We All Fall Down

Author: Salie Gaterau / Gabriel Cassata

Original post: https://evemind.wordpress.com/2014/11/15/we-all-fall-down/

Author's note: This is a short piece where I wanted to explore the dangers of idealism. These are sometimes murky moral waters and, as an idealist, these are challenges I find myself facing from time to time.

Entry for the YC116 Pod and Planet Fiction Contest in the Eight Thousand Suns in New Eden category.

Jeral Ormon sat quietly and watched the enormous digital display through the cockpit window. The colors seemed less vibrant than the others, he thought, placing a contemplative finger to his lips. The tones felt muted and pale against the colorful, swirling blue and green backdrop of the Mubeskit nebula, and engine exhaust had a way of washing out practically everything in between.

Billboards like this were a familiar sight in high-sec space, broadcasting an endless stream of news, market values and over-wrought advertisements for the latest fizzy drinks to busy travelers throughout the sector. Still, despite their size, they are frequently overlooked as traffic through less congested systems move quickly to their gates and, flash, they are gone. But this was Jita, an uncommonly busy trade hub, playing host to thousands of travelers nearly every hour, and nothing went unnoticed here.

Ships came and went at regular intervals, bringing with them all manner of trade and commerce. Agile frigates darted between lumbering ore haulers while privateers and pirates of every kind hustled to their destinations with profit on their minds.

The gentle hum and hiss of the nearby stargate thrummed repeatedly as ships made their way out into the wider world and Jeral found himself counting the seconds between the flashes. Service through the gate had begun to back up, gridlocking hundreds of ships now in a writhing mass of teeming metal.

The cabin door beeped once and slid open. Terman Disick stepped into the cramped control space and sat down. He brushed his smooth black hair with a nervous hand.

“So, how does it look?”

Jeral quickly glanced at the monitors then back outside. “We’re holding steady twenty-three kilometers out; ideal transmission range. I’ve already established the initial uplink, just waiting to execute.”

Terman leaned forward. “And congestion appears to be at a critical mass. I think it’s now or never.”

“We still have time. The traffic-jam won’t begin to break up for another few minutes and CONCORD patrol craft are about to sweep close again. Best to let them pass.”

Terman nodded and sat back. “Good idea. Never can be too careful. You remember what happened last year during that ugly Wiyrkomi affair. We spent all that time collecting confidential documents, bank transactions, accounting forensics; enough shady financial activity to cripple the entire corporate infrastructure.”

“But Wiyrkomi security analysts found our footprints on the backend and ran us off before we could expose the embezzlement,” Jeral finished.

Terman swiveled in his chair and slumped back. “By the time we regrouped, the company books had miraculously balanced themselves. Nothing left to expose.”

“Funny how a tiny string of invisible paradata could completely destroy eighteen months of effort,” Jeral said.

“True,” Terman said. “But this approach is much simpler; beautiful really. When we hack into that billboard network and publicly broadcast evidence of CBD Sell Division’s extensive corporate fraud, the entire region will have full knowledge of their crimes within minutes and the company will eventually collapse under the weight of their own greed.”

Jeral smirked, “And you and I will be standing right underneath them when they go down.”

Terman closed his eyes and exhaled heavily. “You and I will be long gone by then. Never can be too careful.”

“No you can’t,” Jeral said softly. “Hey, speaking of careful, I found something in the communication logs while I was flushing the data streams for today’s operation. “

“Yeah, what’s that?”

“Well, it’s interesting,” Jeral said, sweeping his fingers across a small datapad and laying it in Terman’s lap.

“It looks like our ship received an inbound transmission about six hours ago from somewhere in the Tasen constellation.”

“What’s so interesting about that,” Terman said, studying the datapad. “There’s nothing here, just a timestamp. We probably intercepted a piece of some guys dry cleaning bill by mistake.”

Jeral smiled faintly. “That’s what I thought at first. Then I ran it through one of my data analyzers and uncovered an encrypted file embedded deep inside the registry syntax.”

Terman’s brow furrowed and his expression grew sterner. “That’s not possible.”

“Actually, it is,” Jeral replied. “Kind of brilliant to be honest. That’s the last place anyone would think to look for a file, even a hidden one.”

“So how did you find it,” Terman asked pointedly.

“I’m not just anyone,’ Jeral answered with a confident, steely resolve that Terman was unaccustomed to hearing from his friend. He felt his muscles tense for a moment then slowly relax.

“So, what did the message say,” Terman said finally.

“It was a transfer confirmation; three-hundred million ISK pending successful completion.”

Terman shook his head, “Completion of what? I really don’t understand what any of this has to do with us.”

Jeral sat forward, stiff and defiant. “But I think you do.”

Terman felt his face flush and his tone became increasingly incredulous. “What are you trying to say, Jeral? That I’m some kind of thief?”

“No. I would have never thought of you as a thief. But of course, before this morning, I would’ve never thought you’d betray your principles either.”

Terman stood, laughing laboriously, “I don’t understand, after everything we’ve been…”

“Save it,” Jeral shot back. “Don’t carry on denying it because I’ve spent the last five hours data-mining the transmission and I know everything. I traced it back to the Caldari Provisions Warehouse near Haatomo VI. And I think you know who their primary business competitor is; CBD Sell Division. They would be quite pleased to hear that their chief rival had fallen into financial chaos at the hands of some fanatical extremists.”

“Just slow down. This is a lot more complicated than you realize.”

Jeral stood to face Terman. “No, I think I understand everything just fine, thanks. You saw an opportunity to score some easy cash and you took it.”

Terman’s eye’s blazed. “We needed that money! You think exposing corrupt corporations is a lucrative endeavor? Turns out, it’s not, unless you play one side against the other.”

“Wrong,” Jeral interrupted. “I spent weeks writing that software to hijack the billboard communication network. I did it. Me. It required no capital investment. No research and development funding, no shareholder approval. I willed it into existence because I wanted to. We wanted to.”

Terman paced the small cabin floor, stopping only to amplify his argument with a pointed finger. “We can’t afford to be idealists all the time, Jeral. I employ a complex system of corporate espionage agents from here to the Amarr Empire. Many of them put their lives at risk every time they smuggle information to us. Do you think they do that for free? Wake up. Where do you think we got half of the most critical records on CBD’s illicit activities? I’ll tell you where; an actuarial clerk with Planar Commercial Dynamics, the accountancy firm that handles most of CBD’s off-world credit payouts. Without her help, all we had were some mildly alarming reports of CBD executives using the company yacht for personal getaways. Face it, Jeral, this is a business, just like any other and businesses need to make money.”

“It was never about money!” Jeral returned, feeling his icy composure begin to melt.

Terman’s voice bristled, “No one ever said the life of a corporate terrorist would be easy.”

Jeral recoiled in disgust, “But this isn’t corporate terrorism. Not anymore. We’re working for the corporations. You accepted money from an ethically polluted mega- corporation to rid them of their competition.”

“Yes, and next year we’ll expose them for what they are. That’s how the game is played.”

Jeral’s head hung heavy with shame and revulsion. “This isn’t who we are. It’s not who I am.”

The cabin fell silent and Terman felt suddenly paralyzed by the tension. “Please, let’s just finish what we came here to do and I promise all this will be sorted out.”

Jeral’s pained gaze lifted and he nodded reluctantly, turning to resume his work with slow, methodical purpose. “Network seizure is established. Upload commencing.”

Terman’s posture softened and he cupped his sweaty forehead with an uneasy hand, still trying to process the depth of the emotional disintegration that had nearly taken place. He stepped forward and quietly sat down. “Thank you, my friend” he said. “I’ll make this right with you.”

Jeral looked out into space, beyond the lingering gridlock toward the hulking billboard. “It’s ok, I already took care of it.”

Terman’s eyes narrowed as he followed Jeral’s chilly glare outside. The billboard’s display flickered once and went black. Waves of static raced through the digital projection and disappeared. The screen presented itself once more, this time in a much more personal way. Terman saw his own face staring back at him. He gripped the console tightly and leaned forward.

“Jeral, what have you done?”

The data feed began to reinitialize and a stream of personal details flooded the margins. Terman watched as a downpour of criminal accusations and lawless disobedience poured forth from the ether.

“Stop this,” he said.

“I can’t,” Jeral replied flatly. “Remember, you wanted the program to continue to run long after we were gone. They’ll have to take down the entire network to stop it now.”

Terman’s heart began to race as his mind burned with contempt for allowing himself to place so much trust in another person.

“What exactly does this accomplish,” he asked finally. “This information is being broadcast to half the known universe. They’re never going to find me.”

“Wrong again,” Jeral said. “I included our current coordinates in the stream’s metadata strand. They may not be able to stop it but it won’t take CONCORD DED officers long to catch on and come looking.”

“Then you’re going down too,” Terman said. “They’ll take you too, Jeral. You know that, right?”

Jeral nodded and rested his head gently on the padded chair-back.

Terman reached frantically for the controls, “You’re insane and I’m getting us out of here.”

The ships impulse engines shuddered to life as a blinding light rose up from beneath them and burst through the window. Terman winced tightly and listened to the communication channel explode to life.

“Attention, Terman Disick, power down your craft and surrender by authority of the CONCORD Directive Enforcement Department. Prepare to be towed to the Naval Detention Facility or be fired upon. You have one minute to comply.”

The cool azure exhaust of the impulse engines glimmered and died as the thrum of the nearby stargate rumbled on.

Thrum.

Thrum.

Thrum.