Chapter 5: An Unapologetic Hacker

Grak’s quarters were easy to find. Standing just outside his door, Giddeon pretended to adjust the laces of his shoe, waiting patiently as the only other person in the corridor faded out of sight.

Once the hallway cleared, he slipped the holo from his pocket. Tapping it, the device hummed to life, projecting a lattice of neon-blue code over his knuckles. He launched his home-brewed decryptor, feeding it a single parameter: Graks.

The program ripped through the ship’s mirrored database, filtering thousands of personnel files in nanoseconds until it isolated the target. Beams of light shot outward, casting a life-sized, three-dimensional digital skin over Giddeon’s frame. He raised his left hand; Grak’s flawless hologram mimicked the movement perfectly. The door slid open, and he immediately stepped through.

“You disabled the signal, correct?” Giddeon asked, swiping his hand behind him to shut the door.

“For the third time, yes,” Johnny replied. “They can’t track us anymore. Just keep in mind, I no longer have access to their live systems either—only the last copied version from five minutes ago.”

“Duly noted. Now I’ve got to find his—” Giddeon froze, his eyes locking onto a miniature, die-sized cube sitting on the dining room table.

“That’s not his holo, is it?” Johnny asked in disbelief.

“Indeed, it is,” Giddeon murmured. Ignoring the holo, he first cleared the rest of the suite, ensuring it was vacant. As he entered the washroom, his eyes lingered on the bathtub—a massive, polished black basin modeled after a Triumvirate starship, its rim lined with miniature military toy soldiers. Giddeon scowled, shaking his head as he recalled the pink tub and flowers waiting for him back in his own quarters.

Back in the dining area, he stared down at the lone cube on the table.

“Why in the world would he leave his holo behind?” Johnny questioned. “It’s like he’s begging someone to steal it.”

“Oafs like him barely understand holos,” Giddeon replied. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a thin, sticky film, wrapping it carefully around his index finger. “Or the dangers of leaving one around.” Pressing his finger atop the holo, he rolled it from side to side to imprint its surface. After a few seconds, a red light flashed. The cube buzzed to life, and a screen popped up.

[PASSWORD:]

“Clearly an idiot,” the two of them said in unison.

Giddeon frowned. “Don’t copy me.”

“Look at that, partner!” Johnny exclaimed, ignoring him. “Even our thoughts are in sync! It’s like we’re best friends already!”

“Coincidence,” Giddeon grumbled.

Pulling out a thin braided cord crafted of Veridian alloy—the only thing he possessed made of the rich metal—he touched it to his own holo, then to Grak’s, both ends snapping into place like magnets. Accessing his holo, he infiltrated the local system, easily defeating its poorly designed defenses.

A cheerful, upbeat old-world guitar riff suddenly twanged in Giddeon’s head, followed by a rapid burst of four enthusiastic handclaps.

“I’ll be there for youuu!” Johnny sang at maximum volume.

“Shut it off,” Giddeon snapped. “I need to concentrate.”

“Awww, you don’t like sitcoms?”

“Watching an ancient show about city dwellers whose biggest problems revolve around relationship misunderstandings?” Giddeon snorted. “Nah. I couldn’t relate. I was too busy fleeing radical cultists who wanted to harvest my limbs for some cybernetic deity. Not to mention dodging Earth One’s finer mutations—the kind that swallow you whole.” He opened Grak’s email, transferring the files directly to his own holo.

“Oh my,” Johnny murmured in quiet awe. “I think we need to sit down with a psychologist at some point. Maybe two. Or a whole panel of them.”

“Sure, when I get the time,” Giddeon replied distractedly.

He compiled a data package, then transferred the exact same virus he had planted in the ship onto Grak’s holo, burying it deep inside an automated system-cache file to make it look intentionally hidden. Injecting one final executable labeled ‘Countdown,’ he tapped his interface.

A three-minute timer began ticking down in red letters. Waving his hands, he powered off both units.

“What exactly are we doing here again?” Johnny inquired.

“We?” Giddeon asked, gliding toward the exit.

“Well, I can’t very well opt out of riding around inside your head, so yes, we. Don’t take that as a sign of emotional availability, though. I have severe commitment issues.”

Giddeon chuckled. Waving the door open, he stuck his head out. “An AI stuck in my head can’t commit? Got it.”

Fortunately, the vast majority of Aiges were still busy testing, leaving the corridor deserted. Stepping out into the hall, Giddeon quickly initiated his spoofing software, swiping his palm in reverse motion. The door whisked shut with an audible click.

“When those three minutes expire, my secondary script will force-launch the virus,” Giddeon explained. He pocketed the holo, moving quickly down the corridor. “Our enhanced friend will pick up the signal as soon as it activates, and Graks will become the prime suspect for infiltrating their system. By the by, where’s the tracker now?”

“I don’t know,” Johnny admitted. “We no longer have live access to the feeds, remember? If I tried breaching the system now, they’d instantly sense my presence.”

Giddeon took a sharp left and moved down another empty hallway. “I already established a remote relay through a burner holo back in the dining hall.”

“Let me guess. You magnetized it to the underside of our booth?”

“Simplest spot,” Giddeon replied. “It’ll receive signals as long as the virus is still running, which it will be in a couple of minute. We’ll have live info until they disable it.”

“So, a multi-node daisy-chain involving three separate holos,” Johnny murmured, sounding impressed. “Speaking as a certified cosmic phenomenon, this is getting remarkably convoluted.”

“Still works.”

“True. But won’t they just trace the transmission back to the dining hall relay once it starts receiving data?”

“The moment a remote scan pings that specific node, the link will be severed and the holo formatted.” He shrugged. “I also set it up to fry itself. All they’ll find is a melted cube.

“You know what, partner? Sometimes your crippling paranoia pays off.”

“Thanks…I think.”

Giddeon navigated through several more intersecting corridors, finally ducking down a recessed passageway that ended at a light blue door. To the side of the door sat an upright cone-shaped device projecting a miniature hologram of that same retro, suit-clad figure.

“Need a break?” the hologram asked cheerfully, tucking his cane beneath his arm and offering a polite bow. He gestured grandly toward the door behind him.

“Nah, just a place to hide from one of your trackers,” Giddeon replied.

The door slid back, and he stepped into a spacious, round-domed leisure lounge. Padded armchairs and low-profile tables were scattered across the floor, positioned beneath hexagonal viewports that offered a breathtaking view of the starfield outside. Mellow music drifted from the ceiling while short, box-shaped service droids wheeled past, offering premium refreshments to the few occupants dotting the chairs.

Retreating to a booth in the furthest corner of the lounge, Giddeon pulled out his holo and activated it. Pinching his fingers together, he minimized the screen, whispering, “Private mode.”

The translucent back of the hologram instantly darkened, completely shielding his data from the rest of the room. He tapped a glowing icon labeled [Relay Link], leaning back against the cushions as a red [UNABLE TO CONNECT] prompt blinked continuously on his screen. A minute later, the error prompt vanished, replaced by an active stream of data.

“It’s back on,” he whispered, his fingers going to work on his holoboard.

Accessing the ship’s database, he targeted the cameras, erasing the last thirty minutes of footage from all but ten recordings. From the remaining feeds, he spliced tiny, seamless fragments of empty hallways and compiled them into thirty-second loops. Navigating to the backup drive, he did the same. Powering down the ship’s camera system, he swiped off his holo.

“Why not just wipe it all?” Johnny asked.

Giddeon leaned back in his seat. “The loops are bait. Someone smart will look for meaning where there is none. They’ll spend hours chasing ghosts.”

“And if they realize it’s just a decoy?”

A thin smile touched Giddeon’s lips. “It won’t matter. They’ll have wasted their time by then.”

Johnny scoffed. “You’re remarkably cunning for a human. But you do some strange things—like manipulating your stats into all tens. Why’d we even bother doing that?”

Giddeon scanned the lounge, tracking a box-shaped droid as it rolled past, then shifted his gaze to the door where a couple had just entered. “Knowledge is power. I’ll be able to see my enemy’s strengths and weaknesses, while they’ll perceive me as weak.”

“And what enemies are we talking about, exactly?”

“Undetermined. As of yet.”

“Did I mention paranoia was a sign of insanity?”

“So says the talking chip in my head.”

“An immortal, magical chip, to be precise.”

Giddeon smirked, pushing himself up from the booth. “Sure thing, Johnny.”

On his way toward the exit, Giddeon snatched a chilled beverage right off a passing droid’s automated tray. A hot shower was calling his name, and ensuring he was in his room when the camera system came back online would only help his alibi.

“Wasn’t that someone else’s?” Johnny asked as Giddeon took a sip of the sweet juice, finding it to his liking.

“They can order another,” Giddeon said. Gulping down the remainder, he dumped the empty mug into a wall chute. “Trying not to run hard made me thirsty.”

“Does that even make sense?”

“Ask me if I care.”

“Do you—”

“Wait—don’t ask,” Giddeon cut him off. “It’s just a saying.”

“What a confusing saying,” Johnny murmured.

Reaching his room, Giddeon showered, changed, and collapsed onto his bed. The moment he closed his eyes, his consciousness faded. Dreams of Asteria intruded into his sleep, a jumbled mix of desperate fights and fond memories from years ago. A full four hours passed before the insistent sound of his door chiming woke him.

“Coming!” he groaned as it rang again.

Rolling out of bed, he rubbed his eyes and sighed. Stumbling to the entrance, he checked the monitor. Two masked guards in full armor were waiting outside. He waved the door open.

“Well, you aren’t room service,” Giddeon said, leaning back and squinting at the two men.

“Mr. Seres, please come with us,” a guard’s voice droned through his helmet speaker. “You’re being summoned.”

“That sounds extremely official.” Giddeon rested his head against the doorframe, frowning. “Is it someone important? Should I—should I bring a gift?” He pointed back into his suite. “I’ve got some wine I’ve yet to open.”

“No gift is required,” the guard replied professionally.

“Alright then. But if whoever it is gets insulted, I’m blaming you, just so you know.” He pointed his finger at the guard.

The guards escorted him into unfamiliar territory, down a silent corridor that ended at a large, circular door. As they approached, one of his escorts flashed a blue access card at the two guards flanking the entrance.

Wordlessly, one of the sentries snapped up a red access card attached to his belt by a thin, retractable titanium cord. They held it up to a panel, and the door spun open with a heavy whir.

Beyond the threshold, Giddeon felt the atmosphere shift instantly. A shiver ran down his spine as he stepped into the luxury of the corporate elite. The passages were no longer straight, narrow, and stark white; they were wide and curved, designed for sheer aesthetics rather than function. Bright colors shouted from the walls, favoring a bold, checkered black-and-red pattern. Eccentric, nonsensical art pieces jutted from the walls, their purpose anyone’s guess. A vibrant blue carpet muffled their footsteps as they traveled.

The corridor led into a large, octagonal room with short hallways connecting to each of its eight sides, each ending at a different colored door. As they passed through, a door to the right swung open. Three figures in white aprons scrambled out, pushing a cart full of silver-covered dishes. Completely ignoring Giddeon and his escorts, they zipped across the room, vanishing down an adjacent passage.

The guards marched forward until the passage widened, unveiling a gallery of polished red oak stands. Busts of famous figures throughout history stared at them as they walked, their features immaculately preserved in gray marble.

Soon, the faint smell of rich soil and fresh water wafted through the air as the walls seamlessly transitioned into thick plates of glass. The corridor became a panoramic walkway slicing right through a living, indoor zoo. Bunnies hopped across lush grass, monkeys lounged on small trees, and a lone lion paced inside its sprawling glass enclosure. Further down, a floor-to-ceiling tank appeared out of nowhere, with sleek reef sharks gliding mere inches from the glass as they walked past.

Johnny suddenly gave out a heavy sigh. “I feel for them,” he said gloomily.

How so?

“I too am trapped inside an inescapable cage, but instead of glass, my prison is the weak mind of a human.”

And here I almost took you seriously.

Johnny scoffed. “These pea-brained creatures are forced to live a pitiful existence, unable to go where their heart’s desire. Much like me—except I’m burdened with supreme intelligence, making my scenario that much more tragic.”

My heart bleeds for you.

Finally, the menagerie corridor ended, transitioning into a hallway. At its end was a security barrier so heavily reinforced it looked like a blast door.

A tall, wiry woman in a crisp uniform stood waiting, her icy presence enough to give anyone pause. Atop her head sat a raspberry beret with a heavy gold crest, marking her authority. Her salt-and-pepper hair was braided and wrapped around her head, save for a single thick braid that dangled down the left side of her face. Her piercing blue eyes narrowed slightly as she looked him up and down, her arms crossed.

“You look…freshly clean,” she murmured, as if expecting something else.

Giddeon grinned foolishly, running a hand through his hair. “I did just shower,” he snorted. “My last test was brutal. I think I ran a whole mile on that treadmill.”

The woman tilted her head, her eyes darting to her lower left for a split second.

“I think she’s an Aiges,” Johnny warned.

She is. She just checked out my stats in a tricky manner. We have to be careful around her.

The woman’s lips shot downward for a tick before straightening into a thin line. “Greetings, Mr. Seres. I am Raylin Viscellius, head of security for Vibane Corp’s fourth quadrant, which includes the last three planets charted by the Triumvirate. Mr. Vibane would like a word.”

“A word? Heck, maybe he’d like a whole sentence!” Giddeon guffawed loudly, slapping his knee with exaggerated mirth.

The guards didn’t so much as blink. Raylin simply stared at him, unamused.

Giddeon maintained his foolish grin, using the expression to mask the fact he was actively scanning her profile.

They’re all blank? Even her name’s listed as unknown. They purposefully kept her out of the system.

“And your AIGES isn’t automatically analyzing her,” Johnny added.

Why not?

“Hers is sending out a signal, blocking connections. I’ll manually kick-start the process, though it’ll take a few minutes to formulate preliminary numbers.”

“Please, come with me,” Raylin said, her voice matching the coldness of her eyes. Turning, she pressed her palm against a wall console and leaned into a clear glass biometric plate. The instruments whirred softly as they scanned her retinas and handprint.

“I just want you to know,” Giddeon said as the panel let out four sharp beeps. “I didn’t bring a gift. I told those two right there.” He pointed at the guards behind him.

“No gifts are required,” she replied offhandedly.

Three heavily armored shield layers hissed, sliding into the bulkheads to reveal a spacious, dimly lit chamber beyond.

Giddeon followed Raylin inside, greeted by the low swell of classical music and a chamber steeped in absurd, eclectic luxury. Expensive animal pelts were flung carelessly across the floor, while bizarre, sharp-edged sculptures climbed the walls like mutated creatures from a wild fever dream. Translucent, glowing curtains framed several panoramic viewports. In the corner, a three-tiered marble fountain featured a sculpture of a naked boy relieving himself into the basin. Behind Giddeon, the blast doors sealed shut with a deafening slam, locking him inside.

At the head of an expansive dining table lined with thirty red velvet chairs sat Ereos.

Towering directly behind the CEO was an eight-foot-tall behemoth, his colossal frame visibly straining the seams of a black security uniform. The giant’s lower jaw was a cold, unmoving plate of polished titanium that matched his soulless, vacant stare. Red and blue synthetic veins pulsed with fluids and electricity, snaking up his neck to disappear into a metal cap dominating the right side of his skull. Both his arms, from the elbows down, were crafted of pure Veridian, the rich metal gleaming brightly under the recessed spotlights. Giddeon quickly assessed the brute, calculating that he was looking at the most expensive walking weapon in the entire solar system.

I have an image of Raylin, save this website limits images to 5MB. On Royal Road the image is in the middle of the text where Giddeon checked her out. The book name is the same on their–Perfect Ten.