The Cole Protocol

by Tobias S. Buckell

  “This could cause a problem,” Watanabe muttered.

  “Maybe,” Smith said. “We’ll see if they keep moving down. Anyone call this in?”

  “Yeah, but they’re more focused on downtown,” came the reply from another agent. “This a low-priority area.”

  “If they were a military branch we could have over-ridden that,” Smith muttered. “Shit. They’re moving at us.”

  The mood changed inside from operational calm to nervousness. The mob could be seen on several screens as more doors were kicked in or smashed open.

  “We’re going to have to call it off.” Smith tapped another screen. “Hansen, we’ve got a mob breathing down on us; we’re not getting out of here if we delay things. Nod once if you’re going to break it off and jet, or twice if you think we should round these jokers up as well.”

  Hansen straightened, and then nodded twice.

  “Go, go, go!” someone shouted from the back.

  A ramp dropped from the side of the container and hit the ground, kicking up dust. The ONI agents leapt out into the warehouse, rifles up and aimed at Kincaide and his men.

  Kincaide shook his head, but kept his hands up near his chest. “You sons of—”

  One of the agents hit him on the side of the head with the butt of his battle rifle and the Insurrectionist dropped to his knees.

  “This won’t be the end,” Kincaide shouted. “There are more where I came from. We’ll find you in your homes, at night, and kill you there. We won’t stop until this world is ours, as it rightfully should be.”

  He got another jab in the head for his shouting. A trickle of blood ran down his temple, and he looked dazed. Within seconds, they had his arms zip-tied behind his back, and the three Insurrectionists were shoved quickly into the trailer.

  “Let’s move it!” Smith yelled at everyone. “They’re about a hundred yards up the street.”

  “You heard the man—pull that ramp back in, let’s roll,” Hansen shouted. She walked toward Watanabe. “Well, I guess that’s that.”

  “I’m sorry.” Watanabe stepped aside to let her stalk back down the center of the trailer. The agents up front pulled the ramp back up and dogged it shut with a loud slam. Engines belched as they started up.

  “The damn situation is what’s messed up, Watanabe. We’re all pulling overtime and doing our duty. It’s next to impossible to run ops while the city is falling apart. How are we going to face the Covenant when we don’t even have our own crap in gear?”

  Keyes grabbed ahold of the back of Smith’s chair as the trailer jerked into motion. “They always used to say that if an alien menace threatened humanity, we’d put aside all our differences, band together to face it as one.”

  Watanabe shook his head sadly. “They were wrong. When you look at wars, even ones where it looks like people were united, there are always factions and jockeying. At the close of the Rain Forest Wars Neo-Friedenists turned against hardliner Friedenists in Delambre when the UNSC got in close. The Neos hated UN control, but they tried to then negotiate for a surrender that left them in some sort of power. You read Elias Carver’s work?”

  Keyes nodded. “Carver’s a pessimist.”

  “Hundreds of religions. Competing corporate-backed colonies. Political persuasions of every imaginable variety breed in the shadows, and there is a lingering resentment at the UN for trying to keep all the colonies under an Earth government. The colonies, Lieutenant Keyes, are a powder keg. The Covenant advancing on us doesn’t make the mixture any less volatile. And the enemy can always try to exploit that, if they have really good intelligence. That’s why these guns are worrying. They’re a fuse, Keyes.”

  The ONI convoy drove through the giant warehouse doors.

  “I’d give anything to know what factions exist among the Covenant,” Keyes said.

  “Yeah, but they’re aliens, and we can’t assume they think or work like us, because so far—” Watanabe started, then turned. Keyes heard it too, a jetlike roaring swoosh.

  The front of the command trailer erupted in a fireball. The whole unit lifted off its wheels, and slammed back down to the ground, grinding into the road as it came to a slow stop. Keyes pitched forward, slamming into a chair.

  “Get down!” Hansen shouted. “RPGs!”

  Fire raged in front of Keyes, licking its way up the walls. A monitor exploded from the heat, shooting glass shards everywhere. He crawled back toward Watanabe, who had pulled his sidearm out and was looking back down at the door leading out.

  Someone on the other side of the flames fired a gun three times.

  “Was that us or an Innie?” Keyes crawled over to Watanabe.

  Another RPG struck the trailer, blowing in the side of the wall. Burning fragments struck Smith, who started screaming as he was enveloped in flames.

  Keyes ran forward and threw the man to the floor, getting him to try and roll the fire out. The flames kept him from getting near, and after another second of screaming, the charred Smith finally slowed, whimpered, and died next to the tiny flames he’d started on the carpet.

  Watanabe and Hansen hauled Keyes to his feet. Watanabe kicked at a weakened section of the wall that had been melted by the explosion. It caved outward, and they jumped into the street.

  A large crowd of rioters watched the burning trailer, not sure what to do next.

  PART II

  CHAPTER

  FOURTEEN

  HABITAT EL CUIDAD, INNER RUBBLE, 23 LIBRAE

  The moment Delgado stepped out of the airlock he knew something was wrong. Five very burly men stood waiting for him. Their shaved heads gleamed in the artificial lights of the inner asteroid, and they wore expensive, well-tailored suits. Delgado also noticed the telltale bulges of holsters just underneath their left armpits.

  “Ignatio Delgado?” one of them asked.

  “Yes, that’s me.” Delgado stared into the eyes of the nearest heavy. He didn’t see any way to get out of this. The five men had covered all degrees of escape. He was hemmed in.

  “There’s someone that would like to see you.”

  They led him across the open expanse of hangar and into the back of a roomy, plush, tube car that waited at the lip of the docking tube leading out from the asteroid.

  Inside sat a thin, sparse-looking man with jet-black hair and dark green eyes. He set down the computer pad that he had been reading, folded his arms on his lap, and swiveled slightly to regard Delgado.

  “Mr. Delgado,” he finally said after a long pause, no doubt calculated to make Delgado somewhat uncomfortable. “You would not believe how hard you are to track down.”

  Delgado blinked. He’d been hard to find because he hadn’t been around. The Rubble Security Council had asked him to move the navigation data once more.

  “I had sensitive business to take care of,” Delgado said. The door to the tube car shut behind him. The tube car moved over and gripped a long sliver of track that led down and away from the hanger asteroid where Delgado had docked the Distancia.

  “I know that,” said the man. “I was one of the members who voted to send you out to secure the navigation data today.”

  “I’m sorry?” Delgado frowned.

  “No, no,” the man waved in the air. “Entirely my fault.” He reached out a hand.

  Delgado reached over and shook it tentatively.

  “I am Peter Bonifacio, and I hear you’ve been asking about me, Mr. Delgado.”

  Delgado stared into the eyes of the man who, most likely, had caused Melko’s death. He bit his lip. “I don’t think so. You must be mistaken. I’ve been far too busy with the Security Council’s orders. As you must know.”

  If Bonifacio, this short, intense-looking man, was really desperate to get his hands on the navigation data, he was hiding it pretty well at the moment, Delgado thought.

  Bonifacio lit a cigar. A Sweet William, Delgado realized with a kick in his stomach. “No, it’s certainly you, Delgado,” Bonifacio said. “Asking all sorts of very interestin
g questions. So I thought, maybe it’s time I asked some questions of my own.”

  Delgado watched Bonifacio inhale a long drag of the Sweet William, and then let it out into the tiny, cramped interior of the bubble car. A haze of smoke lingered around them.

  Bonifacio leaned forward. “What do you know about the Exodus project?”

  The tube car moved on past pedestrians floating their way to and from asteroids.

  “The what?” Delgado asked.

  It felt like Bonifacio was studying every pore on Delgado’s face. “What about the Kig-Yar—why are you asking about them?”

  Delgado shook his head, pulling back from Bonifacio, offended. “I have my reasons.”

  “Mmm,” Bonifacio grunted. “It’s a strange coincidence that the Kig-Yar attacked a place that only the nine Council members knew about . . . and you.”

  “You’re accusing me of selling that information?” Delgado leaned back in. “I was shot protecting the data. My copilot was killed. How dare you suggest I gave anything to them?”

  Bonifacio looked out the window at the depths of space passing them by. Ahead, the tube pierced the center of another asteroid habitat. They passed into the heart of it, curved green farmland stretching up on all sides around them.

  “We are all innocent until proven guilty, of course, Mr. Delgado,” he said. “But in your case, this is such a sensitive matter that a few Council members and I have decided that for the safety of the Rubble, you will have to be detained while we investigate certain concerns regarding your loyalties.”

  Delgado clenched a fist. “My loyalties are to the Rubble.”

  Bonifacio chuckled. “Oh, I’m sure you’re just a living, breathing patriot. So I’ve heard. But the Council would like to hand over security of the data to me now.

  “So where is it, Delgado?”

  “Lodged deep, deep up your ass, Bonifacio.” Delgado grinned.

  Bonifacio’s face steeled. “There was no call for that,” he said.

  Delgado shrugged and leaned back in the chair. “If we’re playing games, I might as well have some fun too,” he said.

  Bonifacio quickly hauled back and punched him in the stomach, not even an inch away from a still-healing plasma wound. Delgado felt like he’d been stabbed, and the pain doubled him over.

  “It’s such a shame,” Bonifacio hissed. “We started off on a nice foot, and then you had to go do that.”

  “You’re such a charmer,” Delgado grunted, holding onto his stomach and leaning against the seat in front of him. “You like this on all your first dates?”

  “You’re in a lot of trouble,” Bonifacio said. “Because as of this moment, you’re under arrest for suspicion of leaking the location of the navigation data.”

  “The Council will not stand for that,” Delgado said. “They all worked hard with me to keep that data safe when we realized it was being destroyed.”

  “For all we know you could be part of some conspiracy to destroy the data. You and your friend Diego. Who incidentally, did most of the exhorting us to ‘trust’ you.” The tube car slowed, and Bonifacio leaned back. “And the Council signed the warrant.” Bonifacio pulled up his pad.

  Delgado looked down at it. Then back up. “How?”

  “A nice benefit of being a trusted, elected Security Council member. Now, I want the location of that navigation data, Delgado.”

  “And how long will you be able to get away with this? Eventually the Council will realize it’s not a normal arrest when I don’t actually show up in a proper holding facility, Bonifacio.”

  The smuggler sighed. “True, but we have enough time for what I need.”

  “Until the Kestrel gets in?” Delgado ventured.

  Bonifacio quirked a small smile. “And to keep you from spreading that damn name around.”

  “It’s coming in from Charybdis IX, right?” Delgado said, trying to prod more information out of the man. “I hear the UNSC Navy is sewing everything up, so it’s obviously a last-hurrah smuggle. A ship full of luxuries that soon people will pay a premium for . . . and then you no longer need the navigation data. Right?”

  Bonifacio said nothing, but looked out the window.

  Delgado nodded. The silence said a lot. “So you’ll sell us out to the Kig-Yar? Give them the data?” Delgado growled.

  “Are you some weepy Earth sympathizer?” Bonifacio snapped, suddenly irritated. “Because you seem really hung up on this idea that I’m trying to steal the data to sell it to the Kig-Yar. Even if I am, who the hell cares what happens to Earth? They could care less about us.”

  Delgado shook his head. Bonifacio hadn’t come straight out and admitted anything yet, but at least he was getting chatty. He pressed the issue some more. “The Kig-Yar will attack the moment we sell that data. They’re just here to scavenge it.”

  Bonifacio shook his head. “That’s where you’re wrong. They’re risking a lot to be here, to help us build these asteroids. And they will reward us. They think of this as home just as much as we do.”

  “How do you think they will reward us?”

  Bonifacio smiled. “Don’t you worry yourself about that right now.” Delgado gritted his teeth. The smuggler had now all but admitted he was working with the Kig-Yar. That he was the leak in the Council.

  The tube car slowed near an industrial looking section of the asteroid, where metals were being processed from the raw slag forwarded by other mining companies still operating in the outskirts of the Rubble.

  They stopped in front of a large warehouse half dug into the ground. Bonifacio leaned forward as one of his men snapped a pair of handcuffs on Delgado. “Welcome to your new home for the next few days.”

  CHAPTER

  FIFTEEN

  SCYLLION WAREHOUSE DISTRICT, CHARYBDIS IX

  Keyes stared at the faces of the rioters, reading the rage and the desperation of the crowd’s mood. So far they were just watching the ONI survivors. The trucks and trailers the ONI team and Keyes crawled out of lay broken across the road, burning from the RPG hits. The asphalt had melted underneath them in some places, and the warehouse windows reflected the dancing flames.

  “Behind us.” Hansen whirled around and shot at the corner of the burning trailer. Someone ducked back behind it.

  “We need to get out,” Watanabe told Keyes.

  The crowd muttered, and triumphant shouts increased in the distance as several of them dragged an ONI agent out from the remains of a trailer. The man struggled, but the ten people holding him were too strong.

  They shoved him to the ground and started kicking him. They could hear his screams.

  “Can’t we do anything?” Keyes asked.

  “It’s just the three of us, and hundreds of them over there,” Hansen said. “I can’t even get a shot clear, there’re too many of them.”

  “Damn it.” Keyes turned so that he could glance back and forth between the crowd and the trailer. “Pelican 019, this is Lieutenant Keyes.” He pulled his side arm out of the holster, but didn’t point it in either direction, just kept at his side.

  “I take it you’re ONI?” The Insurrectionist on the other side of the trailer yelled at them. It sounded like Kincaide. “You think you’re so smart, sneaking around. But we have you now! We’ll beat you down like your friend over there.”

  The screams from the ONI agent had stopped. The crowd moved away from the limp, broken body. Keyes felt sick, then nervous as the mob screamed in his direction.

  Hansen dropped a magazine out of her gun. It hit the asphalt at the same time as a new one clicked home. She didn’t respond to Kincaide’s rants.

  “Jeffries here, sir,” crackled the voice in Keyes’s earpiece.

  “Can you get a read on my location?” Keyes tried to keep his voice calm. Something about the pent up rage of the crowd unnerved him.

  “Yessir.”

  Hansen pointed at a nearby door to another warehouse. They backed over to it.

  Keyes held his hand up to his ear. “Get r
eady for a hot pickup. We’re coming up to the roof. Got a mob after us, and we lost the Insurrectionists we were after. They were using RPGs on us, so come in fast and low and keep your eyes open.”

  An Insurrectionist peered around the corner, and ducked back again as Watanabe fired at him. “These are company agents,” Kincaide shouted into the air. “Any one of you grab them I’ll give you weapons. Free guns.”

  A pair of rioters heard that and ran down the street at the trio. Watanabe and Hansen shot in unison, and the two men pitched forward into the road.

  Hansen turned around and shot the doorknob several times, then kicked the door in. “Inside.”

  They moved in, Watanabe and Hansen staying by the door as Keyes looked around for a way up. A few more gunshots cracked out—they convinced the mob to stay back. Meanwhile, Kincaide was screaming at the mob to attack.

  Still, even rioters didn’t want to charge head on into gunfire. Keyes could see that through the shattered windows of the door. They were holding back as the two ONI agents shot just above their heads.

  Looking the other way, Keyes spotted a service elevator.

  “Sir, I’m a minute away,” Jeffries called in. “Get to the rooftop.”

  “To the roof,” Keyes shouted.

  They ran to the elevator, pulling the cage shut. It lurched up, just as the door they’d come through shattered, rioters pouring through, Kincaide with them.

  He raised a Covenant plasma rifle, and as the elevator rose to the next floor, a burst of plasma hit the elevator doors beneath them, blowing them out into the shaft.

  Smoke rose up with them as they climbed toward the top floor.

  The elevator lurched to a halt, and once the doors opened Hansen shot the control panel several times. The foyer led to a doorway out onto the roof, and past the stairs leading down the warehouse’s floors.

  They could hear murmuring and footsteps farther down the stairwell as they passed it to kick open the door.