"Journey To Centauri" - читать интересную книгу автора (Meier Sid)
"There is someone on the ship. Someone unaccounted for." Captain Garland continued to watch the video matrix, his eyes darting from one camera view to another.
"It most certainly appears so," said Lal, his words hurried and clipped. "But there is no record of any cryocells opened. Could the system have malfunctioned this badly?"
"It is certainly possible," cut in Saratov. "We were struck. Our system is not foolproof. Still, these individuals made stealth a priority."
Garland nodded. "Saratov, have one of your people check the log file. Track down any unusual accesses made to the system. Find out how someone, anyone, could have been awake and moving about before core staff." Garland scribbled an access code on his touchpanel and quicklinked it over to the science console. "Check this as well."
"A section of your personal journals?"
"Yes. These are impressions I recorded after waking up. Impressions of people standing over my cryocell, speaking. Shadows only..."
"Very well." Skepticism flickered on Saratov's face. "We will...look at them for what they are." Half-dreams came the unspoken thought, eddying through the command bay. A frail man's crisis of faith.
Garland continued to address him. "We should do a sweep of the ship, and station people to watch the security matrix. Alert your staff to be on the lookout for any unusual activity."
"Yes, Captain." Saratov paused, looking down at his own gaunt hand resting on the hard smooth surface of the console. "Should I have my staff arm themselves? If they are in danger, I should have the code key to the armory."
Garland's head snapped around. "The armory!" He sat down at the nearest console and punched up the entry logs to the armory. "We should have checked it first thing." Thin lines of yellow and green flickered nervously on the touchpanel.
"No breach. Still..." He turned to Pravin. "Has anyone cross-checked the access log? Are we sure it hasn't been tampered with?"
Pravin's fingers danced for a moment. "No breach apparent. Still..."
"Still, the log is a file like any other. What if the log itself were changed?"
"Difficult to say. It is encrypted, but the encryption is not 100% secure."
Saratov cut in. "You are wasting your time. The log is changed hundreds of thousands of times a second, if not more. Unless we can single out a precise timeframe..."
Garland shook his head, tapped his fingers on the edge of his console. "No, never mind that." One hand reached up to brush the U.N. seal on his breast. Abruptly he turned, addressed the young ensign still at the science console.
"Ensign Khosa. Look for a time when the log wasn't changed for a period of time. A...break of some kind. Start one day before that video footage, then work forward to the impact, and then backward from that same point." Garland turned to address Saratov. "Doctor Saratov. Send one of your crew to do a visual check on the armory."
"My engineers are valuable, Captain. We have less than 36 hours to repair the ship. I do not believe I should have my people patrolling hallways or hunched over video monitors."
Garland nodded curtly and turned away. "Pravin, we may have to find a few noncritical staff to awaken. In the meantime find the nearest person to the armory and have them do a visual."
"I will do it," came Saratov's voice, sheathed in steel. "But if you believe my people are in danger, we must arm ourselves. You must transfer to me the armory code key."
"Negative. Only Doctor Yang can give out that code."
"Doctor Yang, or yourself."
"There is no reason yet. Those weapons are for use against an external threat until Doctor Yang says otherwise. Now tend to the ship. We need your people with calipers in their hands, not shredder pistols."
Saratov remained still for a moment, and Garland noted the tremble in his hands, held tight against his side. "I will register my concerns in the log. We can not afford any distractions, Captain. Remember that." And then Saratov turned, activating his commlink as he did.
Armory Log File
Armory sealed M.Y. 2060. All weapons accounted for, General Briggs presiding.
Ship's launch M.Y. 2060.
MY 2060 - 2099 :
MY 2099 : Access granted, self-running executable [source: ship's main computer, thread ID 457.456.124.32.12274, validated secure]
MY 2099 : Password changed per instructions, J. Garland.
MY 2099 : Armory hatch released.
MY 2099 : Armory hatch sealed.
MY 2099 : Armory hatch released.
MY 2099 : Armory hatch sealed.
MY 2099 : Restart armory log per coded instructions.
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Journey to Centauri : Episode 8
The lid to his cryocell hissed open, and Sheng-ji Yang emerged into darkness and immediate danger. From the shadows surrounding his cell peered the narrow deadly eyes of shredder pistols, their barrels leveled directly at him.
Sheng-ji stood calmly, using his hand against the cryocell to steady himself as waves of post-sleep nausea washed over him. No weakness...his eyes flickered in the darkness, marking the position of every enemy. He could not see their faces...the main lights in this bay appeared to be malfunctioning, or shut down, and he could see only the other cryocells with their soft blue glow, like phosphorescent flowers in a field of darkness.
He willed his muscles to relax with exquisite control. His eyes flickered, just once, across the black metal lockbox on the shelf at the foot of his cryocell. He wouldn't betray his intentions by looking at the box again, but in his mind he carefully reconstructed the exact positioning of the box on the shelf, its exact height from the floor and the position of the softly glowing shape of the digital print lock. The lockbox carried his personal arsenal: his shredder pistol, a submission rod and several sets of organic restraints.
"Move away from the cell. Follow the exact path we have laid for you." came a harsh, gravelly voice from a knot of shadows only two cells away. He looked down to see small glowing blue dots on the floor leading away from his cryocell. Why?
"On whose orders?" he asked, his throat husky from disuse...let the games begin.
"Do not answer him," came a soft, steely voice from a position, amazingly, even closer than the other, a peculiar dark knot of shadows barely an arm's length away. A chill crossed him, briefly...that this person dared to crouch so close to him. He read the shadows quickly, making out a silhouette. The shadow...this person...waited with catlike alertness, their spine burning tight as a wire. Who?
"Do not answer this man," the voice continued. "You are forbidden to speak to him. And, Doctor Yang, do not speak to them. Simply follow the path we have laid out for you."
"Am I to..."
Suddenly the shadow exploded into motion, and a black serpent crossed the distance to Yang in a heartbeat. Yang felt red hot wires of pain lace his neck, and he fell to his knees, cursing the post-sleep weakness that dulled his reflexes.
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