Find Bern.
When he was done fixing coffee, he turned to leave for the brig...and Perseid's voice spoke over the intercom. "Corporal Scott, report to the brig. Corporal Scott to the brig."
"If you insist." Scott shrugged, sipped his coffee, and started down the corridor.
When he got to the brig, the same four guards were still posted outside--but this time, they didn't stand in his way.
In fact, the younger one grinned as he approached. "Did you finally make it to the medicenter? Did you get your surprise?"
"Yeah." Scott stopped and smiled. "It was the best thing that happened all day." Reaching out, he shook the young guard's hand.
"We were thinking we might have to lead you there at gunpoint," said the older guard on the other side of the door.
"Some guys just can't take a hint," said another guard standing beside the older one.
"Well, thanks for making sure I finally did." Scott stepped forward, and the door slid open. "It really made my day."
"Happy to help," said the young guard. "I like getting some good news for a change."
"You and me both." With that, Scott walked past him into the anteroom of the brig. As the door whisked shut behind him, three men looked in his direction without smiling: Perseid, García, and Balko.
"Corporal." Perseid looked and sounded tired. His black uniform was rumpled, his sleeves rolled up to the elbows. He wiped his hands on a dark cloth as he spoke. "How was the medicenter?"
"Great, thanks." Scott nodded once. The mood in the room was grim; no need to be effusive. "How were the Reds?"
Perseid kept wiping his hands. "Difficult." He looked at García and Balko, who both nodded in agreement. "Stubborn. At first."
Scott folded his arms over his chest. "And later?"
"Talkative." Perseid didn't sound like he took any joy in saying it, or doing whatever it was that he'd done. He just kept wiping his hands on the cloth like a mechanic who'd just crawled out of a Battlenaut's guts. "One of them, anyway."
"So what did he say?" said Scott. "What do we know?"
Perseid looked him in the eye. "We only got it from the one man. We need you to confirm it with Cairn Barrie."
Scott scowled. "What makes you think he'll give us anything?"
"Your history. Your rapport." Perseid shrugged. "He told you about Oberon, didn't he?"
"I can try." Scott wanted to help instead of sit on the sidelines--but Cairn was a game-player. It was true that he'd told him about Oberon, but only when it had been too late for the Diamondbacks to stop the attack there.
"You'd better do a lot more than try." Perseid stopped cleaning his hands and stuffed the cloth in a hip pocket. "According to the prisoner we broke, a core Commonwealth world is about to be attacked by the Reds."
"Which one?" Scott searched his mind, running through the list of core worlds: Archibald, Balustrade, Corazon, Tiananmen...
"Tack." Perseid's voice was icy as he said it. "Our prisoner claims that Tack is the Reds' next target."
Scott stiffened. "Are you sure?"
Perseid ran his thumb along the scar across his throat. "Our Red was convincing. We had to dig deep to get it out of him...deep enough that I doubt he was lying."
Scott was still reeling from the news about Tack. First the Reds had taken his grandma, now they were planning to strike his homeworld. "Why Tack?"
"A beachhead in the heart of the Commonwealth," said Perseid. "A strategic location from which to strike the other core worlds."
Scott thought of all the people he knew on Tack--all the friends and relations, distant and close. He thought of all the places he knew there, from the town of Tisserie where he was born to the Iridess Chasm where he'd died. And the more he thought of the Reds running rampant through those places and slaughtering those people, the angrier he got.
"Bastards." The word was a hiss when he said it. "Have you already notified Command? Are they sending in the fleet?"
Perseid shook his head. "I want confirmation. There's still a chance the intel's bad, planted to draw us away from the real target."
"Cairn's a tough nut," said Scott. "Why not interrogate him like you did the other Reds? Get your confirmation that way?"
"Because that way, things get rough." Perseid looked at Balko and García. "And there's a hell of a bomb in his head."
Scott knew better than to ask for more details. Some things, he just didn't need to know. "All right. I'll talk to Cairn."
Perseid stepped aside and gestured at the door to Cairn's cell. "The sooner the better," he said. "The clock's ticking."
Scott nodded. "Tell me about it." He could hear that very ticking in his own head, louder than ever. And only a twisted enemy who despised his every breath could help him in his race against time.
Scott hesitated at the door, inhaling deeply. Then, committing to his course of action, he clenched his jaw and typed his pass code on the keypad.
"Good luck, Corporal," said Perseid.
Scott didn't answer as the door slid open before him.
*****
When Scott entered the cell, he thought at first that he was under attack. Cairn, who'd been squatting on the cot, leaped off it suddenly and charged across the room.
Scott tensed instantly, ready to fight back...but Cairn stopped less than a meter away. "There." Grinning, he moved his head in a circle, staring at Scott's face. "There it is. Just like I expected."
Scott had no patience for games, but knew he had to play along to get anywhere. "What's that, Cairn?"
"The look on your face." Cairn pointed at him and chuckled. "The one I was dreaming about. The one that happened when you realized just how bad things are and that there's nothing you can do about it."
"I think you're seeing what you want to see," said Scott. "I'm feeling just fine."
"You're full of plang." Cairn snorted and snapped his fingers a few centimeters from Scott's nose. "I can see right through your lame-ass façade. I know you too well, Sol."
"Well, good for you," said Scott.
"By the way," said Cairn. "You're late."
Scott frowned. As usual, Cairn was trying to keep him off-balance. "Late for what?"
"You missed the deadline," said Cairn. "The deal's off the table."
"What deal?"
Cairn looked at him as if he were a total moron. "If you'd joined the Reds before we got to Oberon, I was going to stop trying to get payback, remember?" He threw his arms up in a gesture of exasperation. "But you didn't join up before Oberon, so the deal's off. So much for us working together and being friends again."
"Damn it," said Scott. "I've been so busy lately. Can't you give me a little more time to think it over?"
"One last chance to join the winning side?" Cairn sneered and leaned closer. "Why not? You have until you walk back out that door." His eyes flicked to the door of his cell, then back to Scott's face. "After that, you're cut off, you dumb son of a bitch."
Scott nodded and tapped a finger against his lower lip. "You know what might help me make my mind up? A gesture of good faith."
Cairn laughed. "What kind of gesture?"
Scott locked eyes with him. "Tell me where they took the Marine Commandant."
Cairn met his gaze with a steely glare of his own. "Now why the flux would I do that? So you can be a big hero?"
Scott wondered how much he should say--then decided, since they were playing for such high stakes, to go all in. "So I can bring home my grandma." This time, he was the one who leaned forward, pushing Cairn back out of his way. "The Commandant's my grandmother."
Cairn's eyes widened and his eyebrows rose. Then, his features settled back into a cruel sneer. "Now that is rich."
Scott badly wanted to punch him in the face but held himself back. "So what about that good will gesture?"
Cairn turned and strolled back to his cot. "I'll tell you, but it won't have a thing to do with good will. Because I guarantee you'll be too late to help her, just like you were too late t
o stop the attack on Oberon."
Scott's heart sank when he heard that, but he knew he had to keep pushing. "Then go ahead. If it's too late anyway, go ahead and tell me."
"I did warn you it would be like this, you know. Back when you first visited me here." Cairn lay down on the cot, drew up his right knee, and crossed his left leg over it. "I did say that I'd the one doing the screwing this time, and you'd be the one paying the price."
"Enough already," said Scott. "If it's too late to help the Commandant, tell me where she is and get it over with. Or don't you want to see me hopeless and defeated?"
"Are you kidding? After the way you left me to Vore and the other wolves?" Cairn looked at him with a glare of pure, perfect hatred. "I can't wait."
In spite of what he'd said, the room was silent for a long moment after that. As Scott waited with the clock ticking ever louder in his head, he wondered if grabbing Cairn by the throat and choking the hell out of him might speed things along.
Finally, Cairn broke the silence with a single word, a single syllable. "Tack."
"That's where they took the Commandant?" asked Scott.
"Wouldn't you?" Cairn laughed. "It's where the first major offensive will be launched against the Commonwealth's core. Correction." He cleared his throat, pretended to check a nonexistent chronometer on his wrist. "Has been launched."
Scott's heart was pounding. He had the confirmation that Perseid needed, but he might not have gotten it in time to save Bern, Tack, or the Commonwealth. He needed to get back to Perseid without delay and get the wheels rolling.
Whirling, he started for the door...then paused and looked back over his shoulder. "You're okay with this? Doesn't it matter to you that Tack's your homeworld, too?"
Cairn laughed louder than ever. "Why do you think I picked it? I want the place to go up in flames!"
Scott shook his head and turned away.
"So what's your decision on my offer to join the winning side?" said Cairn. "Remember, it expires as soon as you walk out that door."
"What the hell. Sign me up," said Scott. "I'll be right back to take the Red oath."
"Now that's what I expected to hear," said Cairn. "I knew you had it in you to turn traitor and betray the trust of those who depend on you. I know it better than anyone else, don't I?"
"I guess you've got it all figured out," said Scott, and then he opened the door and marched out of the cell without looking back.
*****
Chapter 33
Cairn's confirmation was enough. After getting the word from Scott, Perseid contacted Command and gave them the news. Then, he initiated preparations for the Sun Tzu to meet the fleet at Tack. If cleanup on Oberon finished on schedule, the ship would depart in three hours.
As for Scott, he fell through the cracks. Normally, his duties would focus on working on his Battlenaut, repairing and prepping it for action...but with his Battlenaut gone, and no replacement available, he had no immediate assignment.
It was a situation that wouldn't last; he wouldn't let it. Even as he grabbed fresh coffee in the mess, he was thinking about what to do next. Engineering always needed manpower, but Scott could do without Azimuth...so maybe he'd work on other pilots' Battlenauts in the hangar. He had to do something to keep his mind off worrying about Bern.
First, though, he headed for the medicenter to check on Donna. He didn't care that she was probably still asleep; he just wanted to see her, even if only for a moment. He just wanted to take another look at the one truly good thing that had happened that day. If Donna could come back from the brink of death, maybe Bern could come back from being stolen away.
Sipping his coffee, Scott walked down the corridor, lost in thought. Before he got to the medicenter door, his reverie was interrupted by footsteps rushing up behind him.
Turning, he saw Private First Class Sharmaigne Clancy zipping up alongside him--the comm booth attendant. "Corporal Scott!" She sounded out of breath, and her freckled face was flushed to match her bright red hair. "I'm glad I caught you!"
Scott stopped walking. "Why's that?"
"There's a message for you," said Clancy. "It came in shortly after you went down to Oberon."
Scott frowned. "What kind of message?"
Clancy shrugged. "It came under top secret seal for your eyes only. Authorization Alpha-Alpha-Zero-Black."
A chill ran up Scott's back. It was the highest possible authorization in the Commonwealth Marine Corps, which could mean only one thing. "Holy flux." He dropped his coffee on the floor, and it splashed all over his and Clancy's shoes and pants-legs.
Clancy stepped away from him. "Is something wrong?"
"You didn't tell me this until now?" snapped Scott.
"Things have been insane!" said Clancy. "There were tons of encrypted communications going back and forth between Major Perseid and Command!"
"Let's go!" Scott whipped around and charged back down the corridor. "I need to see that message immediately."
Clancy fell in step behind him. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner! You were off comm on the planet's surface, and then the next time I tried to find you, you were in the brig!"
Scott didn't answer. His mind was hurtling ahead on a single track now. All he could think about was getting to the comm booth and viewing the message with the Alpha-Alpha-Zero-Black authorization...the message that could have come from only one person in the entire galaxy.
*****
"Hi, Solly." Sure enough, when Scott opened and decrypted the message, a holographic image of Bern stared back at him from across the round black table in the comm booth.
He hadn't seen her in a while, but she seemed much the same as he'd expected--a compact woman in her early hundreds who looked more like she was in her late sixties. As always, her bright white hair was tied back in a tight bun from her round face...but the expression there was different, more grim than grandmotherly. There was no twinkle in the pale green eyes behind the big glasses, no dimple of a smile in the chubby cheeks.
The rest of her showed similar signs of distraction. Her loose-fitting black uniform with the white piping was creased and rumpled, not impeccably pressed as usual. Her posture and body language were nothing like those of a grandma talking to her beloved grandson. This time, Bern was weighed down with worry, and her call was all business.
"Hi, Grandma," said Scott, though he knew he was talking to a recording. It felt good, just for a moment, to pretend that Bern was free and speaking to him live from her office at Command.
"I got your message," said Bern. "Sorry I haven't gotten back to you until now, but things have been crazy."
"No problem." Scott was completely alone in the booth, cut off from everyone, including PFC Clancy. He'd had to implement a total lockdown protocol in order to access the sealed message.
"Even now, I don't really have time for this." Bern looked away--at a chronometer, perhaps?--then back. "But I don't have a choice. You've really stepped in it, Solly."
Frowning, Scott leaned forward, gripping the edges of the table. "Stepped in what?"
"I can't help being proud of you, though." A smile flickered across Bern's face. "Leave it to my grandson to uncover the biggest secret project in the history of the Commonwealth."
"Lethe." Scott said the word softly.
Bern's expression turned back to grim. "You're lucky all that happened to you was getting data-blocked by Military Intelligence. Poking around Project Lethe can lead to much, much worse."
Scott's frown deepened.
"Lucky for you, the Marine Commandant's your grandma," said Bern. "But that will only get you so far. After you've heard what I'm about to say, I'm afraid you're going to have to watch your own back more than ever."
Scott nodded.
"The road to Hell." Bern took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "They say it's paved with good intentions.
"Well, that's how Lethe started. With good intentions." Bern sighed and reached off-camera. Her hand came back with a steaming black mug
of coffee. "Eighty years ago, someone had the bright idea to end post-traumatic stress disorder forever." Bern raised her mug for a sip of coffee, then lowered it again. "All those soldiers were coming back from the Pyrrhic Wars with memories full of horrors that they literally couldn't live with. There were epidemics of insanity and suicide. Somebody had to do something, didn't they?"
Scott nodded. He knew all about the Pyrrhic Wars and the alien hordes of the Whispering Ones; he'd studied the unspeakable atrocities they'd visited on the Commonwealth fringe worlds and the soldiers who had gotten in their way. Bern had earned her stripes in that war, though she'd never liked to talk about it much.
"What they did was this," continued Bern. "They figured out a way to inoculate against PTSD." She had another sip of coffee, then put the cup down off-camera. "The brain trust created a virus that alters the mind's response to violent stimuli. The virus re-routed perceptual input during memory formation, limiting the long-term mental trauma that typically results from exposure to acts of extreme violence.
"Test subjects could still form memories of violent acts," said Bern. "They did not see extreme violence in a positive light or feel encouraged to perpetuate it. But the virus diminished the lingering trauma that causes PTSD. It took the edge off.
"It was so effective that the Joint Chiefs approved it for general use among the armed forces...but they decided to keep it off the radar. They worried that some folks might object to having their memories tampered with. Some people might see it as a form of mind control. So everyone across all the services got the Lethe inoculations and thought they were nothing but flu shots. It worked out fine, and the incidence of PTSD faded away to almost zero." Bern paused and folded her hands in front of her so it looked like they were resting on the comm booth table. "But that wasn't enough, was it? Because almost zero isn't the same as zero.
Resist the Red Battlenaut Page 23
