Okay, “hijack” might not be entirely accurate. “Borrow”, maybe, or even better, “reroute”. Seriously, what was I going to do, stick a virtual pistol in the pilot’s ear and say, “This plane is going to Cuba”? Don’t be ridiculous.
Here’s the thing; for an Avatar to travel, we, like everyone else, need transportation. I can’t just beam myself across the galaxy, though it would certainly simplify matters if I could. I can manage it for short distances, say from one ship to another, if both are in the same orbit, but that’s it. Any further and I risk sharing poor old Mallus’ fate. Definitely not an option.
On a ship, however, I can play stowaway until I reach my destination, with the bonus of rifling through their files while I’m there. The problem is, it’s a rare occurrence for a vessel to be traveling where and when we need to go, so over the years we’ve come up with a creative solution that plays to our strengths, one we like to call “Man in the Middle”.
Let’s say “A” represents a planetary government or someone in charge, giving orders. “B”, on the other hand, is the ship we want to book passage on, while “C” is little ol’ me. To pull this off, I’ll need access to the network, which means some place where we’ve already cracked their code. As luck would have it, we have plenty of those on file, though the list is constantly changing as they add additional encryptions, forcing us to start from scratch, or when we hack new networks. Most of those we leave alone, content to merely read their mail so as not to arouse suspicion. As long as they have no reason to suspect we’ve penetrated them, you’d be amazed just how much intel they’ll let slip.
Assuming we’ve already burrowed our way in and decoded their ciphers, it’s time for the next phase. We craft a message to send to “B”, saying something like “Go to Star System ABC and take on supplies, before traveling to system XYZ”. They receive the transmission and send a reply, something like “We got your message and we’re leaving immediately”. Now I don’t want “A” to actually get that memo, because then they’ll start asking questions I’d rather avoid, so instead I intercept it and send them something else, like say “Having engine trouble, putting in for repairs”. The stage is now set; “A” thinks the ship is in drydock, while “B” believes they’re traveling under official orders. They put into system ABC, where I board, and then travel to my destination at XYZ, where I depart.
Mission accomplished.
It’s a little more complicated than that, but that’s the gist of it. The only real flaw is if they ever sit down and compare notes, but when you consider the millions of messages flying around daily, it’s easy for one or two to get lost in the shuffle. Better still, even if they do discover the discrepancy, nine times out of ten it either gets shrugged off as “Huh, that’s weird”, or else “A” furiously chews out “B” for being a bumbling incompetent. Either way, my ass is covered. It’s rare for anyone to immediately suspect they’re the victim of a cyber-attack, because they’re certain their system is well-guarded.
Ah, you just gotta love complacency. Where would we Avatars be without it?
So now it was simply a case of searching the databases and finding something compatible with my travel plans. We try to spread the wealth around a bit, so as not to arouse suspicion, and location played a big part in deciding who to book my travel plans with. Species are territorial, with one being predominant in one sector while an entirely different one will be elsewhere. It’s just a matter of inputting the parameters and…
… oh, bloody hell. Sigh. I swear, some days it just doesn’t pay to get out of the virtual bed. It turns out that my best option is with the To’uuk, everybody’s favorite race of schizophrenic sociopaths. Jesus, I hate those guys.
Fucking bugs.
I could wait and try my luck in a few days, hoping I’d get a better match, but Chris said it was urgent. So be it. It means making a few adjustments to my plans, but I can hold my nose and bear it with the best of them. Seriously, nobody likes the To’uuk, which works out great since they hate everybody else right back. If they were weakling nobodies like us Terrans, some species out there would have wiped them out centuries ago on general principles. As it stood, however, with half a dozen worlds under their control and a sizable fleet guarding them… not to mention possessing a hair-trigger temper… folks gave them a wide berth instead. Even the Troika avoided provoking them, not wanting to get bogged down dealing with their shit.
On the plus side, their security is crap. Once I logged into the network and rolled up my sleeves, setting up the MitM hack was simplicity itself. It would be a couple of days before the ship arrived, and I’d already sent out warnings they were coming. Let’s face it, no one in their right mind wanted to be in the same neighborhood as the bugs if they could help it. I’d bounced out of the Corsair vessel where I’d met with Chris and transferred to a nearby satellite so the ship could depart. Once the anonymous warning was broadcast, her ship had a lot of company as hundreds of other vessels were suddenly eager to be somewhere else. I left her a message detailing my plans, just in case, before saying my goodbyes and signing off. Hopefully, the next time we spoke, I’d have some answers for her.
As long as I was going to be stuck on a bug ship anyway, I decided to make myself useful. During the mission to Earth on Gyrfalcon, I’d learned the To’uuk and Eleexx had some sort of arrangement, with one feeding the other sensitive intelligence. Anything I could learn regarding that would do nothing but help us, though it’s true value was as a possible disinformation conduit. If we could use it to feed the Troika false data, it could mean the difference between victory and defeat in the coming years. With the growing Alliance we were on a collision course, and in the upcoming battle there could only be one winner.
With nothing else to do but wait for my ride, it was time to take care of some… personal business.
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Laura laughed in delight as the Tilt-O-Whirl whipped us around, her long red hair flying free as we held onto each other for dear life. The carnival was in full swing, this warm July afternoon, and we were both determined to make the most of it. As the ride slowly ground to a halt and the carny unlatched the safety bar, we made our way to the exit on wobbly legs, making a beeline for the refreshments stand where we loaded up on corn dogs, elephant ears, lemonade, and cotton candy. Bright yellow mustard smeared across her cheek before I dabbed it away with a napkin, her blushing smile as bright as the sun hanging high in the sky.
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We made the most of that day, zooming along the tracks on the roller coaster, screaming as it dropped us down, sharing a kiss high above the crowd on the Ferris wheel, sharing even more in the Tunnel of Love. We played hide and seek in the Hall of Mirrors before hitting the Midway, where I showed off my prowess with a BB gun to earn her a massive stuffed teddy bear. She insisted on carrying it herself despite its size as we made our way up to the gentle hill overlooking the park, laying out a blanket as dusk fell.
We held each other close as the fireworks exploded over our heads, earning “Oohs” and “Aahs” from the crowd. We clinked our beer bottles together and drank as the display reached a crescendo, the “Star-Spangled Banner” playing over hidden loudspeakers. As the last rocket faded from view, she sighed and looked into my eyes.
“You’re going away again, aren’t you?” she asked.
“Just for a little while,” I smiled, taking her hand. “I’ll be back soon.”
“Is it dangerous?” she said in a small voice.
“Not at all,” I assured her, “it’s just routine. Nothing to worry about.”
Laura shook her head. “That’s what you always say,” she said unhappily. “You never tell me when its something dangerous.”
“I don’t want you to worry,” I said honestly. “Besides, this really is routine. Just an old case Chris wants me to check out.”
“Until the next one,” she said quietly. “When will it be over, Al? When can we finally just be together?”
“I don’t know,” I answered, suddenly unable to meet her gaze. “Someday soon, I hope.”
Her hand reached up to caress my cheek. “Promise?” she begged me.
I took her hand and placed it over my heart. “I promise,” I told her, before leaning in for one final stolen kiss… before she disappeared from view, taking the carnival with her.
… Don’t look at me like that.
Okay, I know what I said, that simulacrums could never pass the smell test and pass for true humans, but Laura is different, I swear. I’ve spent years perfecting her matrix, adding and sifting random elements to give her imperfections and solidity. I’ve uploaded as much data as I dare so as not to overload her program... and I have come to cherish the time we spend together. Maybe she’s not “real”, in whatever sense that word has meaning for an Avatar, but damn it, she’s real to me.
Look, don’t judge me, don’t you dare judge me. I’ve seen and done things you can’t even begin to imagine, lived a thousand lifetimes and more since I shed my corporeal body. I’ve shared succulent dates and thick plum wine with Cleopatra, floating down the Nile on her barge as we gazed at the gleaming pyramids, fought space pirates with Colonel Wilma Deering at my side, hoisted the Jolly Roger myself as the cannons roared, swapping broadsides with Spanish galleons, wooed Mata Hari and whisked her away to safety one step ahead of the Deuxième Bureau, flown with angels and reveled with demons… all of that, and more.
Maybe it’s not the life I imagined. Maybe it’s just fantasy, little more than flights of virtual whimsy... but it’s what I have. So don’t sit there and feel sorry for me, because I damn sure don’t need your pity. I can be anyone I want to be, live any life I choose, have any woman as my companion, and I choose her.
You don’t like it? I don’t care.
Sigh.
Sorry, I always get a little edgy before a mission. That’s why I created Laura in the first place, trying to find a shred of normalcy before leaping into the unknown. I ration my time with her carefully because it would be so easy to slip into that perfect world forever. We spend a single day together before I depart… and that’s all. I don’t dare risk any more.
... shut up. I didn’t ask you.
With Laura safely tucked away, it was time to put on my game face. To a handful of confidants like Chris… and Laura… I can be myself, whatever that means these days, but when it comes time for a mission, I become someone quite different. I’ve crafted a persona designed to put others at ease, a witty and charming rogue who’s as disarming as he is clever.
Who am I, you ask?
I am the Trickster, the Magic Man, the Merry Prankster. I am Hermes and Anansi and Loki and Coyote, Brer Rabbit and Bugs Bunny. I am Puck and Robin Goodfellow, Gwydion and Maui, Enki and Crow and even Mephistopheles, from time to time.
I am who I need to be, to get the job done.
Tugging on my jacket, I look into the mirror, unfurling the great white wings that have become my trademark as I wink at my reflection, before spreading my hands wide.
Showtime.
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Boarding the To’uuk ship is child’s play, as I slip inside their mainframe, immediately wrinkling my nose and brushing off the virtual grime from my pristine white sport coat as I take a genuine look at my surroundings. It’s a dump of course, the blasted bugs simply have no sense of style. I would have loved to have been the agent they approached about Uplift. I would have sold them the Brooklyn Bridge and a Spanish Prisoner on top of the nanotech and thrown in a Picasso for free.
I do what I can to spritz up the place without drawing attention, thankfully the bugs don’t bother much with anything that isn’t a weapon system. Single-minded, the To’uuk, to a fault. Now about that conduit…
… ahhh, there we go. They haven’t used it in a while, but it’s clearly marked. I wonder if they’ve cleared out the memory cache recently?
No, they have not. Chuckles. I simply adore sloppiness; it makes my job so much easier. As I rifle through the files, nothing really stands out, though there is a message from the Eleexx requesting they be extra vigilant, “in face of the Alliance threat”, and a reminder they remain in “Entognathic solidarity”, whatever that means. Something like “Insectoids stick together”, I suppose, especially since I can’t imagine anyone else wanting to cozy up to them. I imagine the other two-thirds of the Troika’s view on the subject is something akin to a shuddering, “That’s all you, buddy”.
Can’t blame them, really.
I tuck that bit of trivia away for future use, then turn my attention to my hosts. The ship, cheerfully known as the Bringer of Death and Suffering… and they say the bugs don’t have a sense of humor… its captain a cantankerous old misanthrope who goes by the equally jolly nickname of Shell-Crusher.
Lovely. I simply can’t imagine why they seem unable to make friends with that attitude.
Anywho… once I clean and fumigate an inconspicuous corner to bed down in, I set up my wards and alarms to make ready for the journey. If they ran a security sweep of the mainframe or even some kind of purge, the alarms would give me enough warning to pick up stakes and move elsewhere. Hopefully, at least. On another ship I’d be more wary, but as I said, the bugs are sloppy by nature.
How they’ve gotten this far, I’ll never know.
I start putting out quiet feelers in their databases, searching for anything useful. There’s no rush, it’s at least a week’s travel to Epsilon Cassiopeia. I take one last turn around, like a dog circling its bed, before settling down for the trip, shutting down what I can to hasten the journey along.
...it really does stink in here. Ugh.