Hackdown

by Ennien Ashbrook, ashbrook@spots.ab.ca / ¥Ñ Ennien Ashbrook,ashbrook@spots.ab.ca


The late summer sunlight filtered down through the maze of greens that were the trees. The wind, ever-present, ever-blowing, picked up the speckles of colour and tossed them like playthings against the brilliant blue sky. A leaf tumbled, spun, then snared in the anenome tendrils of the banner of golden hair. Idly, Zarabeth reached up an ivory hand and pulled it out. / ¨º®L¤Ñ©³¤é¥ú¸g¹L¾ðªººñ¦â°g®c¹LÂo¤U¨Ó¡C ­·, ¸g±`¦s¦bªº,´¿¸g-§j»s,¬B°_ÃC¦âªº¤p´³ÂI¦Ó¥B¹³¹ï§ÜÀéÄꪺÂŦâ¤ÑªÅªºª±¨ã¤@¼Ë§ëÂY¤F¥L­Ì¡C ¤@¤ù¸­¶^¸¨,§Ö³t±ÛÂà,µM«á¦bª÷ÀY¾vªººX¼m anenome ¨÷Ž¤¤¥H³´¨À®·Àò¡C Ãi´k¦a¡A Zarabeth ¦b¤@°¦¶H¤ú»sªº¤â¤W­±¨ì¹F¦Ó¥B©Ô¥X¥¦¡C

She turned her face into the wind and let it blow the hair back from her face. It was so rare that she got to do this; allow the suns to glaze her with scarlet light, allow the wind's caress to bring the blush to her cheeks. Sadly, it wasn't to last. / ¦o±q¦oªºÁy±N¦oªºÁyÅܦ¨­·¦Ó¥BÅý¥¦§âÀY¾v§j¦^¨Ó¡C ¥¦¬O¦p¦¹ªºµ}¨u¥H­P©ó¦o¶}©l°µ³o; Åý¤Ó¶§¥ÎªÎ´´¦âªº¥ú¸Ë¥H¬Á¼þ¦o, Åý­·ªº·R¼¾±a¨ºÁy¬õ¨ì¦oªºÀU¡C ´d¶Ë¦a¡A¥¦¬O¤£«ùÄò¡C

She continued down the broad pathway from the cluster of grey buildings housing Spectra's Central Intelligence. Climbing the hill, she paused at the summit. Before her was spread the city, the windows of the office towers bloodied by the setting sun. Soon it would be evening, and the chill would set in. / ¦oÄ~Äò¤U¨Ó¦¬®eÀWÃЪº¤¤¥¡´¼¤Oªº¨Ó¦Û¦Ç¦â«Ø¿vª«ªº¸s¤j½d³òªº¸ô¡C Ãkµn¤p¤s,¦o¦b°ª®p·|¼È°±¡C ¦b¦o³Q¶Ç§G«°¥«¡A³Q­I´º¤Ó¶§¦å¸{ªº¿ì¤½«Ç¶ðªºµ¡¤á¤§«e¡C «Ü§Ö¥¦±N·|¬O±ß¤W¡A¦Ó¥B´H§N±N·|¶}©l¡C

Too soon, she thought. This year was going by so quickly. For a moment, the woman felt old; as aged as her world, as burdened with its sorrows. She shrugged off the feeling as self-indulgent, shouldered her bag, and continued on her way. / ¤Ó«Ü§Ö¡A¦o·Q¡C ¤µ¦~¥¿¦b¸g¹L¦p¦¹ªº§Ö¡C ¤@·|¨à¡A¤k¤Hı±o¦Ñ; ¹³¦oªº¥@¬É¤@¼Ëªº¦~¦Ñ,¦p¥¦ªº´d¶Ë©Ò­t¾á¡C ¦o¨«¶}ÁqªÓ·Pı·í°µ©ñÁaªº,ªÓ­t¤F¦oªº³U¤l, ¦Ó¥B¦b³~¤¤Ä~Äò¡C

She would not bother with a car this evening, she thought. Sometimes she preferred to take a public transport, to see the people and how they lived. It was too easy to get lost in the luxury of the military privileged. / ¦o¤µ¤Ñ±ß¤W¥H¤@½ø¨T¨®±N¤£·ÐÂZ,¦o·Q¡C ¦³®É¦o³ßÅw±a¤½²³ªº¶Ç°e , ³Ó¹L¨£¤H©M¥L­Ì¦p¦ó©~¦í¡C ¥¦¬O¤Ó®e©öªº¦b³Qµ¹»P¯SÅvªº­x¶¤»¨µØ¤¤°g¸ô¡C

There were children on the transport, and she smiled at their expressions of wonderment to their parents. Had she ever found such magic in the world? Yes.. But not until she had become an adult. / ¦³¦b¶Ç°e¤Wªº«Ä¤l¡A¦Ó¥B¦o¹ï¥L­Ìªº¤÷¥À¦b¥L­ÌªºÅå©_ªí¹F·L¯º¡C ¦o´¿¸gµo²{¥þ²yªº¦p¦¹Å]³N¶Ü? ¬Oªº¡C¡C ¦ý¬O¤£ª½¨ì¦o¤w¸g¦¨¬°¤@­Ó¦¨¤H¡C
She watched old people engaged in various time-passing crafts, strained her ears to catch the strains of music eminating from teenagers' inserts, listened to mothers scolding errant children. She listened to adults discussing the hardships of their lives, heard the fears of the children as their parents' discussed the military schools. / ¦o¬Ý³Q±Mª`¦UºØ¤£¦Pªº³q¹L®É¶¡ªº­¸¾÷¦Ñ¤H , ºò±iªº¦o¦Õ¦·¤Þ°_¨Ó¦Û«C¤Ö¦~ªº´¡¤Jª«ªº­µ¼Ö eminating ªººò±i,Å¥³d½|©P¹Cªº«Ä¤l¥À¿Ëªº¸Ü¡C ¦oÅ¥°Q½×¥L­Ìªº¥Í©RÁ}Ãøªº¦¨¤H¸Ü,Å¥¨ì¤F¦p¥L­Ìªº³Q°Q½×­x¨Æ¾Ç®Õªº¤÷¥À«Ä¤lªº®£Äß¡C

One day, she thought, and thought no more. / ¤Ñ¡A¦o·Q, ¦Ó¥B·Q¨S¦³§ó¦h¡C

The transport arrived at her destination, the great towers that housed the offices of the government higher-ups. She walked through the glass doors, nodding curtly to the security officers. They knew her face, though they had to check her security card to tell which one she was. / ¶Ç°e¨ì¹F¦oªº¥Øªº¦a, ¦¬®e¤F¬F©²¤W¯Åªº¿ì¤½«Çªº´Î¶ð¡C ¦o¨«¹L¬Á¼þªù, ÂIÀYªºÂ²²¤¦a¹ï¦w¥þ©x­û¡C ¥L­Ìª¾¹D¦oªºÁy,ÁöµM¥L­Ì¥²¶·Àˬd¦oªº¦w¥þ¥d¤ù§i¶D¦o¬Oªº­þ¤@­Ó¡C

The elevator deposited her on the penthouse level, with its rooftop gardens and spacious offices. The executive lavatory was empty, and she disappered within. / ¹q±è¦b·f³s¥¿©Ðªº«Î³»¤ô·Ç¤W¦s©ñ¦o,Âǥѥ¦ªº«Î³»ªá¶é©M¼s¤jªº¿ì¤½«Ç¡C °õ¦æªº¿d¬~«Ç¬OªÅªº, ©M¦o¦b¸Ì­±ªº disappered¡C

Once secured, she opened her bag and pulled out the purple tunic. She pulled her hair away from her face and filled the sink with water, to wash the makeup off her face. Then she pulled off the velveteen slacks, heavy sweater and underblouse. She pulled the breast forms out of her brassiere and removed the female undergarments, replacing them with the more comfortable and supportive male version. The purple stirrup pants were pulled on, the tunic belted over top, then the long, thigh-high boots. The blonde hair was shaken out, brushed, then rolled into a french roll to fit under the mask. Finally, the long gloves were pulled on and the cape thrown over all. / ¤@¦¸«OÅ@,¦o¥´¶}¤F¦oªº³U¤l¦Ó¥B©Ô¥Xµµ¦âªºªø³T¡C ¦o©Ô¤F¦oªºÀY¾v»·Â÷¦oªºÁy¦Ó¥B±N¬~º°¼Ñ¸Ëº¡¤ô, ¦b¦oªºÁy¥~¬~¤ÆùÛ¡C µM«á¦o¶¶§Q§¹¦¨´Öµ³»sªºÃPªø¿Ç¡A­«ªº¤ò¦ç©M underblouse ¡C ¦o§â¯Ý³¡ªí®æ±q¦oªº¯Ý¸n©Ô¥X¨Ó¦Ó¥B²¾¨«¤F¤k©Êªº¤º¦ç,¥Î§óµÎªA©M§ó¤ä«ùªº¨k©Êª©¥»§ó´«¥L­Ì¡C µµ¦âªº°¨ôñ¿Ç¤l³Q©Ô¦b,¤§¤Wªø³T§ô±aªº¦b³»ºÝ¤§¤W , µM«áªø¤S¤j»L- °ªªºªø¹u¡C ¥Õ¦âªºÀY¾v³Q·n°Ê¥X,²¨¨ê, µM«á¶i¤J¤@­Ó french ±²ª«¤§¤º±²¦b°²­±¨ã¤§¤U¾A¦X¡C ³Ì«á¡Aªøªº¤â®M³Q©Ô¦b©M¤§¤W¦b¥þ³¡¤§¤W³Q¥áªºÌa¡C

Redressed, Zoltar packed his "sister's" gear back into the kitbag, and stepped out into his office. / ªÈ¥¿,Zoltar ¶i¤J kitbag ¤§¤º§â¥Lªº " ©n©f " ªº¤u¨ã¥]¸Ë¦^¨Ó, ¦Ó¥B¶i¤J¥Lªº¿ì¤½«Ç¤§¤º©ñ¤j¨B¥ï¨«¡C

He passed the separate mainframe which stored all of the most top-secret plans that the military was working on. He had pulled the requisite files from the machine earlier and loaded them onto his own workstation, when he had been called away for a task that necessitated / ¥L³q¹L¤FÀx¦s¤F©Ò¦³ªº­x¶¤¥¿¦b¶i¦æ¤¤ªº³Ì·¥¾÷±Kªº­p¹º³æ¿Wªº¹q¸£¥D¾÷¡C ¥L¦­¨Ç®É­Ô©Ô¤F¨Ó¦Û¾÷¾¹ªº¥²­nÀɮצӥB¦b¥L¦Û¤vªº¤u§@¯¸¤§¤W¸Ë¸ü¥L­Ì,·í¥L¤w¸g³Q¬°¤@¥ó¨Ï¤u§@¦¨¬°¥²­nªº¥s°µÂ÷¶}ªº®É­Ô
Zarabeth's attention. The discs sat undisturbed, exactly where he had placed them after erasure. One couldn't be too careful... / Zarabeth's ªºª`·N¡C ¶ê½L§¤µÛ¥¼¨ü¨ì¤zÂZªº,§¹¥þ¥L¤w¸g§â¥L­Ì©ñÀ¿°£¤§«á­þ¸Ì¡C ¤@µLªk¤Ó¤p¤ß¡C¡C¡C

He activated the workstation and called for the directories, typing in the passcodes as required. The machine then asked for a voice-print. / ¥L¨ë¿E¤F¤u§@¯¸¦Ó¥B­n¨D¥Ø¿ý, ¦b passcodes ¤¤¥´¦r¦p¥²»Ýªº¡C ¾÷¾¹µM«á­n¨D¤@ºØÁn­µ-¦L¨ê¡C
He gave it. / ¥Lµ¹¤©¤F¥¦¡C

*Voice does not match: Access denied* / *Án­µ¤£¬Û°t: ³q¸ô§_»{*

!!?? / !!??

Huh?? / ­ó!??

Zoltar sat staring at the screen, puzzlement on his face. Twice the computer had denied him access to the files, files to which only he, / Zoltar §¤µÛ¤F¨nµÛ¿Ã¹õ¬Ý,¦b¥LªºÁy¤W°g´b¡C ¨â¦¸¹q¸£¤w¸g§_»{¡A¥L¨ú±o¨ìÀÉ®×, ¥Ó½Ð¨ì¥u¦³¥L,
Mala, Zarabeth, and three govorners had authorization to use. On the third try, the voice-prints had matched and been accepted. / Mala ¡A Zarabeth ©M¤T govorners ¦³¤F±ÂÅv¨Ï¥Î¡C ¦b²Ä¤T­Ó¹Á¸Õ¤W,Án­µ- ¦L¨ê¤w¸g¬Û°t¦Ó¥B³Q±µ¨ü¡C

Then he had tried to access the file. / µM«á¥L¤w¸g¹Á¸Õ¨ú±oÀɮסC

*File in use, cannot comply* / *¦b¨Ï¥Î¤¤¥Ó½Ð,¤£¯à°÷¿í¦u*

This had him really puzzled. The Spectran machines were all capable of multitasking, so that any number of users could work off of a given file. The only times such wasn't possible was if the file was being copied or moved. / ³o¦³¯uªº³Q§x´bªº¥L¡C Spectran ¾÷¾¹¥þ³¡¯à°÷¦h¤u¤Æ,©Ò¥H¤@¨Ç¨Ï¥ÎªÌ¥i¥H¤@­Óµ¹©wªºÀɮױư£¡C °ß¤@ªº®É¥N¦p¦¹ªº¬O¤£¥i¯àªº¬O§_ÀÉ®×¥¿¦b³Q½Æ¦L©Î²¾°Ê¡C

He wasn't copying or moving the file or for that matter doing anything to it except try to access it! / ¥L¨S¦³¦b½Æ¦L©ÎªÌ²¾°ÊÀɮשΪ̴N¨º¥ó¨Æ¦Ó½×°µ¥ô¦ó¨Æµ¹¥¦°£¹Á¸Õ¨ú±o¥¦!

What was going on? / ¤°»ò¥¿¦bÄ~Äò?

He clicked for an activity scan. Sure enough, the file was being copied. He watched the byte-count climb. But how? Why? He rechecked the activity scan, the file locations, then noticed the modem indicator icon and understanding struck. / ¦]¬°¤@­Ó¬¡°Ê±½´y¡A¥L«ö¡C ·íµM¨¬°÷¡AÀÉ®×¥¿¦b³Q½Æ¦L¡C ¥L¬Ý¤F¦ì¤¸²Õ-­p¼ÆÃkµn¡C ¦ý¬O¦p¦ó? ¬°¤°»ò? ¥L¦AÀˬd¤F¬¡°Ê±½´y¡AÀɮצaÂI,µM«áª`·N¼Æ¾Ú¾÷«ü¥Ü¾¹¹Ï¹³©M²z¸Ñ³Q¥´¡C

Someone had hacked his workstation. / ¬Y¤H¤w¸g¬å¼A¥Lªº¤u§@¯¸¡C

* * * / ***

The trace had revealed the invading account to be that of Govorner / ²ª¸ñ¤w¸g´¦ÅS«I²¤±b¤á Govorner ¬O¨º
Saichein. How interesting, Zoltar thought. Saichein and he had had quite a few run-ins: Saichein was very much opposed to Zoltar and greatly desired Zoltar's position and favour with the Luminous One (not that Zoltar felt particularly honoured about that 'favour'). But / Saichein¡C ¦p¦ó¦³½ìªº,Zoltar ·Q¡C Saichein ©M¥L¤w¸g¦³¬Û·í¦hªº©b¶]-¦b: Saichein «D±`¤Ï¹ï Zoltar ¨Ã¥B«D±`¥Îµo¥ú»Ý­n Zoltar's ªº¦ì¸m©M¦n·N¤@¡C ( ¤£ Zoltar ¯S§O¦a·Pı¨ì³Bªí´­¨º '¦n·N') ¦ý¬O
Saichein had access to those files anyways, all he had to do was ask / Saichein µL½×¦p¦ó¦³¤F±µÄ²¨º¨ÇÀÉ®×, ¥þ³¡¥L¥²¶·°µ¬O°Ý
Zoltar for them: Why go through the trouble of hacking Zoltar's computer and stealing them? / Zoltar ¬°¥L­Ì: ¬°¤°»ò¥h¹L¬å¼A Zoltar's ªº¹q¸£¦Ó¥B°½¥L­Ìªº³Â·Ð?

Unless to discredit him? Again, how? Why? Leak them to Earth, he thought. Yes, leak them to Earth and blame Zoltar for being careless with important documents. It certainly was careless of him to leave them active on his workstation, he realized. / °£«D¤£«H¥Î¥L? ¦A¤@¦¸,¦p¦ó? ¬°¤°»ò? ¹ï¦a²yº|¥L­Ì,¥L·Q¡C ¬Oªº,¹ï¦a²y©M¹L¥¢º|¥L­Ì¹ï­«­nªº¤å¥ó·P¨ì²Ê¤ßªº Zoltar¡C ¥¦¥L½T©w¦a¬O²Ê¤ßªº¦b¥L¤u§@¯¸¤WÅý¥L­Ì¿n·¥ªº,¥L¤F¸Ñ¡C

Perhaps the current set-up itself is careless, Zoltar mused. He stored the most vital plans on the separate mainframe, not linked in any way to any other computer. To retrieve files, one had to copy to disk, then boot the disk into one's own workstation. Only Zoltar had the passwords to the mainframe, and his was the only voice it would recognise. Even Mala had to ask Zoltar's permission. / ¤]³\²{¦bªº²Õ-¦V¤W¥¦¥»¨­¬O²Ê¤ßªº,Zoltar ¨I«ä¡C ¥LÀx¦s¤F¦b³æ¿Wªº¹q¸£¥D¾÷¤Wªº³Ì­«­nªº­p¹º,¤£¥H¥ô¦ó¤è¦¡³s±µ¨ì¥ô¦ó¨ä¥Lªº¹q¸£¡C ¬°¤F¨ú¦^ÀɮסA¤@¥²¶·½Æ¦L¨ìºÏºÐ¤ù,µM«á½ðºÏºÐ¤ù¶i¤@­Ó¦Û¤vªº¤u§@¯¸¡C ¥u¦³ Zoltar ¦³¤F¹ï¹q¸£¥D¾÷ªº±K½X¡A¦Ó¥B¥Lªº¬O¥¦±N·|©Ó»{ªº°ß¤@Án­µ¡C ¬Æ¦Ü Mala ¥²¶·°Ý Zoltar's ªº³\¥i¡C

However, from there, Zoltar sometimes loaded the files onto his own system, for the requester to log into. Less than a handful of vital personnel knew the layered passcodes and had the voice-prints. It saved time; otherwise time was lost in hand-delivering the disks -- it could not be left to ordinary office messangers. Zoltar had far too much to do to spend time running deliveries or babysitting logons. / µM¦Ó¡A±q¨º¸Ì¡A¦³®É¦b¥L¦Û¤vªº¨t²Î¤§¤W³Q¸Ë¸üÀɮתº Zoltar ¡AÅý½Ð¨DªÌ¥ï¤ì¶i¤J¤§¤º¡C ¤Ö©ó¤@§â­«­n¤H­ûª¾¹D³Q¤À¼h°ï¿nªº passcodes ¦Ó¥B¦³¤FÁn­µ-¦L¨ê¡C ¥¦¸`¬Ù¤F®É¶¡; §_«h®É¶¡¦b¤â¤¤³Q¥¢¥h- »¼°eºÏºÐ¤ù -- ¥¦µLªk¯dµ¹¥­±`ªº¿ì¤½«Ç messangers ¡C Zoltar »»»·¦a¦³¤Ó¦h°µªá¶O®É¶¡¶]»¼°e©ÎªÌÁ{®É´À¤H¬ÝÅU¤p«Äµù¥U¡C

Staring at the rising byte-count, he wondered if he shouldn't *make* time. He'd have the Luminous One on his case for sure, once this got out... / ¨nµÛ¤W¤Éªº¦ì¤¸²Õ¬Ý-­p¼Æ, ¥LÃhºÃ¬O§_¥L¤£À³¸Ó *»s³y*®É¶¡¡C ¥L½T¹ê±N·|¦b¥Lªº±¡§Î¤W¦³µo¥ú¤@,¤@¥¹³oÂ÷¶}¡C¡C¡C

He was about to strike the command that would override the copy, when he noticed a discrepancy in the modem beat-count. He ran an activity scan over it and discovered that Saichein's modem was showing twice the activity that his own was. Twice? It should only be showing equal, if all he's doing is downloading the.. / ¥L¥¿­n§ðÀ»±N·|±óµ´°Æ¥»ªº«ü¥O,·í¥Lª`·Nªº®É­Ô¼Æ¾Ú¾÷ªº¤@­Ó¬Û®t¥´-­pºâ¡C ¥LÁÓ¹L¬¡°Ê±½´y¥¦¨Ã¥Bµo²{¡A Saichein's ªº¼Æ¾Ú¾÷¥¿¦bÅã¥Ü¨â¦¸¬¡°Ê¥L¦Û¤vªº¬O¡C ¨â¦¸? ¥¦À³¸Ó¥u¦³Åã¥Ü¹ï¤â, ¦pªG¥L¥¿¦b°µªº¥þ³¡¥¿¦b¤U¸ü¨º¡C¡C

What if he's uploading it as well? Somewhere else? He reached for the console again, intending to run a second trace. / ¤°»ò¦pªG¥L¥¿¦b®£©È³Ì¦n¤W¶Ç¥¦? ¬Y³B§Oªº? ¥L¦A¤@¦¸¤Î©ó±±¨îÂi,·Q­n¶]²Ä¤G­Ó²ª¸ñ¡C

The call quit. Zoltar cursed roundly, furious with himself for not thinking quickly enough, for not overriding the transfer, for not tracing the other modem, for any number of things. / ©I¥sÂ÷¶}¡C Zoltar ¶ê¶ê¦a¶A©G, ¨g«ãªº¥Ñ©ó¥L¦Û¤v¦]¬°¤£«Ü§Ö¦a¨¬°÷·Q, ¬°¤£±óµ´²¾°Ê, ¦]¬°¤£°lÂÜ¥t¤@­Ó¼Æ¾Ú¾÷,¹ï©ó¤@¨Ç¨Æª«¡C

Still, it wasn't a total loss. He now knew that there were flaws in the security of the system, and the file, while top-secret, wasn't as vital as some of the others. And he knew that Saichein had moved against him. / ¨Ï, ¦wÀR¥¦¤£¬O¤@­ÓÁ`·l¥¢¡C ¥L²{¦bª¾¹D¦³¨t²Îªº¦w¥þ¯ÊÂI , ©MÀÉ®×, ·í·¥¾÷±Kªº®É­Ô, ¬O¤£·í°µ­«­nªº¦p¤@¨Ç¨ä¾lªÌ¡C ¦Ó¥B¥Lª¾¹D Saichein ¤w¸g²¾°Ê¹ï§Ü¥L¡C

Zoltar stared at the screen, his mind ticking over. / Zoltar ¨nµÛ¿Ã¹õ¬Ý,µ²§ôªº¥L¤ß³Q®M®Æ¡C

* * * / ***

Saichein had been taken into custody and his workstations and computers shut down. A search of his files had revealed plans to discredit Zoltar and stage a coup. This was enough to pacify the / Saichein ¤w¸g³Q±a¶i¤JºÊÅ@©M¥Lªº¤u§@¯¸©M¹q¸£¤§¤ºÃö³¬¡C ¥LªºÀÉ®×·j´M¤w¸g´¦ÅS­p¹º¤£«H¥Î Zoltar ¦Ó¥BÁ|¦æ¤@­Ó­pµe¡C ³o¬O¥R¨¬¥­ÀR¨º
Luminous One, so much so that Zoltar only received a mild shouting-at. / µo¥úªº, ³o»ò¦h¥H«K Zoltar ¥u¦¬¨ì¤F·Å©Mªº©I³Û - ¦b¡C

He had restructured the security on the top-secret retrievals, making it so that only he had the final voice-print authorization -- without him, there was no access. He debated supervising the transactions on the files himself, but that would seriously interfere with his own work. The Luminous One promised to think about it and search for a workable solution. It was almost being cooperative for once, Zoltar thought venomously. / ¥L¤w¸g§ó§ïµ²ºc¦b·¥¾÷±Kªº¨ú¦^¤Wªº¦w¥þ, °µ¨ì¥H«K¥u¦³¥L¦³¤F³Ì«áªºÁn­µ- ¦L¨êªº±ÂÅv -- ¨S¦³¥L,¨S¦³³q¸ô¡C ¥LÅG½×ºÊ·þ¦bÀɮפWªº¥æ©ö¥L¦Û¤v, ¦ý¬O±N·|ÄY­«¦a¤zÂZ¥L¦Û¤vªº¤u§@¡C µo¥ú¤@µªÀ³¬°¯à¤u§@ªº¸Ñ¨M¤è®×·Q¥¦©M·j´M¡C ¥¦¬O´X¥G¶È¦¹¤@¦¸¦X§@,Zoltar ¦³¬r¦a·Q¡C

He had stepped out for a quick ti and pastry, and was just getting off the elevator when he heard the bizarre squawk he had installed as an alarm; someone wanted access to a file. That's right, Mala was scheduled to input her recent reconnaissance onto the plans for the / ·í¥LÅ¥¨ì¤F¥L¤w¸g¦w¸Ë¦p¤@Ánĵ³øªº©_²§¥Ê¥ÊÁnªº®É­Ô¡A¥L¤w¸g¬°§Öªº ti ©MÄѯ»¿|»æ©ñ¤j¨B¥ï¨«, ¦Ó¥B¥¿¦b¶È¶È¤U¹q±è; ¬Y¤H·Q­n±µÄ²¤@­ÓÀɮסC ¨º¬O¥¿½Tªº, Mala ¹w©w¦bÃö©óªº­p¹º¤§¤W¿é¤J¦oªº³Ìªñ°»¹î¨º
San Andreas project. He gave the computer the voice-authorization, then turned the screen to his own work. / ®áªe¦w¼w¨½¨È­pµe¡C ¥Lµ¹¤©¤F¹q¸£Án­µ-±ÂÅv,µM«á±N¿Ã¹õÂà¦V¥L¦Û¤vªº¤u§@¡C

He had been looking for possible weaknesses in G-Force's structure, and thought he might have found one. There appeared to be considerable tension between the Eagle and the Hawk. In addition, the / ¥L¤w¸g§ä´M G- ¤O¶qªºµ²ºc¥i¯àªº®zÂI, ¦Ó¥B»{¬°¥L¥i¯à³Qµo²{¤@¡C ³Q¦ü¥G¬O¦bÆN©MÆN¤§¶¡¬Û·í¦hªººò±i¨º¸Ì¡C °£¦¹¤§¥~,¨º
Hawk appeared somewhat reckless and hot-headed, though very eager to question the Eagle's commands. Perhaps that weakness could be exploited.. If they took out the Eagle, that would leave the Hawk in command. If he acted before he thought.. / ÆNÅã±o²¤·L³¿²õ©M«æļªº, ÁöµM«D±`¼ö¤ßªº¸ß°ÝÆNªº«ü¥O¡C ¤]³\¨º®zÂI¥i¯à³Q¶}µo¡C¡C ¦pªG¥L­Ì¨ú¥XÆN,¨º±N·|Â÷¶}«ü¥OªºÆN¡C ¦pªG¦b¥L·Q¤§«e , ¥L¦æ°Ê¡C¡C

"Hi, Little Brother," said Mala, coming through the open office door. / " ¶Ù¡A¤p¥S§Ì ",Mala »¡,¨Ó¹L¶}©ñªº¿ì¤½«Çªù¡C

"I'm not your 'little brother'," he returned automatically. / " §Ú¤£¬O§Aªº '¤p¥S§Ì'",¥L¦Û°Ê¦a¦^ÂСC

"Did you get that San Adreas file transferred yet? I'm sorry I'm late for it, I got caught in a problem at the site.. What's wrong?" / " §A±o¨ì¨º¤@­Ó®áªe Adreas ÀÉ®×Âಾ? ¹ï¤£°_§Ú¬°¥¦¿ð¨ì, §Ú¦b¦ì¸mªº¤@­Ó°ÝÃD¤¤±o¨ì®·®»¡C¡C «ç»ò¦^¨Æ?"

Zoltar was staring from Mala to the screen and back again. If Mala was here, then who...? / Zoltar ¥¿¦b±q Mala ¨ì¿Ã¹õª`µø¨Ã¥B¦A¤@¦¸¦^¨Ó¡C ¦pªG Mala ¦b³o¸Ì, µM«á½Ö¡C¡C¡C?

A mad scramble for the activity scan but it was too late. The call disconnected, the file copied and absconded with. / ¹ï©ó¬¡°ÊªººÆ¨gÃk½t±½´y¡A¦ý¬O¥¦¤Ó±ß¡C ©I¥s¤ÀÂ÷, Àɮ׽ƦL¦Ó¥B¼ç°k¥Ñ©ó¡C

This time, Zoltar was too angry to curse. / ³o¦¸¡A Zoltar ¬O¤Ó¥Í®ð¦ÓµLªk¶A©G¡C

* * * / ***

"The prison warden says he's had no access to any computer, not even for the broadcast shows," Mala reported. Zoltar's brow creased further. "Maybe there are others, people with whom he was in league," she speculated. / "ºÊº»¨åº»©x»¡¡A¥L¨S¦³±µÄ²¥ô¦óªº¹q¸£, ¤£¬Æ¦Ü¬°¼s¼½ªºªíºt",Mala ³ø§i¡C Zoltar's ªº¬Ü¤ò§ó¶i¤@¨BºP²ª¡C "¤]³\¦³¨ä¥¦, ¥L¦bÁp·ù¤¤ªº¤H",¦o²`«ä¡C

"And I gave the authorization myself.." he muttered. / "¦Ó¥B§Úµ¹¤©¤F±ÂÅv§Ú¦Û¤v¡C¡C"¥L³ä³ä¦Û»y¡C

"What I want to know is how they hacked *my* account. I've got voice-print authority, too." / " §Ú·Q­nª¾¹Dªº¬O , ¥L­Ì¬å¼Aªº¤è¦¡ *§Úªº*±b¤á¡C §Ú¤w¸g±o¨ìÁn­µ-¦L¨ê·í§½,¤]¡C"

"Is that all?" / " ¨º¬O©Ò¦³ªº"?

"That's all that's needed." / " ¨º¬O©Ò¦³ªº¨º³Q»Ý­n".

Zoltar shook his head, "Not anymore it isn't. Someone's figured out how to crack that." / Zoltar ·nÀY,"¤£¤£¦A¥¦¤£¬O¡C ¬Y¤Hªº²z¸Ñ¸Ó¦p¦ó§Ë¸H¨º¡C"

"But how? They couldn't use a synthesizer, any voice-checker would spot that immediately. Even you can't imitate *my* voice *that* perfectly, for all we're twins," Mala twisted her hair in exasperation. A thought dawned on Zoltar. / " ¦ý¬O¦p¦ó? ¥L­ÌµLªk¨Ï¥Î¤@­Ó¦X¦¨¾¹,¥ô¦óªºÁn­µ-ÀËÅç­û±N·|¥ß¨è»{¥X¨º¡C ¬Æ¦Ü§A¤£¯à¼Ò¥é *§Úªº* Án­µ *¨º*§¹¥þ¦a,¬°¥þ³¡§Ú­Ì¬OÂù­M­L,"Mala À¾¤F´o«ãªº¦oÀY¾v¡C ¤@­Ó·Qªk¨Ï Zoltar «éµM¤j®©¡C

"What if they didn't? What if they used their own voice?" / " ¤°»ò¦pªG¥L­Ì¨S¦³? ¤°»ò¦pªG¥L­Ì¨Ï¥Î¤F¥L­Ì¦Û¤vªºÁn­µ?"

"The computer wouldn't recognise it." / " ¹q¸£±N¤£©Ó»{¥¦ " ¡C

"It would... if it had been programmed to." He watched realization spread across his sister's features. / " ¥¦±N·|¡C¡C¡C °²¦p¥¦¬O³W¹º¨ì¡C"¥L¬Ý¤F¥Ñ¥Lªº©n©f¯S¼x¤À¾áªº¹ê²{¡C

"They changed the exec files?" / " ¥L­Ì§ïÅܤFºÞ²z¤H­ûÀÉ®× "?

Her brother nodded slowly. / ¦oªº¥S§ÌÂIÀY±oºCºC¡C

"And I never thought to put passwords on that..." / "¦Ó¥B§Ú±q¤£·Q§â±K½X©ñ¦b¨º¡C¡C¡C"

"I did.. but they were simple. It didn't occur to me either, that someone might simply try that," Zoltar frowned. / "§Ú°µ¡C¡C ¦ý¬O¥L­Ì«Ü²³æ¡C ¥¦¤]¨S¦³¹ï§Úµo¥Í,¬Y¤H¥i¯à¥u¬O¸Õ¨º,"Zoltar ½K¬ÜÀY¡C

"Thinking too directly, too complexly." / "¤Óª½±µ¦a·Q,¤Ó½ÆÂø¦a".

Zoltar nodded. / Zoltar ÂIÀY¡C

"So what now?" / " ¦p¦¹¤°»ò²{¦b"?

"I was thinking of baiting a trap..." / "§Ú¥¿¦b·Q¨ì¥H»ç¤Þ»¤¤@­Ó°é®M¡C¡C¡C"

Between them both, it took an hour to whip up a plant-file, an addendum to the San Andreas project files, filled with bogus information. A request was shunted from Mala's workstation and the fake file loaded onto Zoltar's. Then they doctored the remaining files. Then they waited. / ¦b¥L­Ì¨â­Ó¤§¶¡,¥¦ªá 1 ¤p®É¿E°_¤@­Ó´Óª«-ÀɮסA®áªe¦w¼w¨½¨È­pµeÀɮתº¤@­Óªþ¿ý,¸Ëº¡°²ªº¸ê®Æ¡C ¤@­Ó½Ð¨D±q³Q¸ü¤J Zoltar's ªº Mala's ªº¤u§@¯¸©M°²ªºÀɮ׳Q¤À¸ô¡C µM«á¥L­ÌÂå¥Í¤F³Ñ¾lªºÀɮסC µM«á¥L­Ìµ¥­Ô¡C

The first file contained a directive informing the user of the other three files. The fake file was delegated as #2. If whomever was doing the hacking wanted the complete plans to the San Adreas project, they'd have to call back. / ²Ä¤@­ÓÀÉ®×¥]§t¤F§iª¾¨Ï¥ÎªÌ¥t¥~¤T­ÓÀɮתº«ü¥O¡C °²ªºÀɮ׳Q¥Nªí·í°µ #2. ¦pªGµL½×½Ö¥¿¦b°µ³Q·Q­n¹ï®áªe Adreas ­pµeªº§¹¥þ­p¹ºªº¨º¬å¼A,¥L­Ì±N·|¥²¶·¦^¹q¡C

The clock ticked over. Mala went for take-out, noticing that the sky was dark. They sat in silence, watching the activity scan and munching on dinner. / ®ÉÄÁµ²§ôµe¤Ä¸¹¡C Mala ¥h®³¥X­Ü, ª`·N¤ÑªÅ«Ü¶Â·t¡C ¥L­Ì¦b¨HÀq¤è­±§¤,¬Ý¬¡°Ê±½´y¦Ó¥B¦b±ßÀ\¤W¥Î¤O©CÄZ¡C

Halfway through the spicy noodles, the scan burst into life. / ¸g¹L¨¯»¶ªºÄѱø¥b¸ô¦a,¶i¤J¥Í¬¡¤§¤ºÃzµõªº±½´y¡C

Instantly Zoltar was active, initiating the trace. Mala's account, sure enough. Like Saichein's, putting up twice the activity of / ¥ß§Y¦a Zoltar ¬O¿n·¥ªº,¶}©l²ª¸ñ¡C Mala's ªº±b¤á,½T«H¥R¨¬¡C ¹³ Saichein's, ·f°_¨â¦¸¬¡°Ê
Zoltar's; a command to Mala's machine, and a second trace commenced, this one to the account of one Captain Delinger, a ringer of / Zoltar's; ¹ï Mala's ªº¾÷¾¹¤@­Ó«ü¥O,©M²Ä¤G­Ó²ª¸ñ¶}©l,²îªø Delinger ªº±b¤á³o¤@­Ó, ¤@»ïÅT
Saichein's. It looked like Mala's accomplice hypothesis might be right. / Saichein's¡C ¥¦¬Ý°_¨Ó¹³ Mala's ªº¦@¥Ç°²³]¤@¼Ë¥i¯à¬O¥¿½Tªº¡C

His account was also showing doubled activity. A third trace. The personal, home computer of Major Corhassen; doughnut fiend, slob, and follower of Saichein. Indeed... / ¥Lªº±b¤á¤]¥¿¦bÅã¥Ü¥[­¿¬¡°Ê¡C ²Ä¤T­Ó²ª¸ñ¡C ¥D­n Corhassen ªº­Ó¤H¤S®a®x¹q¸£; Saichein ªºªo¬µ°é»æÅ]°­¡AÃ廽ªº¤H©M±qªÌ¡C ªº½T¡C¡C¡C

A fourth trace. The cell of the Dove. An attempt to throw suspicion onto her? Possibly. A fifth trace -- a soldier in Colonel Tarnag's legion. Tarnag was another of Saichein's supporters. Was this soldier acting on his orders, or was he a scape goat? The sixth trace ended at the site of a chief who was known (to Zoltar, though to very few others) to be a planted spy from Earth. Leak found. / ²Ä¥|­Ó²ª¸ñ¡C ÂF¤lªº²Ó­M¡C ¤@ºØ¹Á¸Õ§â²qºÃ¥[½Ñ©ó¦o? ¥i¯à¦a¡C ²Ä¤­­Ó²ª¸ñ -- ¤W®Õ Tarnag's ªº­x¹Î¤@­Ó­x¤H¡C Tarnag ¹ï Saichein's ªº¤ä«ùªÌ¬O¥t¥~¡C ³o¤@­Ó­x¤H¥¿¦b¥Lªº¦¸§Ç¤W¦æ°Ê, ©Î¬O¥L¤@­Óªá²ô¤s¦Ï? ²Ä¤»²ª¸ñ¦b³Qª¾¹D (¨ì Zoltar,ÁöµM¹ï¤Ö³\ªº¨ä¥¦) ·í¨Ó¦Û¦a²yªº³QºØ´Óªº¶¡¿Ò»â³Sªº¦ì¸mµ²§ô¡C º|¬}µo²{¡C

Zoltar leaned back and considered the pattern on the screen. Yes, they'd found where the files were being leaked to. They still didn't know who was doing the leaking. / Zoltar ¦V«á¦a­Ê¾a¦Ó¥B¦Ò¼{¤F¦b¿Ã¹õ¤Wªº¨å«¬¡C ¬Oªº¡A¥L­Ì¤w¸gµo²{ , ÀÉ®×¥¿¦b³Qº|ªº¦a¤è¨ì¡C ¥L­Ì¤´µM¨S¦³ª¾¹D½Ö¥¿¦b°µ¨ºº|¡C

* * * / ***

All access to the mainframe files was cut off, fake files being loaded onto Zoltar's workstation. It took several days for Zoltar to work out a program that would be uploaded secretly to the trace-sites. The program would settle in the communications packages: It would record any and all data calls made by any of the trace-sites, then continue to record any additional command calls made. If it reached Mala's site, it would send an alarm down to Zoltar's site. His site would then howl at him, and he could activate a trace to collect the log. / ©Ò¦³ªº±µÄ²¹q¸£¥D¾÷Àɮ׳Q¤ÁÂ_,°²³f¥Ó½Ð³Q¸ü¤J Zoltar's ªº¤u§@¯¸¡C ¥¦®³¤@¨Ç¨C¤Ñ¬° Zoltar ·Q¥X¤@­Ó±N·|·t¤¤³Q¤W¶Ç¨ì²ª¸ñªº­pµe-¦ì¸m¡C ­pµe±N·|¦b·¾³q¥]»q¤¤¦w¹y: ¥¦±N·|°O¿ý¥ô¦óªº©M³Q¥ô¦ó²ª¸ñ³Ð¤Uªº©Ò¦³¸ê®Æ©I¥s-¦ì¸m,µM«áÄ~Äò°O¿ý³Q³Ð¤Uªº¥ô¦óªþ¥[ªº«ü¥O©I¥s¡C ¦pªG¥¦¨ì¹F¤F Mala's ªº¦ì¸m,¥¦±N·|§â¤@Ánĵ³ø°e¤U¨Ó¨ì Zoltar's ªº¦ì¸m¡C µM«á¥Lªº¦ì¸m±N·|¦b¥L¨g§p¡A¦Ó¥B¥L¥i¥H¨ë¿E²ª¸ñ¦¬¶°¶ê¤ì¡C
This should, in theory, locate the origion of the phreak chain. / ³oÀ³¸Ó¡A²z½×¤W¡A³]¸m phreak Ã쪺 origion ¡C

In addition, Mala's site was programmed to record any and all changes to the voice-print exec. file. / °£¦¹¤§¥~¡A Mala's ªº¦ì¸m³Q³W¹º°O¿ý¹ïÁn­µ- ¦L¨êªººÞ²z¤H­ûªº¥ô¦ó©M©Ò¦³ªº§ïÅÜ¡C ¥Ó½Ð¡C

Through routine voice-call checks with the targetted sites, Zoltar sent his log-program down the lines to nestle unobtrusively in the / ¸g¹L¨Ò¦æ¤½¨Æ«Å­z-©I¥s¥H³QºË·Çªº¦ì¸mÀˬd,Zoltar °e¤F¥Lªº¶ê¤ì- ­pµe¥¼¨Óªº¬Y¤@¤Ñ¤£¦h¼L¦aµÎ¾A¦a§¤©w¦b¨º
Spectran telecommunications packages. There, it would ignore all voice and visual transmissions, such as entertainment broadcasts, personal calls, and sound generation: It would concentrate only on data transmission and reception. / Spectran ¹q¶Çµø°T¥]»q¡C ¦b¨º¸Ì¡A¥¦±N·|¤£²z¸B©Ò¦³ªºÁn­µ©Mµøıªº¶Ç¿é, ¹³¬O®T¼Ö¼s¼½¡A­Ó¤Hªº©I¥s©MÁn­µ¥@¥N: ¥¦¥u±N·|±Mª`©ó¸ê®Æ¶Ç¿é©M±µ«Ý¡C

There was nothing for several days. Mala continued to log requests for the fake files, since the hacker seemed to have access to her schedule, but nothing came of it. Word was leaked about the immanence of the San Adreas project, yet nothing happened. / ¦³¦n´X¤Ñªº¨S¨Æ¡C Mala Ä~Äò¥ï¤ì¹ï°²ªºÀɮ׽ШD,¦]¬°¹q¸£¶Â«È¦ü¥G¥i¥H¨Ï¥Î¦oªº®É¶¡ªí¡A¦ý¬O¨S¨Æ¨Ó¦Û©ó¥¦¡C ¦r³Qº|Ãö©ó®áªe Adreas ­pµeªº¤º¦b¨Æ,¤´µM¨S¨Æµo¥Í¡C

Zoltar was about to give up in disgust, when, a week later, it did. / Zoltar ¥¿­n¦b¹½´c¤è­±©ñ±ó,·í, ¤@¬P´Á¤§«á¡A¥¦°µ¡C

The office had been completely silent and he had worked late into the night. Thus, he nearly jumped out of his skin when the alarm screamed at him. His hand smashed down onto the console, fingers nimbly keying the command to read log. At the same time, Mala's station sent its security exec. report. / ¿ì¤½«Ç¤w¸g§¹¥þ¨HÀq¡A¦Ó¥B¥L¤w¸g¶i¤J©]±ß¤§¤º±ß¤u§@¡C ¦]¦¹¡A·íĵ³ø¦b¥L¦y¥sªº®É­Ô¡A¥L´X¥G¸õÅDÂ÷¥Lªº¥Ö½§¡C ¥Lªº¦b±±¨îÂi¤§¤W³Q¥´¯}ªº¤â, ¤â«ü±Ó±¶¦a½Õ­µ«ü¥OŪ¶ê¤ì¡C ¦P®É¡A Mala's ªº¨®¯¸°e¤F¥¦ªº¦w¥þºÞ²z¤H­û¡C ³ø§i¡C

He stared at them for a long time, his mouth open in wonder. Then it curled into a snarl. / ¥L¨nµÛ¥L­Ì¬Ý¦³«Üªøªº¤@¬q®É¶¡,¥Lªº¼L¦b©_Âݤ¤¥´¶}¡C µM«á¥¦§Ë±²¶i¤J¤@¤§¤º§q¥s¡C

"You little bitch!" / " §A¤p¥Àª¯"!

* * * / ***

"Her?" / " ¦o "?

Zoltar nodded. / Zoltar ÂIÀY¡C

"The Dove??" / "ÂF¤l??"

Zoltar nodded. / Zoltar ÂIÀY¡C

"Princess???" / "¤½¥D???"

"Yes! Her! It's her!! You got it??" Zoltar shouted. Mala frowned. / "¬Oªº! ¦o! ¬O¦o!! §A±o¨ì¤F¥¦??"Zoltar ©I³Û¡C Mala ½K¬ÜÀY¡C

"After all we've done for her.. We treated her well, we imported food for her at an incredible cost, we could have just obeyed the Spirit's orders and tortured her for information.. How could she do this??" / " ²¦³º§Ú­Ì§¹³J¤F¦o¡C¡C §Ú­Ì³Q¹ï«Ý¦oªº±o¦n,§Ú­Ì¦bÃø¥H¸m«Hªº¶O¥Î¬°¦o¿é¤J¤F­¹ª«, §Ú­Ì¥i¥H­è­è¤~ªA±qºë¯«¬O¦¸§Ç¦Ó¥B¬°¸ê®Æ«þ°Ý¦o¡C¡C ¦o¦p¦ó¥i¥H°µ³o??"

Zoltar slumped into his chair, his hand supporting his forehead. He sighed in exasperation, "Because she's G-Force. She has to." / Zoltar ¶i¤J¥Lªº´È¤l¤§¤º²rµM±¼¸¨,¥Lªº¤ä«ù¥Lªº«eÃB¤â¡C ¥L¦b´o«ã¤¤¼Û®§,"¦]¬°¦o¬O G-¤O¶q¡C ¦o¦³¨ì¡C"

"But..!" / "¦ý¬O¡C¡C!"

"Think about it, Mala; she's a prisoner! She's a special-forces operative imprisoned on an enemy world. It's her duty to try to gather as much information, to find and exploit as many of our weaknesses as she can find. *I'd* be torn apart if I didn't take every such opportunity: I don't imagine her superiors would expect any less from her." / "·Q¥¦,Mala; ¦o¬O¥}¥Ç! ¦o¬O¾­û¦b¤@­Ó¼Ä¤H¥@¬É¤W¤Uº»ªº¯SºØ³¡¶¤¡C ¥¦¬O¦oªº³d¥ô¸ÕµÛ»E¶°¦p«Ü¦hªº¸ê®Æ, µo²{¦Ó¥B¶}µo©M§Ú­Ìªº®zÂI·í¦o¯àµo²{¤@¼Ë¦hªº¡C * §Ú¦³* ¤À§O¦a³Q¼¹¶}¦pªG§Ú¨S¦³§Q¥Î¨C¤@¦p¦¹ªº¾÷·|: §Ú¤£·Q¹³¦oªºªøªÌ±N·|´Á«Ý¨Ó¦Û¦oªº¥ô¦ó¤ñ¸û¤Ö¶q¡C"

Mala said nothing, but nodded thoughtfully. / Mala ¤°»ò¤]¤£»¡, ¦ý¬O²`«ä¦aÂIÀY¡C

"And she found a lot of weaknesses to exploit," Zoltar continued, more to himself, "I don't know why I didn't think of her sooner. She's / "¦Ó¥B¦oµo²{³\¦h®zÂI¶}µo ," Zoltar Ä~Äò,¦h¹ï¥L¦Û¤v,"§Ú¤£ª¾¹D§Ú¬°¤°»ò¨S¦³·Q¨ì¦oªº·m¥ý¦û¦³¤g¦a¤§¤H¡C ¦o¬O
G-Force's tech-specialist, it shouldn't have surprised me.." / G- ¤O¶qªº¬ì§Þ-±M®a,¥¦À³¸Ó¤£­n¨Ï§Ú¦YÅ媺¡C¡C"

"But how did she do it?" / " ¦ý¬O¦o¦p¦ó°µ¥¦ "?

"I don't know," Zoltar moaned. He bashed his head against the chair back, "I've been wracking my brain, trying to think of any way she could possibly have hacked through the number of levels she did and I can't think of anything.." / " §Ú¤£ª¾¹D ",Zoltar ©D§u¡C ¥L«ã¼Þ¤F¹ï§Ü´È¤l­I­±ªº¥LÀY,"§Ú¤w¸g·´Ãa§Úªº¸£, ¹Á¸Õ·Q¨ì¦o¥i¥H¤w¸g¥i¯à¦a¬å¼A¹L¤ô·Çªº¼Æ¦r¥ô¦ó¤èªk¦o°µ¡A¦Ó¥B§Ú¤£¯à·Q¨ì¥ô¦ó¨Æ¡C¡C"

"Neither can I." / " §Ú¤]¤£·| " ¡C

They sat in silence for a few minutes. / ¥L­Ì¦b¨HÀq¤è­±§¤¼Æ¤ÀÄÁ¡C

"What are we going to do about her?" Mala asked finally. / " §Ú­Ì±N­nÃö©ó¦o°µ¤°»ò "? Mala ³Ì«á°Ý¡C

Zoltar looked around aimlessly. "I don't know," he said. / Zoltar ¨S¦³¥Ø¼Ð¦a¥|³B¬Ý¬Ý¡C " §Ú¤£ª¾¹D ",¥L»¡¡C

"Leave the fake files up for a bit," she said thoughtfully, "I have an idea." / "¬°¤@ÂIÂI¦V¤WÂ÷¶}°²ªºÀÉ®× ," ¦o²`«ä¦a»¡," §Ú¦³¤@­Ó·Qªk " ¡C

* * * / ***

There were soldiers everywhere and somewhere in the background someone was laughing. His fingers fluttered joyfully over the keyboard as he explored this new domain. So primitive, he thought, delighted; so easy to explore... And explore he did, finding all of the back doors, learning all of the weaknesses, like a good soldier. But he forgot about his own, and he turned around, suddenly realising he was naked and the laughter was directed at him.... / ¦U³B©M¬Y³B¦b¬Y¤H¥¿¦b¯ºªº­I´º¤è­±¦³­x¤H¡C ·í¥L±´¨s¤F³o­Ó·sªº»â°ì®É­Ô¡A¥Lªº¤â«üÅw³ß¦a¦bÁä½L¤§¤WÂ\°Ê¡C ¦p¦¹­ì©l,¥L·Q,°ª¿³; ¦p¦¹®e©ö±´¨s¡C¡C¡C ¦Ó¥B±´¨s¥L°µ, µo²{©Ò¦³ªº«áªù,¾Ç²ß©Ò¦³ªº®zÂI, ¹³¤@­Ó¦n­x¤H¡C ¦ý¬O¥L§Ñ°OÃö©ó¥L¦Û¤vªº,©M¥L¦^¹LÀY, ¬ðµMı®©¥L¬O¨ª»rªº¡A¦Ó¥B¯º¦b¥L³Q«ü¥Ü....

Zoltar woke with a start, blinking at the dissolving remnant of dream.. / Zoltar ¥H¤@­Ó¶}©l³ê¿ô,¦b¹Úªº·»¸Ñ³Ñ¾l¯w²´¡C¡C

"Of course!" he cried, and threw himself out of the bed, towards his computer. / " ·íµM "! ¥L­ú, ¦Ó¥B§É§â¥L¦Û¤v»°¥X¥h,¦V¥Lªº¹q¸£¡C

* * * / ***

He stared in triumph at the image on the screen. He hadn't been approaching it the right way; an alien, a computer specialist, confronted with a whole new technology. Curious as to how it worked, eager to explore its limits. No malice, no plan, just simple curiosity until it started yeilding fruit. / ¥L¦b¿Ã¹õ¤Wªº¼v¹³¦b³Í±Û¤è­±ª`µø¡C ¥L¨S¦³±µªñ¥¦¥¿½Tªº¤èªk; ¤@­Ó¥~¹´¡A¤@­Ó¹q¸£±M®a,¥H¤@ºØ¾ã­Óªº·s§Þ³N­±¹ï¡C ¦n©_ªºÃö©ó¥¦¦p¦ó¤u§@, ¼ö¤ßªº±´¨s¥¦ªº­­¨î¡C ¨S¦³´c·N , ¨S¦³­p¹º,¥u¬O²³æªº¦n©_¤ßª½¨ì¥¦¶}©l¤F yeilding ¤ôªG¡C

Hypothetical reconstruction: She had been playing with the modem, learning its varied capabilities, puttering around with the communications package that ran it. She had been supplied with a help document, explaining how to use package and modem -- she was an alien after all, and would not know. She had spent time with guards who would explain things to her; probably, one of those guards had given her their station's code, so that she could call if she ran into a problem. Calling that code would give her access to that legion's network, however limited. / °²³]ªº­««Ø: ¦o¤w¸g©M¼Æ¾Ú¾÷ª±,¾Ç²ß¥¦ªº¤£¦P¯à¤O¡A¥H·¾³q¶]¥¦ªº¥]»q¦bªþªñµLºë¥´¨¼¦a¤u§@¡C ¦o¤w¸g³Q´£¨Ñ¤@¥÷À°¦£¤å¥ó, ¸ÑÄÀ¸Ó¦p¦ó¨Ï¥Î¥]»q©M¼Æ¾Ú¾÷ -- ¦o¬O²¦³º¥~¹´, ¦Ó¥B±N¤£ª¾¹D¡C ¦o¤w¸g©M±N·|¸ÑÄÀ¨Æª«µ¹¦oªº¦u½Ã«×¹L®É¶¡; ¥i¯à¡A¨º¨Ç¦u½Ã¤§¤@¤w¸gµ¹¦o¥L­Ìªº¨®¯¸±K½X,©Ò¥H¦pªG¦o³´¤J¤@­Ó°ÝÃD¡A¦o·|©I¥s¡C ©I¥s¨º¤@­Ó±K½X±N·|´£¨Ñ¦oªº³q¸ô¨ì¨º­Ó­x¹Îªººô¸ô,µM¦Ó­­¨î¡C

Here, an element of luck came in -- she had evidently stumbled across a back door on that legion's network. Zoltar remembered that one legion's network site had been acting up, and a repair crew were to be taking a look at in within the next little while. It wasn't a priority job. Zoltar knew the back door, and used it. Now, he stared at the result. / ¦b³o¸Ì¡A¤@ºØ¹B®ðªº¤¸¯À¶i¨Ó -- ¦o¤w¸g©úÅã¦a°¸µMµo²{¦b¨º­Ó­x¹Îªººô¸ô¤Wªº¤@­Ó«áªù¡C Zoltar °O±o¡A¤@­Ó­x¹Îªººô¸ô¦ì¸m¤w¸g¦æ°Ê¦b,¤W­±©M¤@­Ó­×²z²Õ­û·Ç³Æ¦b¤U¤pªº¤@·|¨à¤§¤º¤è­±¬Ý¤@¬Ý¡C ¥¦¤£¬O¤@­ÓÀu¥ý¤u§@¡C Zoltar ª¾¹D«áªù, ¦Ó¥B¨Ï¥Î¤F¥¦¡C ²{¦b¡A¥L¨nµÛµ²ªG¬Ý¡C

The legion's Captain, a minor official of no particular importance, had left the system administration passwords on the sysadmin's main menu, for the repair crew. Once you had those passwords, you had access to all of the information the system administrators did -names, ident codes, ranks, security levels, personal passwords.. / ­x¹Îªº²îªø , ¨S¦³¯S§Oªº­«­n¤@¦ì¸û¤p©x­û,¤w¸g¯d¤U¦b sysadmin's ªº¥D­nµæ³æ¤Wªº¨t²Î¦æ¬F±K½X,¹ï©ó­×²z²Õ­û¡C ¤@¥¹§A¦³¤F¨º¨Ç±K½X, §A¦³±µÄ²©Ò¦³ªº¸ê®Æ¨t²ÎºÞ²z¤H°µ -¦W¦r, ident ±K½X¡A±Æ¦W¡A¦w¥þ¤ô·Ç¡A­Ó¤Hªº±K½X¡C¡C
Zoltar entered the Captain's passwords. / Zoltar ¶i¤J¤F²îªøªº±K½X¡C

Voila. This captain was indeed a fool; he kept all of his passcodes in his rolodex file. From his account, it was possible to access the files of several of his superiors. Included was a file containing sensitive information about several officers. Zoltar recognised several names: Saichein, Tarnag, Delinger.. All listed as being subversive to Zoltar. / Á@¡C ³o¤@¦ì²îªøªº½T¬O¤@­Ó·M¤H; ¥L«O«ù¤F¥Lªº rolodex Àɮתº¥L¥þ³¡ passcodes ¡C ±q¥Lªº±b¤á¡A¨ú±o¤@¨Ç¥LªºªøªÌÀɮ׬O¥i¯àªº¡C ¥]¬A¬O¤@­Ó¥]§tÃö©ó¤@¨Ç©x­ûªº±Ó·P¸ê°TªºÀɮסC Zoltar ¿ë»{¥X¤F¤@¨Ç¦W¦r: Saichein ¡A Tarnag ¡A Delinger¡C¡C ·í§@¬°¯}Ãa¥÷¤l¨ì Zoltar ªº®É­Ô¡A¥þ³¡¦C¥X¡C

All chosen to be as suspicious as possible. / ¥þ³¡¿ï¾Ü¬O¾¨¥i¯à¥iºÃªº¡C

Clever, clever girl... / Áo©ú¤SÁo©úªº¤k«Ä¡C¡C¡C

From there, extrapolation of events was simple: All of the officers tended to believe that their subordinates were imbeciles, while they themselves were not so long on brains. Thus, they tended to use simple, easily-remembered passwords. In addition, most of the military networks used a standardized keyboard and language. An alien with a couple of translation dictionaries, provided by well-meaning, helpful guards... What's Upper Feidhleichean for "sex"? Otherwise, it was just matching visuals. It would take time, but time is something a prisoner does not lack. / ±q¨º¸Ì¡A¨Æ¥óªº´¡¸Éªk«Ü²³æ: ©Ò¦³ªº©x­û®e©ö¬Û«H¥L­ÌªºÄݤU¬O§C¯àªÌ¦Ó¥L­Ì¦Û¤v¦b¸£¤W¤£¬O¦p¦¹ªø¡C ¦]¦¹¡A¥L­Ì®e©ö¨Ï¥Î²³æªº,®e©ö¦a-°O±o±K½X¡C °£¦¹¤§¥~¡A¤j³¡¥÷ªº­x¨Æºô¸ô¨Ï¥Î¤F¤@ºØ³Q¼Ð·Ç¤ÆªºÁä½L©M»y¨¥¡C ¥Ñ©ó¤@¨Ç½Ķ¦r¨åªº¤@­Ó¥~¹´,¥Ñµ½·N¤S¦³À°§U¦u½Ã´£¨Ñ¡C¡C¡C " ©Ê§O " ªº¤W­± Feidhleichean ¬O¤°»ò? §_«h¡A¥¦¥¿¦b¶È¶È¬Û°tµøıªº¡C ¥¦±N·|ªá®É¶¡¡A¦ý¬O®É¶¡¬O¬Y¨Æ¤@­Ó¥}¥Ç¤£¯Ê¥F¡C

From there, it was a simple matter of puttering around, and making things up as she went along. She had to have found a randomizer, he realised; several of his passwords were random characters. The time involved.. She must have been doing this practically the day she was taken in. / ±q¨º¸Ì,¥¦¬O¦bªþªñµLºë¥´¨¼¦a¤u§@ªºÂ²³æ¨Æ¥ó, ¦Ó¥B¨Ï¨Æª«¦V¤W·í¦o¦V«e¥h¡C ¦o¥²¶·¤w¸gµo²{ randomizer,¥L¤F¸Ñ; ¤@¨Ç¥Lªº±K½X¬O¥ô·Nªº­Ó©Ê¡C ®É¶¡²o¯A¡C¡C ¦o¹ê»Ú¦a¤@©w´¿¸g°µ³o¦o³Q±µ¨üªº¨º¤Ñ¡C

Then she would have to have found one of the Terran spies. That wouldn't have been difficult: If she knew the name the spy was operating under, the finder programs would have provided their sitecodes within an hour. Then it was nick a file and send it along, never actually seeing it herself. / µM«á¦o±N·|¥²¶·¤w¸gµo²{ Terran ¶¡¿Ò¤§¤@¡C ¨º«Ü§xÃø: ¦pªG¦oª¾¹D¦W¦r¡A¶¡¿Ò¥¿¦b¾Þ§@¦b,¤§¤Uµo²{ªÌ­pµe¦b 1 ¤p®É¤º±N·|¤w¸g´£¨Ñ¥L­Ìªº sitecodes ¡C µM«á¥¦¬O¦V«e¨è²ª©ó¤@­ÓÀɮצӥB°e¥¦,±q¤£¹ê»Ú¤W¨£¨ì¥¦¦o¦Û¤v¡C

It was simple and imaginative. The Luminous One would have his hide. / ¯u¬O²³æªº©M·Q¹³¡C µo¥ú¤@±N·|¦³¥LªºÃ~¥Ö¡C

If it found out. / ¦pªG¥¦µo²{¡C

He smiled, thinking of Mala's idea. / ¥L·L¯º,·Q¨ì Mala's ªº·Qªk¡C

He had objected at first, disliking the notion of placing their guest in jeopardy. As Mala pointed out, however, she had already placed herself in jeopardy. He had been leaking information for a while now, and the Spirit was beginning to get suspicious -- Why not let her do her job? / ¥L°_¥ý¤w¸g¤Ï¹ï, ¤£·R¦n§â¥L­Ìªº«È¤H©ñ¦b¦MÃøªºÆ[©À¡C ·í Mala «ü¥X,µM¦Ó¡A¦o¤w¸g§â¦o¦Û¤v©ñ¦b¦MÃø¤F¡C ¥L¤w¸gº|¸ê®Æ¤@°}¤l²{¦b¡A¦Ó¥Bºë¯«¥¿¦b¶}©l¥iºÃ -- ¬°¤°»ò¤£Åý¦o°µ¦oªº¤u§@?

Why not, indeed.. / ¬°¤°»ò¤£,ªº½T¡C¡C

He knew the identities of all of Earth's planted spies. In addition, he knew who among his own men were of a like mind. When a leak was found and shut down, he could simply arrange another and hope she'd find it. She probably would. After all, she was G-Force. / ¥Lª¾¹D©Ò¦³¦a²yªººØ´Ó¶¡¿Òªº¨­¥÷¡C °£¦¹¤§¥~¡A¥Lª¾¹D½Ö¦b¥L¦Û¤vªº¨k¤H¤§¤¤¬O¬Û¦üªº¤ß¡C ·í¤@­Óº|¬}³Qµo²{¦Ó¥BÃö³¬ªº®É­Ô,¥L¥i¥H¥u¬O¦w±Æ¦o±N·|µo²{¥¦ªº¥t¥~¤@©M§Æ±æ¡C ¦o¥i¯à±N·|¡C ²¦³º¡A¦o¬O G-¤O¶q¡C


by Ennien Ashbrook, ashbrook@spots.ab.ca / ¥Ñ Ennien Ashbrook,ashbrook@spots.ab.ca

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