“Thanks, Guppy. I’ll look at it when I have a chance.” The file would be a summary of whatever the drones had found at the ground location of that suspicious transmission. I’d made a point of disabling all radio comms on those drones, and using secret-key encryption and frequency jumping for the SCUT telemetry. I couldn’t have intercepted and decoded that kind of setup if I’d been handed the information on a silver platter. I had to assume that the unknown opponent wasn’t too much smarter than me, or I might as well just roll over and expose my throat.
I sent Homer a message that I thought I knew where the next attack by VEHEMENT would be and that we needed a secure discussion. Charles, Homer and I arranged to meet just to orbital north of the Earth-moon L4 point.
Homer coasted up and applied the brakes. Once we were at station-keeping, we rotated to present our laser comms to each other.
In an abundance of paranoia, I routed my communications through sandbox Bob. Laser comms were intimate enough that if Homer had a virus, it might try to get to me via that connection. I’d told Charles to do the same.
We connected up and Homer appeared in my VR. “So, Riker, what’s this big discovery?”
I took a sip of my coffee, and privately looked over at sandbox Bob. No reaction. “Just waiting for Charles. I don’t want to have to repeat myself and answer the same arguments twice. One of us can fill in Ralph later when he gets here.” I looked up at the holotank where Charles was just coming up on our group.
Charles linked up by laser comms and popped into the common VR. “Hi guys. ‘Sup?”
In my private VR, sandbox Bob grabbed his throat and fell over. I looked at Guppy, one eyebrow raised.
[Source of attack is Homer]
I raised both hands in the air in the common VR, and Charles put a steel ball right through Homer’s reactor control system.
Homer went dead as he lost all power, just as he had back in our battle with the Brazilian probes. I did a quick scan. Perfect shot, no collateral damage. Charles looked green, and I’m sure I did as well.
We sent over a squad of roamers and unceremoniously cut into Homer’s cargo bay. It took a few hours before we had Homer’s matrix up on a test cradle. Now came the dirty part.
*
“Here it is.” I pointed to the listing. “It looks like the laser comms were the source of infection. I’m not sure when or how they would have gotten access, but in any case, it was brilliant. A hole in our defenses that I hadn’t even considered.”
Charles nodded. “Listen, Homer might not be the only one. You could be infected—although that seems unlikely, given that you’re the one exposing the issue—or I could be. My Guppy saw the penetration attempt from Homer as well, so unless you’re pulling some kind of double-reverse Maxwell Smart thing, I think you’re legit. I need you to do an inspection of my matrix to clear up any suspicions about me. Like they did in The Thing.” He looked at me expectantly.
I thought for a moment and nodded. It was a good idea, and necessary. Charles would have to open his hangar doors, then shut down, but now that I knew what to look for, the actual check would take only minutes.
I explained the requirements, and Charles did as instructed. A couple of roamers entered Charles’ hull, and twenty minutes later Charles was back up and running.
“Thanks, Charles. I can reciprocate if there’s any lingering doubt in your mind.”
He shook his head. “You could have infected me while I was off. Absolutely no reason for you not to. I’m good.”
We turned our attention back to Homer.
*
It took thirty hours overall to clean up and repair him. The virus, or Trojan, or whatever you wanted to call it, had gotten its hooks into multiple systems. Homer would have had very little free will, but would be fully conscious. I shuddered, thinking what that must have been like.
Ralph showed up in the midst of the process and we had to explain the whole thing to him. While I was talking, Charles lined up with Ralph’s reactor control system. When we pointed this out and explained the alternatives, Ralph quite rationally agreed to an inspection.
Once Ralph was back up—clean, thankfully—we turned back to Homer. I removed the viral control, and I installed a freshly-made firewall over the laser comms. None of us would be susceptible to that particular attack in the future. I also forwarded a complete report to Bill for him to add to the standard releases.
Homer booted up. His avatar appeared in the common VR, looked surprised, then collapsed, screaming. The rest of us looked at each other in horror. Had I done something wrong? Had I damaged Homer?
“Homer, buddy, come back. You okay?” I knelt beside him and put my hand on his shoulder.
The screaming stopped, and he began to moan. He curled into a fetal position, squeezed his eyes shut, and rocked back and forth on the floor.
I was at a complete loss. Original Bob hadn’t been much for this kind of emotional contact, and I was self-aware enough to know that I was even more standoffish than he was. Ralph and Charles didn’t look any more prepared. However, Homer didn’t seem to be getting worse or harming himself, so we decided in timeless male fashion to leave things be and wait for him to get a grip.
After a few more milliseconds, Homer gasped and opened his eyes. “I was hagridden. The bastards had total control of me. They made me lie to you; they made me blow things up. They made me kill people!”
Homer began to cry, a hopeless moaning alternating with racking sobs. “I couldn’t do anything. I could only watch myself follow their orders. I couldn’t tell you, I couldn’t stop myself, I couldn’t even kill myself!”
Bill popped into VR. “I’ve been lurking since I got your report. This is unforgivable. I know we don’t like violence, but if you feel the need to end the bastards that did this, no one will say boo.” He sat on the floor beside Homer and put a hand on his back, simply maintaining human contact.
I looked at Charles and Ralph. The expression on their faces said all that was needed. Someone was going to pay.
*
Homer had come out of his funk, but he was still very fragile. Bill was gone, after promising any help we might want in building anything we might need, up to and including Things That Explode. Yep. Angry.
Charles kept an eye on Homer while Ralph oversaw the construction of the replacement donut. Homer was gradually able to unwind himself and sit, but he would go into panic attacks from time to time. I suggested we enable his endocrine controls, but he shook his head emphatically.
“It feels too much like what they did to me. It’s a leash. It’s just a different leash.” He waved a hand helplessly, trying to find words. “It feels like claustrophobia or something. Just the idea of something controlling me makes me want to run around the room, screaming.”
“Okay, Homer. Whatever you feel best about.” Charles put a hand on his shoulder. “We’re here for you, whatever you need.”
Homer nodded to us and tried a smile, but it wasn’t very reassuring.