Sic Semper Tyrannis: The Chimera Adjustment, Book Two (Imperium Cicernus 5)

by Caleb Wachter

  “It looks like you may be right, Adjuster,” Jericho said, sliding the slate across the table toward Masozi, “we might need to modify our plan.”

  After collecting the slate, Masozi looked down to scan its contents and saw that it was a message from Tera St. Murray. The Philippa-based information specialist had gone ahead of them—over Captain Charles’ numerous objections—using falsified documents, in an attempt to gather as much intelligence as possible on the scene at PSH in order to help Jericho, Lady Jessica, and Masozi fine tune the plan for the Adjustment.

  It seemed that President Blanco’s people had made several modifications to the venue where they planned to execute his Adjustment. The most alarming modification was the installation of small-scale suppression fields throughout the five story building at strategic locations. Those fields would, when activated, render Lady Jessica less useful than a small child and would hamper Masozi’s prosthetic leg significantly as well since the fields were designed to interrupt and scramble the signals of all high-end augments and implants.

  “That ain’t good,” Eve muttered as she downloaded the contents of the secured slate into the monocle’s memory buffer, “I’m gonna have to look at this, Sis…”

  “I think that would be a good idea, Eve,” Masozi said softly, prompting Eve to disappear from the monocle’s screen.

  The other modifications were high-end security systems, including a bioweapons detection system which would seal off each individual compartment within the building’s main chamber—including the one where President Blanco would be seated.

  “So the virus is out,” Masozi said with no small amount of satisfaction.

  No…a shot through the heart is too clean for a tyrant, Adjuster. Do it properly, Major General de Rossi had said before she could put a bullet through his heart and allow him the honor of an open casket funeral. Masozi had replayed those words—and what had followed—in her mind several times each day since granting him his last wish, and it had taken her some time to realize that he had not been speaking only of his fate, but also of the Virgin System’s President.

  To her mind, poison had been the equivalent of a shot through the heart—and if she had been denied the chance to give such a death to a man who actually deserved it, like de Rossi, then she would be damned in whatever pit the theists believed in before granting that end to a true tyrant like her cousin.

  “May I?” Lady Jessica asked coolly, and Masozi slid the slate over to the other woman after reviewing the entirety of its contents.

  A few seconds of reading was all it took the New Britain Adjuster to say, “I concur; the probability of success is sufficiently diminished to relegate the virus to a backup option.”

  Jericho thumped his fist against the table angrily—one of the few outbursts of genuine emotion which Masozi could remember seeing from the man. “That poison was our best chance,” he growled, “every other option is, at best, a fifty-fifty shot.”

  “Not necessarily…” Lady Jessica said, cocking her head as her eyes snapped back and forth far more quickly than appeared normal for a human. Her lip curled into a sneer—a truly blood-curdling sight, as far as Masozi was concerned, given the picture-perfect appearance she had come to expect in Jessica’s countenance—and the New Britain Adjuster said, “Fate, it seems, is not without a sense of irony.”

  Jericho leaned forward, and Masozi herself was more than slightly intrigued as she felt herself do likewise.

  “In his desperate attempt to preserve his own safety,” Lady Jessica explained, sliding the slate toward Jericho, “President Blanco may have just surrendered the very advantages which might have allowed him to do so—much like the people who support him in his many tyrannies.”

  Jericho gave her a confused look as he picked up the data slate. Masozi, meanwhile, ran the contents of the slate through her mind several times in rapid succession. The environmental security systems which had been recently installed were foolproof—they were also extraordinarily expensive, which suggested that he and his security team expected an attack like the one they had been planning—so she saw no way that they could be used to the Adjusters’ benefit.

  She then considered the suppressor fields, which would rob anyone equipped with cybernetic augments of their inhuman strength, speed, and reflex advantages, which meant that Lady Jessica—who was augmented in a nearly identical fashion to agents like Stiglitz—would be rendered completely useless when those fields went active. Masozi would also experience severe mobility and speed issues now that one of her legs was a high-end cybernetic prosthetic. Her arms would be unaffected, and she would still be able to move the affected limb but her foot speed would be no more than half of what it would have otherwise been.

  And there was simply no way that she, Lady Jessica, and an effectively one-armed Jericho could fight a dozen agents like Stiglitz, whose augmented strength—

  “You’re right,” she said as realization dawned on her, only to hear Jericho’s voice do likewise in perfect harmony with hers, prompting them to shoot each other muted looks of mixed irritation and approval. “This might open a door to us…” he mused.

  “We just have to discover a way to activate those fields when it would benefit us,” Masozi said, and no sooner had she done so than Eve popped onto her monocle’s screen.

  “I think I’ve got that part, babe,” Eve said confidently. “If our intel is good then these fields use a decentralized, distributed response protocols. There is a central governing system which can control them remotely, but its security would be tougher to crack than a prejudice.”

  “If it’s so hard to crack then how can we use it to our advantage?” Masozi asked.

  She saw Lady Jessica roll her eyes, but Masozi ignored her. Eve and Masozi had decided that most of their conversations should be private whenever possible, and Lady Jessica seemed to take umbrage at this decision—which only served to bolster Masozi’s conviction that it was the right move.

  “The central system might be out,” Eve explained, “but the individual field generators have built-in emergency protocols which can’t be overridden.”

  “What kind of protocols?” Masozi asked.

  “You know,” Eve said, causing a list of emergency situations to populate the monocle’s screen, “the usual: fire, flood, gas, bioweapons, sudden air pressure changes, power grid fluctuations—“

  “Can you access the power grid schematics?” Masozi interrupted, feeling the first kernels of excitement taking root as Eve spoke.

  Eve flashed a devious grin, “Thought you’d never ask; the whole system’s gone unmodified for eighteen years and I’ve got every wire and breaker on file.”

  As she spoke, a three dimensional diagram of the building appeared and that diagram was immediately filled with a series of interconnecting wires which represented the main power lines. Those power lines were then intersected by smaller lines, which in turn split off into individual appliance lines for everything in the building that had a switch. Masozi felt a shark-like smile spread across her lips as Eve highlighted the most vulnerable points of the system.

  “I think we can use those fields to our advantage,” Masozi said as Jericho patiently waited for her to finish her discussion with Eve. “But there’s only one of us that won’t be affected by them when they go off,” she added sourly as her smile turned tight with resentment.

  Jericho nodded, “All right…we’ve only got three days before we get to PSH, so let’s put a pot of caffeine on and work up the final plan.”

  Chapter XXVI: A Quiet Ride

  “Stealth systems are still operating at peak efficiency, Captain,” the Zhuge Liang’s helmswoman reported. “ETA at PSH Prime: thirty minutes.”

  “I’m still amazed this ship can do this,” Jericho said at his cousin’s elbow.

  “Thankfully, it looks like we’ll be able to make high orbit long enough to drop you off,” Captain Charles said heavily, rubbing the stimulant patch on the left side of his neck wearily. “Ni
nety three hours of essentially drifting toward the planet, with every system on standby or at the lowest possible power output, has probably shaved a few years off my life.”

  “You’re wearing it well,” Jericho said, knowing it to be true.

  “It doesn’t matter how I wear it,” Charles snapped irritably, his pupils dilated enough that Jericho was beginning to worry for his cousin’s neurological well-being. Most of the stimulants used in that patch were only recommended for seventy hours of continuous use, and he was already a full day past that mark. “We’ll drop you off once our orbit takes us over the insertion point three times, which means you’ve got about an hour and a half before disembarkation.”

  “And you’ll need to make for the nearby asteroid field in order to dump the excess heat stored in the stealth banks, and recharge the systems for a hot extraction,” Jericho nodded. “All we need is a clean insertion; we’ll take care of the rest from there.”

  “I know you will,” Jeffrey Charles said shortly, but Jericho could sense his cousin had something else he wanted to say.

  “What is it, Jeff?” Jericho asked.

  Captain Charles ground his teeth before leaning toward Jericho and saying in a low voice, “There are forty warships in this System, Jericho. If they discover us…”

  “You have to do what’s best for your crew,” Jericho finished for him. “I wouldn’t have it any other way; if they discover you then you can’t perform a pick-up and we’ll be on our own. We know the score,” he assured him.

  “I’m just not sure the old man would approve of my tucking tail and running,” Jeff said sourly. “I’m having a hard time interpreting my orders, Cousin.”

  “Let me make it simple for you,” Jericho suggested, “after you drop us off, you take the ship to the inner asteroid belt and wait there until your stealth systems are clean. If, during that time, the Adjustment gets derailed for any reason then you are instructed to bug out and see if you can find Mrs. Durham, or whoever has been one step ahead of us in reaching the fallback points. And if the Zhuge Liang gets discovered before we call for extraction, all I ask is you send us a message informing us that you’ve bugged out.”

  “It’s not that simple—“ Captain Charles began to argue, but Jericho cut him off.

  “Yes it is, Jeff,” Jericho said sharply. “Everyone going on this mission knows that it’s probably a one-way trip. But if some of us do manage to make it out alive and you, our primary getaway option, happen to get compromised you need to understand that we’re fairly resourceful people; we can take care of ourselves. But we can’t do that if the rest of the people in the operation don’t take care of themselves.”

  Jeff reared back in surprise, “That’s harsh…but your point is taken.”

  “You’re on stims,” Jericho said with a smirk, “it takes a little extra to break through the haze. Trust me—I’m speaking from experience.”

  “True enough,” Jeff allowed before sighing. “Just make sure you get him, ok?”

  Jericho turned and made his way toward the lift, saying over his shoulder, “I always do.”

  “You know…I think I could get used to the corporate lifestyle,” James said as he ran his fingers over Masozi’s naked back.

  “What makes you think they’d have you?” Masozi asked as she closed her eyes and let the feeling of his slowly moving fingertips consume her attention.

  “I’m no slouch,” James said archly.

  She laughed and reached behind her to grasp his thigh and drape it over her hip, “I can vouch for that.”

  “Oh, so you think they’d only let me in as a gigolo?” he asked dryly, causing her to laugh even harder as he began tickling her. Tickling quickly turned to intense petting which quickly centered on her breasts—something James had proven to be expert at doing, in Masozi’s opinion, and she allowed herself to .

  “James…” she said, knowing she really should have gotten dressed and made her way to Eve’s locker to get her prepped for the Adjustment. “Stop…please, I don’t have time.” She knew from experience that her resolve would disappear with just a few more seconds of his expert caress, so she grabbed his hand and moved it back down to her side. “Besides, I think we already set a ship record today.”

  “Doubtful,” James said playfully, “Steiner and Hero are on a whole different level. I can see how they got the job of the ship’s exhibitionists—and since when do people actually get paid for that, on an active-duty warship no less?”

  “I don’t think they get paid,” Masozi said as she sighed and reluctantly sat up on the edge of the bed.

  James sat up beside her as she pushed off from the bed and moved to the body glove she had set out for the trip to PSH Prime. “I guess this is it…” he said as he stood and retrieved his own clothing.

  “It is,” she said as she slid into the body glove, which had extra padding much like the one she had worn on the egg-shaped capsule which had taken her and Jericho from H.E. One shortly before it had been destroyed.

  “I’d wish you good luck,” James said as he placed his hands on her hips before pulling tightly against him, “but I’ve seen your workout routines—and your cool-down sessions—so I should probably be offering the other guy my condolences.”

  She laughed and allowed herself a quiet, tender moment as she gripped his hands tightly in her own before pushing away. James had been a welcome breath of fresh air for her and while she was far from the starry-eyed girl she might have been as a teenager, she had genuinely found herself considering the possibility of a longer-term involvement with him after the Blanco Adjustment. James was no slouch physically, he was attractive in the extreme, happened to be surprisingly intelligent, and he seemed to know exactly what she wanted before even she did.

  “I still can’t believe I’m doing this…” she said as she collected her monocle from the bedside stand and placed its adhesive patch against her temple.

  “It needs to be done, Teardrop,” he said, using a pet name she had never heard before he chose it for her—but one which correctly identified and acknowledged the ancient meaning of her name. It was, like everything else about him, an unexpectedly pleasant surprise. “Just remember why you’re doing it.”

  Masozi nodded, turned and gazed into his eyes for a long, intense moment before planting the most passionate kiss on his lips that she had ever known. Just before her passion got the better of her and removed her resolve to do what she needed to do, she pushed away and turned as quickly as she could toward the door.

  “Thank you, James,” she said as she left the room, knowing that if she had looked into his eyes one more time she would have at least needed to delay her departure by several minutes.

  If he made a reply, she never heard it as the door swished shut behind her and she made her way purposefully toward Eve’s locker.

  “Are you ready, Eve?” Masozi asked.

  “Just waiting for a pickup, babe,” Eve said promptly, appearing on the monocle’s screen.

  Masozi felt the nearly-palpable energy from her encounter with James harden into a firm resolve that she knew would enable her to do what needed to be done.

  “Let’s do this,” she said as her feet carried her toward the task which had been set before her.

  “All systems check out,” Masozi called out as Jericho and Lady Jessica strapped into their seats in the cockpit, where Jericho briefly wondered if this would indeed be his final trip in a spacecraft of any kind, “are you ready to launch, Eve?”

  Eve’s avatar appeared on the primary display screen in the Tyson’s cockpit, with her now-customary eye black and camo fatigues, “Ready as a porn—“

  “Eve!” Jericho and Masozi snapped in unison, apparently united in their desire to avoid being subjected to yet another crass saying.

  Eve gave them stern looks, “I was going to say, ‘as a pornocrat during Pope Sergius III’s inauguration.’ Sheesh,” she rolled her eyes dramatically, “you people have the filthiest minds. You know that, right?�
��

  Never having learned of Pope Sergius III—or of his predecessors—Jericho allowed himself a snicker at her well-timed levity. “Let’s go,” Jericho said.

  “Right,” Eve nodded, prompting the shuttle bay doors to open and reveal the planet below them.

  PSH Prime was a truly magnificent site, with over ninety percent of its surface covered in water. Naturally, they were bound for one of the only land masses on the planet, but to look at the nearly perfect blue-and-white sphere before him was one of the few moments in his life that he had been awestruck by what he was seeing.

  “Launch in three…two…one…” Eve said as the Tyson slid slowly forward in the shuttle bay, “launching.”

  Aside from a sudden lurch, the ‘launch’ was far from impressive, as the shuttle seemed to slide silently out of the Zhuge Liang’s hangar after which the warship’s trajectory carried it well above the path of the Tyson—and well above the horizon of the planet before them.

  The shuttle had been sent toward the planet on an angled catapult ramp which, when employed at a precise point in the Zhuge Liang’s journey toward the planet, would enable the shuttle to enter the atmosphere at an ideal entry angle. The warship, however, would use the planet’s gravity well to slingshot around the blue orb and drift toward the asteroid belt where Captain Charles had decided to wait for them.

  “And now we wait,” Jericho said as the feeling of weightlessness came over him. A moment after he closed his eyes to indulge in the experience and use it to begin some silent meditation, his ruined arm was gripped by another in what seemed to be an increasingly frequent series of seizures. Thankfully, he was able to hide it from his fellow Adjusters as he moved the affected limb to his side.

  But the pain was extraordinary, and he was tempted to use the single-use injection he had asked Doctor Maturin to prepare for him in case such an unwanted contraction occurred at a critical moment.