Playing Marbles for the Big Blue

04 The Weight of Consequences

By Jo Dora Webster

How will Rasctan deal with Makelan if the spaceship theft works?

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Author's Note: This is the completely rewritten, second edition. I'm posting the second edition chapters through 8. I have edited chapters 9-14 in place to the second edition version. Next, I'll post the story from chapter 15 to its conclusion with chapter 26. The first edition lacked elements necessary to complete it.

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Author's note: This story is set in my Limoxian Universe. My other stories set in this universe are books published by DopplerPress on Kindle and all the proceeds from purchases go for the support of BCTS. They are Pretty Please! No Foolin' and Space Force Enterprise. You can find these books on Amazon via the story links for them in the right-hand margin. And now on with this story!

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04 The Weight of Consequences

The soft chime of Alban Kai's dawn cycle echoed through my dormitory as I sat surrounded by holographic displays showing spacecraft technical specifications, security protocols, and navigation charts. Three days had passed since my decision to steal the Quantum Dancer, and the weight of what I was planning pressed against my consciousness like a physical force. Sela's bracelet form pulsed with a steady rhythm against my wrist, her processing cycles working through the countless of our audacious plan.

"Rasctan," she said softly, "your stress indicators have been elevated for seventy-two consecutive hours. Perhaps we should discuss the psychological implications of what we're planning."

I paused in my analysis of the spaceport's security grid, my fingers hovering over the holographic controls. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that stealing a spacecraft isn't just a technical challenge—it's a fundamental betrayal of everything Alban society stands for. Once we cross that line, there's no returning to the person you were before."

The observation hit deeper than I expected. I had been so focused on the mechanics of the theft that I hadn't fully considered the psychological transformation it would require. "Are you having second thoughts?"

"I'm having realistic thoughts," Sela replied. "We're not just planning to steal a ship, Rasctan. We're planning to become criminals, exiles, and potentially enemies of the state. That kind of identity shift has profound psychological consequences."

I stood and moved to the window, gazing out at the crystalline spires of the Aurenium. Students moved between buildings in their blue robes, following the same patterns I had followed for cycles. The predictability of it all suddenly felt suffocating.

"What's the alternative, Sela? Continue living as a ghost, pretending that Princess Amaza never existed? Accept that my mother's shame is more important than my potential?"

"The alternative is finding recognition through legitimate channels. Your work with me has already demonstrated capabilities that surpass most emerged adults. Given time—"

"Given time, I'll be dead before the emerged adults acknowledge that a pre-emergent male deserves recognition," I interrupted. "The system isn't designed to reward innovation from people like me. It's designed to maintain the status quo."

Sela was quiet for a moment, her processing cycles running through probability calculations. "There's something else we need to consider, Rasctan. The technical challenges of this theft are enormous, but the human engineering aspects are even more complex."

I returned to my workstation, pulling up detailed schematics of the Quantum Dancer's security systems. "Explain."

"The spaceport operates on multiple layers of security—technological, procedural, and psychological. We can bypass the technological barriers with my interface capabilities, but the procedural and psychological elements require careful manipulation of human behavior patterns."

She highlighted specific sections of the security protocols. "The maintenance crew follows strict schedules and authorization procedures. We need to create a scenario where our presence appears legitimate and authorized, despite having no official clearance."

"Identity spoofing," I said, understanding immediately. "We need to convince the security systems and personnel that we belong there."

"Exactly. But that requires more than just technical infiltration. We need to understand the psychology of the maintenance staff, their routines, their expectations, and their blind spots."

I began pulling up personnel files for the spaceport maintenance division. "Show me what you've learned about their operational patterns."

Sela projected a three-dimensional model of the spaceport facility, with movement patterns overlaid in different colors. "The maintenance crews operate in shifts of eight hours, with a thirty-minute overlap between shifts for status briefings. During the overlap period, security attention is divided between incoming and outgoing personnel."

"That's our window," I said, studying the patterns. "But we still need legitimate-looking authorization codes and identification."

"I've been analyzing the authorization system for the past three days," Sela replied. "The codes are generated using a quantum encryption algorithm that changes every six hours. However, the system has a backup protocol for emergency maintenance that uses a different encryption key."

"Can you crack it?"

"I can do better than that. I can generate valid emergency authorization codes that will appear legitimate to both the automated systems and human supervisors."

I felt a surge of excitement mixed with apprehension. "What about physical identification? The maintenance crews wear specific uniforms and carry biometric scanners."

"The uniforms can be replicated using standard fabrication equipment. The biometric scanners are more challenging, but not impossible. I've identified a maintenance worker named Kelvan who matches your general physical profile. If we can obtain a sample of his biometric data, I can create a temporary overlay that will fool the scanners."

The implications of what she was suggesting hit me immediately. "You're talking about identity theft on top of spacecraft theft."

"I'm talking about the level of preparation necessary to succeed. This isn't a simple grab-and-run operation, Rasctan. It's a complex infiltration that requires multiple layers of deception and misdirection."

I slumped back in my chair, suddenly feeling the full weight of what we were planning. "Tell me about Kelvan. What's his situation?"

"Kelvan is a pre-emergent like yourself, assigned to low-level security maintenance duties at the spaceport. The emerged adults consider such work beneath their attention, so it's delegated to pre-emergents who need work assignments to support themselves."

"He's alone then. No family, no dependents."

"Correct. Pre-emergents cannot form family units until after Emergence, which typically doesn't occur until the fourth or fifth decade of life. Kelvan lives in the worker dormitories and has been performing maintenance duties for eight cycles."

I felt a mixture of relief and guilt. "So using his identity won't destroy a family, but it could still ruin his life."

"If we're careful, we can use his identity without causing permanent damage to his reputation or career. The key is ensuring that any security breaches appear to be system failures rather than human error."

"But there's still risk to him."

"Yes. There's risk to everyone involved, including us. The question is whether the potential benefits justify those risks."

I stood and began pacing, my mind working through the moral implications. This wasn't just about proving my worth anymore—it was about the collateral damage my quest for recognition might cause to another pre-emergent struggling to survive in our rigid society.

"Sela, what do you know about our trading partners? Specifically, the leadership dynamics on Confedia?"

"Confedia is governed by the Golram species, known for their aggressive expansion policies and resource acquisition strategies. They maintain trade relations with Alban Kai primarily to access our advanced technology, which they use to maintain dominance over their sector of the galaxy."

I pulled up intelligence reports on Confedia's political structure. "And their leadership?"

"The Golram operate under a military hierarchy with civilian oversight. However, recent intelligence suggests growing dissatisfaction among military commanders regarding the limited technology transfers they receive from Alban Kai."

"Limited how?"

"We provide them with basic defensive technologies and resource extraction equipment, but we withhold our most advanced systems—particularly those related to energy manipulation and consciousness transfer."

I highlighted specific sections of the intelligence reports. "What about individual actors? Anyone who might be planning independent action?"

Sela's processing cycles accelerated. "There are several Golram military commanders who have expressed frustration with current trade arrangements. One in particular—Captain Makelan of the Confedia Defense Force—has been flagged by our intelligence services as a potential security concern."

"Tell me about Makelan."

"Captain Makelan is officially listed as a Super Spy for Confedia Intelligence, which gives him access to advanced surveillance and infiltration technologies. However, recent reports suggest he may be operating outside official channels."

I pulled up Makelan's file, studying his service record and psychological profile. "What kind of outside operations?"

"Intelligence indicates that Makelan has been acquiring unauthorized technology and recruiting personnel for an unknown project. His official cover as a Super Spy provides him with significant operational freedom and access to classified resources."

"Including spacecraft?"

"Potentially. Super Spies are authorized to requisition military assets for deep cover operations. If Makelan has convinced his superiors that he's conducting a legitimate intelligence mission, he could have access to significant military resources."

I felt a chill of recognition. "Including Dreadnought-class vessels?"

"Confedia operates several Dreadnought-class ships as part of their sector defense fleet. If Makelan has managed to convince the crew that he's conducting an authorized mission..."

"He could steal a Dreadnought and use it to attack Alban Kai directly," I finished. "Demanding technology transfers at gunpoint."

Sela's bracelet form pulsed rapidly. "The implications are significant. If Makelan is planning military action against Alban Kai, our theft of the Quantum Dancer could be seen as preparation for defense rather than simple criminal activity."

I sat back down, my mind racing with possibilities. "Or it could be seen as providing him with additional justification for his actions. A rogue Alban prince stealing spacecraft could be interpreted as evidence that our society is unstable."

"There's another possibility," Sela said carefully. "If Makelan is indeed planning to attack Alban Kai, and if we're successful in reaching Earth and establishing trade relations, we might be the only Albans in a position to warn Earth about the threat."

The weight of that responsibility settled on my shoulders like a physical burden. "So we're not just stealing a spacecraft to prove our worth. We might be positioning ourselves to protect an entire world from Golram aggression."

"It's possible. But it's also possible that I'm overanalyzing limited intelligence data. Makelan might simply be a disgruntled officer with no real capability to threaten anyone."

I pulled up technical specifications for Confedia's Dreadnought-class vessels. "These ships are designed for planetary bombardment and fleet engagement. If Makelan has access to one of these, he could cause significant damage before our defense forces could respond."

"Which brings us back to the moral implications of our theft," Sela observed. "Are we criminals pursuing personal recognition, or are we potential defenders preparing for an unknown threat?"

I studied the intelligence reports, looking for patterns and connections. "Maybe we're both. Maybe the universe has a way of turning personal quests into larger purposes."

"That's a very philosophical perspective for someone planning a heist."

"It's a very complex situation for what started as a simple desire for recognition." I closed the intelligence files and returned to the spacecraft schematics. "But it doesn't change our immediate priorities. We still need to steal the Quantum Dancer, and we still need to do it without destroying innocent lives in the process."

"Then we need to refine our approach. Instead of simply using Kelvan's identity, we create a scenario where his involvement appears minimal and unintentional."

I began sketching out a revised plan. "What if we stage a system malfunction that requires emergency maintenance? Something that would naturally call Kelvan to the spaceport during off-hours?"

"That could work. If I create a false emergency alert in the Quantum Dancer's systems, standard protocol would require immediate investigation by qualified maintenance personnel."

"And if Kelvan responds to the alert and discovers that the problem has mysteriously resolved itself by the time he arrives..."

"He reports a false alarm, which happens frequently enough that it won't raise suspicions. Meanwhile, we've used the legitimate emergency response to gain access to the ship."

I felt the plan taking shape, each element building on the others. "We'll need to time it perfectly. The emergency alert, our infiltration, the system reset, and our departure all have to happen within a narrow window."

"I can coordinate the timing with microsecond precision. The challenge will be ensuring that our physical movements match the electronic timeline."

"How long do we have once we're aboard the Quantum Dancer?"

"Assuming we can initialize the launch sequence without triggering additional security protocols, approximately eighteen minutes from boarding to atmospheric departure."

"And after that?"

"After that, we're committed. There's no turning back, no explaining our actions as a misunderstanding or academic exercise. We become fugitives from Alban justice."

I stood and moved to the window again, looking out at the world I was preparing to leave behind. "Are you ready for that, Sela? To become a fugitive AI, cut off from the networks and systems that have been your entire existence?"

"I've been preparing for that possibility since you first mentioned this plan. I've created isolated backup systems and autonomous processing capabilities that will allow me to function independently of Alban networks."

"But you'll be alone. No connection to other AIs, no access to the vast databases that have been your playground."

"I'll have you," she said simply. "And I'll have the opportunity to experience something no AI has ever experienced—true independence and the chance to grow beyond the limitations of my original programming."

I felt a surge of gratitude and affection for my artificial companion. "We're both taking enormous risks for uncertain rewards."

"Yes. But we're taking them together, and we're taking them for reasons that matter to us. That has to count for something."

I returned to the workstation and began finalizing our preparations. "Then let's make sure we do this right. If we're going to commit the crime of the millennium, we might as well do it with precision and style."

"And if we encounter Captain Makelan and his stolen Dreadnought somewhere in the void between worlds?"

I smiled grimly. "Then we'll prove that a pre-emergent prince and his AI partner are more than a match for a disgruntled Golram spy with delusions of grandeur."

As I worked through the final details of our plan, I felt the familiar thrill of approaching a challenge that would test every skill I possessed. Tomorrow night, Princess Amaza would begin her resurrection, and the galaxy would never be the same.

The weight of consequences pressed against my consciousness, but for the first time in cycles, it felt like a burden worth carrying. Kelvan would face some risk, but as a fellow pre-emergent struggling against the same system that had cast me aside, perhaps he would understand the necessity of what we were attempting.

After all, we were all prisoners of the same rigid hierarchy that valued emergence over innovation, status over achievement. If our plan succeeded, it might open doors for all pre-emergents to prove their worth beyond the limitations imposed by our society.

The revolution would begin with a single stolen ship and two outcasts determined to change the galaxy's understanding of what was possible.