Shatterheart - Chapter 3
Happy Monday and welcome to Shatterheart Chapter Three! We're getting into a bit more of a political tone with this chapter, taking a step back to Warden Station 18 to explore Hopkins' reaction to the Board of Directors threat and Arya's disappearance!
Need to get caught up? You can find the previous chapters here!
- Chapter 3 -
Loyalty Above
“Well?” Hopkins asked, raising his eyebrows, his hands clasped in front of his mouth, his elbows resting on the edge of his desk, “Are you going to brief me on the entry or did you just come by for a drink?”
Across from him in the wide office sat Burkley, reclined comfortably, a glass of scotch in one hand while the other drummed thoughtfully on the arm of his leather chair. He glanced up from his drink, pulled back to reality and out of his thoughts. He cleared his throat and took a sip, sitting up a bit.
“Out of contact immediately, same as always,” he shook his head in disappointment, “It seems that none of the modifications made any difference. Unless she’s waiting to call in on the onboard radio, it looks like the survivalist may be lost to the Shatter.”
“Well. That was to be expected, I suppose,” Hopkins deflated a bit, leaning back, moving his clasped hands to his belly, “I’ll give the announcement, it was my call after all.”
“Wait a week. The transmitters weren’t the only modifications on the pod. If the new mechanical reentry system functions, she could still make it back out,” the younger man offered. We eliminated all electronics from the system to counteract any static or electromagnetic fields that may be interfering inside the Shatter.”
“And what will I tell the rest of the local board? What will I tell the directors?” Hopkins chuckled, “I won’t even be the Chairman in a week.”
Burkley sat up, blinking several times in bewilderment, sitting his glass gently on the edge of the desk. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, clasping his hands. With his thumb, he reached past his wrist to the gold and silver cufflinks glittering on his sleeve. There was a soft click as he pushed it against his skin. A soft buzzing filled the air, just gentle enough that it didn’t grate on the mind immediately, but loud enough that it might drive you insane if it went on long enough.
“Why? Is it the illness?” Burkley asked, concern creasing his brow.
“The Directors will be voting to remove me at some point next week in lieu of the recent losses we’ve faced,” the chairman sighed, digging a finger in an ear from the noise, “And must you use your little gadgets?”
“I just don’t want anyone listening in on any sensitive subjects,” the young man muttered conceleatorily.
“At this point, I doubt it matters, my boy,” Hopkins chuckled, “I’m running out of time, both at Warden and in this world.”
“I can fabricate the pod status pings,” Burkley blurted out, “They won’t be able to tell the difference until they come and look at the console.”
“Austin,” Hopkins shook his head slowly.
“No, listen. I’m confident in my engineers. I know this is the one, it’ll work. We just need some more time. Just because we lost contact doesn’t mean that she’s dead. So the new radio system wasn’t what we needed, she will return,” he said, pleading open handedly to the older man, “She’s a fantastic survivalist, even if she is new. If she can’t find Balto quickly and has no way to find them, she’ll return to organize a drop in a different location.”
“And you’ll be found out the instant I’m removed and it’ll ruin your life. You didn’t work for this long just to throw it away on a tiny chance,” Hopkins insisted, his tone getting more firm.
“They can’t remove you if there’s an active mission in progress that looks like it may succeed. They won’t throw away the chance to actually learn some of the Shatter’s secrets. If Barnes is truly lost, I’ll clear the log and we’ll tell them the pings stopped and the mission failed. We’ll have the same result with more time to work with,” Burkley argued back, “Just give it a chance. It could save you.”
Hopkins leaned back, letting out a long, tired sigh. He let the pause drag on, gazing at the screen built into his desk. The soft, flickering blue light gave the otherwise darkened room a cool, icy glow. The pair sat in silence, neither willing to look directly at the other.
“Dad,” Burkley murmured, finally raising his head to look at the older man.
“Austin,” Hopkins said, shooting a warning glance up at him, but he ignored it and continued.
“Trust me on this one.”
“You stress me out,” Hopkins groaned, hauling himself to his feet, propping against his cane, “Fine. But you better know what you’re doing.”
“Yes, sir,” Burkley stood up quickly, giving a timid smile.
“I would hug you, but I doubt that little gadget works on video, too,” the old man chuckled, reaching out his right hand.
“Good guess,” his boy replied with a smile, shaking the hand firmly.
As the annoying buzzing stopped, Hopkins retook his seat at the desk, gazing thoughtfully at the glass left half full by the young head of engineering. He smiled to himself as the thought of how annoyed the Directors would be once they hear that a mission may be succeeding, even if it is a fabrication. Despite several of them having animosity toward him, most were driven by results, and a transmission out of a Shatter was definitely a result.
“Engineer Brown, your presence is required in the Drop Control Console Room. Repeat, Engineer Brown, your presence is required in the Drop Control Console Room,” echoed the same bored, monotone voice that had summoned Arya for her mission the prior morning. The station was relatively empty at the moment, most of the Drop Wardens and Survivalists had been sent off to some other sector at the behest of the Board of Directors. Most of the crew were engineers and scientists with a few pilots thrown into the mix.
Isabella Brown hustled up the hall, swinging her arms in a powerwalking fashion. She was a short woman, barely over four feet, wearing a scuffed and beaten engineering survival suit complete with blue coloration and the insignia of the Engineer Division on the shoulder. Unlike Arya, she was a seasoned member of the Warden Federation and thus instead of an arrow over the stylized E of her insignia, there were three stars, marking her as one of the highest ranking development engineers in Warden Station 18.
After badging through three different sets of doors and receiving bored, but mandatory, glances from the guards, she burst into the dim Drop Control Console Room. The entire room was a monitor that could be interacted with via keyboards or touch. It was circular with a glassy, rounded protrusion at the center that housed a starmap of the surrounding space. Over this map, lit from beneath by its dim glow, stood Austin Burkley, gazing into the web of blips and dots, all interconnected by various colored lines and labeled with tiny floating text. Aside from him, the room was ominously empty and inactive. Not even the scanner was online.
“Uhm,” Isabella mumbled, freezing in the doorway as the panel slid shut automatically behind her.
“Ah, there you are,” Burkley straightened up, adjusting his jacket, a smile forming on his lips.
“W-what’s this about?” she asked nervously, not budging from her place beside the door.
“Please, have a seat,” Burkley motioned to a pair of analyzer chairs that had been pulled away from the wall console to face each other. Matching her pace, he walked over and lowered himself into one, crossing his leg casually and folding his hands in his lap. Still uncomfortable and nervous, Isabella took the other seat; her legs clamped together, gripping her knees with white knuckles, “You’re a close friend of Arya Barnes, are you not?” he asked.
“Yes, we were friends in school and we became close again when she started working here,” Isabella explained, “I-is she…” she trailed off.
“We’re not sure yet. We haven’t given her the time she needs, yet. You know as much as everyone else, that she fell out of contact once she entered the Shatter,” he replied. Isabella breathed a slight sigh of relief before he began again, “Unfortunately, the Board of Directors will be pulling the mission immediately and chalking it up as a failure.”
“What?! No!” Isabella said loudly, jumping up, nearly bumping into Burkley, “Her mission is for six months, why would they do that?”
“I’ve been informed by several sources that the Directors are trying to remove Chairman Hopkins from his position. A little tidbit of information I am trusting you not to spread,” he replied, “They feel that the Shatter expeditions, this one included, are pointless and a waste of resources. They will be shutting it down immediately as we’ve fallen out of contact with Arya, despite our efforts to allow the craft to make reentry.”
“That’s not right. She’s a person, we have to give her every opportunity!” she shouted, her voice cracking, tears springing to her eyes.
“This is politics, and they don’t care for the lives lost. Only that they get their way,” Burkley nodded solemnly, “Which is why I intend on playing politics back, with your help, to give Arya a fighting chance.”
“How? What do you need me to do?” Isabella asked, retaking her seat quickly.
“We’re going to forge a report from the onboard status report module,” he waved a hand at the glowing wall panel beside them, bringing up a small window showing a column of numbers and dates.
“But how?” she asked, looking at the list. It was the diagnostics from when they were testing the system.
“You designed the system. How would you do it?” Burkley cocked an eyebrow.
“Well, we designed it to shoot out a signal, super simple, basically just a powerful bolt of energy so that it could make it through whatever radiation is surrounding the Shatter. It just pings so we know it’s alive, nothing else,” Isabella started, racking her brain for a way to forge it, “If we send out another pod, with the same system on board, we could replicate it?”
“It has to be kept quiet. If anyone asks anything or finds out, the plan is over and so is my career. A pod launch and just floating around out by the Shatter could draw a lot of attention without a very good reason for being out there since all observation is restricted,” he shook his head, shooting down the idea.
“It doesn’t have to be on a pod, it could be on a shuttle?” she offered an alternative but was met by more head shaking.
“We can’t send shuttles out. Like I said, all observation of the Shatter is restricted until further notice. We don’t do anything else here, so it would be considered suspect,” he sighed.
The pair fell into silence. Burkley stared at the ceiling, tossing ideas around in his head, but none seemed viable. Isabella gazed through furrowed brow at the log on the screen. Just by looking at her you could almost see the gears turning. After a few minutes, her eyes lit up and she stood from her seat, taking a closer look at the console.
“I’ve got it!” She laughed, causing Burkley to raise his eyebrows, “When we designed the software to read the pings, we never differentiated between a test ping and a real ping on the log itself. It only shows up on the backend whether a test was run.”
“So if you were to run a test ping, it would show up as legitimate on the log?” Burkley asked, a smile creeping onto his face.
“It would. But if they have someone look at the software itself, they’ll be able to see that tests were run. I can’t just delete things from the console without setting off a warning to everyone else in the RnD department,” she explained, rubbing a hand over her forehead.
“It’ll work,” he nodded, standing up, “No one will be looking at it until a much later date, they have no reason to. I need you to come up here every day at the appropriate time and send a test ping from the console. If anyone asks, you’re here to observe the log and make sure that pings are continued. As for yesterday’s absent ping, we’ll call it an issue with entry and leave it.”
“Yes, sir,” Isabella nodded, giving a weak smile.
“We can’t keep it up for long. We’ll give it a week and then we have to end it if she hasn’t called in,” he warned, “Otherwise it may raise suspicions and they’ll have another engineer or technician look at the logs.”
“Do you think Arya will be back that quickly?” Isabella asked hopefully.
“I don’t know if you’re familiar with survivalist training, but they’re taught that if they find uninhabitable land or are struggling immediately, to return as soon as they are capable to restock and try a different entry approach strategy,” Burkley explained, “If all radio communications are down for her, she’ll have no way of locating Balto down in the Shatter and will be totally out of options if she didn’t fall directly on them. From there, we just have to rely on the mechanical reentry system to get her back into orbit where we can pick her up.”
“Thank you, Mr. Burkley, for not giving up on her,” Isabella said softly, her smile widening.
“There are more people than just Balto Squad who are depending on Arya,” he nodded, “Giving up on her is giving up on them as well.”