mother’s death. I heard about her passing, although I was curious that the business continued under her name.”
“Brand recognition, mainly. Most businesses care about the brand and the services provided. As I had already been a partner in the business for some time before she passed, the…handover was relatively seamless.”
“I see.”
Moyra gestured to the seats across the desk. “Please, sit.”
Damocles moved to lean against the wall, but Naumann directed him to sit, with the guard at the door. “Corporal Johnson indicated he had a small network with the capability to take over most of the operations which my own team can no longer access or perform.”
“Was the equipment destroyed along with the bases?”
“Most of it.” He offered no details.
“Sorry, sir. I hope you had fewer casualties than feared.”
He snorted and Damocles shifted uncomfortably. “Were that so, Miss Peterson. But when Johnson mentioned Miss Samantha Peterson as being a member of the network, I recognized the name. I’ll trust you with what we have. Provided, of course, you can decrypt and provide the passcode.”
Moyra nodded, and gestured at her screen off to the side. “I have full access to the files from the previous contract, including an encrypted passcode file. If it’s the item I believe you reference, I can have that completed shortly.”
Naumann smiled slightly. “You have the same efficiency.” He handed her a memory stick. She took it with a raised eyebrow, and moved over to the hardened jump box. Once she verified integrity and safety of the chip, insofar as feasible, she moved over to the working machine, where she’d already transferred items of interest to enable a decryption.
She pressed her finger across the reader, and flinched ever so slightly as it drew a droplet of blood. “Gene-key?” Naumann asked. “You don’t use a neural interface?”
Moyra shrugged. “Nothing can be foolproof, but it’s harder to hack a wired keyboard than other options. Nor do I want a competitor sabotaging me with a neural net virus.” She tapped in the necessary commands, and watched the decryption proceed. The data file opened. “I’m in.”
“Those files have the technical details for accessing the covert satellite controls and other communication points. Per previous contract, that information was not retained in-house. Now you have them. Can you leverage it to regain clandestine control of the communication networks? If so, how fast?”
Moyra considered, as she flicked through the decrypted documents, pausing at particularly interesting sections. “I cannot provide a definitive timeline at this juncture. However, the more access the better.”
Naumann nodded. “Very well. What other assets are at your disposal?”
She turned to face him full on, and leaned back in the chair. “I have contacted several business associates. They range from occasional dabblers who assist in information gathering to full-time professionals such as myself. I’m waiting to hear back. My personal network already achieved minor success in a baseline infiltration of UN assets, and I have two operations engaged in low-level distractions to act as cover.”
Naumann asked, “How ‘baseline’ is baseline?”
She phrased it for his unasked question. “With a little more time, enough to start minor electronic sabotage.”
“How soon can it be major?”
“We must move carefully to avoid existing defenses and anyone actively paying attention to alerts. With more assets at my disposal, that can be more rapid.”
He didn’t dispute, only asked, “Is your crypto communication usable now?”
“Corporal Johnson contacted me on it when relaying your wish to meet.”
“That would be a yes.”
“A qualified yes,” Damocles spoke up. “Our primary programmers are still resolving functionality issues. The security is fine, but the performance and stability are not yet there.”
“We resolved the major stability issue yesterday,” Moyra replied.
“Ah. I was deliberately not checking, to minimize trackable signals.”
“If you swap to the encrypted lines, you can get updated.” She glanced at Naumann. “If you have a phone or comm you prefer to use, I can also create an authorized installation and connection for you.”
“Perfect,” Naumann said. “How do you expect to disperse it later? A manual process for every individual would be…time consuming.”
“Time consuming but necessary. It will need to be extremely restricted as to who can communicate with who. We don’t want a single instance of compromise to take out every individual involved.” She shrugged. “I, and my team, will manage the administrative aspect. The base application won’t have two-way communication enabled. It’s a game, and a popular one at that. It’s one of our revenue streams, actually. We use it for…other purposes, generally. This is an extension of that application, enabling two-way communications for select ‘players.’ I can deploy those based on validated information to specific devices.” She smirked. “I expect most individuals who are likely to partake in this already have the base application installed.”
Naumann nodded. “Very well.” He unlocked his military comm and slid it over to her. A few moments’ tinkering, and she had him functionally on the platform. Damocles switched over to her encrypted lines and updated himself.
Further discussion solidified the goals Naumann had for the counter attacks, and he provided specific information with which to validate key individuals from his remaining resources. She cloned the necessary information for hooking into the covert channels, and everything else of interest.
At last, there was little left that could be discussed without further technical progress. Naumann stood. “It will be a pleasure doing business with you, Miss Kelly.”
Moyra did not react. She wondered when he would admit to knowing her name. He smirked. “You’re not surprised.”
“Mother noted you knew our actual names, and that you tried a similar trick on her.”
A genuine smile bloomed on his face. It rather disturbed her. “It will be a pleasure doing business with you.” He glanced at Damocles. “I will leave Corporal Johnson here with you for the time being. He’ll return separately.”
Standard disaster operations. Moyra nodded, and let Naumann and his guard out the door. Damocles sighed heavily as the door shut. “That was exhausting, Hesp.”
“Yeah. We’ll let them skedaddle away, and then I’m under orders to bring you home. Gram never forgave us for not working out. She wanted you for a grandson-in-law.”
Damocles snorted. “As long as she’s made dinner.”
“Your favorite, even.”