by S. A. Tholin
"Are you all right?"
Joy's words had begun to make sense again. He looked away from the blood and into her worried eyes. He opened his mouth, intending to say yes, but instead he told her what he was debating, the question he couldn't answer – and halfway through his explanation, the answer became very clear.
"A correction," he said, relieved. "That's what it was. A problem solved."
"He wasn't the only problem in the room, though."
"The abomination?" He glanced over his shoulder at the thousand whispering tendrils in the tank. He took another deep breath, holstering his Morrigan to combat the urge to solve another problem. "I can't talk about that, Joy. Not now, maybe not ever. But I need you to understand that the worst thing is that I'm the one who put that filth inside you. You were free. You were pure. You were perfect, but I thought I could make you better. I thought I was making the right decision, maybe the first good decision of my life, but it wasn't good, and it wasn't right."
"If you hadn't given me a primer, I wouldn't be here with you now. As far as I'm concerned, that makes it the best decision ever."
"It can never be undone."
"I wouldn't want it to be."
"Even after what you saw?" He motioned towards the monitors inside the control room. The surveillance footage from the Hecate was no longer there. Joy had wiped it from the station's systems on her own initiative. He was grateful for that, and how strange it felt to be the shielded and not the shield.
But he knew what she would have seen – and she'd seen enough to be openly crying when the team had entered the station through doors opened by Wideawake. What he didn't know was how she now saw him.
"You say I dreamed of you." She smiled, shaking her head. "I don't know about that. But I am here now, Constant. I will stay with you onboard the Hecate, and if you choose to leave her behind, I will walk through her airlocks with you. I'll do better than dream of you – I'll be with you."
She said that in spite of what she'd seen. She smiled, even though they stood on forbidden ground, traitors to their nation. No fear in her eyes at all. In fact, she seemed happy.
"Of course," she said. "With you, I can afford to be anything."
And what he wanted to do was out of the question in front of the team and the abomination in the tank, so he settled for a brief touch, his gauntleted fingers sparking against copper hair, and afforded himself a whisper in her ear: "Still perfect."
* * *
"...you had one damn job, Elsinore."
"Apologies," Elsinore mumbled, eyes silver and fingers twitching. Busy, but not so busy that he didn't retreat deeper into his corner when Cassimer and Joy rejoined the team. Good. As long as he kept his distance, Cassimer might be able to keep himself from thinking about what the coward deserved. "The security alert must have been triggered by Archer's death."
"Exactly the sort of thing you're meant to prevent." Hammersmith paced the control room, his nervous energy filling the space. His mission was a hair's breadth from being completed, but Cassimer knew from experience that the last mile seemed as long as the first thousand. "I suggest you start justifying your existence by securing us an exit route. We'll set charges and retreat as soon as the major's pulled the plug on the thing in the tank."
"You oversimplify, Colonel." Juneau was at one of the computers, going through the files and – Cassimer thought – avoiding the tank. "This Prime Mover is connected to every Primaterre citizen. Destroying it could kill us, or drive us as mad as Cato's drifters. While I believe that the ends justify the means, I do draw the line at outright genocide."
"Especially if you're one of the genos getting 'cided, am I right?" Hopewell stood watch at the top of the stairs, but judging by the looks she got from Juneau and Hammersmith, this was far from the first time she'd decided to butt into the conversation.
"Quite, Lieutenant, and if you think you're making some sort of point, I've no idea what it is. Self-preservation is a primal instinct, nothing to be ashamed of."
"Maybe we shouldn't destroy it at all." Wideawake watched the Prime Mover with fascination. "We came here to end Project Harmony, but that was before we knew what we were dealing with."
"Funny you should say that," Hopewell said, "because I wasn't too convinced about this mission until I found out that the thing mind-controlling us is a bloody tentacle monster. I say let's take our chances and slag the freak."
"Such lack of understanding. This beautiful creation–"
"Beautiful?" The conversation was straying down paths as impure as they were pointless, but a banneret commander's duty was to be a reminder, and Cassimer was only too happy to remind the team that there was nothing to discuss. "Hopewell's got the right of it. On Juneau's okay, this demon dies."
"A demon in the tank, a demon in the lichen, and demons in the shadows. Is there any place you don't see demons, Commander?"
"Wideawake–" Hammersmith began, but Wideawake wouldn't be interrupted.
"No, I think it's about time the commander grows up and learns to see the universe for what it actually is: endless, eternal and full of complex splendour. You can't point to a thing and call it wicked just because you don't understand it. You can't arbitrarily decide who is good and who is evil, and you can't solve every problem with force. In spite of what you've seen, commander, in spite of everything you have learned, you still see yourself as a Primaterre soldier, don't you? I have no doubt you expect to leave this place and return home to continue as before. You will call things demons and destroy them; you will kill RebEarthers even though you surely must see that their grievances against the Primaterre Protectorate are justified. You reduce right and wrong – an entire universe – to something simple, because simple is all you can grasp."
"Because it is simple," Cassimer said. The universe was a void, but in that void, stars burned. It was every person's duty to find their stars and keep them safe – by any means necessary. That was why Florey had returned, why Joy had erased the Hecate footage, and why his own heart was still that of a Primaterre soldier.
"Care to elaborate?"
"No."
Wideawake laughed, rolling his eyes. "Well, thank the gods we don't leave the difficult decisions in the hands of soldiers. Hammersmith, what do you say?"
"Our mission is to destroy it."
"Missions change. All I ask is that you give it some thought. Consider the opportunities, what we could do with the Prime Mover under our control. We could reshape the galaxy."
"Be advised, Colonel, any such attempt will result in swift and forceful intervention," Cassimer said.
"Spare me the threats, Commander. My mission hasn't changed. Major Juneau, what do you suggest?"
"I need time, Colonel. To destroy it, I have to understand it first. Getting the data is not a problem – it's all here – but I need to get through it."
"How long?"
"As long as it takes to grasp the intricacies of an artificial neural network so complex it might as well be alien."
"Point made, but we have sixty contacts moving on our position," Hammersmith said, glancing towards the stairs as Florey came running up.
"Hey, Floz. Sounds like it's time for us to justify our existence," Hopewell said, turning to greet her grim-faced partner with a smile.
"Correct. We've got incoming, Commander. Tried to notify you, but comms are spotty."
"Another security measure triggered by Archer's death, perhaps," Elsinore ventured. "I'll see what I can do."
* * *
The Hierochloe security had the numbers, but Cassimer's men had the element of surprise. With the surveillance feed and station sensors jammed by Elsinore, the security guards had woken from stasis into chaos. There'd been a breach, but they didn't know where, why, how or who. That was a difficult situation, no matter how experienced the soldier. Hierochloe's chief of security had chosen to split his troops to search the station. Cassimer couldn't say that he would have handled it any differently, but he thought the chief might c
ome to regret his decision.
Comms were unreliable, especially when connecting to the people still in the lab. There was too much interference for him to comfortably keep his link to Joy's visuals. Not that it mattered. She, Juneau, Wideawake and Elsinore were working to destroy the Prime Mover. All he had to do was keep them safe.
His connection to the station surveillance was more stable, offering glimpses of security guards moving through the tunnels and corridors. The largest contingent, twelve men carrying weakly shimmering riot shields, was heading straight for Cassimer's team.
"Sixty seconds," he advised his team.
Hammersmith was so still and quiet that even from five metres away, Cassimer could barely see the towerman. Joy had said that Hammersmith had spent decades as a field operative working the most dangerous parts of the galaxy. That was apparent now, in the man's poise and focused breathing.
Cassimer shifted slightly to get a better view. He and Hammersmith had taken up position on a gantry about fifty metres from the retractable bridge.
"Thirty seconds." Enough time for a quick cycle through the team's visuals.
Rhys was on the stairwell landing. When he noticed Cassimer checking in, he gave a thumbs up. No problems, no worries, even though the medic had the unenviable position of last line of defence.
In the cafeteria, Florey was staring down the scope of his rifle while Hopewell chattered away next to him.
"...steamed broccoli, eggless omelette, asparagus and lentil burgers – 'organic and locally sourced', of course. I can't even imagine a worse combination than 'mind-controlling vegans'."
"Breeding and slaughtering animals on an industrial scale just so that you can enjoy bacon for breakfast is immoral," Florey said, adjusting his scope.
"Well, you would say that. This whole place is right up your street, isn't it? Please tell me I don't need to worry about you defecting to the tree-hugger side?"
"To live is to strive to find the right path. If there is no choice in paths, you may as well be dead. Righteousness can't be mandated, only attained. Control is not the answer."
"But endless nagging is? And flooding my inbox with messages like RED MEAT IS POISON and THE SHOCKING TRUTH: IS THE FARMING INDUSTRY CAUSING KEPLER'S POLES TO MELT?"
"So you do read them."
"You type in all-caps at max font size. I can't even mark them for deletion without being smacked in the face with paranoid propaganda. Like I said, you'd probably get along great with these Hierochloe jerks."
"These people invaded my children's thoughts and denied them Earth, their birthright. No matter how ethical their ideas on the environment, that can't be forgiven. Besides – ten seconds – it's them or us. And you know it's always going to be you and me, Hopey."
"Love you too."
Five.
Four.
Three, and the heavy footfall of boots echoed across the channel.
Two, and Cassimer's Hyrrokkin finished painting its targets. Their red outlines, visible through the wall, mingled with the blue and yellow of Hopewell and Florey's preselects.
One, and Cassimer saw their opposition clearly for the first time.
The twelve men wore full suits of white armour, their cuirasses emblazoned with the Primaterre sun.
"Earth have mercy."
"They're not us. They don't even know what that symbol means, not really."
Hopewell was right, but Florey's unease was understandable.
"These people set out to create a new world. Now they will learn what they have wrought, and that we are more than creations. We are our own masters, forging our own path," Cassimer said. "The Primaterre is ours."
The words satisfied his team, but Hammersmith shot him a sharp look and a sharper text: So Wideawake was right. A Primaterre soldier to the end.
The twelve guards reached the retractable bridge. They crossed warily, continuing along the gantry towards the living quarters. Another few steps and they'd be at the bottom of the stairwell – where every member of Cassimer's team would have line of sight.
Three metres. Two. One.
Rhys took the first shot. His target stood behind another man, but the bullet exploded through both their torsos. Their armour, though impressive-looking, had done nothing to protect them.
Hopewell and Florey opened up, and as the hostiles tried to retreat, Cassimer's Hyrrokkin blazed a blue trail through the first man to run. The bullet continued down the channel tunnel, its ghostly light dancing on the walls. The dead man was thrown clear into the water, disappearing into the deep. Another two targets downed, and then Cassimer eased off, stretching his awareness throughout the station.
The deaths and the gunfire hadn't gone unnoticed. Guards were scrambling, regrouping, and, strangely, retreating. Instead of heading for the lab, most were returning to the cryo lab, disappearing into the adjoining armoury. No surveillance cameras there; no way of knowing what hid inside.
"Looking to defrost the rest of the station crew?"
Rhys's guess might be right, but Cassimer didn't think so. There was something inside that armoury, and there was only one way to find out what.
* * *
Not every guard had fallen back to the armoury. About half their numbers braved the central area, resolutely heading towards the intruders who had killed their colleagues.
One guard lived long enough to see the Primaterre sun on Hopewell's cuirass. His eyes widened, and he began to speak. Hopewell didn't let him finish the sentence. Sensible, but Cassimer couldn't help but wonder what the man had meant to make his last words.
"Easy pickings," Florey said. He'd taken cover at the cryo lab's door, not even twitching as bullets pinged against the doorframe. "Poor bastards are half asleep."
"And all dead." Hopewell sidled up to join her partner, angling her rifle to get a look at the armoury. "Except for the guys in there."
"If I can access one of the cryo pod control consoles, I can make sure there won't be any more sleepers waking up. Don't want to underestimate the damage civilians can do, especially when there's near enough two hundred of them," Rhys said.
"Civilians, yes. Will that be a problem for you, Captain?"
Rhys gave Hammersmith a long, cold look.
"You mean am I going to have a problem putting them down? Some might say it'd be more honourable to wake them and give them the chance to fight for their lives, but I say honour isn't worth the risk of taking a bullet." He patted his visor. "Trust me, I know."
"So you do understand that there can be no survivors."
"We understand, Colonel," Cassimer said. "We don't discuss it."
"Ah, yes. The unofficial Bastion motto: do, don't think."
Hammersmith may have meant it as an insult, but it wasn't bad advice. Cassimer nodded towards the armoury doors. His gunners needed no further instruction, no further thought.
Six quick shots followed a stun grenade lobbed by Hopewell, and by the time Cassimer entered the armoury, the opposition already lay dead.
A closer look at their armour explained its poor performance. The inner layer was a crude composite, but the outer layers consisted of weaves and molecular dispersion plates. Excellent protection against energy-based weapons such as lasers and plasma rifles, but virtually useless against bullets.
"They anticipated the developmental trajectory of weapons technology and built their armour to withstand the warfare of the future. Clever," he said.
"Too bad they didn't see ammo blocks coming. Higher capacity, better reliability, way less chance of melting your own face off. Guess that's what too much thinking gets you," Hopewell said, tipping one of the bodies over with her boot. Two shots had turned the Primaterre sun into a smouldering hole. "Dead."
"Not enough of them." Florey swept his rifle light across the room. "Three bodies, but we counted more than that entering the room. There were no other exits on the blueprints Elsinore passed along, and I don't see any, either."
"They'd better not have turned invisible. I'm not
in the mood to chase ghosts."
"Unlikely, Lieutenant," Hammersmith said. "There's nothing on these armour racks that suggests they have access to that kind of technology."
"Your kind of technology."
"Hopewell."
"Apologies, Commander; apologies, Colonel. A few bad experiences with Tower tech left a sour taste, that's all."
"Can't have been that bad," Hammersmith said. "You're still alive."
* * *
Rack after rack was pulled aside, wall panels pried away and ceiling panels lifted. The Hierochloe guards had gone somewhere, and they would be found.
Hammersmith assisted Cassimer in removing a section of wall and, for some regrettable reason, deemed that the perfect time to get chatty.
"Tower recruited me out of college," he said. "One day I was cramming for a test on Electrical Engineering, and the next I was training to become an operative. It was exciting, I won't lie, but difficult, too. I'd gone to college expecting to figure out who I was, but instead I was learning how to be anybody but myself. It's easy to lose yourself at the academy."
"I imagine that's the point," Cassimer said.
"Quite. But I didn't, not completely, because on the very first day, I met Paget." Hammersmith paused for a few seconds, his mouth twisting slightly. "It was her first day too, and like me, she'd come straight from a college campus. We quickly became inseparable. Secretly at first, but Tower novices can't keep secrets for long. To our surprise, we were neither punished nor separated. Instead, Tower encouraged us. They said that there were advantages to having couples in their ranks. That some work was best undertaken by people who were more than partners. Later – much later – I came to wonder if the entire thing had been a setup. If Paget and I had been carefully selected and placed in each other's paths."
"Wouldn't put it past Tower."
"In the end, I suppose it doesn't really matter. By the time Paget and I started running our own infiltration ops, we were already married. Ten years in, we'd got to thinking about retirement. No serious plans – it was hard to imagine a life outside of Tower – but the idea had taken root. That's when Elsinore's father brought the two of us into Room 36B. He showed us the truth and asked us what we wanted to do about it. After that, we never discussed retirement again. The mission became everything.
