You see, Apple has a… creative… definition of “easy to use”.  They’ve redefined it to mean “backward and counter-intuitive even when it’s not actively fighting you”.

Did you know that removing a source file from your Xcode project (without deleting it from disk) won’t remove it from the compile process?  Xcode merrily compiles it along with the rest, and if the file conflicts with your other changes you’ll get build errors with no indication of where in your project the problem is occuring.

There are two file-browsing panes.  Near as I can tell, the one on the top only lists the files you’ve selected in the one on the left.  In other words, it’s a complete waste of screen space.

The UI designer is a separate application.  Enough said.

The code auto-completion tool (Xcode’s answer to Visual Studio’s vastly superior Intellisense) is completely broken… especially in Objective-C, which is ostensibly Apple’s favored language.

Yeah, they’ve done *that* poor a job with their IDE.  I said I pity Apple’s developers, but maybe I should be impressed at how much they’ve accomplished *despite* Xcode’s epic suckiness.

Lovely AT&T advertising e-mail

There are three sections highlighted in red there.

First, they claim, “Now it’s time to upgrade your phone”.  That implies they’re checking who’s eligible for upgrades… we’ll see that they’re not.

Second, they list the “number(s)” that they claim are eligible for an upgrade.  They list all five lines on the account.  Only one of those lines is actually eligible for an upgrade; the rest of us have upgraded within the last six months and are not eligible for an upgrade for another year at a minimum.

Third, at the bottom they say “Ask about offers for other lines on this account”.  Five is the maximum.  I couldn’t add another line if I wanted to.  They do this all the time.  I regularly get e-mails from AT&T telling me I can add another line.  When I log on to my account on their website, I get an “Add another line” link, even though I can’t actually add another line.  Next time I get an e-mail telling me to add another line, I should call and demand they let me do so, and threaten to sue them for false advertising if they refuse.

Is it really too much to ask that their advertising not feel rubber-stamped?

I got it stuck between the first two pages on the home screen.  This is repeatable; you just need to scroll to the right pixel.  It takes a few tries, but it’s fairly easy to do.  The buttons on the “active” page (the left half) work as normal, even the folders, but the buttons on the “inactive” page (the right half) do not.  The left half is always the “active” half.

I could not reproduce it on the iPhone 3Gs.

Now, a few hours after taking this picture I was fiddling with it some more.  I got it stuck between two pages, then I tap-and-held on one of the buttons on the right half of the screen.  The screen scrolled to the “active” page, and the folder was gone!  It was nowhere to be found.

I had to reboot my phone before I could get my icons back, but when I did so, every folder except one was gone, and all my icons were scattered randomly across five home screen pages.  Took me another half hour to sort them again.

So, next time you’re fiddling with a software bug in iOS4, don’t be surprised if things aren’t as you expect when you reboot your phone…

Taken on my iPhone, so sorry about the giant black bars on either side.

I think I just got tired of hearing about my friends second- and third-hand.  Nobody tells people anything anymore, they just throw things up on Facebook and assume everyone will see it.

If you missed chapter one and chapter two, you should read them first.  As usual, this story is free to read and distribute, as long as you don’t change it, don’t pretend it’s yours, and don’t profit from it.  See the license on the chapter one post if you need clarification.

Catch

Ellis sat at his computer, re-watching the recording of Frank’s conversation with Commander Farnsworth.  They were discussing fish.  One phrase stood out in Ellis’ mind.  It was a phrase that had occurred six times during the conversation.

Farnsworth would clear his throat, and then say, “and then we reeled in the fish.”  Frank would express disbelief, and the Navy Commander would say “oh, it’s true.”  Frank would grin in satisfaction.

It had to mean something.  Could Farnsworth have located the raiders responsible for attacking the Stargazer?  Ellis decided he should assume that to be the case.

On that assumption, Ellis started up Farnsworth’s whereabouts since his last meeting with Frank.  Someone Farnsworth talked to would lead Ellis to the Stargazer raiders.

* * *

Nick sat at the controls, carefully aligning his transport, the Orchid, with the docking clamps of the GNRP distribution center.  It was as easy for him as breathing.  He had in fact been piloting since before he could walk, though the vehicles he had driven then were merely simulations.  Piloting ran in the family.

He seated the craft against the station with barely a nudge.  He always hated how other pilots just assumed the station’s momentum could absorb a bump from a docking ship; it really just meant the station would have to correct its orbit more frequently.

The station dock administrator appreciated Nick’s attention to detail; as a result, Nick always got efficient cooperation from station personnel.  Nick didn’t do it for the cooperation, though; he simply thought any job worth doing was worth doing well.

That gave him pause.  The layoffs always seemed to target the best and brightest at GNRP, and no segment of the company was skipped.  The best janitor had been fired right along with the foremost nanotechnology researcher and the most efficient cafeteria manager.  Why then had he been kept on so long?

Nick was almost certain the man he had met back at Alpha Centauri station was Frank Jameson himself.  Traveling undercover, to be sure, though how that was possible was beyond his understanding.  GIDs should make hiding one’s identity impossible, and nobody could go into an airport without having a thousand advertisements shout his name to the universe.

He had learned a fair amount from the exchange, though.  He had not known about Frank’s wife and child, for example.  There were rumors about their disappearance, of course, but until now most people simply thought the Jamesons had separated.  Nick would not reveal the truth, but it did change things.  He was starting to see company policies in a new light.

Frank had given him an entirely new perspective on the situation, after all.  The layoffs were not Frank’s doing; that much was clear from his reaction to the subject.  That left the other founder as the culprit, but why would Ellis Mitchell, who had personally taken such good care of his employees, undermine his own company from hiding?

Nothing made sense anymore.  Of course, Nick doubted he would ever really know what was actually going on.

After leaving the cockpit, he stood overlooking the cargo bay, watching his crew unload the ship.  He doubted he knew more than half their names, though the majority of them had been with him for more than two years.  Most ship captains spent a lot of time with their crews, to build trust and friendships.  He was not sure why he had never done so.  He had not avoided it, precisely, he just never got around to it.  It wasn’t even his personality — on his last ship he spent a lot of time with the crew.  There was something about this ship in particular that kept him separate.

His mind kept wandering back to his conversation with Frank.  The man was in pain.  He did not appear to blame his partner, but the loss of the Stargazer was what had sparked the conflict between them.  Clearly that was the catalyst for everything that happened afterward, for Ellis Mitchell leaving GNRP, for the layoffs, for… for the war.

The idea was so incongruous he was not sure how his mind had made the leap.  How could a nanotechnology company start a war?  But then, he himself had delivered classified cargo from GNRP to various military organizations, so there were plenty of ties between GNRP and the Navy.  The Navy even publically cited the Stargazer incident as providing the impetus for their decision to hunt down every last outlaw raider they could find.

It was not a war, not really.  It was more like a galaxy-wide game of hide-and-seek, where the penalty for getting caught was incineration.  It was only called a war because it was the closest thing to a war the galaxy had seen in three hundred years.  Oh, there were occasional border skirmishes and interplanetary fist-fights, but the Yartol — the entire race — had dedicated themselves to peaceful diplomacy and dispute arbitration, and they had quite effectively kept tension very low.

So the Navy called its little game a ‘war’, and their corporate partners sold them supplies, and their constituent planets sent them personnel, and they continued their hunt.

A Navy officer stepped through the cargo bay door, looking down his nose at everyone.  ”I am looking for the pilot, Nick Collins?”

“You found him,” Nick replied, waving down at the man.  ”How can I help you?”

Rather than respond, the Navy man merely gestured for Nick to follow, then stepped back through the door.

Nick sighed.  Visits from the Navy were not uncommon, but he had rarely been bothered himself.  He took a ladder two rungs at a time down to the cargo bay floor.  He caught the arm of his second-in-command.  ”Jim, the Navy wants to see me for some reason.  Don’t leave without me.”  Jim barely smiled.  Nick definitely needed to spend time with his crew.

The Navy officer was waiting near a doorway on the other side of the unloading bay.  When Nick got close enough, the officer pulled out a set of handcuffs.  ”Nick Collins, you’re under arrest for orchestrating the attack on the Stargazer.”

Delay

Frank stood and stretched.  His mouth cracked wide open in a yawn.  The first class lounge made an excellent place to nap, with its deep, soft chairs and dim lighting.  A nearby display panel informed him the transport was nearing its destination; he had slept for nearly six hours.

His stomach rumbled, so Frank wandered in search of a food dispenser.  He found one nearby and began perusing the menu, searching for the perfect dish for his mood.  As he was about to make his order, the dispenser’s display went blank, save for one phrase that flashed a few times before it, too, disappeared:

* * * USER NO LONGER PRESENT * * *

Odd, he thought.  Perhaps the dispenser was damaged.  He flagged down a crew member.

“I’m sorry, sir.  We’ll have someone look at it.  In the meantime, you can use the dispenser in the second-class lounge.”  The crewman pointed the way as he spoke, and started walking off before he was finished talking.

Frank grunted.  Wonderful service on these small transports.  He headed in the direction the crewman had indicated.  He shortly found himself in line behind a young boy; the dispenser was displaying child-appropriate selections, complete with colorful animations and sound effects.  The boy walked away quite pleased with his meal — a rather unhealthy combination of ice cream and fried potato wedges.  It reminded Frank of his own youth.

Chuckling, he stepped up to the dispenser, half-seriously considering getting the same meal as the boy.

Nothing happened.

Frank tasted bile in his throat.  Most dispensers were active only in the presence of a GID; if they were not responding to his presence, then his GID must be malfunctioning.

He could not disembark without an active GID.  That would cause numberless problems both for himself and for his company.

He wiped the sweat off his forehead with his sleeve and jogged to the compartment where he had stored his luggage.  It wouldn’t open.

Of course.  It’s tied to my GID too. He wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry.  His own system was betraying him.  He sat on the floor next to the compartment with his arms on his knees, and his head rested against the wall.

“Excuse me, sir?”  The same crewman stood above him.  ”Are you alright?”

“Uh.. yes,” Frank replied, standing.  ”I seem to be having bad luck today.  I can’t get my luggage compartment to recognize me.”

“Well, sir, I can open it for you if you can describe its contents to me.  You should keep your belongings with you for the remainder of the flight.”

The compartment contained little more than a laptop, a small suitcase of clothes — so small it was almost a briefcase — and a jacket he had not felt like wearing.  The crewman made Frank log on to the laptop as well, to prove it was his, before he released Frank’s belongings.

“Please find a seat now, sir.  We’re almost there.”

Obediently, Frank went to the nearest chair and tucked his belongings underneath.  His laptop he kept out — he had to determine the problem with his GID before he could leave the ship.

The GID appeared completely inactive.  Frank wasn’t dead, as far as he was aware, and that ruled out the only thing that would cause the GID to shut itself down.  He would need lab equipment to fix it, or at least something with better sensors than his laptop.

To buy himself some time, Frank put away his laptop and pretended to sleep.  The crew probably would not wake him until the final call to disembark; he might come up with a solution before then.

He soon found himself being herded toward the exit by a pair of dull-eyed janitors.  One walked behind him carrying his suitcase, and the other led the way, the two of them bracketing him in so he could not wander off unnoticed.

Once at the airlock, they handed him his suitcase and waited there for him to leave.  They closed the door behind him; apparently he really was the last passenger to disembark.  He headed slowly down the corridor toward the security lines.

He barely paid enough attention to his surroundings to avoid tripping over other people; mostly he tried to think of some way to get Farnsworth to meet him on this side of security, or to get him to the other side without having to go through the standard arrival process.  Nothing in particular came to mind.

There was nowhere to sit; passengers were expected to wait patiently in the security lines in the order in which they arrived.  He needed to stall for time.

As he was looking around for something he could use to create some sort of delay, he caught sight of a Navy uniform just on the other side of the security lines; a moment later, another break in the crowd showed Greg Farnsworth’s brown crew-cut hair.  Greg must be impatient for their meeting if he was waiting in the open like that.

Frank smiled.  He and Greg were in the same room; all he had to do was get Greg to cross over to this side of the checkpoint.  But how?  A plan formed in his mind whole, as if it had come out of hiding.  It was risky, but then, his situation could hardly get any worse.

Frank waited until he was almost at the front of the line.  When Greg was looking in his direction, he started yelling about how nobody should have to put up with such disgusting insults, then punched the red-shirted man in line ahead of him.  When the man turned around, Frank punched him again.  Red-shirt started to fight back, but it was not long before the other people in line pulled them apart.  Most were looking at Frank as if he had gone insane.

Greg noticed, just as Frank had hoped.  The Navy man wore a small frown; clearly he realized Frank needed help, but how would he choose to intervene?  Greg walked through the security post, flanked by a pair of security guards.

Red-shirt recovered himself enough to ask what was going on, but Greg spared Frank from having to give an answer.  ”Come with me,” was all he said.

* * *

Ellis wanted to pull out his hair.  Frank must have realized his GID was disabled.  And how was Ellis supposed to know Farnsworth would have been waiting for Frank in plain sight?  Their meetings were always covert!

The security cameras at this spaceport were just as copious as the last, and they allowed Ellis to track Frank from the security line to a detention room where Frank was put by himself.  The red-shirted man Frank had attacked was led off to a separate room.

Ellis went to the kitchen for a drink.  He had to wait just as long as Frank, but he did not intend to miss the meeting.  He had never before been privy to one of Frank’s covert meetings.

When he returned, however, Frank was already having a lively conversation about fishing with Commander Farnsworth.  Frank was describing the fishing trips he used to go on with his brother back on Earth; Farnsworth seemed to be engrossed in the tales.  Ellis frowned — Frank had no siblings.

It was a code, then.  If only Ellis could puzzle it out.  There seemed to be no pattern to the topic; no numbers were mentioned, no specific locations discussed.  They seemed to jump at random between discussing fly fishing technique and talking about which types of fish they most enjoyed freshly cooked in a campfire to what time of day was best to catch the fish while they were biting and in what weather.  If they had not been sitting in a detention room, they would look like two old friends catching up on their favorite hobby — hardly the discrete sort of meeting Ellis had pictured.

A little light flashed on the desk in the detention room.  At the same time, a message appeared on one of Ellis’ monitors, informing him that Frank’s GID had successfully restarted.  The two men on his screen stood and shook hands, and Frank was escorted out of the detention area.

Ellis softly banged his head against his desk.  All the time he had spent preparing that disruption, wasted.  He would have to be more careful next time.

* * *

Frank hummed to himself.  His improvised plan could not have gone better.  The unfortunate victim of his attack would be receiving a sizeable sum in exchange for his assistance in an undercover military operation, or so he would be told.  Frank put the man out of his mind.

Greg had had good news.  They had finally located the actual group of renegades who had destroyed the Stargazer.  Frank would finally have his revenge.

He pulled out his laptop and became Jim Hodgins, a retired ice cream tycoon from Pluto, and went in search of a store selling “his” product.

I was confused about one thing, though. Stop reading if you don’t want spoilers.

A couple of episodes ago, they escaped the aliens that were attacking them only because Destiny was headed into the space between galaxies.  The thing about that intergalactic space is that there’s nothing there.  And yet, in Incursion, their power problems arise because they dropped out of hyperspace within range of a particularly dangerous binary star system.

Did they enter the next galaxy without telling us?  Or is there just randomly a binary star system in the middle of nowhere?

This story is licensed under the Creative Commons – Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States.  You may share this story with anyone you wish in any form you wish, provided you do not change the story or profit from its distribution, and provided that the story is clearly attributed to me and a link to the aforementioned license is included.

Anyway, with no further ado, I present chapter one.

Reflection

“We’re sorry, Mr. Soren, it looks like your flight will be arriving forty-two minutes late.  Please take a seat in the waiting area until the flight has arrived.  If you have any questions, please contact the nearest flight agent.  Have a nice night.”

“Yeah, thanks,” Frank replied to the now blank holographic display.  This spaceport had not had a flight arrive on time since it was constructed.  The war probably didn’t help any.

Frank headed toward the food court.  The flight, perhaps, was beyond his control, but the war was not.  Very few knew, but he was the man responsible for it.  He laughed out loud, drawing stares from the crowd.  Few indeed knew that Galactic Nanotechnology Research and Production did more than make cell phones – he had always liked that pun — medical nanites, and Galactic Identification Device implants.

He joined the line for the McDonald’s replicator.  Moments later he stood in front of the monitor, and was greeted by the computer.  ”Welcome back, Mr. Soren!  Would you like to see the menu, or do you want to order?”

The GID was a marvelous device.  A person’s identity and money were safe wherever they went.  The device was impossible to forge — except for the device’s inventor, that is.  Frank’s own GID was modifiable, a prototype model from GID’s inception, a model that GNRP had explicitly promised was never produced.  Only a half-dozen or so remained active.  The prototype allowed him to change the ID broadcast by the device; for the duration of this trip he was Steve Soren, resident of Earth and professional taste-tester.  Mr. Soren had built up millions of credits in free flights, lodging, food, and movies, and he had not once even checked the balance on his account.  Frank doubted if Mr. Soren even knew how much money he actually had; likely he was too busy testing the latest new recipes.

Frank sat in the one vacant chair within his eyesight and began eating.  He had always enjoyed choosing strange identities for these undercover trips.  They were always real people — anything else could lead to investigations into the GID system — and they were always people oblivious to the actual magnitude of their own wealth.  That way he could spend their money on these excursions and keep GNRP’s financial manager from knowing his whereabouts.

He threw his tray into the garbage receptacle and headed to the bathroom to wash up.  His reflection taunted him in the mirror, a poor representation of the man he used to be.  Slicked back black hair covered a slight bald spot in the back of his head.  Grey eyes peered out from under sparse eyebrows.  Years of desk work had filled in his gut and softened his arms and chest, though he fell short of being fat.  An unlimited supply of medical nanites had kept his body in perfect working order, but they were no substitute for regular exercise.

His eyes scanned the bathroom as he turned to leave.  This same bathroom was what originally gave him the idea for GID in the first place.  It was equipped with utilities of all sizes and shapes to accommodate just about every known species, but every single fixture came down to one basic design: a porcelain bowl filled with water.  Every species was the same, when you broke it down right.

Frank may have had the idea, but without Ellis Mitchell, co-founder of the company, the GID never would have worked.  It was Ellis that designed the first hardware.  Without Ellis, Galactic Nanotechnology Research and Production would have been just another failed nanotech startup.  Unfortunately Frank and Ellis had a difference of opinion regarding the war, and Ellis went into hiding.

Frank sat down in the waiting area, scanning the flight information displays.  ”Great, delayed again,” he mumbled.

“That’s what happens when there’s wars,”  said a lanky balding man to his left.  ”I always schedule flights for the day before I need to get where I’m going, just to be safe.”

Great, thought Frank, a chatty stranger.  May as well pass the time. “I try to do something like that.”

The stranger nodded.  ”Yeah, but even then I’ve ended up waiting days.  Once I was stuck near the front lines of the war — the Navy flagged down our transport as we passed Alexandra IV — after I delivered a shipment of medical nanites from GNRP.  The Navy kept us there for six days, searching everything.”

The reference to his company piqued Frank’s interest.  ”So you work for GNRP?”

The stranger smiled proudly.  ”I’ve been piloting GNRP transports for ten years.  Mr. Mitchell personally gave me an award for being the safest and most punctual pilot.”

“Impressive.” Frank had never paid much attention to Ellis’ award-giving activities.  There were too many of them.  Ellis always tried to boost the morale of every employee, high and low.

“Yeah, I think it’s too bad that Mr. Mitchell has taken this extended vacation.  The company just isn’t as friendly with Mr. Jameson running things by himself.  We’re all walking on thin ice until Mr. Mitchell comes back.  I’ve heard rumors of another round of layoffs.  I don’t know why Mr. Jameson keeps firing people.  Near as I can tell, the company is shorthanded in every department, and the more layoffs there are, the more productivity falls.”

Frank nodded in agreement.  In reality it was Ellis rigging the layoffs.  Ellis would track down the best, most productive workers in each department, then using Frank’s identity he would have them fired.  Ellis wasn’t cruel enough to leave people jobless in his effort to cripple GNRP, though — he managed to get a job at another nanotech company for every employee he fired.  Frank chose the words of his reply carefully.

“Yeah, but Mr. Mitchell himself said on more than one occasion that without Frank Jameson there would be no GNRP.  He can’t be that bad of a guy.  Look at all the good his inventions have done.”

The pilot raised an eyebrow.  ”Those things would have been invented eventually.  Even the GID wasn’t Mr. Jameson’s idea, technically.  His own ingenuity lies in the way it works with the body to ensure it can’t be removed, and in the way it uses body heat to power itself.  Mr. Jameson really just took an existing concept and made it work feasibly.  He didn’t know anything about nanotechnology.  He’s a biochemist.”  The pilot produced a water bottle from his jacket, took a sip, and continued.  ”GNRP was the last company to come out with medical nanites, no invention there.  They just happen to work better than everyone else’s.  Even GNRP’s military products are just old ideas made reality.”

Frank suppressed a sigh.  He had gained a bad reputation, thanks to Ellis’ efforts.  Not even his old colleagues at the Biochemistry Research Institute would talk to him.  ”I suppose you’re right.”  He was, really.

The man jerked his head toward Frank, as if he were startled.  ”I’m sorry, I’ve forgotten to introduce myself.  Nick,” he said, holding out his hand.

“Frank.”  They shook hands briefly.

“Pleased to meet you, Frank.  I know I’m a talker, but after spending so much time just waiting in spaceports I started to need a little more social interaction.  My crew doesn’t talk to me much.”

They fell into silence for a time, watching the passersby without really seeing them.

It was Nick who broke the silence again.  ”I just don’t understand why Mr. Mitchell hasn’t come back.  He must know what’s happening to his company.”

“Maybe he just doesn’t like Mr. Jameson anymore.  If they had an argument and Mr. Mitchell couldn’t win, it would make sense for him to take his money and leave.”  That was the essence of what had happened, after all.

“If that were the case, he should have gone public with it, rather than just disappear.  It doesn’t make sense.”

Frank simply shrugged.  He wasn’t sure why Ellis hadn’t gone public.  It would certainly destroy GNRP — but he thought Ellis wanted to stop Frank’s war efforts, without collapsing the company.

The pilot eyed Frank for a moment.  ”You sure seem to have a high opinion of Mr. Jameson.”

“I used to make appointments for him.”  Frank preferred to tell the truth as much as possible, or at least a version of it, unless it would expose his fake identity.  He often made his own appointments, despite his secretary’s protests.

“Oh?  Did he lay you off too?”  He paused when he saw Frank change positions as if he were uncomfortable.  ”I’m sorry.  I’m being too nosy.  A bad habit.”

Frank pursed his lips.  ”Don’t worry about it.  You know, a week before the war started, I wanted to take some time off to be with my wife and son.  Mr. Jameson was going to let me, but Mr. Mitchell talked him into making me stay for another week, for a big nanotechnology conference.  So I stayed, but I sent a letter home asking my wife to come to me instead.  Her transport was the first…”  He closed his eyes to hide the tears welling up.  Despite the pain they brought, it was good to actually say the words.  He seldom spoke of this with anyone.

“She was on the Stargazer?”  The pilot asked softly.

Frank nodded, eyes still closed.

“Do you know why the passenger list was never disclosed?  That’s not normal.”

Frank himself had deleted it, to remove the connection to himself and his company.  The company that owned the Stargazer couldn’t survive the fiasco of a missing passenger list were it made public, so they simply announced that they would not be releasing the passenger list, nor the contents of the cargo hold.  It had given rise to countless conspiracy theories.  ”Yes, but I don’t think it’s a good idea to say anything.” As much truth as possible.

“Were you threatened?  You can go to the police, you know.”  The pilot — Nick — began to look worried.

“No one threatened me.”  He supposed he could end up dead if he were to say something, but he didn’t think it would go that far.  Then again, he had started a war.

It hadn’t been a war, at first.  It happened as he had explained to Nick — Ellis wanted him to be at some big nanotechnology conference, but it conflicted with Frank’s planned family vacation.  Ellis had always been good at getting Frank to do it his way, and that time was no different.  It had been Frank’s own idea to invite his wife and son to stay with him there.  She decided to go the second day of the conference, and bought tickets aboard the Stargazer.

The Stargazer had also been carrying some rather valuable prototype nanotech demonstration models to the conference.  Somehow a group of renegades found out and hijacked the ship.  Only one person escaped, a crew member who happened to be cleaning an escape pod when the attack occurred.  He claimed the renegades shot everyone they saw.

When Frank had been informed, he shut out the pain by feeding his anger.  He contacted an old friend, Greg Farnsworth, an officer in the Galactic Navy, and asked him to track down the renegades and make sure they were imprisoned as the law demanded.  Greg, however, seemed to think there were wheels that needed greasing, and asked for a small “subsidy” in order to make it happen. Highly illegal, of course, and not exactly moral.

The first payment made, Greg contacted him and told him the Navy wasn’t quite interested in tracking down a few renegades, but that he could make it happen for a larger “subsidy”.  They agreed on an amount, and two days later the Navy attacked one of the more well-known renegade spaceports.

Frank had hoped those responsible for the Stargazer would be found quickly, but every message he received explained that more time was needed, that the renegades were difficult to locate, that they needed more grease for the wheels.

That’s why Ellis left.  Perhaps he felt responsible; he had insisted on Frank going to the conference, after all.  Ellis’ solution was apparently to bankrupt GNRP — and Frank along with it — so Frank could not keep bribing the Navy.  Its source of funding gone, the Navy would most likely turn its attention elsewhere.

The pilot interrupted Frank’s thoughts.  ”No one threatened you, eh.  Well, I’ll leave off there.  You probably wouldn’t appreciate more prying.”  Nick glanced at the clock.  ”They’re probably done unloading my ship by now.  Nick Collins.  If you ever need a ride, give me a call.”

Frank nodded in thanks as they shook hands, and watched the man make his way toward one of the smaller hangars. A nice guy.  Hopefully Ellis won’t fire him.

Ah, the layoffs.  That was a sticky situation.  The first time Ellis had rigged a round of layoffs, the company lost almost 2000 nanotechnicians, pilots, inspectors, and managers.  Frank attempted to re-hire some of them, but they all refused.  When he tried replacing them with new talent, he was able to get many to accept offers, but they invariably called back the following day to explain that they would be unable to accept.  Ellis was making it effectively impossible for Frank to replace the missing personnel, and there had been four rounds of layoffs so far.

The speaker system announced that Frank’s flight was ready to be boarded.  He headed toward the ship.

* * *

Ellis sat at his desk watching the security camera feeds from Spaceport Central.  Frank headed toward his flight slowly, meandering through the crowd.  Whenever Frank reached the edge of Ellis’ monitors, Ellis pushed a few keys, and the computer displayed another camera feed.

Ellis sighed and rubbed his eyes against the drowsiness he felt.  He had been planning this for over a week, and there were still dozens of things that could go wrong.  It would be easier if he could connect to the transport’s computer before Frank was on board, but Ellis did not want to risk detection too early.  That meant he would only have one minute to work with.

It had always been easy tracking Frank.  His GID had a unique signature only Ellis knew how to find, so it did not matter what identity Frank hid behind.  Ellis had not rigged the GID; it was just a side effect of the ability to change the identity broadcast by the implant.  Ellis’ own GID had the signature as well.

On the computer screen, Frank boarded a transport.  Ellis’ camera feeds ended there, but that was not important.  Frank was on board; that was all Ellis needed to know.

The plan was simply to make Frank late for his covert meeting with his Navy contact. Commander Farnsworth would not wait longer than fifteen minutes before assuming Frank was not coming.  Without a negotiation for further funding, there would be fewer Navy ships committed to the war.

To delay Frank, Ellis would force Frank’s GID to stop broadcasting during the flight.  When the passengers disembarked, security would notice a passenger with no ID broadcast.  They would take him into custody.  At that point the GID would restart itself, security would see the ID broadcast again, and Frank would be let out of custody after signing some paperwork and scheduling a visit to GNRP’s offices for an implant inspection.

His fingers hammered at the keyboard.  The transport would soon be out of range.  Diagrams of software systems filled a screen to Ellis’ left, status updates filled a screen to his right, and machine code filled a slightly larger screen between the two.  His eyes flicked from screen to screen, keeping track of everything.  Sweat trickled down his forehead into his eyes, but stopping to clear his eyes would lose him precious seconds.

Moments later a small window popped up with the words “Access Granted”.  He entered a few commands to Frank’s GID, telling it what to do and when.  The connection was lost just moments after he finished.

Ellis leaned back in his chair, rubbing his eyes.  He was getting better at hacking, but he kept finding himself at the limits of his abilities; he was always cooking up ideas that were just barely beyond his skill level.  Somehow, though, he always pulled through.

It was time to sleep.  Frank’s flight would be long.  Ellis locked his computer and headed for his bedroom.

Colonel Young makes a fatal mistake partway through the episode, which is the root cause of everything that happens afterward. He gets chastised by O’Neill for it, but it’s really too little too late. Honestly I think it’s the kind of mistake that should cause him to lose his command. Whatever the resolution is now, it won’t possibly be as clean as the one he chose to skip.

Eli finally gets some bonding time with Chloe. They’ve had some moments before, but as of one of the last two episodes she’s still sleeping with Lieutenant Scott in their as-yet-unexplained relationship. (Seriously… can anyone tell me where their relationship was established in this series?) That is to say, Chloe gets to see Eli being the nice guy he actually is, underneath his self-deprecating jokes, because he’s forced to actually take care of her so she won’t die.  (I hope that’s not too much of a spoiler.)

And of course the ship starts behaving oddly.  (I’m sure Eli will be the one to figure it out and fix it, since he and Chloe end up wandering unexplored parts of the ship.  He’s in the best position to do so, plot-wise.)

I’ve waffled about this series.  It seems there haven’t been many mediocre episodes; I hope they figure that out before next season.  A show shouldn’t waste time on poorly-written episodes.