The Euphantius Collection

By Seth Giolle

This ebook includes the first five books of my Euphantius series: Ano, Antor, Caleese, Fantor, and Mairse. These books follow the life of a planetoid from inception to destination, presented the only way any saga of this nature can really be told: through the lives and adventures of those who designed, created, and then, commandeered its future. Be there as ideas become fact. Fight for the freedom of every man and woman who’d rise up against tyranny. Face the coldness of space, battling incredible odds for your very lives! Know a distant past while forging a better future. Euphantius has arrived!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: May 9, 2018
• ISBN: 9781387802111

Seth Giolle

Seth Giolle was born on a small, rural farm in southeast Ontario. After Travelling throughout Canada in all its splendour, he once again makes Ontario his home.

Book preview

The Euphantius Collection

Science Fiction

By Seth Giolle

The Euphantius Collection:

Euphantius Ano

Euphantius Antor

Euphantius Caleese

Euphantius Fantor

Mairse

This ebook includes the first five books of my Euphantius series, ending in Mairse. An interesting anecdote involves the reason for the first four books.

I was actually done the fifth book, Mairse, quite a few years ago, but I had to wonder how the planetoid the action takes place on came to be. Who created it, and how did that planetoid come to be in that exact place? More importantly, how come no one on the planetoid has realized their world isn’t real in all this time?

I embarked on a journey of writing out how that planetoid was designed, created, fought over, then, taken out into space. The same planetoid then broke its ties with Earth and went off on its own track. Things fell apart, society-wise, and the whole world almost ended up plunged into a red giant!

Which brought that planetoid to where it is for Mairse.

This series follows the life of a planetoid the only way it can really be told: through the adventures of those who designed, created, and then, commandeered its future. As such, you get to know different protagonists per book, but in each successive adventure, the last protagonist is around, so you also get to see where they ended up. They’re generally a support character for the new protagonist.

A sixth book is planned for this series, but it’s still in concept phase. When it’s available for purchase, I’ll let you know! I hope you enjoy this series. I certainly enjoyed writing it.

Euphantius Ano

Science Fiction

By Seth Giolle

00010002

Trials of Tribulations

I don’t think you understand, sir.

I understand fully, Devon. Sit down. Devon remained standing. He felt like he needed to argue his point more. Somehow, sitting would make that impossible? He wasn’t sure why he felt so adamant he should stand. He just was. Sit down, Clive Cornnach groaned louder, glaring across and frowning expectantly.

Devon sat.

The seat was plush leather. The office was a page out of history with its leather upholstery, faux-mahogany desk, and brass lamps and fixtures. Clive Cornnach even had the old brass pen and calendar stock and stacks of paper. Cycled paper of course. Nothing real about it, but it looked authentic.

I understand why you want to attend the session, Clive Cornnach continued, rustling some faux-papers before sitting back and rubbing the bridge of his nose. I have no doubt you also know full well why you can’t attend it.

I can use a false ident, Devon suggested, urged, sitting forward in his chair. Cornnach rubbed his brows, groaning low, so Devon frowned and shrugged, patting his right leg. I’ve already set one up, he mumbled. It’s very good. They’d never know it was me, and the channels are open. They’re not being watched.

They’re always being watched. And everyone who logs into these sessions has to offer a sample. How do you plan on confusing the World Government’s DNA labs, boy? How about that one?

Devon frowned. Use someone else’s?

They know everyone up here. Cornnach sat forward again, elbows on his desk and hands clasped tight. The address, no matter how well you mask our base code, will tell them you’re up here, and they’ll have everyone’s DNA on file, so they’ll know you aren’t who you say you are. If you use a lab sample, they’ll know that too. Whatever you do, they’ll file alarms and send a team up here. They’ll find you, boy. Is that what you want? Is it?

Devon shook his head, gaze averted.

If it meant he could log on and view the session on the latest cell regeneration methods, he wanted to declare that it didn’t matter. But he knew better.

I’ll log on for you, Cornnach suggested, Devon’s expression brightening. I’ll record it on holodisc. Devon closed his eyes. They scan the viewers, Cornnach moaned. Again, they might ask who you were if you were watching the live event when you don’t actually exist, when you’re not in the system at least.

He tried a smart grin.

Devon returned a sour frown.

If I could change things, I would, Cornnach insisted. He glanced around at his office’s faux-wood panelling and reproduction art of men whose images he’d found in the lost files. But we can only hold onto so much. I don’t want to see you lost to ignorance, boy. Devon sighed. He forced a nod. I’ll send you the recording when it’s done.

Devon stood feeling so defeated. I should get back to work.

Take the long way back, Cornnach suggested. The cloud cover’s lifted for a few hours, and there’s a new comet in the neighbourhood. You can likely see the Borealis if you’re quick enough and the Viewing Ring isn’t full.

Devon nodded distractedly, waved a sullen goodbye and left Clive Cornnach’s office. The faux-everything from paper and brass to wood panelling and fuzzy carpet was gone for shiny silver and blue.

The station’s flooring was Robin’s Egg blue that climbed halfway up the door. After that and across the ceiling was silver. It all had a fresh glean to it like it was just washed and polished. Which it was of course.

The station’s walls were built over a bio-medic shell. On the outside, the station used transporter tech and magnetic waves to keep inner and outer shielding intact. Inside, thousands of microbots circulated polishing and maintaining the pipes and conduits. They rebuilt and reconstructed before parts wore out and turned themselves on and off as required.

The clean state of the corridors was an indirect effect. While maintaining the station’s systems, the microbots gave up low level radiation that killed any dirt or dust that filtered up to the ceiling and came off shoes and hands.

After a while, this all became commonplace. Devon didn’t even notice the microbots and the work they did as he stepped out into that rather sterile corridor and stared left and right.

He didn’t really care to view Earth or the cosmos just then, but he felt like he should anyway. Because his boss had suggested it. Because he didn’t want to stare at work just then anyway. So he stuffed his hands into his pockets and turned right, starting off towards the main GravShaft.

Techs, Consects, and Legalts passed.

Techs split up into sub departments of course: Machinery Coders, Information Ambassadors, Host Contacts, and a dozen more specialized designations. Devon was a Tech. His sub department was Program Coding. Most Techs wore the station’s basic beige jumpsuit. Some, like Devon, had more leeway, hence Devon’s brown slacks and comfortable jacket.

Basically, Techs applied computer based functions and maintenance – which on the space station meant that they kept the place running. The jumpsuits were for utility. Devon’s attire fit with someone who never knelt to repair a circuit board, so he got the free space to choose his attire.

Consects serviced everyone else. They cleaned and stocked the kitchens and private quarters as well as loading bays and some external ports. Military ports were more strictly run, but the domestic ship docks were their terrain for the most part. Their attire was more white than anything else, and they all carried communicators and personal air masks at all times. It was standard issue.

Legalts were the modern day lawyers with their synthetic suits and tattooed arms. Their shoes always squeaked when they walked. Never failed. They applied the World Government law to everything that went on station-side. They were a necessary evil. Or so some thought.

Most of them were staring at their view pads, carrying on in their own conversation, or tapping away on some given task. A few looked at him and smiled. He tried to smile back. By the frowns he then received, it was clear his despondent mood was evident.

He was just like them, and yet he wasn’t.

He wore the right clothes. He made the same jokes, on a good day. But he was different enough. Though he could overlook that fact most days, at times like these, the truth was too much to swallow. So he started avoiding eye contact.

Devon! Wait up!

Devon turned with a start, furrowing his brow. His darker mood dwindled to simple frustration. He never could stay angry long.

What’s the rush? his friend called, slowing at his side. Devon started walking again, his friend keeping pace. And what are you doing away from your station? I went looking for you. When you weren’t there, I got worried.

I do leave my computer terminal every once and a while, Lester, Devon groaned.

His friend laughed merrily. Not that often.

Devon supposed he didn’t leave it too much. Still. I had a meeting, he mumbled, nothing too important, he lied. What takes you away from your post?

Lunch. You taking?

Maybe later. I’m not in the mood.

But I’m buying.

Devon allowed a smirk. Meals were paid for by service. Lester was the kind of friend to make jokes that were only mildly funny, but he cracked himself up every time. Even now, he was chuckling to himself and patting his knee. And it made Devon smirk a little more just watching it.

How are you doing on that new algorithm?

It’s slow, Devon rued. The error checks aren’t programmed to ignore the changes. They keep catching perfectly fine code. It’s more than a little frustrating.

You can tell me that again, his friend grumbled along. I’m in the middle of developing some adaptive protocols, and it all slows to a stop, does nothing, right when I’m approaching a deadline usually. I don’t know why they can’t produce the whole package at once. Why not give us the algorithms, code checks, and everything else?

I usually write my own support programs. They just aren’t complete yet. I can send you copies when I finish them.

That would be great.

Regular corridor was broken by the usual wall-mounted view screens and communication boxes. Devon stopped to turn. Why are you down here? The Cafeterias are one ring down.

Lester thought a moment before shrugging. Weekly review, of course. What else?

Devon nodded. Right. Weekly reviews.

They parted at the GravShaft. Lester took his own. He stepped into the clear cylinder and lifted his arms. The grav plating activated lifting him a foot from the floor; then, the shaft and the man were gone, dropped in a blur of motion to be replaced a second later by another.

Devon stepped into his own GravShaft and requested the Viewing Ring, first level. The small compartment dropped quickly. Gravity gyros kept him from hitting the ceiling. His feet were only a foot from the floor at any point. There was nothing to worry about, certainly nothing out of the ordinary.

Thinking of his friend hovering, arms out, pretending to fly, he smiled. His darker mood faded to an inkling of irritation. It was a lot more manageable than what he’d started off with.

He stepped out at last into the Viewing Ring where he found a quiet lounge to gaze out from.

The space station had been built post invasion. The Raffelom had burned every satellite and station out of the sky when they’d invaded. In their follow-up campaigns, they also burned a wide swath of Russia clean of life and dissected South America into different degrees of flooding.

There was even a wide swath of residual scarring that cut North America in two from California up across the bottom of Hudson’s Bay. Nothing grew in any of those swaths. They were just thin canyon-deep grey fixtures on a planet that had otherwise fully recovered. Even the clear-cut forests had grown back in the decades post invasion, but not them.

After the Raffelom had finally been beaten back and chased off, humanity had started to build new and better machines using technology they’d left behind. The space race had been recommitted anew with added vigour. This station, Calystia Nae, had been the first major build using the new hybrid tech.

It had the old, conical style from the old days, its bottom sections larger than its top. He supposed it resembled a giant egg in that sense. Its separate rings spun to create artificial gravity like those more traditional designs, not that anyone felt it.

The greater ring that circled the station further out was connected to one of the wider lower rings. That greater ring housed the vegetation and food plants. It also added improved structural integrity for the station. That part had been completely alien.

Standing in that lounge at the station bottom with the Earth played out below him, Devon picked out the Borealis lights circling the northern pole. With the Earth a bright blue-green marble against the starry black of space, he picked out seven new satellites in orbit. There was no comet in sight, but he forgave that quickly enough.

He found himself staring at the northern hemisphere. He imagined he could pick out Alberta from that landmass down there. Jasper would be about halfway up. That gave him a smile, albeit for a moment.

There’d been good times growing up in that small house with the door that never closed and the heater that rattled. And the neighbours that constantly fought over the dumbest of things. And his mother who’d sang to him every night as he’d fallen off to sleep.

He wiped a tear away.

Cornnach was good to him. He owed the man a lot, his life even, but he missed home sometimes. Things had been simpler then. Before he’d known that he wasn’t like everyone else. Before he’d had to fear what they’d do to him if they found out. Before all that time in between when things had gotten real bad and he’d needed rescuing.

It wasn’t the fact that he couldn’t log into the session he wanted to watch. Cornnach was taking a risk just logging in and recording the session for him. They’d ask why someone in management was logging in and listening to a topic that was above his concept level. It would raise flags no matter how good the man was at spinning a yarn.

It wasn’t any one thing that was upsetting Devon really. It was years of everything: the simple past lost to time, the limitations he lived, the constant reminders of who and what he was - all things he had no control over. Sometimes, like now, he’d give anything to be normal.

Devon wasn’t sure how long he stood there wondering what people were doing down on Earth. The population counts were near suffocating again. The cities were near to busting. He assumed it was loud and claustrophobic for them. But normal.

A soft hum came across behind him.

Period change.

Depending on what period cycle you were running, the sound was a cue to switch over to the next activity, be it sleep, work, or eating. Maybe you had a specialized activity scheduled which was known to happen. Devon closed his eyes. It was his sleep period. He’d missed the entire rest of his work module.

I’ll hear about that one, he groaned.

He started back along the Viewing Ring to the GravShaft. This time, he announced D Ring, and his body lifted. He was shot up three rings stepping out amid a noisy bustle. Everyone was always bustling about on D Ring. They were racing off to sleep or to make use of one of the cafeterias. Some were milling about in small groups and comparing view screen data or current news.

There were clear and distinct splits between jumpsuits, white garb, and synthetic suits. The Techs, Consects, and Legalts didn’t really mix. There were pockets of that more casual attire of course, Devon’s department. They mixed a little. They worked with all three other departments after all, but even that was limited.

Devon held his palm to the station’s food dispenser on the wall and requested a quick meal. It dropped down in its sealed container, and he carried it with him along the life hatches.

D Ring was built with its usual corridor of silver and blue. Life Hatches were assigned for each person on station. They weren’t large, but there was a bed, computer terminal, and bathroom facilities in each. Space was limited on station. Those Life Hatches were mounted towards the inner core with the cafeterias on the outside. That way, people could look out the windows into space as they ate.

Devon found his Life Hatch series and stepped onto the lift mechanism. He was lifted up seven hatches to his own. At the press of his hand against this reader, the hatch covering opened in, and he climbed inside, the hatch closing behind him.

His meal was dropped on a table top that extended on his request. He turned the computer terminal on as he passed, its screen flickering to life across from that table top. While the server booted up and connected with his work station, he stripped out of his slacks and top and into his sleep jumper, plain grey. He could use his credits on something more interesting, but he always opted for new music from the old Earth archives. He had quite a collection going.

Music, he announced, a soft gong confirming the command had been accepted. Soft Jazz, Late 3010 Era, random.

The music started playing its soothing beat, and he smiled. Sinking into the terminal seating, moulded for his body, he felt relaxation creep over him.

All remaining irritation and frustration tended to melt at times like this. This was his domain. There wasn’t anything he couldn’t do behind a keyboard and coding wall.

He accessed his current open files and comm link channels. There were a dozen messages, but they could be dealt with when he was back up top again.

He considered the meal selection they’d given him with a contented nod. Burger, potatoes, and mass – his favourites. It was all reconstituted food of course, nothing natural, but the flavours were pretty accurate to the real thing from what he’d been told. The flavours were even built up to offer a more stimulating effect. Who needed real anymore, and it was all good for the body. The shape was more tradition than anything else.

Devon opened up his food container and took a whiff. He smiled further.

Station life was too sterile. Flavours were great for the mind and body, but he missed smells the most from growing up Earthside. Deodorizers and sanitizers kept things too neutral. Even now, antibiotic and cleansing gasses seeped in through lower grates. He shrugged, deciding to enjoy each experience while he could.

Before he could get too far into his meal and work, a familiar orange circle popped up on his desktop, just beneath his browser history list. It started to vibrate and sound off, and he tapped on it. The touch screen controls responded, and his coding window of blue on white was now shared with a vid window.

Kaleese Pilan’s smiling face beamed across with the usual grey-beige cubicle background with cluttered bins and paper trays. Her ceramic mug had clearly spilled, damp cloth bunched up nearby. A few light pens rolled free on that busy desktop beside an opened food container. Devon didn’t recognize her meal. It was something green and yellow.

Kaleese’s red hair had been tied back behind her shoulders, those green eyes brilliant against all those dimmer cubical colour tones. They were implants of course, but what did that matter?

There you are! she announced with that grin. I’ve been trying to link up for near an hour.

Devon blushed. Sorry. Had a meeting, nothing too much, just missed some work time. Making it up now.

When you should be sleeping? she surmised. She was looking around like she was inspecting Devon’s Life Hatch from what her vid window would tell.

Well, yeah. I guess. He felt his blush increase. He took another bite of burger and swallowed it down, clearing his throat. And eating, he added, holding up his container, like you I see.

It was her turn to blush, hot red like her hair. I abandoned that hours ago, she groaned. It’s all cold now, and these things can’t be reheated, not if you want them to taste any good.

I hear that.

How’s that one subroutine going? She typed something on her end. The air control for the redundant backups? They keep hassling me for an update down here.

I got the relay protocols running, Devon mumbled, but once they update the air and comms channels, I’ll need a new build or two. The work load’ll just be too much as is.

That’s expected. Kaleese checked another window, tapping away, chewing on her lower lip. Send me what you’ve got. I’ll swap you for some updated gravometric readings.

Devon transferred the file into his outbox. The connection was near instantaneous. He received a file back in return just as quickly. It was opened in its plain white window. Orange and red words mixed with blue. Devon glanced the coding over a moment before nodding, then, frowning.

Can I get the whole program?

Kaleese frowned back where she took a quick drink. Afraid not. All I ever see anymore are references to security protocols. The subfolders have already been uploaded to your servers up there. It’ll run when you apply that code. No worry there. Devon sighed. I like your work, Kaleese mused, nodding. This is awesome. I’ll send it along. How are you doing up there anyway? I know you’re not sleeping well.

Devon had to chuckle. I’m a little lonely at times. I could still use that visit you keep promising.

They cancelled my vacation time again. Someone passed through her cubical. The woman was saying something he couldn’t hear. Kaleese nodded, her cheerful expression replaced by a more serious frown. She said something back. I need to go, she announced, disappointed, guarded. I’ll be back online tomorrow. The window went black. She was offline just like that.

I’ll be here.

He nodded and logged off, and he stared at that blank window a moment longer before closing it. She was his live contact with normal, his escape from the trappings of life. And she was good looking, funny, and had an amazing smile. There were usually pleasantries and jokes, a lot of smiles. He wondered what she’d been told before logging out.

He tapped the holoprojector to the right of his computer, and a blue globe sprung to life above it. The planetoid hologram rotated on its axis, slow and majestic.

Euphantius Ano, he mumbled with a grin, what this is all about. A new home without the fear, without the past dogging my heels. A sigh. With any luck, he added with a shrug, if she doesn’t miss the assignment, with her too.

It was a chance at a new, comfortable life. It was worth all the disappointment. It was what kept him working steadily while others like his friend Lester took shortcuts. It was his reason and rhyme.

A stifled yawn. Even dedicated as he was, even he had limits. I’ll finish this tomorrow. It can wait.

He saved the files and closed the computer down, yawning more fully. His meal was quickly finished. With the table slid away again, he curled up under covers and slipped off into dreamland.

Raffe

Devon ran a debug. Sitting back and watching the code race up in a quick stream of blues and greens, some yellow mixed in here and there, he sighed. The new data Kaleese had sent him was passing all the tests. His gravometric program seemed to be working fine. Even if he didn’t have access to the exact subfiles and subroutines he was enacting.

Security was ridiculous.

He was building up code that would one day run the new planetoid, Euphantius Ano, and he didn’t have access to its most important programming. Without him, it wouldn’t run. Life support, lights, gravity, everything – they were creating the code of life in a sense, and they were kept from how that life was being shaped?

It wasn’t always about important details for that matter. How many rooms the planetoid would have, what colour they’d be painted, access codes to the washrooms – that kind of detail was also kept secure in those hidden files they could only run through but not read. They certainly weren’t allowed to write them.

They were essentially working blind.

Where was the logic in that?

His program checked out. The gravometric routine would run smoothly for one cycle. The planetoid would turn smoothly for one full rotation and create its artificial gravity as planned. Of course, when the routines were added in, timing would be off, and his coding would need to be corrected and rerun. They were essentially proving the planetoid was a viable project at this point. That’s what he’d been told. Before money was spent and actual construction was started, the World Government wanted to know that it would work.

Like the hidden files, it made little sense.

Why not just build the thing?

Are you busy?

Devon glanced up with a frown. It took him a moment to lift from the daze of coding and recognize Lester in his slacks and striped shirt. Devon had never gotten why people wore stripes. They didn’t really look good on anyone. Blinking a few times, he nodded.

Not really. What’s up?

His friend smiled and slipped in around the cubical wall, pulling a chair up and sitting in it. I was wondering if you had those support programs you mentioned yesterday yet? I’m trying to run some lighting algorithms, and they just can’t get through the new blocks.

Lester smiled smartly. There was a show of confidence, but Devon picked up anxiety in his speech. He usually wasn’t this quiet for that matter, not even during a work unit.

I’ll check, Devon mumbled, positive Lester would spill what was bothering him soon enough. He always did. Windows were opened and scanned. The virus check program is complete. The debug support files are still building. They just changed a few more overnight, so it’ll need another few minutes. Lester nodded distractedly. You can wait if you like.

If you insist.

Devon rolled his eyes. No problem.

Did you hear?

Devon returned to his main window, saving his gravometric program and opening the next project file to be coded. Did I hear what? He was presented with a subroutine for backing up files for emergency use. These were never that difficult. There’s always some kind of rumour going around, and they’re usually a hundred percent fake. He smiled smartly, but Lester frowned. What?

They found one. Devon frowned now. Lester sat back, shrugging, glancing around. They seized a Raffe yesterday, his friend mumbled, hands clasped at waist, fingers tapping one another. Took him right out of his office down Earthside, dragged him away kicking and screaming, before they tased him a dozen times and left him drooling and pissing his suit.

Devon’s mood dropped in an instant, but he couldn’t show his true reaction, so he nodded distractedly and shrugged like it wasn’t that big a deal.

Not that the jerk didn’t deserve it, Lester put in with an anxious grin, as if he’d just remembered how funny the situation was. Devon smirked right along. Inside, he saw himself being dragged off and tased until he’d peed his pants, and he knew fear.

Still, his friend grumbled, to treat him so badly. They aren’t that much different than we are, right? Devon wasn’t sure how to safely respond. Lester was making sure no one else had heard him say those words. Was that a safe sign?

They did wig out and kill those people, Devon suggested with a wince.

Lester frowned, then, swallowed and nodded. That was fifty some years ago now. A pensive moment and quick nod. And sour smirk. It’s not their fault the scientists infused them with alien DNA. Devon continued his more stoic reaction, and Lester shook his head, smiling wider. No matter, you’re right, his friend noted with his more usual, more confident and decided tone. They wigged out and killed some people, so they hunted down and imprisoned all the hybrids they’d made to that point.

Except this one, Devon countered glumly.

Well, yeah. His friend was looking around like he needed to leave. A few Raffe escaped back then. They’ve been hiding all this time. An exaggerated shrug. One less, nothing too big. Say, send me those files when they’re finished? I just remembered that I have a message to send, and it’s time-coded.

Devon nodded, and his friend slipped off again leaving his cubical with its off-white walls and neatly stacked bins. Panic was seeping to the surface.

Devon could feel those walls and what they represented closing in on him. He wanted to scream and cry. He wanted to run, anywhere, as long as his legs would carry him.

But where would he go?

Where couldn’t they find him?

He opened his news channel.

Raffe uncovered in Plain Sight!

Monsters among us!

Devon’s fear morphed into a contained rage. Monsters!? Raffes weren’t monsters! He closed his eyes and swallowed his ire. They were feared and hunted out, but they were people. He felt a tear streak his face which he quickly wiped away. They were just people who’d been genetically infused with alien DNA at the World Government’s design. Most of them hadn’t even volunteered for that matter.

The Raffelom aliens had been beaten, but they’d left their tech behind to be studied and used. They’d also left bodies, and the scientists had wanted hybrids. When five of those hybrid humans, Raffes, had killed their human handlers, they’d all become the enemy.

Most Raffes they uncovered now weren’t even first gen Raffe. They were the children of those first hybrid humans. All they’d done wrong was being born. And that made them vile? That made them a violent threat? How did that work!?

He tipped his head back and forced his hands to stop shaking. His fingers were going white. It took more than a few solid breaths before his rage was fully under control and grip was released. When he opened his eyes again and stared at the news stories flashed across his screen, he still felt the anger, but he could more calmly close those windows and leaned forward, washing his face with his hands.

He was on the station. He didn’t exist. There was no trace of him in the system, so they couldn’t find him. Why would they even start looking? He was safe.

He kept reminding himself of those reassuring details. And he was helping design the new planetoid where he’d find a new home under a new ident where he could hide even better. That was the most important bit of hope he had to hold onto.

If he was to get onto the planetoid, they’d have to build it. For that to happen, they’d need their codes, his codes, so he needed to keep a level head. He needed to ignore the extra security and limitations the World Government put up against him. He had to play their game; only, he had to play it better.

His anger dwindled into its more usual, accepted lament. The feeling of powerlessness returned, and he focused on his sense of hope. That returned him full circle back to his more open, clearer mindset of the work at hand. There was no emotion to work. It was just ones and zeroes in sequential colours.

Now if only Lester would return with a good bit of humour this time. Maybe he could actually manage an honest smile.

0003

Hey! I got you this time.

Devon was leaning back, rubbing his neck. He offered a tired grin. Yeah, he mustered, here I am.

What’s wrong? Kaleese asked from her inset vid window, concern wrinkling her brow. Devon noticed how she wore a dress today. She never wore dresses. You look tired. Or worried about something?

Devon smiled. Just debugging a root algorithm that’s gone awry. Someone’s tried to add their own code to it and failed miserably. Took me near an hour to figure out what was wrong.

Kaleese was nodding quietly on her side, Earthside. Devon liked how she had her hair tied back behind one ear. It made him wonder if he should have done something with his, not that straight hair ever did much. Did she even like men with wavy hair for that matter?

He instantly closed his eyes and berated himself. She was a co-worker. She was an Earthside partner put into place to make sure he wasn’t coding wrong. She was a check in the system. She likely had a boyfriend no matter what she said. But she was good looking and talked a good story. And his heart was willing to give her all the chances to be true.

Headache? she asked.

Nothing, he lied. You’ve changed your hair.

Oh, you noticed. She smiled swinging her head left and right. Had that done this morning. You like it? Devon nodded easily enough. Well, that’s two of us. Devon found himself smiling. It felt good. Why fight it? I’m hoping you’ve got something for me down here. They’re all antsy about getting programs and coded work in. I think they’re moving on to construction phase soon.

Devon was fully alert now. Really?

I think so. Why else would they be so on me for deadlines that aren’t there?

Devon had been wondering why his time-tables had been moved up. I’ll send what I’ve got, he mumbled, copying his saved file folder into his send box. In a few taps it was gone. A soft ping told him it had been received. Kaleese was busy typing a moment later. I hear you had some trouble down there yesterday, he casually put in.

She glanced up, then left and right. Don’t know what you mean.

He almost pressed the point, but she stared through her camera tight-lipped, eyes wide. A second later, she was smiling again and typing anew, and Devon accepted the skipped dialogue.

Higher ups monitored the chat and business channels. What did she have to say that would be so hush-hush? It must have something to do with what had been silently exchanged last night between her and that other woman. The mystery irked him, but again, they were his higher ups too. As Cornnach kept reminding him and he knew all too well, anonymity was his saviour.

Your work’s impeccable as always, she cheered with a smirk. She licked her lips as she typed on, mouse and light pen used at random. There’re a few errors in the one relay subroutine you’ve written?

That one. Devon winced. I ran it a dozen times up here, and I checked it clear through thrice, but it won’t run through the error checks. I was hoping you could check it over for me. More new code updates we don’t have?

Can do. Already on it. Did you see the meteor shower the other night? She was working in another window, talking distractedly, no eye contact. Devon watched a shadow pass behind her, a supervisor monitoring her work. They were never this vigilant.

No, I missed it, but I saw the Borealis. You can see the whole ring up here depending on what angle we’re at in rotation.

I’d love to see that, she mused, musical and cheerful. A momentary flinch betrayed the outer cheer. Devon’s concern was definitely mounting, but he had to smile too. At least, he’d picked up that much and pretended to not have noticed anything. She was typing away again, mouthing questions, then, nodding and typing on.

There’s a ship leaving next week, Devon put in. He started checking his own current work while he talked. He wanted to find out what was going on. Get her up to the station at last to ask in person? Keep busy so no one would suspect he wasn’t just being talkative? That vacation you keep promising? he prompted. Make it a business trip and help me finish my work faster maybe.

I’d love that, but. She sighed and shrugged. Three people are sick. I swear it’s a conspiracy, she joked with a broad smirk. I can’t see anything wrong on this end, she mumbled, biting her lower lip. The error check is still catching it in the same places though. I’ll send it further up and let them look at it. I’ll let you know what they say.

That’d be great.

My pleasure. I’ve got some files for you to write for me, well, for the project. Some of the others are falling behind. They’re hoping you don’t mind helping us catch up.

Devon closed his eyes and groaned. This wasn’t the first time he was carrying their load. He never even knew which one or more of his co-workers weren’t keeping up. They never told him that much. Sure, no problem. She smiled knowingly, and he shrugged. Give me a day or two?

Was going to just say that. There was a gong overhead. At the same time, something chirped from her window. I’ve got break, she announced, got to let you go.

And I’ve got lunch, he allotted. Until tomorrow. She smiled and nodded, waving her goodbyes.

He logged off first this time. He was tired of closing her dead windows. He was tired of pining over a woman he’d never met, would likely never meet for that matter. If only he felt safe making serious friends on station. But he didn’t.

He saved his work and logged out. The hard drive was station-based. It never fully shut down.

Standing up, he noticed Lester and a few others gathered around someone else’s computer laughing at some pictures he couldn’t make out. And they weren’t getting their work done? Go figure.

He curled his nose and left, ignoring Lester calling him over. He needed space. He needed to clear his head at least. His days were usually quite calm and simple. The last few days were just too overwhelming anymore.

He was intercepted on his way to the GravShaft by a messenger in white. The man smiled stiffly and transferred the letter to his reader after he’d passed a thumbprint scan. Devon was left watching the man in his white garb walk off feeling dumbfounded.

No one used messengers much anymore.

Devon glanced left and right. No one was watching him. The crowd stared at their tablets or handheld units or mumbled to one another as usual. It was the common mix, so he shrugged and walked on, casually opening up his inbox.

It wasn’t there.

He stopped to close and open the inbox again. Still nothing.

What’s going on?

He was not going to be beaten! He tapped on weaving mindlessly through the crowd like everyone else, invisible in his efforts to track down a record of the download, but there was no record of him ever receiving a download. So what had the messenger just delivered? He almost turned back to track the man down when he noticed something odd in the top corner of his screen: a corner icon, like a rounded lip, like the corner of a page without the page.

It wasn’t supposed to be there.

Pressed in by the crowd, he took the GravShaft down to D Ring and stepped aside, letting everyone pass. He tapped on the corner icon and was taken to a beige screen with rather simple words.

Relay Routines Firewalled. Don’t Share.

Will Explain Later. CC.

Devon was truly dumbfounded now. His relay program that wouldn’t run? The one he’d just shared with Kaleese? Firewalled? It made no sense why his program would be firewalled, but it explained why it wouldn’t pass the error checks.

Don’t share? Who would explain later?

He watched the message dissolve digitally until he was staring at his usual home screen. The icon was gone. He was sure he wouldn’t find any trace that he’d just read anything. Who had access to coding like this? And who was CC?

Devon glanced around feeling like he’d gotten himself in deep, but in deep with what? And why him? He walked on, slipping his reader under an arm so he could wipe his palms dry.

A pair in dark green space suits passed. He stopped to stare after them. The shoulders and knees were larger, but the waist, chest, and leg material was form-fitting. Neither man nor woman bore much weight. The helmets had been folded back into a thick collar, and they talked quietly, almost conspiratorially. Devon wasn’t the only person to follow them with curious gazes.

One more oddity to add an anxious step.

He was still feeling edgy as he approached the cafeteria only to find two more people, both men this time pointing to Life Hatches. Suddenly not hungry anymore, he turned around aiming for anywhere as long as they were nowhere near.

Maybe he’d run into CC and get some solid answers to what was going on.

0004

Sir? Devon was shaken awake, groggy and uneasy, but increasingly alert. Sir? the man asked again. Devon nodded, blinking, startlingly aware he was slumped down on bench in a Viewing Lounge with the Earth played out below him. You should find your Life Hatch to sleep in, sir, the man added with a friendly smirk.

Yes, thank you, Devon mumbled, smiling jokingly, nodding the comment off. Passed out I guess. Won’t happen again.

The security guard nodded as well and left, rejoining his partner at the door and walking off. Devon sat up and stared out at the Earth. Cloud cover blurred most of the southern hemisphere except the South Pole.

The one silver spike the Raffelom had drilled into the pole remained, visible even from space. They’d been drilling for minerals, or so people figured. It served no purpose anymore. They just couldn’t remove it without doing damage, so it remained.

Devon remembered coming down to avoid whatever the new arrivals were up to. After that, he supposed he’d just passed out. His reader beeped, and he instinctively lifted it to look at.

Three missed messages?

This latest one was the same source address, but he didn’t recognize it. Another mystery? He was tired of mysteries. He had enough to worry about in his life without all this extra anxiety.

Yes? he groaned heavily, tapping the reply button. He’d face this cloaked messenger, likely the same CC as before. He’d get it all over with.

The screen turned grey. Four pages of coded language and broken number lines scrolled past before the screen went white, then, blank black. What on Earth?

Kaleese’s face popped up with a dark brown and blue background. Devon figured it was a chair and couch. The beige wall could be her home? It was pretty bland, but then again, he lived in a utilitarian Life Hatch, so who was he to judge? He made to speak, but she held up a hand and typed something into an unseen keyboard.

Are you alone?

Devon glanced around, confused, but nodded. Kaleese was typing again. The screen brightened a little. The colours were a bit more cheerful, but it was all still pretty bleak.

Sorry about that, she mumbled, her voice a little garbled at the end of each word. It’s hard to get an unmonitored message up to that station. I tried a few times. Where were you?

Devon wasn’t sure what to say. I fell asleep, he finally replied. Why do you need to get an unmonitored message up here? What’s going on with you lately? The expressions this morning, that person talking to you last night, the person watching you today for that matter – what’s up?

You’ve no idea, she groaned, leaning forward on her elbows and shaking her head. They’ve upped all the security since yesterday. That person they caught? The Raffe you heard about? Devon nodded, trying to seem only mildly interested. He was an accountant in our financial department down here. His office was just two floors up. Damn, so close, and no one knew!

Devon smiled politely, nodded quietly.

I wouldn’t have known, Kaleese mumbled on, washing her face with her hands before staring at the monitor and vid screen, lips pursed. He was a good guy, a nice guy, always good for a joke. A moment’s pause, then, a tired shrug. I’m not even sure how they found him out. Likely cut himself or got sick? His digital fingerprint had to be solid to get where he was, so it wasn’t anything he sent to someone. I don’t know.

And they’re sure he’s Raffe? Devon checked. I heard they mixed it up with the one person a year back, pretty much ruined her life in the process.

Kaleese looked puzzled. I don’t know, she stuttered, scrunching up her face. Really? Hadn’t heard about that one.

It was covered up pretty quickly.

Devon would never forget how adamantly she’d argued for recompense; then, they’d stopped talking about her. The whole case was just dropped, nothing on any channel. Nothing since.

All I know for sure is that they’re monitoring our every discussion and dialogue twice as closely as before, Kaleese grumbled, eyes wide. It’s frightening to have someone looking over your shoulder every second, and they’re checking everything I send and receive, your reports and files too. Evan complained this morning. She closed her eyes and licked her lips. They had him in meetings all afternoon. He left saying he was alright, but he looked scared, real scared. It’s like they think we’re all Raffe now, like they’ll call out the militia on us.

You’re fine, Devon mumbled, clearing his throat. They’ll see you’re not Raffe soon enough. Security measures will drop again. He thought about the relay program they’d had trouble with, the one the unknown CC had warned him not to share. Does this have anything to do with the error issues this morning?

She paused a moment before shaking her head. I don’t think so, but maybe. You followed all the protocols, as did I. There was nothing out of place. I don’t think it’ll raise any flags. She curled her nose. That being said, I caught sight of a memo this morning, after we spoke.

She gazed off as if wondering if she should say anything. "They’re starting an audit of all subcontracted companies working under the World Government, all projects current and future, and that includes Mason-Veels Technomry Interglobal, you guys. MVTI isn’t number one on the list, but they’ll be up there going through all your files soon enough.

Your boss, Clive Cornnach, had better be ready with everything documented and double spaced. I give them a week at the most before they’re at his door.

Devon glanced away, that anxiety back full force. It was easy to hide from the system when no one was looking at him, but if they were up Stationside checking numbers and faces, they’d realize he didn’t belong soon enough. At least now his fear was grounded in something real.

Thanks for the warning.

Yeah, she mumbled, blushing, well, I owe you a lot. If it weren’t for the times we’ve talked, I’d have not had a moment of fun this last month. Devon, surprising himself, smiled. She shrugged, smirking guiltily. Take care of yourself up there. If you need anything, call. Just be careful what you say. I wouldn’t want them to suspect anything, even if it isn’t there.

He nodded, and they closed down their link. MVTI was being audited? They’d be up there soon. The unknown visitors already on station were unaccounted for. If they were World Government Agents, it was already too late.

All he could do was hope Cornnach had a plan. He’d helped keep him hidden for years. Devon hoped there was way out of this one, or it really was the end.

Agency

The next few days were a blur. In truth, they were a mess of stress and anxiety that cycled through with all too much clarity, but after a while, even the clearest of events become a mottled chaos.

More Agents arrived in their dark green space suits. At first, people would joke that they expected the station to implode feeling the need for those suits, but once those Agents started asking questions, once they flashed their World Government badges around a few times and a few people were shuttled off station, quietly, with no explanation, the jokes subsided into a quiet murmur. Then, a few more days of the same, and people just watched very tensely as they passed, or they focused even more so on their vid pads and handheld units, completely avoiding eye contact in the corridors.

Devon went untouched for a while. It was the third day an Agent actually asked him a question. She’d wanted directions to the GravShaft. He’d stuttered a moment before finally pointing the way. She’d smiled politely enough, but he felt sure she’d been watchful as she’d left. It had taken a moment to remember what he’d been doing after that.

I wish they’d just leave, someone had mumbled in passing.

The man’s friend had grunted low. Had us turning our own Life Hatches over the other day, he’d grumbled. Took my personal database too. Bet I’ll never see that again. All my pictures were on it too.

They’ve no right.

That’s the problem. They’ve all the rights, and we’ve given it to them. It’s our own fault.

Devon had closed his eyes, gathered his senses and walked on, recovering his purpose at a steady, bothered gait. He’d been late for his work unit, but Lester had just smiled politely. Everyone else in their cubicles had pretended to not have noticed any missed time, but Devon felt sure at least one of them had made the note in case they were asked about anything suspicious.

He’d conceded he might just be paranoid.

It was the fourth day they’d taken the first programmer aside for questioning. Devon wasn’t even sure what his name was. That hit him as odd, but he shook that off. The man, greying, fifty, fifty-five – he’d glanced around in a panic as the Agents had walked him out. Devon had tried to keep working, but every time he lifted his gaze, the other programmers were looking around too.

When the man had returned, he’d said nothing. Lester had wormed his way over and started a quiet muttering. Devon figured the result had been nil by the worried expression on his friend’s face when Lester had returned to his own station It was like he was feeling as lost as Devon felt.

Lester’s requests became more sparse in general, then, stopped. He became the steady worker who made every request by the book, no loans or special requests. Devon felt quite lost without his friend’s random and mostly odd jokes.

The back log wasn’t helping any. The terminals were working slower. Everything they typed was being monitored. Devon had the security markers memorized, and his debugs ran through too many cycles for normal. Frustration was mounting to a boiling point.

And then they started physically checking work.

Devon played along. He found himself explaining what he was coding at least twice an hour, and at one point, someone had literally watched him write the code. Devon was certain the man had no clue what he was doing. For all the man knew, he could be coding a sequence of flushing runs for a toilet, or maybe a redundant backup for an automatic stove they’d be using on the planetoid.

What’s the red colour mean?

That’s an error.

That specific red?

Devon had smiled patiently enough. Well, this subroutine controls, or at least, will control the amount of water the cistern will release per hour, as selected by the user. The man had just blinked. This error in particular is telling me that it can’t find a command string. The wording seems right which means I likely wrote it down wrong further up or maybe in one of the five support files the subroutine’s relying on. The man had nodded. Devon had sighed and returned to work, blinking wide.

The mutterings were the worst.

Devon had found he quite liked watching people in the cafeteria. Their laughter or scowls were so entertaining. He’d even spent a good bit of time trying to read their body language and figure out what they were saying. Those times he’d stopped work long enough to eat that is. With the Agents watching them so closely, he took to eating in the cafeteria on schedule, but it wasn’t the same.

As the days slowly passed, as in the corridors, people stopped laughing in the cafeterias too. They muttered back and forth, hardly touching their food. A few people were taken out while eating for questioning. He wasn’t sure if they remained on station after that or not. None of this improved the mood any.

And talks with Kaleese became more guarded. They spoke about business, no jokes, no jibes. She still had people watching her too.

And there were no more secret talks. He laid awake most nights hoping to hear from her, but there was nothing but silence.

With the fifth day rolling around, things deteriorating as they were, Devon felt about to burst. It was like waiting for the hangman to finish tying the noose, knowing his turn was coming.

And then the fateful day.

There was no blur to save him.

Mr. Kaleck? Devon looked up from his monitor and put on his best, most professional smile. The Agent didn’t even return the effort. Someone would like to speak with you.

Cloak and Dagger

Devon was flanked on either side on his walk towards the GravShaft. Devon couldn’t help but fret over what was coming next, and he was glancing as they walked, looking for a way out.

He could mutter the wrong word into the GravShaft and go further down. Go up instead? He could take off and hide somewhere until he figured things out.

He’d tried to get a hold of Cornnach a few times during the week, but the man had always been busy. There’d been Agents around him, or he hadn’t responded to messages. If he tried to contact the man now, would he get the same result?

Devon feared he truly was on his own.

He never made it to the GravShaft to go anywhere, by design. As a wide swath of people pulled back to give them way, the Agents stopped to check their tablets. They’d all heard the beeps, but only Devon had seen the messenger pass to the right. The Agents were quick to run off leaving Devon standing there, thoroughly dumbfounded.

He tried to fade into the crowd which seemed as confused as he was, and he pulled out his handheld.

C Ring. Compartment 453. Now. CC.

Devon glanced around nervously. Did he listen? Was this intended to save him or lead him on to some deeper malice? For all he knew, the Agents knew nothing. He might just talk to them and be excused. By following this trail, he could get himself in so deep that he’d be lost for sure. He closed his eyes. In his position, he didn’t see a way out, not a peaceful one. He had to avoid an interview with the Agents at all costs, so he had to take the chance this CC knew something that might help.

As he aimed himself for the GravShaft, he ran through C names in his head. He’d been doing that for a few days, to no avail. It had gotten him nowhere useful. He’d met quite a few people whose first names started with C, but none whose last name had a C. It might be the person’s department title or office designation, but nothing fit there either.

He dropped down to C Ring and padded along trying to act as casual as possible. Compartment 453 wasn’t too far off. This was the office ring where most of the meetings took place. His Weekly Reviews happened here in Cornnach’s Office.

Unlike most people, they talked and shared coding he’d been working on. It wasn’t official since he wasn’t in the system. There was no grading system, no threat of reprisal like most people lived by.

He turned his head as three Agents ran past. They either didn’t notice him or didn’t care. They just kept running, and he released his held breath. Reaching 453, he swung the door in and glanced anxiously around.

It was empty!

Movement caught his eye as the door to the next room swung in automatically. There behind a silver desk in a modern, silver-blue room sat his boss, Clive Cornnach who beckoned him in.

Either it was the silver office with its clean and sterile desk, streamlined chairs, and up-to-date vid screens on the walls, or maybe it was Cornnach’s disappointed and tired expression. The man wasn’t even wearing his usual tailor-made suit. He had a spray-on suit like one of the Legalts would wear.

Devon stepped in with last few days replaying in his head. Little details that had stumped him were coming clearer as the door closed behind him. Things were fitting, but they weren’t any clearer, not really.

You’re CC?

Clive Cornnach smiled smartly, then, sourly. Didn’t think it would be too hard to figure out, boy. Sit.

But why? Devon protested.

Just sit, Cornnach groaned heavily. His glare was pressing. As always, on second request, Devon sat. He wasn’t sure why he’d always needed two demands. He just always had.

Why not tell me? he asked more meekly.

They might have traced the message however well cloaked I sent it, his boss grumbled. I couldn’t take the chance. I didn’t think it would take you so long to catch on, but go figure. The man sneered, rolling his eyes. He glanced about the room as if regretting being in there, like it was alien territory that offered no comfort whatsoever. And here we are talking of the end of days.

What, sir? Devon asked in a panic.

Cornnach smirked. Old movie. Never seen it? Devon shook his head. Silver office, conspirators facing an end to all they know coming up with a glorious plan to save it all? Devon just blinked. Cornnach ruefully shook his head. Now you’re making me feel old. He held up a hand to stop Devon’s retort. It’s neither here nor there. Let’s get down to this. You’ve made a real mess of this, boy.

Devon slumped back in his chair. I’ve made a mess this?

You weren’t supposed to send that error report.

I didn’t know that! Devon shot back sitting up again. All his pent up fear and frustration went into a defensive posture. I got the message after I’d already sent it. I’ve tried to talk to you several times this week, but you haven’t replied to messages, and everything’s been going wrong! I mean, it can’t get worse, can it? Not possibly! This can’t all be real.

He slumped