The Machine Awakes Read Online Free PDF

of the docking bay’s door, he pulled himself out into the service corridor.
    The service corridor was itself much narrower, the ceiling much lower, than the guest facilities over his head and below his feet, but the sudden feeling of space after working in the cramped servitor bay was a relief. He glanced up at the surveillance lens he knew was ten meters to his left—there was no point in trying to hide from it; if anything, that would look even more suspicious. For anyone watching, he was just one of the hundreds of station techs going about his duties.
    As he walked down the corridor, he whistled to himself, watching a new timer in his glasses as the HUD counted down to the start of the Sentallion contest. Two point seven cycles—or sixty-four point eight hours, as a smaller line of text helpfully suggested.
    Perfect. All he had to do was lay low, be his anonymous self, carry out his menial tasks as normal.
    And then … well, then it was time to take down Helprin’s Gambit once and for all. And if things worked out, more than just the facility. Helprin’s entire operation would be crippled, hurting him in his most sensitive place—his wallet.
    Smiling, Kodiak rubbed his hands. There were a few hours before he was officially due back on shift. Time enough for a shower and something to eat and to consider how everything was going perfectly according to the new plan.

 
    2
    â€œThis meeting of the Fleet Command Council is called to order.”
    Commander Laurel Avalon winced as Fleet Admiral Sebela strode into the huge council chamber, his face dark, eyebrows knitted together in a familiar expression—all too familiar recently, Avalon thought. She glanced around the elliptical table, its black obsidian surface reflecting the pale faces of the most senior members of the Fleet, distorting them, bleaching them of color, making them look even more miserable, if that were possible.
    Avalon’s eyes flicked up. Everyone was watching Sebela as he stood behind his high-backed chair at the head of the table, grinding his molars as he stared into the middle distance. Then he sat, the rest of the council following suit.
    Avalon flicked her gaze to the chair opposite. Commander Moustafa stroked his thin black beard as he met her gaze and nodded a greeting. Moustafa and Avalon were the youngest members of the Fleet Council by at least a decade. They worked in separate areas of the Fleet—despite his relative youth, Moustafa was a talented psi-marine and had quickly moved up the ranks to head his division’s Academy training program, while Avalon was the youngest chief of the Fleet Bureau of Investigation, the Fleet’s internal affairs department, in the agency’s history. Their positions granting them membership in the Fleet Command Council, the pair had gravitated together—drawn into friendship not just because of their ages, but because Moustafa was perhaps the only member of the council who didn’t resent her presence. The Bureau dealt with internal matters, not the art of war. For most around the Command Council table, she had no place in their conferences. Some didn’t even think the Bureau was part of the Fleet at all.
    â€œGentlemen,” said the Fleet Admiral. Then he paused and looked at Avalon, before looking away without any correction. “As you are aware, the Fleet has been engaged on a mission in the Shadow system, coordinates eight-zero-eleven-zero by zero-zero-zero, theater designation twenty-eleven-six-two hundred.”
    Sebela paused and leaned back in his chair. Nobody spoke as the Fleet Admiral once again stared into the middle distance. Avalon glanced around the table; all eyes were on their leader. She used the pause in the proceedings to flip open the slim folder in front of her. Inside was a file, printed onto wafer thin plastiform sheets for security, each page embossed with Avalon’s Fleet serial number. At the top were two