He rarely saw the command pod this busy. The bi-level hub of operations was a convoluted array of technologies and cannibalized machinery spanning six decades. While the latest vioptric spheres displayed three-dimensional representations of MassGrid reports and Subgroup provider data, close by were the more antiquated high-density monitors and VR comm-sets of the late 21st century. Some of the technologies required their users to lie flat on their backs or to stand erect. It was a jury-rigged amalgam of incompatible systems that had been purchased on the black market, smuggled in or stolen and then reprogrammed to be integrated into a powerful global monitoring net, almost as good as what was once housed inside this mountain a century earlier.
A viop balloon hung above all this technology, displaying the entire Second Sunrise base in multidimensional, multihued rotation. The command pod and habitation rings – concentric circles at the base's lowest level and linked by four narrow trunks – were the heart of the operation and were almost 100 meters beneath the surface. At each junction along the habitation ring, a vertical shaft rising to meet a docking and assimilation port where Sprints were assembled after entering the mountain through one of four shafts. The viop balloon tracked all movement through the base, as well as energy shifts and systems failures. The balloon was a modification of the only useful technology still intact inside this mountain when Adam and Rand first entered it 19 years earlier.
Yet for all of their achievements, they had not penetrated the highest classification microwebs of the PAC. Perhaps they could have learned of Andorran's arrival sooner, and this haste would not have been necessary, the operation run more smoothly. Nonetheless, having an operative who was intimate with the PAC's Chief of Domestic Security was an acceptable substitute. And now, as Adam started down spiral stairs to the pod's lower level, he spied a monitor quite close to him upon which he saw the activity in Shaft 3.
The crablike Sprint that brought Janise Albright here from the AFD was lowered into docking position, and a door folded back and up.
Janise Albright leaped out, said something in sharp tones to the reception crew, and took off at a full sprint.
Adam stopped and paused, froze that image of Janise into his mind.
He wished he had told this woman how important she was to him, but now there was no time.
This was what she wanted to do, what she trained for, what she prepared an entire tactical unit for. And Adam despised the notion that he was asking her to make so extreme a sacrifice.
18
T
hey called it the war room, although it consisted of little more than a circular table and a dozen swivels, a small viop sphere as the table's centerpiece. Adam and Rand waited there in nervous silence.
Janise Albright was taking longer than either of them anticipated, but when the war room door slipped open and she appeared, they understood why she was delayed.
Beneath her auburn hair, pulled back into a bun, Janise was dressed in black battle fatigues, accessorized with full body armor, weapons belt and sidearm. She took firm, confident steps and held her shoulders high and back as she offered Rand a curt nod and Adam a broad smile. She hugged the man who recruited her while she was a member of the Front Guard.
“Are you ready for this?” Adam asked softly.
“No better time! Been waiting around for I don't know how long, and I'm ready to get in there, do the job and see what all hell really looks like when it breaks loose.”
“I just wish we had more time.”
She shrugged. “Wouldn't have helped, Adam. That's just more time to worry, try to think up excuses for not going ahead. Besides, could you see me trying to tell my unit that all this training the past 18 months was just for the exercise?”
They shared a knowing laugh, and Janise handed over the cylindrical data strip Bryan Drenette passed to her only an hour ago.
“I reviewed these schematics on the way here,” she said. “Very helpful. Very reassuring.”
Adam loaded the cylinder into a slot in the viop sphere, and a viop balloon spread almost the breadth of the table, displaying the PAC base on Barbados. The facility, sitting at the base of Mount Hillaby, didn't look like much – three nondescript albeit large rectangular modules, a narrow communications tower, a pair of landing ports for Sprints and local transports. It was shaved into the slope of the mountain, and surrounded on most sides by dense tropical foliage.
“The Center for the Study of Tropical Climatological Disruption,” Janise stated matter-of-factly, then laughed boldly. “And the funniest thing about that name is that once the base was constructed, the PAC very quietly relocated every islander who was living within four kilometers. They claim it's there for purely scientific research, then they clear out anyone who might be able to see the first thing they do.”
“Such as,” Rand said, “hiding a colonial-era shuttle they claimed to have destroyed years ago.”
“Among other things,” Janise said without a smile.
“Then what we need ...” Adam started, but the war room door slipped open again, and the last three invitees to this conference entered single-file.
Samuel Raymonds, George Cleopolous, and Stephen Kreveld acknowledged their comrades with nods. No one sat.
“Your timing is excellent, fellows,” Adam smiled. “Sam, how is the prep going? Sprints will be ready in time?”
“Yep. No trouble.” Sam Raymonds was curt in his response, and he was looking not at Adam, but rather the viop balloon, as he answered. The short, slender man with rapidly receding golden hair wrapped his arms against his chest, then raised one hand and cupped it tightly over his mouth. His hazel eyes were bulging as they studied the balloon.
“And how about the two of you?” Adam’s comrades were destined to be the first men to go to space in 25 years. “Prepared for this?”
“It's some wicky-ass business, I'm here to tell you,” Stephen Kreveld, a tall, lanky man, fidgeted as he spoke. “But the baby's a-coming and it's time to deliver, folks! And getting the fuck out of this mountain won't be such a bad deal, either, if I say so myself!”
George Cleopolous, the commander of the orbital shuttle New Terra, rolled his eyes. He grew used to this kind of crass foolishness from his co-pilot but hoped for a tad bit more professionalism at such a crucial hour. The bald black man firmly shook hands with both Adam and Rand, revealing not the hint of a smile.
“Kreveld and I will be ready and do Second Sunrise proud.” He darted a side-glance toward Stephen, then moved his lips to the word “somehow.”
“I'm certain you will,” Adam said.
“In the meantime, if you'll excuse Kreveld and me, we'll pull out a couple of swivels, move to the back and observe while you four work out these other details.”
Stephen said something flip under his breath, George shook his head, and Adam had no problem overlooking Stephen's typically irreverent commentary.
“Now, Janise, brief us on what you know and what, if any, adjustments need to be made to the plan.”
“Very good. Basically, I have analyzed the security outlays of the facility, and they match what our most recent reconnaissance told us. Ground forces are minimal, and the Front Guard is employing its standard diamond defense grid. This is what we've trained to go up against should a ground assault be necessary. And unfortunately, that's what we're facing here.”
“And how long ago was the last recon mission?” Rand asked.
“Nine days. What you're seeing here is data I received just moments before I left the AFD. This is updated and cleared through the highest security classification.”
“In other words, you got this from Drenette?” Adam asked.
“Directly.”
“And you're confident we can trust this?”
“Of course. Bryan has never provided us with inaccurate information. And I should note that he gave me this at enormous risk to his own security.”
“Hmmph,” Sam Raymonds mumbled. “Not much
risk, I'd say. Not when you're that high up in the PAC.”
“You have a problem with this?” Adam asked.
“I don't trust the man. Do you, Adam? Rand? Anyone here? Except maybe for Albright. But then, you slept with him, so that's a different ball game with you.”
“Son of a ...” Janise started, but Adam raised both hands.
“Please, we don't have the time to go down that road. What exactly do you find wrong about this, Sam?”
“This isn't something I should have to explain. Listen, Drenette has helped us out from time to time. But when has the man ever provided us with data that has really made a difference in what we've been trying to do? Six years he's been the highest security officer in the PAC. We should have been privy to enough dirt to have torn the knees out from under the PAC long ago. So why today? Huh? Why give us everything we need so we can ride in there and blow up the PAC shuttle and get our own ship safely to Andorran?”
“Because,” Janise said tactfully, her teeth gritted to contain the anger, “he had to wait for an opportunity that he was sure Second Sunrise could capitalize on. You have to realize, Sam, the Senior Council came up with this scheme to kill Andorran's crew and reroute the ship away from Earth. Dome was not even officially informed of it until today. Once we strike on Barbados, suspicion will fall on Bryan.”
“Suspicion that he will easily defer to some lackey.”
“No, Sam. It's a fall he'll take all alone. You see, the PAC's shuttle is scheduled to launch within 45 minutes. Not even time for us to reach it. So Bryan is going to use his personal security codes to delay the launch. And he's going inside the microwebs for the Caribbean flight grid to open a window for us so we can enter the Lesser Antilles unnoticed. Unless he's incredibly lucky, there's no way he'll be able to get in and out of there without leaving a trace.”
Her eyes roamed from Sam and fell upon all the other men. Her voice was slightly less confident. “He's putting it all on the line for us. This isn't just a one-shot proposition for us, but for Bryan as well.”
Sam threw out his hands. “And if he decides at the last minute he'd rather not leap into the fire with us?”
“We'll know when our Sprints hit the Caribbean flight grid.”
Sam just shook his head and wrapped his arms against his chest again. “Fine. Whatever. You folks know my position on Drenette.”
“Duly noted,” Adam said. “Now, Janise, you were saying ground assault is definitely the only option?”
“I'm afraid so. As you know, since we were first told about this base six months ago, we've studied three options for an attack. The first involved a basic aerial bombardment. With clear passage through the flight grid and with each ship essentially cloaked by the wv.scan shield, we could take out this facility in less than 60 seconds. Unfortunately, the fry wall negated that option.”
“And what would a fry wall be?” Stephen piped up from the back of the room.
“It would be this.” Janise pointed to the balloon, where what resembled a mesh pyramid rose above the PAC facility and encapsulated it. “The PAC developed this thing just in the past couple of years. It's an incredibly charged electromagnetic barrier – runs on new technology for which we have no countermeasures. We call it the fry wall because if a window in the shield hasn't been opened to allow entry, any ship would be disintegrated the split second it hits the barrier. Goes for weapons, as well.”
Adam shook his head. “This is why I wished we had more time. We've tried for months to get one of our operatives inside the facility, either to sabotage the shuttle or at the very least be in a position to bring down this shield at the time of attack.”
“And before you say anything, Sam,” Janise added smugly, “This was not an area where Bryan could have helped. Remember, the true purpose of this base was not officially known to anyone in Dome until today. Had he affected a transfer of one our own operatives there earlier, suspicions would have been raised.”
Sam shrugged. “Convenient,” he whispered, not looking at anyone in particular.
Janise continued without hesitation. “We also considered a strategy that involved a ground team disabling one of the pylons that generates the fry wall, thus allowing a Sprint to enter through the open portion of the wall. Unfortunately, we determined long ago that our Sprints don't have the maneuverability to enter at bombing speed, maintain sufficient altitude to avoid getting whacked by the explosions they create, and roll back without hitting any portion of the wall that's still intact. It would be a suicide run.”
“And you still rule out aerial combat?” Rand asked.
“Yes. According to this data, the PAC's shuttle will be launched with a complement of six armored Sprints. They'll hold to a diamond formation around the shuttle it until throttles-up to maximum sub-orb velocity. By then, its speed and trajectory will be far beyond what any Sprint could hope to keep up with. The only chance – the best chance – is full ground assault. Their troop count is at a minimum. They rely primarily on the fry wall for defense.”
There was awkward silence, and Adam sighed. He looked at Rand, who he knew could offer no alternatives at this final hour. Finally, Sam spoke up.
“You plan on a last supper before you leave?” He stared at Janise.
She stared back at him. “The victory supper will have to wait, Sam,” she said dryly. “You forget that five members of my unit, including myself, are former Front Guarders. We know their tactics, and the other seven members of the unit have been trained accordingly. By my reckoning, this will be the first time the Guard has ever had to face soldiers who are every bit as skilled as they.”
Stephen piped up again. “Now that's gonna be one hell of a rumble!” He offered Janise a thumbs-up, and although she did not reply, her smile was at least not broken.
She's so confident, Adam thought. She was his protege and logical successor to leadership of Second Sunrise until militaristic urges took her beyond the mountain and out into the AFD, where she had been so certain she could be of far more use to the cause. She had her personal anger to sort through, as they all did, but Adam hoped for the longest time she could somehow be molded into much more than a military leader. To change the course of history, he knew Second Sunrise needed communicators and visionaries, not martyrs. He saw such potential in Janise, even when she grieved for parents lost in the PAC purges.
Though Janise was supremely confident, Adam understood too well the reality she most likely was about to face. It was a sacrifice that was inevitable in the course of any revolution – he only wished it fell to someone other than this beautiful young woman who had been like a second daughter.
19
T
he dream began somewhere in Oregon, and Lara Singer had experienced it more times than she could recall.
There was a veranda. Their pose – lost in each other’s loving gaze – remained constant. But all around them was brightened by the sun, livened by the wind and colored by the trees. She saw him in a deep red V-neck, a long silver chain around his neck and draped against his chest. The thick, natural black curls of his hair were longer, more pronounced, and they fell beneath his broad shoulders. His lips were glossy, and they spoke to her.
“We'll go anywhere you aspire,” she heard him say, and then her lips were disguised within his. They kissed without interruption.
There was the echo of a child’s voice, and he was laughing.
“Will it always be like this?” She asked.
“In a perfect world, yes,” he said.
And then Lara would wake up.
That was where she wanted to be right now, not facing some difficult questions in the aftermath of Susan’s attack on Anatoly. On top of everything else fate had thrown them, this was overkill, and she was frustrated.
“I know you’ll get to the bottom of this,” Daniel told her as they stood before a SlipTube outside the habitation quarters. “Although it is hard to believe Fran might have played some role in
it.”
“I just hope I can handle her. Fran can be tough.”
“You’ll do fine. I believe Liv is down there waiting for you. And I’ve got to head back to the stasis chamber.”
“Oh, don’t! Let the machine fail. If it’s not meant to be …”
“We must have that specimen, Lara. We don’t know how long we’ll be sitting around in orbit, and I don’t want that Fyal to deteriorate.”
She chastised herself for even trying to talk Daniel out of this. He was right. They needed that specimen.
“Shouldn’t take long,” he said. “And by then, I think we’ll both be ready for something to eat. Agree?”
“Yes. I’ll meet you in the Commons.”
She was not prepared for Fran’s attitude when she and Olivia entered the biologist’s quarters.
“So here we all are,” Fran said matter-of-factly. “Strange damn time for a ladies' get-together.”
“God, Fran, don't even try to maneuver around this.” Olivia licked her lips, and Lara knew the doctor wanted to flog this woman.
“And that is?” Fran said without emotion.
Lara spoke up: “We know about how you helped Susan. How you falsified the audio logs.”
Fran flexed an eyebrow in wonderment, but Olivia was quicker. “Please don't feign surprise. You knew you would be found out. There weren't exactly a good number of suspects.”
Fran threw up her hands and sighed. “Fair enough, Liv! You're all over me on this one. But I'm going to tell you both right here, right now – I stand by my decision.”
The interrogators caught each other's incredulous eyes, and Lara stumbled over the words of her next question.
“What ... why did you help Susan do this?”
“You two spoken to her yet, or is she still ranting?”
Olivia grabbed hold of the side of her swivel and said coldly: “No, Susan is not ranting anymore. After we got her down to medpod and determined she had not seriously wounded Anatoly, I sedated her. Obviously, she is no longer in control of what she says or does. That is why we are here, Fran Conner. Please begin your explanation, and tell me why you would agree to sentence an unborn child to execution?”
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