Netminder Page 10

  The connection to the outside meant help.

  It took some time for me to type out a longer message, but I got it: Dude. Cool. How? Can you share vid?

  I wasn’t sure he could since there was no way he was on lenses himself, but if he was able to send a message, he might be able to do video.

  Hold on.

  Hopefully Coach had also made sure that Mitch was well protected.

  A small window opened, and I saw Dean. I shared the lenses’ view back to him.

  You’re with Eddie?

  Of course that would be the thing that caught Dean’s attention. I hadn’t seen Dean since school started, but he knew Eddie and I had broken up.

  Dean had transformed a little in the past few weeks. College seemed to agree with him—he looked more “preppy college student” than “grungy high schooler”.

  “What are you doing?” Eddie stared at me. I must’ve looked weird staring ahead and eye darting around.

  I didn’t answer. I might be willing to trust him, but I had to assume this room was mic’d. I shrugged. “What are you talking about?”

  The confused look was endearing, and I imagined his brain grinding away trying to figure out what I didn’t say. “I’m just gonna sit here and eat.”

  His smile grew into one I recognized from the old days when I went off on technospeak he didn’t understand. He seemed to understand that something was happening, though.

  I’d love a way to type like Lorenzo, and I had before. It seemed like forever to get a few short sentences out.

  Yeah. He’s helped. I got sick.

  His response was much faster as he typed on a regular keyboard: That explains why you didn’t answer before. We’d left some messages, but when you didn’t respond I’d erased them until I could make sure you’d see them while we were at the computer.

  While I typed a question about Mitch, Dean provided the answer—Mitch, Iris, and their families were under the protection of people Coach trusted. If he put his faith in them, that was all I needed to know.

  So, Winger. And I have to say it’s so cool you’ve got a secret agent name. Anyway, sorry, D-Man says you probably need help. What can I do?

  Coach stepped in behind Dean. Seeing him provided another shot of relief. I had people on the outside, including someone who was very good with tech. It gave me true hope for the first time in a while.

  Not sure. Blackbird trying to take internet. Need more details.

  Since Coach was with Dean, I assumed it wasn’t out of bounds reporting what I did. Dean wasn’t TOS, but he was deputized, and I knew Coach would make sure he didn’t tell anyone he shouldn’t.

  Coach slid a chair next to Dean and they talked for a second. I ate, since I had a break in typing. I raised my eyebrows at Eddie and smiled letting him know things were good.

  If you have comms there’s some limited operability and we might be able to get some audio from you.

  Comms were close—but stuck in my backpack in Westside’s office. If I saw a chance to get them, I’d try.

  Can’t get comms now.

  Understood.

  Coach pulled his phone and looked at the screen. He held up a finger and stepped out of frame. Was that good or bad?

  I typed: Thanks. Sorry to drag you in.

  Dean grinned and shrugged. Not exactly the reaction I expected. Are you kidding. This is movie stuff. I know it’s serious but come on. I’m talking to someone through a contact lens. Someone who’s a freaking spy.

  I’d felt like that on missions before, especially when I was behind a keyboard. I couldn’t find that same excitement in this scenario, but I couldn’t fault Dean for it.

  Coach stepped back into view, and he actually looked happy. He said something to Dean that made him get up so Coach could sit.

  Coach typed: I’ve got someone who wants to be seen.

  Lorenzo maybe? Maybe someone higher up at TOS?

  He turned the phone screen to me.

  My heart nearly pounded out of my chest, and I shook uncontrollably.

  “Theo?” Eddie put his spoon down and reached for one of my hands. I shook so hard it shook his.

  Dad’s face filled the screen, and he looked okay in the black-and-white view. I couldn’t see behind him so there was no way to know his location.

  I wiped my eyes. Holding back the tears proved difficult, but I had to so I could see clearly.

  Dad’s mouth moved, and Coach typed.

  “Theo?” Eddie asked.

  “I’m fine,” I croaked out. “I need a minute.”

  I struggled to read the text: Defender is okay. Still on his mission. Trying to get back to the States but extracting himself is difficult. I updated him your situation. He says he loves you. He knows you’re going to be smart.

  Thank God. So many emotions swirled—almost more than I could manage. I exhaled hard. Eddie got up, came over, and pulled my head into his stomach in a sort of hug.

  My breathing got ragged, and I fought against completely falling apart. Eddie both comforted me and blocked the surveillance camera. Despite the reunion happening in my eye, it wasn’t lost on me that Eddie likely deliberately picked this exact spot to stand.

  Love you too.

  I usually made sure to keep to protocol, but so much had already gone out the window I didn’t really care.

  Dad nodded. Coach must be reading what I wrote to him. Dad then talked some more, and Coach typed.

  Snowbird is fine. She’s relocated and safe. She’s worried about you, but I’ll let her know we’ve talked.

  Dad stepped back from his phone a bit and there was an unremarkable wall behind him. He put his hand up and made a fist and bumped it against the camera then pulled back just enough to lay his palm over the camera.

  Our long-distance hug.

  He left his palm there for a few seconds before he pulled back and gave me a thumbs-up.

  It hurt not to scream as my body tensed wanting the release. This could be the last time I’d see him. I shuddered, and Eddie hugged me closer.

  I typed as quick as I could: Wait.

  They needed to see that, so Dad wouldn’t hang up. I had more to say.

  Eddie stepped back as I pushed away from him and the table. Without a word I went into the bathroom and looked into the mirror. I wanted Dad to see me—just in case.

  My mouth dropped open. I looked horrible—a few days of stubble, eyes that showed how wiped I was, and hair all over the place. Dad had the same expression.

  Coach typed: What have they done to you? You look awful.

  His concerned look punched me in the chest.

  I’m okay. Been sick. Better now. Back to work soon.

  Dad nodded but still looked horrified.

  I raised my palm to my eyes and held it close as a response to what Dad had done.

  Be safe. Tell Snowbird I love her.

  This was the most time-consuming communication ever. I waited for Coach to send the next message and looked into the mirror as if Dad was just on the other side.

  D-man typed, and I eventually had a message back: I love you Winger. I’ll try to check in with D-Man or you tomorrow.

  Dad cried, and that was the end of holding mine in. Coach and Dean looked somber as Coach typed more.

  I’m sorry I’m not there to help.

  It’s okay. I didn’t know what else to say. He put his palm back on the screen, and I put mine in front of my face again. I held it until his screen went dark.

  I gripped the sides of the sink and cried.

  Need minute. I managed to type, and I cut the video feed.

  Knowing Mom and Dad were alive and somewhat safe put me at ease and yet totally freaked me out. Dad’s complete faith in me should’ve given me strength, but I felt all the more alone.

  “Not sure what’s up,” Eddie said quietly. I looked up and saw him reflected in the mirror from where he stood in the doorway. “The guard came in and asked what was wrong because you bolted for the bathroom. I said maybe you
’d eaten too fast.”

  “Thanks,” I squeaked out.

  Someone typed: Standing by.

  He came in and held me.

  I sobbed.

  So much poured out, it scared me that it wouldn’t stop. Eddie rubbed my back and held me tight. He knew what I needed, and he didn’t hesitate, even though he didn’t know what happened—and he didn’t ask.

  Eventually I calmed and had to pull back to get a tissue.

  “Sorry,” I said, looking at Eddie.

  I typed back to the guys too: Thanks for that.

  “Don’t apologize. What’s happened?”

  It was time to trust him—in here were the camera couldn’t see. “I’ve got a way to communicate,” I said quietly, into his ear since I didn’t know how sensitive any mics might be. “I found out Mom and Dad are okay. I… I need to get back to work.”

  The sooner I stopped Override, the sooner I could get back to normal.

  “Are you sure you’ve rested enough?” I loved him for not questioning anything about how I got the information I did.

  “It doesn’t matter. There’s a job to do.”

  What can we do? D-Man and I are still here.

  Not sure. Typing was tough as I dried up the tears. Need plan. Stand by.

  I have an alert set so if you send a message we’ll know. We’re here for whatever you need.

  Dean was amazing. He dove right in with no idea what was to come. And then there was Eddie just rolling with what was happening—really like he always had.

  “I’ll see about your clothes,” Eddie said.

  I stopped him before he got to the door, catching him by the shoulder. “Thank you”—he turned back to me—“for taking care of me. And not asking too many questions.”

  “It’s the least I can do.” He brought his hand to mine, which was still on his shoulder. “You should take a shower. I know that’ll make you feel better.”

  “For sure.”

  I got yet another smile before he left the bathroom. As soon as I cleaned up, I’d go see Westside, so I could get back to planning his downfall.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  “WE WANT controls in place, so we govern who has access to the internet at any given time. There’s a lot of money and power to be had controlling how and when information can be passed. It used to be you needed gold or weapons for leverage. Today it’s all about data. We’ve got most of the infrastructure and code in place and with your help we can finish.”

  Westside sounded completely sane as he laid out the bonkers plan.

  “It’s difficult to control something that’s so huge and has the redundancies the internet has,” he continued. “We’ve been working over the last week to test parts of our technology and we see that we don’t have enough control in place. The only way the plan works is if the control is absolute.”

  Any kind of massive internet outage would cause so much chaos, which was exactly what Blackbird liked to do. As connected as the world was, such a disruption could even be deadly.

  “I already see your trying to work through how you can prevent this. I would hope you’ve seen how powerful we are between tearing apart TOS and abducting those close to you if we have to. There’s quite a lot we can do to you as well. You were affected by our audio experiment, and I could try out the latest incarnation on you and see how that goes.”

  Dammit.

  He had me, and he knew it. He’d seen the lengths I’d go to when I’d worked to rescue Dad in Denver and Mitch here.

  Chills went down my spine as I considered how they could’ve expanded the audio program since we’d shut it down. I was confident they weren’t broadcasting it over the internet, although if they got control of the internet, that could change. There were other ways they could use the audio tech as well.

  “I don’t even know how to do what you’re talking about. Getting control over something as large as the internet would involve oversight and dominance over millions of individual hubs.” I stopped. He didn’t need more of my thoughts.

  “We thought of all that. But you’re right—the trick is executing it.”

  My head swam as I tried to comprehend the vastness of Override. Going against a system that was designed to be resilient was something you spent years on. And even then, the system itself would continue to evolve to be stronger. Denial of service attacks against a single entity or even a particular backbone of the internet was one thing, but this was far beyond that.

  “There are governments that prevent their citizens from accessing certain things,” Westside continued. “China routinely blocks websites. Egypt, Myanmar, and others have shut the net down at times. Remember the controversy over repealing net neutrality here because it would allow providers to block content or throttle speed? We’re simply taking that to a new level.”

  “But you’re talking about putting a control on top of everything else. It’s one thing for a country to block sites, or even order a shutdown. But I just don’t see….” This discussion was something we might tackle in a class as a theoretical exercise. It was hard to believe someone wanted to attempt it.

  “That’s why we need your help. We’ve got a lot of smart people here, and you’re a great addition to the team. Let me show you.” He opened his laptop, typed a few keys and a bunch of code and notes came up on the wall of screens. He got up from his desk and walked over. I followed.

  “We’ve tested with varied success. We’ve disrupted credit card transactions, corporate interconnectivity, individual internet providers, and we had about ten hours where we had a major backbone down, causing a lot of issues on the West Coast. Sometimes our efforts were taken out by security measures, but usually we were able to complete our test. We need our own resiliency, though. You specialize in writing scripts and bots to carry out commands, and the team thinks that’s exactly what we need—especially ones that can adapt so they can keep control.”

  That might be possible, but… I didn’t see how anything that complex could be written, tested, and deployed quickly.

  “What you see here,” he continued while pointing to several screens of code, “are some of our attempts to create bots that can take instructions and adapt. We need better ones. Your ability to design bots is more advanced than the people we’ve got here and almost anyone that we’ve heard about.”

  Yes, I had a knack for this kind of code. I had a lot of scripts, aka bots, in my virtual toolbox to do all kinds of automated tasks, and when TOS needed this kind of thing, I was the go-to guy for it. Blackbird had seen it in action in Denver and New York—and both times I’d stopped them with my skill.

  The trick would be designing a bot that looked like it would do what Blackbird wanted while at the same time not. It would be near impossible because Westside would be on the lookout for that.

  I was so screwed.

  “Looking at this code,” I said, since if I was engaged, at least it’d look like I was trying to do what he wanted, “I see a few areas to bolster it to maintain its control. But eventually, at least in any truly secure system, there’d be measures in place to take care of any intrusion. On top of that you’d be looking at so many different scenarios that it would be almost impossible to write a single bot to take on everything.”

  “I’m glad you at least see something in this. It proves we should’ve made sure to capture you back in July.”

  Oh, great. I’ve made him happy.

  “I’m going to introduce you to the team this afternoon, so you can get to work,” he said as he tapped a few keys on his phone. The office door opened, and the guard stepped in. “I’ve told the project leaders that you’re to be watched closely, so please don’t try anything stupid.”

  The guard gestured for me to go out the door, and I did without saying anything to Westside. There was no need. A quip would just piss him off, and I had nothing constructive to add. I needed to think—a lot.

  Back in the holding cell, Eddie was gone, but there was a thermos of soup, and someone had br
ought in a mini fridge stocked with soda, water, and some sandwiches on a plate covered with plastic wrap. At least I should be able to keep from getting sick again.

  I lay back on the bed and stared up at the ceiling.

  Even if I wanted to help, the project seemed insurmountable. Going from theory to practicality, though, terrified me. I couldn’t play a role in that, but I also didn’t know how to prevent it, unless I could try to lead them down wrong paths. But how long was that sustainable?

  What was all that code?

  The message made me jump as it appeared in my sight. I knew Coach and Dean watched because the transmitter icon displayed. It didn’t lessen the surprise of the text appearing.

  Code they’re experimenting with. Did you understand?

  No doubt I’d be looking at more of that this afternoon. Having Dean to bounce ideas off of would help, and Coach would be able to discuss overall strategy as well.

  I’ve recorded everything, so I can look more in-depth.

  He comes through yet again. Perfect. Can you show me?

  His response was quick: Yup. Give me a minute.

  Time to get to work and find the way to bring this down.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  AS PROMISED, Westside brought me to a conference room where three others sat, laptops open in front of them. A massive screen at the front of the room showed someone’s desktop—featuring a starscape. Westside didn’t introduce anyone.

  Dean and I had spent the past two hours reviewing what Westside had shown in his office.

  It helped looking at all the code again. Dean and I talked about possible exploits in what they’d shown me—although the eye typing drove me crazy. At least I felt prepared for whatever came next.

  We decided Dean would continue to record, but it was becoming an urgency to get the phone charged. Despite the capacity of the battery, it couldn’t last much longer.

  The session with Westside and others on the team was three hours of fairly interesting project overview. A notebook and pen had been at my seat when I arrived in the room, and I made some notes of items I wanted to think about and maybe talk over with Dean.