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Tachyon

Carbon Copy

It was a note, stuffed into the pocket of Rawel's lab coat. Made on crumpled paper, the scrawled, illegible writing said:

 

There is a traitor in your midst. Beware.

 

This was the second time--or was it the third?--that Rawel had received an anonymous note about something. He stowed the note in his pocket and walked into the lab with a rather pensive expression on his face.

 

Andy Red, one of the 'Starberg' technicians, looked up as Rawel entered. Rawel examined the rebel in disguise, and wondered if he would succeed in his first subterfuge. He realized the complexity of this plot now, and wondered who the rebels reported to. Surely his sister could not be the ringmaster behind these schemes? Sure was clever, but the scope of the conspiracy was at a level only achieved by organized crime lords--something that had died out after World War Three lay waste to most cities.

 

Red seemed innocuous at first glance. Rawel looked down at the console, noting that he was working on combat protocols. Although Red was obviously confident of his coding abilities, Rawel at first glance could tell that the combat protocols being displayed would cause an overload in the torpedo bays. That was undesirable, at best, and terrible at worst.

 

Rawel sat at his terminal, and he wondered what to do. The work on the new computer was proceeding slowly, but surely. It helped when they had discovered that the 'technicians' were also covering their track by putting supposedly functional code over the corrupted version. The functional code was just a mask, but it was sophisticated enough to be a superstructure for the new computer.

 

He looked up at a screen, where in large numerals the number of days until launch counted down. Thirty-nine days. He had a week or less to finish the computer system.

 

Seven days . . .

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