If These Logs Could Talk

Posted on Tue Nov 6th, 2012 @ 1:24am by Lieutenant JG Marcus Augusta PHD & Lieutenant Cedric Shepherd

1,152 words; about a 6 minute read

Mission: Sowing the Seeds
Location: USS Dubai, Security Office
Timeline: Mission Day 3, 1715 hrs (slight backpost)
Tags: security, espionage, blotter

Marc took care to ensure his uniform was pressed and immaculate down to the finest detail. He had found that presenting an image as a stickler and hard line traditionalist caused many officers of the latest generation to avoid any contact with him where possible, giving him more time alone with their systems.

As far as assignments went for Marc this was rather open and shut. his personal clearance made it possible for him to simply walk in and out of the security offices with what he wanted. There was almost no need for subterfuge.

His materialization on the transporter pad aboard the Dubai had been precisely timed, 15 minutes after the arrival of the Ranger senior staff. By this point Marc had estimated that all senior officers would be at dinner and their junior counterparts would be manning their stations, giving Marc clear seniority over anyone still left in his intended destination, the Dubai's security suite.

After a short trip through the labyrinthine corridors of the aging but nevertheless impressive Galaxy-class vessel Marc arrived at his destination, walking through the double-door entrance to the vessel's security hub with the confidence that only experience could teach.

Taking an immediate left into the assistant chief's office Marc took a few seconds to study a wall panel displaying security stats. Nothing was out of the ordinary or sensitive in nature but he committed everything to memory nonetheless, from the terahertz frequency of the containment fields in the inactive brigs to the number of type II phasers in the engineering weapons locker, nothing was overlooked or considered trivial in the life of an intelligence officer.

Marc's arrival had been noted by several of the junior staff in security but his appearance had no doubt led to a drawing of lots among the officers as to who was going to approach the grizzled veteran. As it happened the task had fallen to a fresh faced, greener than green young ensign in his early twenties who would sooner have battled a starving Tragg with his bare hands than talk to the middle-aged security deputy.

"Welcome... welcome aboard, sir," said the ensign. "I'm Ensign Garret. May I help you?"

More or less ignoring the formal niceties Marc pressed on.
"I would like a copy of your security logs from the past 6 months and some privacy."

Marc was abrupt and curt. Leaving no illusion that he had any time for the young man beyond his job. Hopefully, the ensign would simply oblige with no questions asked.

Taken aback, the ensign started and stopped a few times before falling back on the best defense against demanding superiors: blind obedience. He moved quickly to a nearby terminal and commenced a file transfer.

Avoiding any kind of thank you or invitation Marc waited for Garret to fetch the PADD by sitting in the assistant chief's office chair, signaling his intention not only to commandeer the office, but having no intention of leaving it in favor of any other.

Security blotter records typically occupied their own corner of a ship's computer databanks, being as they are manually input summaries of the security group's interfacing with the rest of the crew. As such, the file was already nearly a single unit, and the transfer was therefore comparatively quick even by the standard of Starfleet computing. Garret handed the PADD over quickly with a perfunctory and nervous nod and made himself scarce.

As the poor ensign retreated from his first and only experience with Marcus Augusta, the assistant chief gratified himself with a slight smirk before ordering the computer to seal him in the office.

Once alone Marc afforded himself a glance at the PADD placed so carefully on the desk in front of him. The data was regimented and immaculately presented. At first glance, all the I's were dotted and all the T's crossed, as they should have been. The few seconds Marc afforded himself gave no indication that there was anything inherently flawed regarding the content but he saw no need not to cover all his bases.

Marc pulled the terminal so neatly placed on the desk toward himself and entered a 49 digit code into the activation subroutine. After half a second the terminal came to life with the UFP logo embossed on the background. Pulling his combadge from his left breast Marc removed the outer casing and entered several intricate commands through its minute interface. Smiling broadly as his combadge confirmed what he knew to be true, the 8 foot square dampening field had been established within the office, Marc had access.

Marc leaned back in his chair and began entering commands to the console, speaking in a slightly hushed tone.

"Computer, do you recognize this voice?"

"Affirmative" Came the metallic reply.

"Identify."

"Vice Admiral Drayson Enrique, Director of starfleet medical."

Marc smiled again. It would have been right, if it had been talking 40 years ago.

"Specify security clearance."

"Alpha Two."

Sighing heavily Marc slouched further in the chair. His computer worm had worked perfectly. Not only had it established a link to the Dubai's sensors to alert Marc of anyone attempting to gain access to the office, but it had linked his voice pattern with a long retired admiral of vastly superior rank and clearance whose credentials still, mysteriously, were recognized across federation starships.

"Computer, download all logs and recordings created by this ship's security personnel from the past 6 months and transfer them to this PADD. Disregard all security lockouts and encryption, Authorisation Enrique, gamma 12 Beta."

The computer obliged dutifully, seeing no problem with the request.

Once the task was completed Marc entered phase 2.

"Computer delete any record of my accessing these files and upload the following subroutines to the security logs, access parameters file."

As the computer worked Marc took the time to review the data as it was being transferred. Being a multi-source datamass, it was certainly not immaculately presented, but that was to be expected. Analysis would be the key.

The computer's acknowledgements signaled another successful mission in Marc's book. Even if the Dubai staff were to find that the logs had been accessed they would find that the entire access directory was in an advanced stage of fragmentation due to a malfunction in the dated isoliner chips used in Galaxy-class computer memory. Additionally, the worm would itself fragment into unrecognizable gibberish in less than an hour and by then, he would be long gone.

Marc left the office with his PADD in hand, paying no attention or consideration to the officers in the room who were trying their utmost to avoid any kind of eye contact with him. Leaving them to bask in their apprehension, Marc made his exit, heading directly for the transporter room. he had what he came for, now it was time to make sense of it all.

 

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