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Musing the Calliope - Printable Version

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Musing the Calliope - Yoshida - 11-30-2018

Jonas wiped his nose. The wet metallic cargo pod he was sitting within had been cleaned up but it was still an unpleasant and drudging experience. He could make out dreadful scratches on the walls which he tried to avoid looking at. Instead, the marks on the floor were distinctly different, the familiar result of metal pushed against metal. Jonas assumed this was caused by chains which used to hold the valuable "cargo" in place.

Four hours later the Maltese slave ship arrived to its destination. Jonas did not know where he was or how he got there, only that he was in a station called Corsica in the restricted Omicron Phi system. Carrying a suitcase in one hand and his hat in the other he followed the maskers without talking. Every Maltese of his entourage was carrying pins on their chest with the Contari familia heraldry which Jonas noticed that gave them an air of authority.

Corsica appeared to be a massive station. The hangar they were within could easily fit even the biggest ship of the Lane Hackers and based on the infoscreens they were in the 7th terminal, meaning there were at least six more terminals in Corsica, Jonas thought.

The Calliope was a super-luxurious Gallic Liner. It was held separately from the other ships under heavy Contari security. After another checkpoint, the group headed into Calliope's Command Center...


------------------


Jonas checked the time. Fifty hours had passed since he arrived and had only made minuscule progress. Being one of Professor Yoshida's handpicked specialists, Jonas was one of the few experts in Gallic encryption yet the complexity of the FN4 system was nothing like he had ever seen. He sighed and stood up for a walk in order to clear his mind. At this hour most of the maskers were sleeping and the security had toned down a lot since the first day. His first destination was Charlotte's Royal Quarters. Despite visiting it four times already the extravagance and style of the chambers always drew the Hacker back in there to ease his mind and have a moment of rest.

"Where are you Charlotte?" Jonas murmured while aimlessly examining a golden comb. He closed his eyes and felt immense exhaustion, his mind demanding immediate rest. Instinctively he reached out to his pocket, picked out a tiny vial containing an orange liquid and emptied it all in his mouth. Just a few moments later Jonas felt his pulse rising, his mind no longer feeling numb. Then he finally opened his eyes and scanned Charlotte's private room. "How do I break the system?" he murmured referring to the Gallic Royal encryption, also known as FN4, which Calliope's Command Center was equipped with. "If only I had to break into a regular Gallic system." he said more loudly while his eyes focused on some photographs on the other side of the room. It was a random sort with Charlotte's family members and friends. But one in particular captured his interest and provided him with an important missing detail. His eyes flashed in excitement.

"Captain, I didn't know you were friends with Charlotte DeFrance." Jonas said with a smirk and dropped the photograph. Then he quickly turned around and started moving towards the Captain's suite, where he would hack into the Captain's logs, conveniently not encrypted with FN4. Jonas was in a hurry, his cardamine rush wouldn't last forever, after all.



RE: Musing the Calliope - Foxglove - 12-14-2018

His name was Maurice Rousseau Gaspard. The terminal was way less protected than the one of the chamber he had just left. The password had been incredibly easy to decipher. Well, perhaps not easy, but doable if the right mind was applied to the problem. It soon became apparent that the terminal was a combination of personal and work desk. If they were looking for a princess, chances were high that the work-related entries would yield the desired result, thus he began going through them.

What followed was a litany of flight logs, stops, refuelling bills. He had a general time window in mind from what Claire de France had given them to work with. Refining the search, he started pulling up the flight logs one by one, laying them out next to one another. About thirty pages of tight script. He began using the machine to highlight certain search terms, using names of known members of the royal family and other titles in order to find something highlighted.

But nothing.

Raising an eyebrow, he sat back, looking at the screen. There had to be something that he was overlooking. His eyes began to search for patterns, something that looked like a cipher. If there was something to be found in these Gallic words, he would find it. But there was nothing. Could it be that there had been no official documentation of this flight? If yes, what was the purpose? Qui bono?

The only real explanation that he could find was that this sort of underhanded maneuver could be due to avoiding problems with members of the court. If there was no documentation, the crew of this vessel probably also wouldn't know who they were ferrying. Had someone maybe compromised this system before he had? No, the last time someone had used this console was, it had been through normal access. Likely Gaspard himself.

What was the last entry? He sorted by date and found that the only new entries during the last day of this ship's flight had been private ones. He accessed them and brought up a hologram. Curiously enough, it didn't seem to show Gaspard narrating something to his personal logs. Instead, the entire room behind him was visible and Gaspard was sitting on his chair, clutching his head. For a while, there was nothing, no movement, no speech. Then the door opened. "They're coming aboard," a male voice sounded, the speaker not visible on the feed. "The speaker was Gallic, sir."

Gaspard looked up. He had clearly been drinking and his eyes were bloodshot. "How do you know?" he croaked, clearing his throat to give his voice more authority.

"No accent."

He nodded. He doubted they learned their language when they were young. He swallowed. "Bring me Moreau, Valerie."

"Sir?"

"Do as I say," Gaspard commanded, maybe a little too forceful than he would have liked, but the message came across. Steps could be heard as the speaker from the door left. Gaspard just remained seated, staring blankly into the distance. Minutes passed. The sound of the Maltese trying to breach the docking ports were sometimes heard in the background. It wouldn't be long. Soon, the sound of two pairs of feet could be heard nearing the room.

"Sir," both of them, a man and a woman stated as they entered the room, giving a court salute. Both evidently belonged to the crew, judging by their clothes.

"Stand comfortably," Gaspard stated, causing his guests to relax. For a moment, he didn't seem to know what he wanted. "How... how is it going?"

The two arrivals gave each other looks before the woman answered. "We assume the Maltese will breach the blast doors and moment, sir." Then with a small delay. "We have instructed the VIP to change clothes and cut off her hair. This is all we can do in this haste."

"Not enough," Gaspard whispered, taking a shakey breath. "They have not mentioned her?"

"No, sir," the man spoke up, shaking his head. "Their negotiator evidently is Gallic. One would assume that they would know what they would need to ask for if they knew."

"And the crew?" Gaspard stood up, leaving the angle of the camera, leaving only the two arrivals in view.

"Nobody ever knew of them. It was on their behest that this was kept as quiet as possible. With the Council as close as they are, they would not hesitate to exploit the fact that we only had a token escort. Every person in the know would be a liability." He shuffled where he stood, seemingly uncomfortable.

"And to think this visit was supposed to boost morale at the front." Gaspard snorted derisively off to the right of the camera. "It's hopefully soothing to know that you could be killed at any time at the front, but your superior by birth graces you by stepping on the same soil as you."

"Sir, you have been drinking." The woman interrupted him, shaking her head. "We've been over this. We wouldn't report you because you're our friend, but please don't insult the princess like that."

"Insult her?" Gaspard repeated, his voice becoming more erratic. "One would think we have other things to worry about than the foolish girl. I know her. I have probably spent more time interacting with her than her father ever has and I can tell you, if there is anyone who has made sacrifices to keep this doll safe, it was me." A subdued thud could be heard, as though someone had punched a wall. "It's over. They got us. But we're not done yet. Oh no." His breathing was heavy and could be heard even over the distance to the camera. "Every person in the know would be a liability."

"Sir, what do you?"

It was in this moment that Gaspard's arm reemerged in the feed, holding a weapon. Before his guests had the chance to react, both of them went down and did not get back up. Still breathing heavily, Gaspard sat down in front of the feed again holding his head, the weapon still in one of his hands. Suddenly, he held the weapon against his own head, eyes clenched shut, the hand with the gun trembling as he struggled to bring himself to pull the trigger and remove the last liability to the princess' safety. Ten seconds. Thirty seconds. Ultimately, the hand came down and he rested his head agains the desk.

Then the feed cut out.





RE: Musing the Calliope - Yoshida - 01-26-2019

The young man stared at the blank monitor for a few more moments still unable to digest what he just saw. A relatively new member and with minor field experience, Jonas was definitely not ready for this kind of work.

Finally, he blinked his eyes and returned to reality.

He started searching the previous entries hoping to find something equally bountiful. However the footage and information was useless and he quickly dropped his attempt. The Maltese had made it clear to him that they were to be informed of any headway and Jonas was well aware he did not have much time at his disposal before having to report back.

Adrenaline and dead ends exasperated the Hacker's frustration. He started murming and walking around the room, trying to find anything useful before heading back.

"You must have left me something Maurice..." Jonas said and punched the wall separating the office from the bedroom to ease the tension. The hit was strong and the metalic wall briefly trembled on the impact. That was weird, Jonas thought. The captain's office was surrounded by thin walls. Maybe he can use that?

He immediately left for the bedroom, which was attached right behind Maurice's office and desperately started searching the room for any devices not directly connected to the main computer, the one Jonas couldn't breach. After five frantic minutes Jonas found what was he looking for; a tiny microphone near the bed.

The Hacker smirked with his discovery, those hypersensitive devices are used to capture orders or simply record voice even if you whispered so that you avoid waking up your partner. However they had long been discontinued from general use in favor of more networking solutions but older generations and evidently Maurice were still using them.

Jonas carefully unplugged the device's top and looked inside. A few seconds later he picked two tools from his case and surgically removed a tiny chip from within. He wasn't sure he picked the right one or even if there were any sorts of countermeasures, he simply didn't have time for that. Then he connected the chip to his own computer and started analyzing it.

It is amazing how people think that their devices are simply not working when they are idle or turned off. How corporations and other actors exploit that inconvenient fact by collecting information on them, and yet no one bothers to do anything about it. Jonas thought with contempt but then recalled his own past, before joining the Lane Hackers when he was also plugged into the system unable to form his own opinions and ask critical questions.

Eventually the computer pinged and the Hacker's thoughts returned to the matter at hand. The analysis was over: Sounds from Maurice's office were weak but were picked up by the hypersensitive microphone due to the bad soundproofing of the suite. With proper computer enhancing tools the office conversations were clearly comprehensible. But now what? Which recording should he hear first? Jonas wasn't sure, he had rushed to action without a proper plan in mind.

He had but one option; His fingers slipped into his pocket and came out with another cardamine vial. Taking doses too frequently was extremely dangerous, it could easily kill him. His fingers were shaking but his mind was craving for the substance. A few moments later the vial was empty.


------------------


[13:41:12] Valerie: "Sir, what do you?" (Gallic language)
[13:41:15] [gunshot]
[13:41:16] [gunshot]
[13:41:25] [heavy breathing]
[13:41:58] [gunshot]
.
.
.
[13:56:23] ????: "What is going on here?" (Maltese language)
[13:56:29] ????: "It appears this frog saved us the trouble once he realized we're not leaving anyone alive." (Maltese language)
[13:56:31] ????: "Oh this girl is still breathing, let me fix that..." (Maltese language)
[13:56:29] ????: "Hold on! That's the captain who shot them. Contact her now!" (Maltese language)
.
.
[13:57:23] ????: "This is how we found them. We haven't identified the lieutenants yet..." (Maltese language)
[13:57:25] ????: "Give me the adrenaline. Grazie. You may leave now." (Maltese language)
[13:57:40] ????: "Valerie can you hear me?" (Gallic language)
[13:57:44] ????: "Valerie?" (Gallic language)
[13:57:46] Valerie: "Gen?" (Gallic language)
[13:57:48] Valerie: "Please help me." (Gallic language)
[13:57:50] ????: "Oui but please tell me where is the Princess." (Gallic language)
[13:57:55] Valerie: "Second level... she cut her hair and changed clothes.... Gen, please!" (Gallic language)
[13:57:59] ????: "Merci." (Gallic language)
[13:58:00] [gunshot]
.
.

Jonas stopped the recording. He knew he was close to solving this puzzle, if only he could identify the Gallic woman. He started a voice search on a public Maltese database, even though he didn't expect to yield any results. Unexpectedly, just a few seconds later the computer found one result.

Geneviève Marie Mercier, Director of Corsica Intelligence Division. The Hacker's eyes widened, his pulse was racing. How can the Director of Maltese's Intelligence be behind this? What happens if he tells the Contari men about it? Will they report to their Don or perhaps some of them are here to ensure that this investigation gets nowhere?

The young man stormed out of the room holding his stomach, his face twisted and green. Jonas felt he was about to throw up. With what he knew his life was now at risk. Even if he kept silent about it his database searches used a Maltese server and could easily lead right back to him. It was simply a matter of time.

He had but one choice.


------------------


The masker was sitting idly on a large metallic box in the entrance of Calliope chatting on his phone, his firearm resting idly on his lap. The guard was clearly waiting for his shift to be over, at this hour no one was coming in or out of the liner.

One, two, three, now! Jonas jumped in the shadows right behind the masker. Did he hear him? No, he was still talking on the phone. His head peaked out of the corner, checking his goal again. The guard's satellite datapad. The Hacker was not trembling anymore, he knew this was the only way.

Suddenly the masker roared in laugh and the Hacker used this to run and hide behind the box. Without looking, he raised his arm and groped for the satellite datapad, slowly moving it to his side. Jonas activated the device and started uploading the two recordings he had uncovered, the recipient of the message was Professor Yoshida, Leiden Base.

10%
...
30% - C'mon, c'mon. The Hacker's heart was racing again, the seconds felt like hours to Jonas.
...
50%
...
70%
...
90% - Jonas heard footsteps on the hallway. Not now, he is so close!
...
100%

Jonas silently sighed with relief. He did it. Now if he could only return to...

"Hey! What are you doing over there?!" A shout thundered in the hallway, startling the Hacker.



RE: Musing the Calliope - Foxglove - 02-04-2019

Even though his mission was accomplished, the Hacker soon found himself being lifted to his feet by what seemed like one of the most burly men in Sirius. Clad in the uniform of the CID, the Hacker knew that he could not trust this person, given all that he had learned. "Don't remember you having gotten permission to just roam around here freely, Hacker. The quarters are all the way over there." The man gestured in the quarters' general direction. This presented the man with a dilemma. The Hacker was a guest, but he was also supposed to treat the Hacker with respect - direct order from the Don. Luckily, he hadn't seen the datapad in the Hacker's hands just a few moments prior.

"I suppose if you're done, I'll take you back to Malta. The Don wanted to hear your findings directly from you." He gestured for the Hacker to go ahead so he could lead them back to the docking areas. The procedures they had to go through to leave were excessive. Corsica was one of the most guarded places in Outcast territory, likely even protected more heavily than Malta itself. The closer they got to the docking area, however, the less CID uniforms were visible to the hacker, which eased his worries somewhat. It was strange, though. If this man was part of some strange deep-state conspiracy of the CID, then why was he cluelessly helping him out of their stronghold? Surely they would have a vested interest in keeping him from saying anything.

Thoughts like this occupied his mind as he entered the ship that would bring him back to Malta. Two hours passed during which he couldn't do more but to think about what he had learned. Scenarios raced through his head, though with the Cardamine slowly dissipating in his body, his mind became more clouded. Not the best of conditions to be in when facing an influential man on Malta. From the ship, he was eventually led through the Contari compound's courtyard and into the residence of the family's patriarch. Over the course of many generations, it had been built, expanded, and each patriarch that had come before Benito had added their own personal touch to the buildings. The result was that there was hardly anything imaginable that could add to the wasteful splendour of it all, each generation trying to one-up the one that had come before it. It was because of this that the sight of the Don's work office was surprisingly plain. While by no means cheap, the interior design had obviously taken into account to utilitarian need to avoid distractions.

The Hacker's escorts did not enter with him. It wasn't necessary. Behind the old man sitting behind a desk on the far side of the room, there were two stone-faced guards, watching over the Don even in the confines of his home. The patriarch watched as the Hacker approached. "Jonas, correct?" came the question and the Don put down the papers he had been reading. Even though digital media was the norm, most important business was still handled with physical paper, as it was less prone to theft. This, and Malta was old-fashioned in many ways. "They told me you were running around the ship. I presume you finished your business, in this case." It was not a question. The tone belied that the Don was expecting something off him. He gestured for one of the two very comfy looking chairs in front of his desk.





RE: Musing the Calliope - Yoshida - 03-18-2019

Jonas' heart was pounding quickly. When he started his journey from Liberty, he didn't expect he'd end up talking with the most influential Don of Malta in his own office.

However he didn't feel threatened, he was taken to Malta before anyone was aware of his findings. The young man accepted the Don's offer and sat in one of the two chairs. Jonas was very tired and donned black circles under his eyes. Yet he put on a confident smile in his face as he had long learned while dealing with the Maltese; showing weakness was an invitation to be pushed around, Jonas had to show confidence even if he had to fake it.

"I have, indeed my Don. It was wise for you to bring me here, considering the information that I uncovered."

Benito listened, looking into the Hacker's eyes. The man was smart, but very tired. "I am certain you have." He beckoned for a person that until now had been hiding on the sidelines of the room.

"May I offer something to drink? Coffee? Tea?" It wouldn't do to have this man start sleeping in front of him. Another hand motion and the person bowed slightly before withdrawing from sight. Benito took a deep breath. "You're quite young," he observed, taking another look at him. "I suppose you have someone waiting for you when you return."

The question surprised Jonas and caught him off-guard.

"Waiting for me? No, no I don't have." he said and nervously scratched his head.

"Very well," the Don replied after a few moments, leaning back a little. "It fascinates me how people from outside of Malta seem to value family so little. The cultural difference is remarkable, wouldn't you say?"

His eyes briefly rested on the clock that hung above the door Jonas had entered through. "I suppose we should get to the point. Please." He motioned for Jonas to recount.

Jonas wanted to correct the Don and tell him that his family is simply outside of his grasp and perhaps even explain that most Lane Hackers are not able to meet their families again because of the sacrifice they made by joining this unlawful organization.

But he hesitated to speak his mind. He did not have the standing to correct the Don and even if he did so, he doubted the Don didn't know the truth already. In fact truth didn't matter at all. This wasn't a simple conversation, the Contari patrician was measuring the young Hacker among other things. So the best he could do is to concede this point to the Don and move on, after all Jonas didn't stand a chance against such a savvy and cunning individual.

So after a few moments of awkward silence, the Hacker took the computer out of his bag and played the first recording, while looking for the Don's expressions.

Following the Hacker's hand with his eyes while he placed the device on the desk for his viewing pleasure, the Don remained quiet while the recording played out. Countless years of tactitioning with the other Maltese families had taught him that it was best to keep a straight face at all times, and so he remained expressionless during the entire playback. Once it was done, he looked up. "Is there more, per chance?"

The young man nodded his head and played the next recording, hoping that the Don is not part of the conspiracy. Part of him told him to say something first, to ensure his safety but Jonas was so exhausted that he did not have the courage to think or do anything other than playing the recording.

Once it was finished Jonas simply said "I believe you recognize one of the two voices." without further comment.



RE: Musing the Calliope - Foxglove - 03-27-2019

The Don looked at the Hacker for a while. What should he answer? If he admitted to knowing who that person was, he would be revealing quite a bit. Information that he probably didn't want outsiders to know. On Malta, these things are settled in the family, so to speak. If he denied knowledge of the person who'd spoken, it might be taken as a sign of distrust. The Hacker likely expected him to know these kinds of things, and rightfully so. "Fleetingly," the Don replied after a couple of moments. "If they know where the pricess is, that is fortunate."

Jonas gave an incredulous look to the old man. His manners and eloquence gave the Hacker an aura of sincerity and familiality but now he was telling him that the leading Don of Malta fleetingly knows the Director of Malta's Intelligence Service.

He couldn't do anything other than press the matter. "Probably but I don't think /they/ expect to be found, considering they tried to conceal the entire operation."

"No," the Don agreed, nodding slowly. "I think that much is fair to say from the recording. They can't really elude the Council either, however, which is why it is fortunate that they are involved and not some shadowy third party."

The servant returned, carrying Jonas' steaming coffee. He placed it on the Don's desk in front of the Hacker before receding into the background again.

Jonas accepted the coffee and nodded a thanks to the servant. He wondered if the servant was a Maltese or a privileged slave like the lucky ones some Maltese households employ in their estates.

"Thank you, Don Contari." Jonas said, satisfied by the Don's answer. "I will transfer the original files to one of your men after the meeting. My mission - however - was to hack into the Calliope..." Jonas said and momentarily paused with uncertainty.

"... which has been completed but if you still require my services considering the delicacy of the situation I will be happy to help you." Jonas said without implying for a reward as a Hacker would normally demand, but in a selfless manner much like a son would tell his father. He knew that Corsica Intelligence Service has many ears in almost every established household of Malta and going after their leadership is a difficult task even for a Don. Jonas however was an outsider, and certainly not a secret associate of the Service.

After completing his sentence, the young man turned on his delicious coffee.

"That would be delightful," the Don replied, nodding. The coffee Jonas had been given was probably as expensive as coffee would get. It was an import, harvested on Planet Stuttgart. When the relations between Malta and Rheinland had been worse, something like this had been almost impossible to come by. However, with Rheinland accepting Malta as neutral, this would change in due time. "You have done outstanding work, reliable and discrete. Do not think I will not remember this."

The Don snapped with his fingers and one of the men that had been standing behind the desk approached him. The Don exchanged a few quick sentences in Maltese with him, and the man nodded, leaving the room. "In case the princess is apprehended," he started, following the man with his eyes until he had left and the door fell shut. "What is the Lane Hacker's price? I doubt the Professorship embarked on this endeavour out of charity."

"I doubt that too." Jonas quickly added.

"To be honest the Professorship deliberately did not inform me on who gave them the tip about the Princess or what they will offer to the Contari familia and the National Council in exchange for their assistance. Let's just say they knew I'd be grilled on these matters.

You should inquire with the Professors directly, my Don."

It was fascinating, he found. He had offered the Hacker as an individual something and he had asked what the Professorship wanted. Was it really so hard to make a distinction between the two? "Then I shall do so," he replied, tapping the desk with the palm of his hand once as if to say that it was decided now. "Is there anything else you would like to voice, Jonas?"

Jonas paused for a moment to think.

"Actually there is one thing, yes. Since I will be sticking around to help with the CIS, I was wondering if I can remain in the estate for the time being.

I've kind of missed the surface and the spacious living rooms that a flying rock does not provide."

While Jonas genuinely wanted to live on the surface for a few weeks, he also wanted to remain close to the Don where he would undoubtedly be under constant surveillance thus perhaps deceiving his hosts that he has left the Professors uninformed about his findings.

The Don nodded. "Very well, I will have you as my guest. I own a lovely little estate on an elevated position overlooking the Cardamine fields to the north, should you be interested." He wondered whether the Hacker would drink the coffee. Did he maybe think it was poisoned or tampered with in other ways?

The young man happily accepted the Don's invitation. After exchanging a few kind words and finishing his coffee he stood up.

"Thank you Don Contari." Jonas said and gave his hand for a handshake.

"You are quite welcome," the Don replied, taking the hand for a firm shake, though he remained seated. "Just tell my servants where you want to go and they will see to it."