Cassandra's War: A Sci-Fi Corporate Technothriller (The SynCorp Saga Book 2)

by Pourteau, Chris

  Graves’s gaze made another circuit around the room. His eyes met Remy’s, then slid away to the next person.

  Despite developing a close relationship with Luca Vasquez, Remy was no closer to completing his mission than he’d been weeks ago.

  “I know this is hard, people,” Graves continued. “But you knew what you were signing up for when you volunteered for this mission. We’ll start the Haven countdown at midnight tomorrow. If you’re inside the dome, you’re here for the duration. No exceptions.”

  • • •

  No exceptions.

  The words rang in Remy’s ears as he made his way to the mess hall for his date with Luca. After nearly a month inside Haven 6, he knew little more about what lay beyond deck 36 than when he’d arrived.

  The mess hall was full of adrenaline and speculation. People swirled around him, full of quick cordialities and guarded conversations about the pending deadline. Emotions were high as dome residents wrestled with the idea that soon Haven 6 would be their entire world.

  And he’d be stuck here with them if he didn’t act quickly. Alone, separated from Elise, the only person he cared about in this whole shitty world. But to go back empty-handed … Cassandra would not like that, and neither would her number-one apostle.

  Remy drew a cup of coffee and took a seat. Getting to know Luca over the last few weeks had proven a mixed bag of joy and self-loathing with a side order of guilt. She was a remarkable young woman, and since Canada they’d become more than friends. He was using her, and he knew it. Every time she confided some intimacy with him, he felt the crushing weight of guilt.

  But Elise was always there, in the back of his head, urging him to do whatever necessary to get closer to her. He knew exactly what was meant by whatever necessary .

  And now the clock was ticking.

  He people-watched as he waited. The Haven selection process hadn’t been kind to families or marriages. The Pioneers, as they liked to call themselves, had been chosen for one of two reasons: their expertise in building a self-sustaining society or their relative fertility potential. The first group skewed older, the second younger. There were many single—or newly single—people looking for companionship, and Remy formed a mental image of Haven as a subterranean singles cruise as the Earth tore itself apart outside the silo.

  Luca was halfway across the mess hall before he noticed her shining smile. Her expression diminished when she saw his face. “What’s wrong?”

  Remy created a smile to prove he was happy to see her. “Oh, another reaming from Jansen. You know—Tuesday.”

  Luca was the kind of person who always gave her full attention to whoever she was talking to. “Everyone’s on edge these days, but it’ll be over soon.”

  Remy felt the time pressure creeping in on him again. He took her hand and Luca squeezed his fingers.

  “I always feel better when I talk to you,” he said. “Are you ready for this? ”

  “I feel the same way about you, Remy,” she said. “Once the Havens…” Luca stopped speaking. Her eyes flitted up to him, then looked away. She drew her hand away.

  “Once the Havens … what?”

  “General Graves’s announcement,” she said. “I just meant that.”

  Remy’s skin prickled. She’d been about to say something. Something secret, by the way her eyes refused to meet his now. Something valuable, maybe? Time was running out. He needed to take something back to Elise.

  “But you still haven’t said what that means.” Remy tried to make his demand for information humorous. “Looks like we’re going to be together for the next hundred years or so, Luca. Might as well get it off your chest now.”

  “I can’t. I know who you are, Remy Cade, and I trust you.” Then, after a beat: “My heart knows.”

  A wariness hit him then, like when he’d been in the field and felt the enemy around but couldn’t see them. She was hiding something. Something others—Jansen? Graves?—had told her not to tell him.

  “Luca, what—”

  “Buenos dias, hermana. ”

  A younger, slightly plumper version of Luca plopped down in one of the two empty seats at the table. Her sudden appearance forced Remy to shift gears.

  “You must be Donna,” he said, the words coming automatically.

  “Sí. And you must be Remy Cade.”

  “Sí, ” he replied, holding out his hand .

  “Don’t make fun of my language,” Donna replied. She shook his hand anyway and leaned over to Luca. “¡Él es lindo! ”

  Remy saw the color rise in Luca’s cheeks.

  “Want me to say the English, big sis?”

  “Silencio, ” Luca hissed, blushing harder.

  Remy settled into the routine of conversation, allowing the social ritual to displace his earlier excitement. He smiled at Donna, studied her. When she glanced at the buffet line, he was startled to see the skin healing on the back of her neck. The remnants of a Neo tattoo.

  “How long were you a follower of Cassandra?”

  Luca reached out and took Donna’s hand. “She was never a follower of Cassandra. She just had that stupid tattoo.”

  Pulling back against her sister’s touch, Donna nodded. “Yeah. I just thought it was pretty. Woman is la madre of the world, right?”

  Remy gave her a thoughtful grin. “Right.”

  Donna leaned across the table toward Remy. “Are you excited? Almost time to blast off!”

  “Donna!” Luca exclaimed.

  Luca’s face had a look of panic, then resignation. Remy put his hand over hers.

  “Is that the big secret?” Remy asked. “What you couldn’t tell me?”

  “I’m sorry,” Luca whispered. “It’s going to be announced when the dome is sealed, but yes, the Haven is not a silo, it’s a spaceship.” She lowered her voice even more. “There’s a planet identified. It’s light-years away, but with the new drive we can make it in a few years. We can start over. Are you listening to me? ”

  Remy scanned the room, then thought about the size of the flight deck on the top level of the dome and the sheer volume of this entire structure. The Haven was the size of a city. How could something that big launch into space? Not a power plant after all, but some new type of space drive. And capable of near light speeds.

  Luca squeezed his fingers with a force borne of desperation. “Remy, are we okay?”

  “Yeah, yeah, it’s fine, I just…” Remy forced his mind to engage. He forced himself to calm down. “It’s amazing, actually. I just need time to process. A spaceship…” His smile was genuine, though not for the reason Luca thought. “We’ll be together.”

  Luca would think he was talking about her, but Remy didn’t care. He had what he’d come for and Elise would love him for it.

  Squeezing Luca’s hand one last time, he pulled away and rose from the table.

  “I need to talk to Jansen. I need a few hours’ leave to settle some affairs.”

  “Dinner tonight?” Luca asked, her words chasing after him. “We have a lot to talk about, I think.”

  “Sure,” Remy answered. “Sure.”

  • • •

  He shut the aircar door, sealing out the noisy Chicago aerodrome. The door light changed to green, indicating an airtight seal. Remy did not sync his data glasses with the car. In fact, he’d left his data glasses under the seat of the last aircab he’d been in. If someone was tracking him via his glasses, they were in for a ride all over the Midwest.

  He’d paid extra for the voice-activated self-driver, and the aircar queried his destination. “Low Earth orbit,” he replied. It was a popular destination for people who wanted to see their planet from above and had well-traveled traffic patterns. Nothing to attract suspicion.

  Remy’s body pressed against the gel cushions as the aircar left the dock and entered the queue for departure. Privacy, like everything else, had a price. He’d paid for the destination anonymizer, and the salesman had assured him that his secrets were safe from the government.


  Still, he’d stick with well-used traffic patterns for now.

  The car accelerated into the flow of other aircars, its station-keeping feature holding him the regulation two car lengths behind the vehicle in front. At each interchange, they ascended another level until they were free of Chicago traffic.

  Hoping to catch one last glimpse of Haven 6, he squinted toward the northwest. Part of him regretted the inevitable heartache he knew Luca would suffer. He felt smaller than small, leaving her without even the courtesy of a lie to hold onto.

  Remy closed his eyes and imagined the Haven ship rising from the ground and into outer space, carrying mankind’s future with it. He couldn’t wait to deliver the news to Elise.

  A drive capable of lifting an entire city into orbit and traveling at speeds no one had even dreamed of achieving. No wonder Cassandra wanted that technology. The New Earth Order would be an unstoppable force in the solar system.

  And he would have Elise back finally. The real Elise that he knew and loved, the one before Cassandra. She was kind, compassionate. She cared about her world, she cared about people. It was Cassandra who’d opened her skull and drowned her brain in New Earther Kool-Aid. In the fantasy of his return, after he’d explained to her about the Havens, she fell into his arms and told him how much she loved him.

  The land grew fuzzy with distance, and the sky above him darkened. He could feel the subtle change in his ears as the aircar adapted to the lower pressure. Traffic at this level formed into a long, shining chain of aircars and other, space-capable vehicles ringing the planet. His car joined the chain, the station-keeping program slotting him in between what looked like a comms drone in front and a late-model Cadillac behind.

  High above him, the ring of permanent orbiters massed in the darkness of space. Thousands of space stations, satellites, and ship-building docks of every size, shape, and vintage formed a ragged blanket overhead. In the distance, he could make out the space elevator poking above the layer of orbitals. This was no-man’s-land out here, an unregulated frontier of technology. And beyond all that, the shining silver stars glimmered like ghost lights.

  Reflected light winked back at Remy from fast-moving, smaller craft while the larger freighters moved with a lazy, easy leviathan grace above Earth. Elise was somewhere in that dark sea of man-made metal. The aircar angled upward out of the flow of traffic.

  And there it was … at first a tiny, glowing dot, then a larger, revolving synthetic world: the Temple of Cassandra station. Remy’s heart leapt.

  He was home.

  Chapter 17

  Ming Qinlao • Taulke Atmospheric Experiment Station, Mars

  Ming’s rage had burned away, leaving in its place an icy sense of calm rationality. She distilled her thoughts into discrete packets of information, each one aimed at seeing justice done for her father’s murder.

  Analysis, calculation, action. That was all that mattered now.

  Entering Viktor’s personal lab felt like walking into an operating room organized by a hoarder. A row of articulated 3-D printers lined the wall, one of them whining as it drew its subject into being. The walls had all been converted to screens and Viktor was pacing in front of one when she entered, scrubbing his gray fringe with his free hand. With the other hand, he twisted the image on the screen, which looked like a variant on the bio-nanite design he’d used to seed the Earth’s climate—with disastrous results.

  “So good to see you healthy, Ming,” Viktor said. The Russian scientist opened his arms wide. His grin was infectious, especially wreathed in his halo of gray hair.

  “Hello, Viktor.” It was hard to muster more than a tight smile. An enormous clock ticked away in her head like a time bomb. Every second she spent not pursuing those responsible for her father’s death was another second wasted.

  “Are you sure you’re okay? You seem on edge.” Viktor took her by the elbow, guiding her to the back of the lab.

  Tick-tock , went the clock.

  “Just anxious to do my part, Viktor. I’d like to get started.”

  He stopped at a table and swept his hand in a flourish. “I’m outfitting you with cutting-edge tech, Ming. The best my lab can offer.”

  She saw only a flat black box the size of a deck of cards next to a boxy pistol and holster.

  Viktor opened the box to reveal what looked like a black eyepatch.

  “I call this MoSCOW, short for Mobile SuperComputer, Operator Wearable. It’s a self-contained supercomputer that uses your existing implant to create a direct brain interface.”

  Ming plucked the device from the box. It was heavier than it looked and had a piece that folded out to connect to the wearer’s temple and wrap around their ear. The interior of the eyepatch was inlaid with silver circuits that caught the light. She started to fit the cup over her eye when Viktor stopped her.

  “You don’t want to do that until you need to activate it. MoSCOW, uh, has some side effects that must be minimized. It’s experimental, but extremely powerful.”

  “Side effects?” Ming replaced the device in the carrier.

  Viktor shut the box. “A device with this much capability requires a significant source of power. It has a tiny nuclear battery, but once activated, it cannot be turned off.”

  “Nuclear?” Ming asked. “Where’s the shielding?”

  “That would be the side effect. One of them, anyway. The shielding needed to make this safe for a human would weigh approximately twenty-two kilos.” He patted the box. “MoSCOW allows you to become an extension of the computer. A hybrid. You will find there’s not much you can’t do with MoSCOW’s help. Decryption, facial recognition, augmented self-defense—even I don’t know all the possible enhancements yet.”

  Ming brought him back to the problem. “How much radiation are we talking about, Viktor?”

  The older man fussed with the closed box. “For every hour you wear the device, you will receive approximately one year’s worth of radiation. Don’t worry,” he said, wagging his hands. “When you get back, we’ll put you on a radiation remission therapy right away to minimize any long-term damage.” He hesitated.

  “There’s more?” Ming said.

  Viktor looked away. “Human skin is a poor conductor, so there are probes in MoSCOW to establish the best conductivity route for optimum performance.”

  “Probes? How far do they go into my skin?”

  “It varies by user … some of them could be uncomfortable.”

  His body language told Ming the word uncomfortable was more of a euphemism than a clinical term. “I suppose a local anesthetic would degrade performance,” she said, making no attempt to mask her sarcasm.

  “Exactly,” Viktor said. “MoSCOW will be accessing your brain directly, maybe even remapping parts of it for efficiency. You need to make sure you minimize your integration time.”

  Integration —an interesting word choice.

  “Please, Ming, you must listen to me on this. MoSCOW is—”

  “Experimental. Yeah, I get it.” Ming picked up the odd-looking pistol. It was much heavier than it looked and had no gun sights. “What’s this?”

  “Advanced stun weapon. It creates a pulse of energy that incapacitates the target.”

  She hefted it. It was blocky, Russian in design. “So it’s a fancy Taser?”

  “No!” said Viktor, sounding offended. He grabbed the weapon from her. “Tasers use energy to lock up muscles. This is designed to immobilize the nervous system. Much more refined.” His tone was that of a prideful father.

  “I’m still bringing a Glock with me, Viktor. That it?”

  “Not quite.” Viktor led her to a mannequin dressed in a black jumpsuit. The lines of the suit still had rough seams. Another experiment. “This bodysuit integrates with MoSCOW, providing a web of sensors that capture stimuli in your immediate environment. You’ll have advanced situational awareness and even precognitive self-defense abilities.”

  “Precognitive self-defense?”

  “
MoSCOW can read the body language of your opponent and prompt your muscles to defend before the attacker strikes. It comes with integrated body armor. It’s not pretty, but that’s because—”

  “It’s experimental.”

  “Da. The sensors can even tell you when someone’s lying using biofeedback. ”

  She studied the suit material, which had a way of altering color as the angle changed. “Camouflage?”

  Viktor shrugged. “Planned upgrade. It has some light-bending features, but at the moment it’s no more sophisticated than those expensive chameleon suits some people wear.”

  “So you’re turning me into a fusion-powered, supercomputer soldier,” Ming said. “With a side order of dementia.”

  The smile on Viktor’s face came easier this time. “Come back in one piece, Ming.”

  • • •

  Anthony and Ruben waited dockside next to a matte black spacecraft without markings. The ship had the aerodynamic lines of an atmosphere-capable vessel, and the snub nose of a single rail gun hung under the bow.

  The sensor suit hugged Ming’s figure and added spring to her step, making her feel ready for anything. The armor, which she feared would be bulky, moved well with her body. She kept her Glock on her right hip, Viktor’s fancy energy weapon on her left, and, per her last-minute request of Viktor, a carbon smartglass knife on the outside of her calf. The MoSCOW device fit securely in a pocket just below her beltline.

  “I thought you were just going to find out information, Ming,” Ruben said, his eyes fastened on the weapons. “This looks dangerous.”

  “It’s just a precaution, Ruben.” Anthony put his arm around the boy. “We want to keep your big sister safe, right?”

  Ruben nodded, but he didn’t seem convinced.

  Ming pulled her brother aside. She barely needed to lean down to look Ruben in the eyes anymore. Had he really grown that much since they’d fled Earth together?

  “This is only for a few days,” she said softly. “I’ll be gone five days, a week at most.”

  “Mama said we weren’t supposed to be separated.”

  Mama . Sying. Ruben’s mother, Ming’s stepmother. The thought of her made Ming’s breath catch. Her lover—and possibly a killer. Even now, the idea was too much to process at one time.