Fractured Era: Legacy Code Bundle (Books 1-3) (Fractured Era Series) Page 15

  The Defect is a Lie.

  Medic Faust had never answered her—had never said it wasn’t.

  Something broke free inside Era, and the tightness in her chest released.

  I won’t go through with the abortion.

  She couldn’t do it. Not without seeing the truth for herself, with her own eyes.

  And she knew how she could access CD-1dy34b.

  Era had never been very good at deception. By the time she reached the repository for her shift, her suit stuck to her in all the wrong places, and every beat of her heart felt like a dying helio banging against her ribcage.

  Mali would see her and know what Era was planning. How could she not?

  A large crowd had gathered in the waiting area, and Era realized, with a start, that comms were going out today.

  Mali stood at the comm station, helping an older worker, a man whose name Era didn’t know. Mali handed holo gear to a waiting colonist and smiled when she saw Era walking through the doors.

  “Do we have an order today?” Era tried to say it like she didn’t care, but failed.

  “No, not yet.”

  Era’s muscles relaxed. Her plan hinged on being here when the cube order came in. But could she really do it? Could she really betray Mali?

  Mali’s eyes drifted to Era’s stomach, then she met Era’s gaze.

  You didn’t pry into the status of someone else’s pregnancy. Mali wouldn’t ask her about it, and Era didn’t trust herself to talk about it without blurting out her plan. “Where do you want me today?”

  “Transport’s going out. I’m about to help witness.” Mali tilted her head toward the table where Paige and Helice sat, two comm cases in front of them. “They’re handling incoming and outgoing, but we’re short on handhelds.”

  Era repressed a sigh. She’d have to record a message for Dritan. What would she say? How could she say it?

  “I’ll fix handhelds.” Era swiped her card across the scanner.

  Mali logged an eyepiece in and handed it to her. “I’ll be witnessing if you need me.”

  Era nodded and walked to storage. As she retrieved the bin of holos, her eyes drifted to the empty archive cube cases, and her heart sped up.

  If the chief brought an order today, she’d add the Legacy Code cube to it. But there were too many things she had to do to ensure she didn’t get caught. So many places where things could go wrong.

  She didn’t carry the bin to a cubic. Instead, she chose a table near the archivist station. She had to be close by if an order came. There’d only be one chance.

  Era worked on the handhelds, glancing up every so often toward the doors. She’d finished her fifth handheld when Chief Petroff walked in.

  She clutched the next handheld in one sticky palm and gestured to make it seem like she was working.

  “Excuse me,” the chief said.

  Era deactivated her eyepiece and looked up. The chief stood next to her table, an archive case in his hand.

  “I have an order for Mali.” He lowered his brow.

  Era’s stomach dropped, and she licked her lips. “She’s witnessing messages.”

  “Can you get her?” He said it slowly, dragging each word out like he thought she was some worthless half.

  Mali would reprimand Era for this, but what was this against the treason she was about to commit? She wiped her palms down her suit.

  “I’m busy right now,” she said.

  The chief’s face reddened, and Era reactivated her eyepiece. He grunted and walked off.

  Era waited a moment, her mouth drier than quin flatbread, then stood and walked over to the archivist station. She tried to act natural, but every movement felt stiff.

  The chief was talking to Paige now. Paige glanced her way and pointed to one of the recording cubics.

  Hurry. Sweat sprung up on Era’s forehead as she gestured to activate her eyepiece and connect it with the stationary’s display module. She pulled the diagnostic out and hooked it to the stationary.

  It took her less than a minute to locate the line of code she’d fixed a week earlier, the one that had caused the interface to go blank on Mali. She rewrote it, changing it back to the infinite loop glitch.

  Mali had exited the recording cubic and was speaking with Chief Petroff.

  Era’s stomach turned as she made a fist to close out the code and gestured to deactivate her eyepiece. She shoved the diagnostic under the station and stepped back just as Mali and the chief started walking toward her.

  Era put her hands behind her and took several deep breaths. Had Mali seen her? What’s my excuse for why I’m standing here and not fixing handhelds? What would Zephyr say?

  Mali drew closer and narrowed her eyes. “Era, please come get me next time.”

  “I…I will. I’m sorry.” Era focused on her scuffed boots.

  Why am I here, why am I here, why am I here?

  “I just wanted to find out how many working handhelds you need.” Lame.

  Mali’s brow wrinkled. “I need as many as you can fix.”

  Chief Petroff gave Mali his shift card and the archive case. Mali swiped his card and handed it back.

  “When do you need this by?” Mali asked.

  “I’ll be back at the end of shift.”

  “We’ll have it for you.”

  Chief Petroff’s steely gaze landed on Era again, and he headed for the door. She turned back to the table and clasped her hands over her stomach in a failed effort to stop it from churning.

  Mali swore under her breath. “Era. There’s that glitch again. How long will it take you to fix it? I hope I don’t need to go chase Chief Petroff down for his card.”

  “Depends on what kind of glitch it is.” She barely heard the sound of her own voice over the rush of her pulse.

  Mali sighed. “Try to get it working. I’ll go return these.”

  Mali walked toward the archives, and Era’s shoulders caved, all the tension in her giving way to fear and guilt. Maybe she was better at this deception thing than she thought.

  She attached her eyepiece to the system and fixed the glitch.

  When she finished, she took a quick look around. Still alone. No one paying attention to her.

  She accessed the cube order. Two files appeared. The order and a request for personnel files. She set her jaw and tapped the cube order.

  “New entry,” she whispered.

  A blinking dot appeared at the bottom of the list.

  “CD-1dy34b.”

  She released a slow breath when the code appeared in the slot. The subject material probably didn’t match whatever else executive had ordered, so she dragged it higher on the list. With luck, Mali wouldn’t notice the anomaly.

  Era closed the file out, then accessed the memory core to delete her eyepiece signature and the fact that she’d added an entry to the cube.

  She’d try to get back in here and delete the addition later, but she couldn’t worry about that now. Its presence on the list would be a mystery. An accidental add-on. She doubted they would even notice this extra cube.

  “Is it done?” Mali said.

  Era gripped the station, and her hands slipped down the edge, damp with sweat. Mali stood next to her, had appeared without Era hearing her approach.

  “It’s fixed.” Era disconnected her eyepiece and the diagnostic from the display module, and Mali checked her work.

  “Looks like a simple cube pull and data search,” Mali said. “I can handle this. I really need those handhelds.”

  “I’ll get back to it.” Era hurried away without waiting for a response.

  She watched furtively as Mali fetched the case from storage and brought it into the archives.

  Would Mali notice the cube she’d added, suspect something wasn’t right? Breathe. She tried to focus on the handheld she was attempting to fix, but her brain wouldn’t cooperate.

  Mali finally exited the archives with the case and took it straight to storage. Era felt the flush in her cheeks, the sw
eat dripping down her back.

  This thrill was new. It had an edge, yet filled her with a kind of wild, terrifying relief. She’d broken the rules, and no one had noticed.

  Once she fixed the other handhelds, she’d take the bin back to storage.

  And then she’d learn the truth.

  ∞

  Era pushed a working handheld to the side of the table and picked up the next one. Some glitch in the system kept the interface from loading. She wiped the sweat from her forehead and connected the diagnostic. The only way to fix this was to start over, delete everything. She reset the system to its original settings and loaded a fresh copy of the main program.

  The interface reappeared, and Era tested it. Everything worked.

  Sometimes the tech just needed a new copy of the program—a new chance to function smoothly.

  The time on her eyepiece told her she only had two hours left until the end of shift.

  I can’t do it.

  Why had she done something so stupid? If they found out now, would they call it treason? They might take away her clearance, switch her job, but she hadn’t accessed the cube yet. It wasn’t too late to back out, to forget she ever did any of this and hope no one up in executive noticed the extra cube in the case.

  “How many do we have?” Mali said from beside her.

  Era dropped the handheld.

  “You feeling alright?”

  “I’m okay.”

  “Chief Petroff will be back soon for the pull and comms. I want you to help me witness.”

  Era picked up the handheld she’d just fixed and pointed to the pile off to the side of the table. “I got those working. I’ll take the rest back to storage.”

  Era dropped the working handheld into the bin and hefted it into her arms. She carried it back to storage, bile inching further up her throat with each step. She swiped her card, and the door slid open. The lume bar illuminated the compartment, and Era stepped inside.

  The door slid closed behind her, and she pushed the bin onto the shelf. Only then did she allow herself to look at the archive cases on the shelf below. The case on top would contain the cube she’d added.

  I can’t do it. I won’t. She stood taller and exhaled. It wasn’t too late to stop this. What would Dritan say if he knew what she’d already done?

  She walked back to the door and leaned against the panel beside it, pressing her forehead to the cool metal. But I’ll be aborting our baby without ever knowing the truth. And the truth’s here. How long before I get another chance to see it?

  She groaned and focused on the panel in front of her. She popped it off and scrutinized the underlying circuitry.

  There it was. The wire that always gave Dritan and her so much trouble in their cubic. She never thought she’d be locking herself in on purpose.

  She disconnected the wire and hit the button next to the door to be sure her sabotage had worked. The door didn’t open.

  Every muscle in her body screamed at her to get out of the cubic, give this up, but she licked her lips and walked to the shelf. She plunged her hand into the bin and retrieved the handheld she’d fixed.

  She placed it on the floor and pulled the archive case from the shelf.

  Once I do this, there’s no going back.

  Era took a deep breath and opened the case.

  The line of silver cubes looked exactly like any other collection of cubes, except for the tiny numbers engraved into the sides of each of them. Era leaned in, squinting, and searched for the right cube.

  It should be somewhere in the middle of the group, if Mali had stored them in order.

  CD-1dy34b.

  She picked it up and pushed it into the handheld before she could change her mind. Once she activated her eyepiece, the cube would store her shift card information in its memory core. But she should be able to delete it, even if the memory core had security measures in place.

  The Defect is a lie.

  Let’s see if it is. She turned the handheld on and twisted her wrist.

  Rows of files appeared on the cube—too many for Era to search through. Her hand trembled as she tapped the first one and splayed her fingers wide to bring it up.

  A holovid shimmered into existence, and Era recoiled.

  The woman before her was ancient, older than anyone she’d ever seen. Watery brown eyes peered out from wrinkled, sagging skin. Was this a woman from Earth? People used to live longer, before life on the fleet put an end to that.

  The woman cleared her throat.

  “Name: Avia Sherman, Infinitek Lead Scientist, Genetic Research.

  This is the official reference file for genetic modification 2672 at allele rs120893068. The modification is heritable, appearing in half of all fetuses. It results…”

  Avia’s voice cracked and she cleared her throat.

  “It results in serious heart and lung defects. Early attempts to repair the defective gene have met with little to no success. The only way to increase the lifespan of affected newborns is through heart and lung surgery. Three in five newborns survive the surgeries. Long-term prognosis unknown. Chances of survival are greater with proper care and resources. If facilities or resources not available…”

  Avia closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them, she raised a hand. “Abortion recommended.” She made a fist, and the holo went blank.

  Era rocked back on her heels and sank against the metal shelf, unable to keep her balance. She wrapped both hands around the swell of her belly.

  Not hopeless, like they’d said.

  The Defect wasn’t a lie. But they’d all been lied to. Her baby had a chance, could live. How many women had aborted children who could’ve survived if only they’d been given the chance?

  Heat rose in Era’s cheeks, and she clenched her hands into fists. The fluttering in her belly happened more frequently now. She hadn’t imagined the movements and couldn’t deny their existence any longer. Her baby was not just a collection of cells. How could she abort, now that she knew her baby had a chance?

  What operations needed to be done? Could the medics here on the Paragon do them? They had the space, the medics, the drugs they made on zero deck…

  Era gestured, intent on opening the next file. A beep went off outside the door and she froze. Mali was trying to access the storage cubic.

  Era jerked her hand in a gesture to bring up the cube’s memory core. Her pulse roared in her ears as she located the access data, found her eyepiece signature, and tried to wipe the last entry. The interface flickered, malfunctioning, and blanked. She was locked out of the program.

  The door beeped again, and a faint voice called from the other side of it.

  Era sucked in a breath and tried to slow her heart down. “The door’s stuck.” Her voice came out too soft, so she repeated it, louder this time.

  Mali replied, her words muffled.

  Era couldn’t leave this cubic until she’d erased the evidence of her treason. How long did she have before Mali called up a maintenance crew to force open the door?

  She stood on shaky legs and gripped the edge of the holo gear bin. It slid through her hands and crashed to the floor. The sound of it seemed impossibly loud in the small space, and it paralyzed her. Mali called out again.

  Move, Era. Focus.

  She righted the bin and grabbed the diagnostic from where it had fallen on the tile. She knelt down next to the frozen handheld and hooked the diagnostic in.

  The code came up in her eyepiece, and she scanned it, seeking the error.

  There.

  Another knock on the door.

  “I’m trying to open it from in here. I’m working on it.” Era yelled the words, but they sounded like they came from someone else. Her brain was trying to untangle the broken code before her. She let her mind take over and rewrote the code, fixing the bug. The handheld’s interface reappeared.

  She inhaled ragged breaths, brought up the archive cube once more, and accessed the memory core.

  She ges
tured to delete her eyepiece signature. A warning appeared.

  Unauthorized Command.

  Era narrowed her eyes. Unauthorized didn’t mean inaccessible. She’d expected this, hadn’t she?

  She tried another method. That one failed, too.

  Mali yelled something. It sounded like a question.

  “I think I figured it out.” Era closed her eyes. “One minute.”

  I think I figured it out.

  Era tried accessing the memory core using another trick, a hack her father had taught her for when the ship’s systems malfunctioned and rendered memory core data inaccessible. It could damage the data, but what other choice did she have?

  The memory core came up, and Era tried once more to delete her eyepiece signature.

  It worked.

  She bit off a giddy laugh, double-checked the memory core to be sure her signature was gone, and ripped the cube from the handheld.

  She dropped the cube into the archive case, ensured it lined up the way Mali had stored it, and placed it back on the shelf.

  The handhelds were still scattered across the floor. Heart pounding, she scooped them up, dumped them in the bin, and shoved it back on the shelf.

  Her hands were damp, and they slipped along the wire’s plastic coating as she reconnected it. She clumsily slid the panel in place and stepped away from it.

  The door opened. Mali met Era’s gaze, and Era stiffened.

  What have I done?

  It was over. Mali would know, would have to suspect. A cold chill took root in Era, and she placed her hands behind her back, pressing closer to the shelf.

  I committed treason. The penalty for treason is—

  “What happened?”

  “The door jammed. And just now—it finally opened. I don’t know what happened.” The words rushed out, the sound of them too bright, false.

  Mali pressed the inner button to keep the door from sliding shut on them. “I was getting ready to call the maintenance crew up…Oh. Come child, no more tears. Wipe your face, now.”

  Era nodded dumbly and wiped at her damp cheeks. When had she started crying?

  Did Mali really trust her so much that she didn’t suspect anything? That she couldn’t see the obvious?