Burn Code

Eleven

Frustrating, but safe. That’s how it felt to read the code the old fashioned way without being able to see it in my optics. Much like Arne had, I brought it up on an isolated network machine and manipulated it by hand, line by line.

It was inventive stuff. I even had to write an algorithm to find the dead ends in the coding and separate them out from their live counterparts. The dead ends made it impossible to sort through for the dagger code without time. That was one variable a victim didn’t have while under attack.

I left those in, but randomized them, hoping that the new complexity delayed a similar counterattack. The few nanites I could lure into the fiber trap would be overwhelmed by numbers as soon as I set them loose. I had to make sure the worm spread and replicated the new code faster than any could be overwritten.

It took four rewrites before it worked in simulation mode, but I still had to survive for forty five seconds while the recoding took place. Grendel had more than enough time to kill me if I couldn’t target and protect vital systems first.

I got creative with the trap. I found the loop in the code that looked for any nanites not at the same version spec as its brethren and force a recode. That was my lure. An echo could mimic a sub version bot. They’d fight their way to the koi and into the fiber trap to try to force a reset, but instead would get a face full of worm.

“Are you sure this is going to work?” Paul asked after I showed him my simulations.

“I could lie to you.”

He smirked. “It might be easier to swallow that way.”

I dangled the cable to the adapter drive between two fingers. “Only one way to find out.”

“What do you need me to do?”

Yanking my shirt off, I grinned as his eyes widened in shock. “Hook me up.”

He followed me into the bathroom where I already had all the implements set out. Paul hooked a finger around the knot of his tie and pulled it loose before rolling up his shirt sleeves.

“What exactly am I doing?”

“The koi.” I stared at him in the mirror’s reflection. “If you run your finger over the edges of the tattoo, you’ll find one part that sticks out a little more than the rest. It should be one of the eyes.”

His brow creased in concentration as he moved a finger back and forth over the eyes on the top fish. Finally it paused and he double tapped the spot. “Okay, I think I have it.”

I held a gauze pad soaked in alcohol over my shoulder. “You’re going to have to cut it open.”

He blinked. “What?”

“It’s the only way to access the port.”

He rubbed the gauze it against my skin before taking the razor blade I offered.

Paul hesitated. “You sure?”

“Yes.” I nodded, watching as he took a deep breath. “Cut it. A little line will do.”

I gripped the porcelain of the sink as the blade dipped into my flesh.

“Sorry.”

Shaking my head, I wiped down a pair of forceps. “You’re not done yet. Blot away the blood and find the port. If I remember right, it’s a small post that’s folded flush with the housing.”

Gritting my teeth again, I winced as he used the alcohol pad to wipe at the cut.

“I see it.”

“Good. Use these to pry up the post. Don’t bust it off or we’re sunk.”

Paul took the forceps. He angled one of the tips around the lip. I could feel him trying to gouge at it.

“Sorry” He apologized, catching my pained reflection in the mirror. “Almost got it.”

The edge of the housing bit deeper into the cut he had sliced as he tried to pry it up and a groan escaped my mouth.

“I’m sorry, Cara.”

“Just— ugh!”

“There! Got it.”

Taking a deep breath, I released it slowly and nodded towards the data drive. “Plug the cable into it.”

Another stab of agony shot through my shoulder as he jostled the edges of the fiber into the line he had sliced. I heard the slight click as the contact hit the base of the node.

“Now what?”

“Give me a minute.”

My optics flashed a pulse as the fiber net came alive with the juice from the drive. Pulling the code bundle from its file structure, I unpacked it across the fiber. A secondary series of diagnostics indicated that all systems were working and the compiled scripts would run as I had written them as soon as the jack was removed.

“Okay, you can unplug it. Gently,” I warned.

Anchoring the base with the gauze, Paul pulled the cord to remove the drive.

“Flatten the post again then seam it together with this.” I handed him a butterfly strip then a bandage.

“I think I can do this part,” he teased. When finished, he smoothed his hand down my arm.

I slipped his tie free from his neck. “How long do we have before the jack reports itself.”

“About four hours.”

I snapped the silk taunt between my hands and his brow hooked upwards.

Probable death shaded everything in desperation. For the second time, I had a moment of honesty about my relationship with Paul. When it was a lie, it had been perfect. That should have been a clue at its wrongness as it crumbled at my feet.

After that, I scratched him out as nothing more than a bad footnote. For as much as I hated to see him again, it also thrilled me -- we were always good at the physical.

Paul answered my question before I asked it. Hands taking my hips, he pressed me into the basin as his lips found my neck. His sensor node had other, more pleasurable purposes than official departmental use.

Without too much protest, he let me draw his tie across his eyes. I led him to my bedroom and pushed him back across the mattress.

“Really?” Paul laughed.

“Yes, really.” I crawled over him and drew his tucked shirt free. My fingernails etched over the plane of his stomach and he drew a short breath.

“You might still be wired to record.”

The buttons came free one by one and my mouth replaced my hands when I spread his shirt wide.

“This isn’t bad, you know.” He said after my kiss reached his neck. A shiver slid its way down my spine as his hand blindly shadowed the curve of a breast.

“Now I can’t see all your hate and derision for me.”

I laughed and sat back. With a hard yank, I stripped the belt from his pants.

“No, but I can make you feel it.”