Page 104 of Journey to the Forbidden Zone

The cascade of corrupted code slammed into the grid floor just behind the primary avatar, spraying fragments. The avatardidn’t flinch. Didn’t turn. The beam pulsed one final, searing burst.

Progress:100%.

With a silent, resonant snap, the fractal lock shattered. The dense, pulsing door dissolved into swirling particles of harmless light.

Beyond lay not another corridor, but a vast, spherical chamber. Its walls were a constantly shifting tapestry of flowing data-streams in colors beyond human perception – deep violets, impossible golds, searing chartreuse.

At the chamber’s heart, suspended in a complex lattice of pure energy, pulsed the core processor: a massive, multifaceted crystal radiating intense power and intricate, shifting patterns of light. The source. The satellite’s mind.

Zed’s primary avatar stepped through the dissolving doorway. The watchdogs’ furious growls cut off abruptly as the entrance resealed itself behind him, solidifying back into an unbroken section of the shimmering data-tapestry wall. Silence descended, profound and absolute, broken only by the soft, omnipresent hum of the core processor.

He was in.

The briefcase felt suddenly lighter in his hand. He approached the pulsing crystal lattice, the shifting light patterns reflecting in the opaque lenses of his sunglasses. The mission wasn’t complete. The hack code needed implementation. But the path was clear.

He raised his free hand, fingers extending towards the energy lattice, preparing the interface protocols. The real work began.

CHAPTER 39

The silencein the lander’s cockpit was thick, charged with the aftershock of victory and the sweet, simmering anticipation of vengeance. Nick Corso leaned back in the command chair, the synthetic leather creaking under his weight. The image of Norvik’s impassive blue face agreeing to hand over Díaz played on a loop in his mind’s eye.

Agreed.

The word was a drug, potent and heady.

He traced the scar on his jawline, a souvenir from a dockside brawl years ago, a reminder of the grit it took to claw his way up from nothing. Díaz, with her unearned moral superiority, had never understood that. She’d looked down on him, dismissed him as insignificant trash. Now,shewas the garbage. Confined. Beaten. Offered up by her own crew. The symmetry was beautiful. Brutal. He pictured her face when they dragged her out. The defiance finally broken. The fear in those dark eyes he’d once found compelling.

Nick would take his time with her. Remind her of every slight, every condescending word. Make her beg. Make her scream. And then?

He hadn’t decided the finale yet. Slow spacing? Hand her over to Velasco’s less savory appetites? The possibilities were deliciously dark.

The payment stung, though. Twenty thousand creditsandsettling their debts? Norvik had balls, he’d give him that. Squeezing Nick dry when he had Díaz by the short hairs.

But it was a price worth paying. For the Xena. For the completion of the contract that kept the government hounds off his back.

And most of all, for Díaz on her knees.

Oh, he’d recoup it. Once the Xena was delivered, once Díaz was dealt with, he’d hunt down theAntilles. Find them limping through some backwater system. Norvik’s cold logic wouldn’t save him then. Nor Sark’s sniveling fear. Nor that fiery bitch, Anderson. He’d carve them up, piece by piece, sell theAntillesfor scrap, and pocket every credit. With interest.

A chime cut through his vengeful reverie. The comm panel lit up, displaying the ID:

Star Shrike – Hadley James.

Nick jabbed the accept button.

“James. Report.” He kept his voice low, controlled, masking the eagerness.

His first mate’s face appeared on the cockpit’s secondary screen. Her features were tight, professional, but her eyes held a flicker of relief.

“Signal’s back, Captain. That EM static burst from the probe finally faded. Sensors are rebooting. Took longer than expected. Their attack was clever and effective.”

“Status of theAntilles?” Corso demanded, leaning forward.

James’s gaze flicked down to her own console readouts off-screen.

“Scanning.…”

Nick held his breath. Did Norvik have another trick up his sleeve? Was he powering down from the overload he’d threatened?