Despite my instinct to go after Lilly - I have to keep telling myself it’s not really her, and my heart just isn’t in it - I decide to return to my quarters first. If Shipmind has full control over the ship’s computer, then they have full control over the systems in my quarters. That includes a number of things that could be used to spy on me or, as the case may be, locate a piece of bio-malware capable of destroying them. So, step one has to be disabling those, preferably in a way that isn’t completely obvious.
As I slowly walk the corridors, I go over the list of sensors in my head. Lifesign and bioscan sensors need to be gimmicked to show me, but not James’s terrifying cyberweapon. A quick change to the sensitivity levels should prevent them from picking up anything smaller than a human. As long as Phrog doesn’t decide to visit, it’ll work. The terminal has audio and video sensors on it for communications purposes. I can probably just cut the wires on the audio sensor, but if Shipmind tries to access video and they can’t see anything, they’ll know something’s up immediately.
I pause. I wonder if Shipmind ever found the datapad I left behind in the maintenance shafts? If I got it back and popped it open, borrowed a rewiring kit, and got a little lucky, I could both disable its connection to the shipboard network and use it to set up a short video loop, or maybe even more than one. I could set them up to loop depending on the ship’s local time, or maybe piggybacking off of some of the other sensors, so that it looked like I was sleeping or reading or gone, as appropriate.
I grimace. I’m not really an engineer and I’m not great at programming, so I’ll have to do my best and hope it works. Probably best to keep it simple and just use a loop of the empty room. I change course and stride off towards maintenance shaft #67.
This is dumb. It hasn’t been that long since I was living in these shafts, but I’m already regretting coming back. My neck hurts, my knees hurt, and it’s hot as hell. How did I live like this for a day, let alone most of a month? At least I’m coming up on where I left the datapad, close to engineering. Of course, if Shipmind found it and removed it, then this whole trip was a waste. And if they hear me in here, then I’ll have to answer some very awkward questions, which might prevent me from doing the snoop-proofing I’m trying to do in the first place, let alone getting to James’s quarters without being noticed.
But, as I turn the corner: jackpot! The datapad is just lying there, right next to the vent grate where I put it before. It’s out of charge, which is just about perfect for my purposes. Through the fine mesh of the grate, I can see Shipmind going about their business in engineering. It’s… a bit unnerving. Several of them are gesticulating at their stations, or occasionally making grunts of frustration or heaving sighs without looking at each other. It’s sort of like hearing only the nonverbal parts of an argument. Trouble in paradise?
Maybe not. One of the ensigns runs across the room and tackle-hugs Chief Engineer Braddock, who hugs him back. Pairs and trios of the engineering crew hold hands, gently squeezing. For what? Reassurance? From themselves? I don’t know what I’d expected them to be doing when I wasn’t around - maybe just walking around blankly like some kind of automaton army - but it wasn’t this. Not desperate hugs and quiet tears. What are they so worked up about?
Did I hurt them that badly?
I’m beginning to regret having stormed out on their explanation this morning. I don’t think I understand them at all.
My stomach grumbles as I arrive outside of James’s quarters. I had to skip lunch to get my anti-spy setup working, and I can only hope that Shipmind is still trying to avoid me. At any rate, they haven’t gotten in touch, so now’s the best time to go for the weapon. I key the door and step in as the lights fade up dimly for the first time in weeks.
His quarters are smaller than mine, also slightly curved to fit with the circular design of the ship, with a large pseudo-window screen showcasing the view of whatever’s outside. Just a black screen with a few pinpricks of light on it, for now. The datapad is sitting on the stand right next to his bunk, so I nab it, page through the file system just long enough to ensure that there is, in fact, a folder labeled “Old Math Shit”, and get out.
I stride through the corridors, trying very hard not to run. When I hear footsteps, I duck into side passages. When I hear the elevator chime, I hide behind a pylon. I’m sweating by the time I get back to my quarters, short of breath and heart going a mile a minute despite my forced leisurely pace. But, finally, I can figure out what kind of hell I’ve picked up.
Inside “Old Math Shit” is a compressed, encrypted file. I unlock it with James’s password and drum my fingers on my table as the decompression completes. Inside, there are blueprints for something called an “Erinyes Device”, a freaky-looking hybrid of metal and organic goop. Unfortunately, I’m still not an engineer. Fortunately, James left himself notes. I skim; just like he said, the device uses the implant network to virally infect people nearby. Then, it uses the implant’s interface with the brain to overload certain neurotransmitters and cause disorientation, hallucinations, nausea, aphasia, emotional spikes… a real nasty piece of work.
I feel queasy even looking at it. Can I really unleash something like this on the people I’ve worked with for the last several years? They’re not the people you know, says the voice in my head. The Shipmind is using their voices to get to you. A vision of Lilly doubled over, vomiting, unable to even speak to say what’s wrong, suddenly appears in my mind. You NEED this to free her. I try to swallow, my throat dry. At least learn how you COULD do it.
Right. The blueprints are… speculative, I think. It looks like James had been trying to reconstruct it based on his experiences. Some of his notes reference symptoms that he wasn’t able to replicate, possible countermeasures that could be used in the implants to fight the infection. Maybe James could put something together that would make the matter transposer create this device, but I don’t have his expertise and he’s still playing possum. I chew on my lip, thinking about how to use it, and trying not to think about what it does. If I could access the ship’s computer, I could probably use it to finish out the blueprints, but…
Hm. Wait. That’s a thought. If I load these blueprints onto the ship’s computer, and tell it to emulate the functionality of this device on the ship’s implant network, it would almost immediately take effect on everybody currently connected to the computer - i.e., the whole of Shipmind. Even if the computer itself isn’t affected, I imagine that Shipmind would be pretty fucking distracted by most of its constituent members suddenly having terrifying stroke symptoms and losing the ability to speak.
I go to program in the sequence, and my fingers stop over the keyboard. I think about everything that’s happened. My flight into the maintenance shafts, my failed escape plan, storming out on Shipmind trying to explain things to me, being stormed out on by Shipmind when I was being stubborn, seeing Shipmind be… vulnerable. Unsure. But what about the people you care about? Says that voice in the back of my mind. “We’re not gone!” shouts Starille’s voice back at it from earlier this morning.
I squeeze my eyes shut, grit my teeth, and in a flurry I program a delayed sequence I can activate at the push of a button. Then I slam the datapad’s power switch, put it up on a high shelf, and flee the room.
