“Ominous,” Joshua observed, his tone deceptively pleasant. “Bates is going to flip,” he added, darting a glance into the back again until Hans kicked the back of his seat a second time.
“That’s not all,” Cleavon butted in again before he began rapidly sorting through information until his console was filled with numbers and distance readings. “Our processing power is a bit faster than theirs,” he stated dryly, singling out a specific set of readings and letting his console do the calculations for him. “So while they’re still working on it, we already know definitively that whatever it is, it’s heading right for us.”
Hans whistled, long and low. “Well, shit.”
“Anything else?” Alisha asked, leaning over Cleavon’s shoulder to peer closer to his console.
“Still working on it,” he replied, his tone distracted as he began sorting through the data again. “It’s a lot of data to go through.” Pitching his voice louder, he added, “Try to keep this thing steady, yeah? If Rhodez doesn’t barf on my equipment I’m probably going to do it myself.”
Joshua pulled one hand away from the wheel just long enough to flip off the back of the truck.
Chapter 8
Bates’s Office, Special Task Force Offices, Undisclosed Location, Estaria
“You’re sure about this.”
While it was nominally a question, Bates’s tone left little room for it to sound inquisitive.
Cleavon nodded once. “Positive.” It had taken some prodding from Alisha to get him to head the meeting, but he had taken to the role well after a bit of stumbling. “More importantly, my setup figured out what theirs hasn’t yet: the signals are coming from ships in the outer system.”
“Plural?” Philip asked, in a tone that suggested that he hadn’t misheard but was instead simply hoping that he had.
“And heading our way,” Cleavon confirmed with a brief nod of his head. “I’m just not completely sure how many yet; the signals are too close together to differentiate one from the others.”
Carol settled more heavily in her chair and reached up to massage her temples with two fingers from each hand. She seemed very tired in that moment. But she allowed herself only a few seconds to absorb the information before she let her hands fall back to the top of her desk. “How long until everyone else knows about this?”
Cleavon shrugged, and then looked sheepish, unsure if that sort of gesture was unprofessional in the current setting. He didn’t think about it long, though. “It depends on how much processing they allocate toward it. But it could be any time now, potentially.”
“I imagine it will be sooner rather than later,” Bates sighed, folding her hands together on top of the desk. “The safety of the planet depends on it; everyone is taking it very seriously.”
“Yeah, we’ve all seen the news,” Alisha grumbled, more to herself than to Bates. Rhodez patted her shoulder sympathetically. She straightened up, her expression growing stern as she asked, “So, what are we supposed to do? Should we try and stop them from figuring it out?”
Bates was silent at first, her gaze leveled at her desk though her thoughts were elsewhere. Finally, she decided in a low voice, “No. Despite the implications of it, and despite knowing that something else is ultimately going on, we can’t corrupt the entire system because of it. The ramifications of it would be too far-reaching for us to feasibly clean up afterward.” She lapsed into silence after that, but her expression was still contemplative, and they all knew she hadn’t said everything that she needed to say. The room was quiet enough that a mouse walking across the floor would have sounded like a commotion.
“We’ll let them figure it out,” Bates decided at length, tenting her fingers together in front of her chin. “But we need to warn Molly about it. She’ll need to know that something is going to happen.”
She leveled a look at Cleavon at last, then at the rest of the group behind him, and she let the smallest smile slip. “You’ve all done excellent work today,” she assured them. “You’re dismissed.”
One by one, they turned and filed out of the room, Cleavon turning and taking up the rear of the line. The door slid closed behind them.
“I could make the call if you want me to,” Philip offered quietly, sliding Bates a sidelong glance.
Slowly, she sighed and reached up to massage her temples again. “Thank you, but no,” she answered after a moment. “I can handle it.” She nodded her head toward the door. “Go on. I’ll let you know if anything unexpected happens.”
Philip paused for only a second before he nodded slowly, then turned on his heel and left. Bates waited until the door closed once again before she picked up her communicator.
* * *
Carol Bates hit Send on a holomessage to Paige about their findings. She thought for a second and then decided to relay the information directly to Molly herself as well. If nothing else she might be able to get a temperature read on their plan.
She connected a holocall to her daughter then waited, staring out of her office window onto the bullpen. Over her audio implant, a holding message thanked her for her call and asked her to remain connected while Molly was located.
No doubt it was something set up by Oz as he moved Molly’s attention from one task to another, like the extension of her consciousness that Carol assumed he must be by now.
“Hi Mom,” Molly answered. Her voice was polite but tired.
“Molly. I have news,” Carol responded.
“Great.”
“We’ve got confirmation on the satellite reading. Turns out that not only is it indeed moving our way, but it’s also many objects. Probably ships from the size of them.”
There was a silence on the line for a moment. Carol glanced down at her wrist device to make sure they were still connected.
“The good news is,” Carol continued, “we still have at least a little time before the military stations get through crunching the data and figuring out what we already know. But if you’re going to make a move, you’ll need to do it fast.”
More silence on the line. Carol pursed her lips, waiting.
“Ok, Mom. Thanks for the heads up. I take it we checked to make sure that this data is authentic… from the satellites themselves. Not planted?”
“Affirmative,” Carol confirmed. “Although, it looks like someone had tried to plant it months ago but was unable to bypass their security protocols.”
Molly snorted on the other end of the line. “Small mercies!” she exclaimed.
“Indeed.” The team is running down the details. Seeing if we can trace it back to anyone in particular. I think it’s safe to assume that the Northern Clan was behind it in some form or another.”
“Yes, agreed,” Molly replied.
“So speaking of you making a move—what exactly are you planning to do?” Carol could almost see Molly rolling her eyes, but with a lack of information she had no way to confront her on her suspicion.
“Well, if you must know… Mom,” she replied with emphasis on the Mom, “I’m planning to head on out there and see what these folks want.”
Carol didn’t even pause. “Ah yes, with that secret technology that Lance gave you. Well, I’m not sure I approve of—”
Molly suddenly engaged in the conversation, her voice lifting an octave and a few decibels as if she had been trying to restrain herself up until this point. “Approve? Mother, I’m trying to save the system! Your approval is the least important thing in the whole equation.”
Carol’s voice rose in response. “You’re running straight into a dangerous situation head first, with no backup and no idea what you’re going to face. You always were a reckless child!”
“Actually,” Molly countered firmly. “I have got backup. And if you get any more intel on what I’m walking into, then I’d be pleased to see it.”
There was another awkward silence as both women contemplated their next move without escalating their relationship to nuclear
.
“Now,” Molly said, her tone dialed back a little, “is that all, Mother?”
“Yes. I suppose.” Director Bates sighed, deflating. “I just don’t know why you still feel you need to prove yourself.”
Molly opened her mouth to respond, then changed her mind on what she was going to say. “Thanks for the intel Mom. I’ll be in touch if anything changes.”
Carol was clearly ready to start a rant, but quietly waved her daughter off before ending the call.
She sat back in her chair in her stark blue office, vaguely aware of the personnel in the office beyond.
She’d always wondered what it would feel like to be working with her daughter. Now she knew for sure, and it was far more anxiety-producing than she ever thought. Worry wasn’t something that came naturally to her, after all.
Molly’s Conference Room, Safe House, Gaitune-67
It was getting late on the asteroid, but the team were still abuzz with activity. Although it was going to take several days for the Zhyn fleet to get there, it seemed like the preparations were endless.
“Well, it sounds like bringing our blue warrior-friends into the mix was an especially good call… now we know what we’re up against,” Sean added.
Molly sat across from him, poking her fork into the curry in her takeout box.
“You know, that skill of yours might come in handy in that regard.”
“What skill?”
“You know, your ability to push your will.”
Molly frowned, contemplating the suggestion. “I guess,” she said quietly.
“No I’m serious,” Sean insisted. “Think about it. Let’s say you’re close enough to the ships to be able to force them to change their minds about firing on us… that would be useful.”
“I think a missile has a longer range than my so-called ability. Anyway, I don’t even know if I have it anymore… or if it was even real in the first place.”
“Oh, believe me. It was real. I know my mind when it comes to tactical decisions, and you changed it… completely turned me around for a few hours after talking with you about it.”
Molly sighed. “Well, if it’s not even permanent I don’t know how it’s going to even help in this pickle…”
Sean bobbed his head from side to side, about to concede the point. “Ah… but what if it were enough to influence say… a vote. Like in the Senate, or something.”
“You mean fuck with the very fabric of our political system?”
“No, I mean, make sure that those dumb asses make the right decision.”
Molly shook her head at him. “Well, apart from the fact that goes against everything we stand for…”
“Apart from that,” Sean smiled.
“I don’t see us having a situation like that any time soon. That’s all.” She shrugged and stabbed her fork into a faux protein chunk before popping it in her mouth.
“Anyway, shouldn’t we be thinking about fleet tactics for when our guests arrive?”
Sean finished his food and wiped his mouth with a napkin. “We should,” he agreed. He reached to his holo and pulled up a few screens before activating one on the room’s holoprojector. “We’re still awaiting exact numbers and weight of the ships we’re expecting but working on my estimates there are a few scenarios which would minimize our risk and give most of them a retreat protocol.”
He hesitated. “Of course, we’re the only ones with gate capabilities, and I don’t think these guys can move faster than light… which means…”
“Say it,” she said firmly. “Which means that if this other fleet has anything more advanced, our Zhyn compatriots are screwed.”
“I thought they were mercenaries?”
“Just on paper. We think of them as friends. In each scenario. If we lose a single life out there it’s one too many.” Molly paused, dwelling briefly on the realization of what they were planning. She exhaled heavily and then moved on.
“What do those formations look like then?” she asked, getting down to the one practical thing she could think about.
Workshop, Base, Gaitune-67
Crash and Brock were taking a break from the heavy work-load.
“You know,” Crash mused, kicking back on the dust-bitten sofa they used for gaming, “I don’t think I’ve ever met a Zhyn warrior.”
“You know Ben’or,” Crash responded, somewhat distracted by his console.
“Well, yeah, to say hello to. But it’s not like we’ve kicked back and got drunk together. I don’t know anything about his culture, or about him. I mean… I’ve no idea if he prefers meat or veggies only on his pizza.”
Crash chuckled quietly. “Yeah. These are the important things to suss out about a person before you decide what kind of man he is.”
Brock sniggered, hugging a cushion to his chest as he lay back. “You know, we should make a point of breaking bread with some of these guys when they get here. Find out about them. What their hopes and dreams are. What makes them tick. What their world is like.”
Crash smiled at him from his game of 3D chess against the console. “I think that’s a good idea. Mind, just a hunch, I get the sense that Ben’or isn’t particularly representative of the Zhyn warrior culture.”
“What makes you say that?”
Crash shrugged. “He’s just not very warrior-like.” He paused his game as his eyes drifted off thoughtfully. “If I had to guess, I’d say in his position as a diplomat and being responsible for smoothing over situations so that they don’t have to go to war, is probably a pretty big task. He must have an infinite capacity for patience and very little ego in the game.”
Brock thought for a few moments. “So you think the role dictates his temperament? Or vice versa?”
“Who knows,” Crash shrugged.
A voice boomed from the Daemon door to the workshop. “I can tell you categorically that my temperament got me the role!”
Brock nearly jumped out of his skin. Wide-eyed, his head appeared over the back of the couch as he sat bolt upright, heart pounding. “Ben’or! I… didn’t see you there.”
Crash looked like he was trying to catch his breath as well. “Man!” he exclaimed. “For a big dude you walk like a grasshopper on morning frikkin dew!”
Ben’or chuckled a hearty belly laugh. “I was just coming through the daemon door when I heard you talking about my brethren. I was interested to hear your thoughts… uncensored, as it were.”
Brock responded quickly. “I’m sorry sir, we didn’t mean any disrespect.”
“Oh, I know. You didn’t say anything that I could possibly take offense to.” Ben’or smiled congenially. “And I’m sure the landing party would be delighted to join you for pizza and what-have-you when they finally get here.”
Brock got up, his physiology returning to normal after the shock. “Great. I’ll mark my calendar. But we still need to know the most important thing.”
“Oh yes? What would that be?”
“Meat or veggie on your pizza?”
Ben’or chuckled and ambled off toward the stairs, waving his hand as if he wasn’t going to answer.
Brock called after him. “You know we’ll find out somehow!”
Ben’or chuckled some more as he climbed the stairs to the safe house.
“I’ll ask Arlene!” Brock called after him.
Crash sniggered away shaking his head at the comedy playing out in front of him. His first impression of Brock when they met had never been disproven once: there was indeed never a dull moment when he was around.
Chapter 9
Hangar Deck, Base, Gaitune-67
Orange flashing lights flickered rhythmically as Oz ran the announcement base-wide. “Alert, alert. Please be advised our allies are arriving at the hangar deck in t-minus five minutes and counting.” His voice echoed through every speaker in the PA system.
Brock appeared in the workshop, frantically fastening his overalls. “I can’t belie
ve they’re here already. I didn’t have time to clean up around The Empress. They’re going to be so judgy about the mess down there. Crash? Crash? Do you think—”
He looked around for Crash as if he should have been there already. A moment later Crash emerged from the daemon passage. “We’ve still got that oil spill to clean up underneath The Empress!” he announced.
For someone who was normally so subdued under pressure, he actually looked dramatically stressed out.
“I know!” Brock exclaimed. “That’s what I was just saying. Except you weren’t here to hear my panic.”
Crash smiled sagely, picked up a sand bucket and a few cloths and headed back out of the door. “I’ve got it. You just get down there and represent us all in the welcome party.”
Brock started to protest. “But—”
Crash turned back to him briefly. “I’m not a people person.” Then he disappeared.
Brock exhaled quickly with mild humor, then busied himself trying to make sure that the workshop looked presentable. After twenty seconds of dancing himself into a dither, he fluffed a cushion, put it back on the sofa, rearranged it, then decided he was majoring in irrelevant details.
Seconds later he was heading out of the daemon door and down the corridor to the hangar deck. As he approached the overlooking walkway at the end of the daemon corridor, he slowed. Paige, Maya, and Pieter were already there.
“How did you guys get down here so fast?” he asked.
Paige flicked her long dark hair over one shoulder and turned to eye him in playful seductivity. “We walked,” she told him, wiggling her eyebrows over her narrowed eyes pretending she had just told him the biggest secret in the world.
Maya slapped at her arm. “Stop it,” she told her. “We asked Oz to give us a heads up when they were twenty minutes out.” She nodded down at their high heeled shoes. “Needed extra time to get here what with all this foot binding shit!”
The Ascension Myth Box Set Page 218
