by J. L. Lyon
“The work of the Premier?” Davian suggested.
“Perhaps,” Jacob replied thoughtfully. “Tell the scouts to keep their eyes on the situation. If the Ninth moves into Alexandria we may be forced to alter our later plans.”
“There’s something else, sir,” Davian said. “We have it on good authority that Specter took Major Timothy Graves into custody this evening. We’re not certain where he is being held, but he was in on the full plan. It could pose a security risk.”
Jacob’s heart dropped, “Graves…a good man—a patriot. He would never purposefully betray us. I know from personal conversations with him that he has a daughter…DNA will tell the World System the same. Our next priority after this mission is to find her and protect her. Not just to safeguard the operation, but to honor Major Graves. We don’t abandon men on the field, and so neither will we abandon his family when he sacrificed everything for us.”
“I understand, sir.”
The commander reached down and placed a hand on his Gladius, thinking of his own daughter, and the lengths to which he might go to save her from a grisly fate. Every man had his breaking point…that would undoubtedly be his.
“Begin the countdown,” he said, coming back to the task at hand, “The time to end this détente has come at last.”
“Done,” Davian replied. “Phase One protocol is now active.”
-X-
301 and Derek came out of the stairwell onto the ground floor, where several Great Army soldiers had already begun to integrate with the facility’s regular security force. He looked around to find the general, but saw someone else instead—Major General Wilde. He ceased barking orders at his men as soon as he saw the two Specters approaching.
“Oh, this should be good,” 301 said. “Remember him?”
“I remember,” Derek replied. “I heard Alexander almost had him executed after the incident at the Collins estate, once the Premier assured him you were exempt. Looks like he got a reprieve.”
“Evidently,” 301 said dryly. He closed the distance between himself and his old superior and spoke with condescending satisfaction, “Major General Wilde, what a pleasure to see you again.”
“Specter Captain,” Wilde replied with obvious discomfort.
“I trust that you and the other soldiers of the Fourteenth Army have no issues taking orders from me, a former subordinate?”
“No, sir,” Wilde said. “There will be no problems from the Fourteenth’s end.”
“Good,” 301 smiled. “Specter Blaine and I will assume command of your forces, effective immediately. Where is General Brooks?”
“Brooks led the half that was ordered to the palace,” Wilde replied. “He left me in charge here.”
“How have you been planning to divide your forces?”
“The majority of personnel are being used to fortify the exterior,” Wilde answered. “But I have also ordered a hundred men to assist the security forces on the ground floor, just in case there is a breakthrough in one of the exterior lines.”
“And how many men for the second and third levels?”
Wilde looked between the two Specters as though expecting a punch line. When none came, he merely shrugged, “None, sir.”
301 stole a glance at his partner, whose eyes flashed with disapproval. “The rebels’ primary objective is to plant an explosive on the third level of the facility.”
“I read the intelligence briefing.”
“Then why have you not committed forces to the lower floors?”
“With all due respect, Specter Captain,” Wilde said, his tone anything but respectful, “surely you don’t think a band of half-starved brigands has even the slightest chance of fighting their way through the outer defenses, much less through the soldiers and security forces on this floor?”
“Underestimate them now and they might prove you a fool in a few short hours,” 301 replied. “Those levels must be guarded. Give us a hundred men from outside to apportion between the two levels.”
“A hundred?” Wilde retorted. “What a complete waste of—” He stopped abruptly, the pulsating blade of a Spectral Gladius poised at his throat.
301 had not even seen Derek move. “Thank you for your concern, Major General,” his partner said cordially. “But when we want your opinion, we will ask for it.”
Wilde’s expression turned even more sour than usual, but he had no choice but to comply. He nodded in acceptance of 301’s order, and Derek withdrew Exusia.
“Have the men meet us on the third level,” 301 said. “I’m leaving you in charge of the ground floor, Major General. Specter will maintain the exterior. I’ll want a status report in half an hour.”
“Yes, sir,” Wilde replied.
301 motioned to Derek, and the two headed for the elevator nearby. “You’re a better man than I am, Specter Captain,” Derek said as they walked. “If he had spoken to me like that, he might not have a head left on his shoulders.”
“He almost didn’t anyway,” 301 smiled as he pushed the down button. “I hope you save some of that aggression for any real fight that might come our way tonight.”
“Wilde may be an idiot, but he’s right about one thing: there’s no way Silent Thunder can fight through those soldiers and get to the third level. It’s impossible.”
“Assuming they plan to fight their way in, I’d agree.” The elevator doors opened and the Specters stepped inside. 301 pushed the button for the third sublevel, the doors closed, and they began to descend.
“How else would they get in?” Derek asked. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”
“I’ve been thinking about the major’s confession,” 301 said. “It doesn’t add up. After all that man went through, after all he sacrificed to make this mission a success, he just gave it all away? He betrayed Silent Thunder so easily…”
“Easily?” Derek retorted. “Donalson beat him to a pulp and then we threatened to kill the only family he has left in the world! Our interrogation tactics are what pushed him over the edge, Captain. He gave the rebellion up to save his daughter.”
“No,” 301 shook his head, thoughts forming even as he spoke them, “If that were true he would have held out as long as he could. He had to know it would take time and resources to bring her in and use her to get his confession. By that time it might have been too late for the Fourteenth Army to mobilize.”
“What are you saying? That the major wanted the Fourteenth Army here?”
“I don’t know what I’m saying,” 301 replied. “Just keep your eyes open. Something doesn’t feel right.”
The elevator came to a slow stop and the doors opened, revealing one of the most incredible sights 301 had ever seen. The Research and Development Lab was massive, nearly four times the square footage of the ground floor and probably ten times the height, and held a treasure trove of wonders the two Specters could hardly take in. As they strode away from the elevators and toward the center of the floor, their gazes fell upon a number of things—some they could recognize, and others they could not. Each project appeared to have its own section in the lab. One held what 301 was sure to be the next generation of hovercraft, the Halo-5, three-quarters built but still sleeker than its predecessor. To their right, taking up the most overall space in the lab, was the skeleton framework for a ship’s keel. It looked larger than any ship 301 had ever seen, though it could have been due to the enclosed space of the floor.
“Wonder how they plan to get that out of here,” 301 thought aloud.
Derek turned his head upward and pointed to a fine line that cut through the ceiling just above the keel, “The floors must open all the way to the surface. Looks like they’ll have to do it soon, too. With a keel that size, there’s no way the completed ship would fit in here.”
“Right you are, gentlemen.”
The two Specters whirled around with their weapons drawn to face the source of the voice: a tall old man in a long white lab coat.
“Who are you?” 301 demanded, staring him down through the sight of his sidearm. “All non-essential personnel were ordered to evacuate the facility over an hour ago.”
The old man sniffed as he pulled a pair of spectacles from his pocket and slid them onto his face, “Well I wouldn’t exactly call my position non-essential, Specter Captain. I am, after all, the head scientist of the World System’s R&D department. Samuel Ryder is my name. Doctor Samuel Ryder, of course.”
Derek exchanged an amused look with 301, and both lowered their weapons, “I think what the Specter Captain meant to say, Doctor, is that all non-security personnel were told to evacuate.”
“Yes, well,” Ryder waved his hand dismissively as though the order was nothing more than a nuisance. “Be that as it may, I’m not about to let all the data we have in this facility go up in flames if the building is somehow destroyed. I’m backing up all our secure files, and I assure you I’ll be out of your way once I’m finished.”
“How long will that take?” 301 asked.
“Forty-five minutes to an hour,” Ryder replied. “We do handle a lot here, as you can see.”
“You should be careful startling soldiers, Doctor,” 301 warned, holstering his weapon. “It’s a good way to get shot.”
“Apologies,” Ryder grinned, taking a few steps forward and motioning to the massive keel, “I saw you admiring the design for our new Tetra-class warship and I just had to speak. It’s not too often we get to meet celebrities.”
“Celebrities?” Derek asked.
“Of course,” Ryder nodded. “It’s been all the talk down here since we got the commission for ten brand new Spectral weapons. You gentlemen may not know, but a machine alone cannot properly construct a Spectral Gladius. It needs the touch of a human hand.” He held up his own. “These built the weapons you now carry: Calumnior and Exusia. I would recognize any of those ten by sight alone.”
“You said Tetra-class?” 301 asked, his attention still on the keel. “But isn’t there already a Tetra-class vessel in operation?”
“The Infallible, yes,” Ryder nodded. “But she wasn’t built by us, I’m afraid. The United States—the government that ruled here before we took over—commissioned three Tetra-class vessels. They were the crown of naval achievement: larger, faster, and more powerful than any warship previously constructed. But sadly, they only had time to finish one of the three before their epic defeat, and the plans for the vessels were lost during the war. We’ve spent the better part of two decades studying Infallible in an attempt to duplicate the technology, but the System-class is as far as we’ve gotten: large and powerful, but not nearly as fast. That baby there is our latest and most promising attempt.”
“But you’ve been able to duplicate Tetra-torpedoes,” 301 said. “Otherwise we wouldn’t be able to reload Infallible.”
“Yes,” Ryder said. “But plans for those torpedoes had been loaded into Infallible’s computer, so we got lucky there. No other ship is compatible with the technology, however, so it doesn’t help the rest of the fleet very much unless they are part of the flagship’s escort.”
“Doctor,” Derek said, pointing at a glowing blue ball floating over a pedestal several yards away. “What is that?”
“Oh, yes,” Ryder began to walk that way, forgetting very quickly about the Tetra-class keel filling their vision. “That, my young Specter, is some very serious technology. We call it the Fusiosphere: the energy source for the future.”
Interested though he was, 301 didn’t want to wander too far from the center of the floor since the soldiers should be arriving any moment. He stood rooted in place, and the doctor stopped as well. He did not, however, stop talking, “It’s a nifty little ball of energy that gives off more output than Alexandria’s main Solithium plant. Trouble is, we can’t contain the fusion reaction for more than a couple days, and it’s not worth the Solithium required to destroy and recreate it every forty-eight hours. We’ve thought about encasing it in Perfect Light, but then we can’t channel the energy into anything useful…” Ryder droned on for another minute, descending into technical jargon that only a physics genius could understand, before another section caught 301’s eye. It was closed off, unlike the other sections, and bore a strange symbol on the door. Words had been written beneath the symbol, and he squinted in an attempt to make them out across the distance: Keep out. Biohazard.
At about the same time he saw this, soldiers began entering the floor from the south stairwell. “Blaine,” he said. “Start positioning the soldiers, if you would—half on this level and half on the level above. I need to have a short word with the doctor.”
Derek nodded, and took one final look at the Fusiosphere before going to meet the soldiers.
Ryder stared at 301 expectantly, “What has attracted your curiosity this time, Specter Captain?”
“That section over there,” he pointed. “What’s in it?”
“Nasty stuff,” Ryder replied with a deep frown. “Biological warfare…contagions, vaccines, and the like. Not my cup of tea, to be honest. I keep away from it as often as possible.”
301’s heart raced as he was struck by a sudden thought, “What would happen if one of those contagions was accidentally released?”
“Lockdown protocol,” Ryder explained. “The biohazard unit is surrounded by contagion sensors. If one is inadvertently released, all exits from this floor are sealed off by reinforced blast doors.”
“Blast doors?”
“We have some pretty heavy weaponry down here,” Ryder said. “Lockdown is pointless if you can just blast your way out.”
“Could this lockdown be triggered purposefully?” 301 asked. “Without releasing a contagion, I mean?”
Ryder scratched his chin, “I suppose so. Not sure it’s ever been done though.”
“Who would know how?”
“Security,” Ryder said, obviously confused, “But why would you want—?”
“Thank you, Doctor!” 301 said, and nearly stumbled over his feet as he turned away. “Finish your work and get out of here. We’ll talk more about this later.” He heard the doctor mutter something under his breath, but all 301 could think about was that he had discovered a foolproof way to prevent the rebellion from ever reaching this floor.
-X-
“How much longer, Davian?” Jacob Sawyer whispered. “It’s cold out here and I’m not as young as I used to be. Too much more and I might not be able to swing a Gladius, much less fight my way out of that place.”
“Somehow I doubt that, sir,” Davian laughed. “Thirty years my senior and you still fight circles around me.”
“Thirty years?” Jacob asked incredulously. “Just how old do you think I am?”
“Sorry,” Davian said with a smirk. “Twenty-nine, then.”
“Twenty-five,” Jacob corrected with mock offense. “And only barely.”
“If you say so, sir.” Davian’s smile faded slowly, and he looked away as his tone turned more serious. “I saw you talking to Grace earlier, Commander. Is there something I should know?”
“I’m not sure what you mean, Davian,” Jacob feigned indifference. “I wasn’t aware that a father needed a reason to say loving things to his daughter.”
“We’ve worked together closely now for a long time,” Davian replied. “So I like to think I know a little about you. I’ve never known you to give a ‘just in case’ goodbye, not even to your daughter.”
“I suppose losing a child made me reconsider my own mortality,” Jacob said. “And even though Grace wasn’t really dead, I mourned her for six very difficult weeks. When she came back to me, it was as if she rose from the grave, giving me a second chance to say all the things I regretted not saying when I believed her gone forever. Ever since then I promised myself never to leave anything unsaid between us. This is a particularly dangerous mission—perhaps even more so that our future operations—and anything can happen.”
“Coul
d also be in-and-out,” Davian offered. “They might not even know we’re there until we’ve gone.”
“What a blessing that would be,” the commander gave him a sidelong glance. “But things are rarely that simple.”
“We can still hope.”
“Hope for the best,” Jacob said. “But prepare for the worst. And if the worst should happen, Davian, you know my wishes. I trust you will carry them out with all the honor I’ve come to expect from you.”
“You know I will,” Davian nodded. “But for my part, I hope never to have that responsibility.”
“I hope the same,” Jacob sighed. “So in all seriousness, how much longer?”
Davian glanced at his watch, “Five minutes until the countdown ends. The last battalions should be arriving soon, and then we can make our move.”
“Make sure the corporal is well protected,” Jacob ordered. “We’re sunk without his expertise.”
“Two of our best swordsmen will escort him, and he is quite able himself. They should have no trouble gaining access to R&D…with a little bit of help from us, of course.”
“Good,” Jacob replied. “I want confirmation once everyone has moved into position.”
40
301 COUNTED DOWN THE MINUTES until Silent Thunder’s impending attack, each one seeming to pass a bit slower than the last. It hadn’t taken long to position Fourteenth Army troops to their satisfaction, and afterward there was little left to do but wait. Doctor Ryder finished backing up his files and departed under escort, and as the zero hour approached 301 pondered the many possible meanings of the major’s words: “We attack at midnight.” Did that mean the assault would begin at midnight, or that the bomb would explode at midnight? Could the major’s claim even be trusted, given his suspicions? What if this was just a diversion to allow for an attack elsewhere?
All those questions and more cycled through his mind, as did the possibility that if the rebellion did attack, he may once again face Jacob Sawyer—or worse, Grace. He tried not to focus on how horribly such a meeting would end, and instead ran down every battle scenario he could think of based on what he would do as a member of the rebellion. But as time dwindled, he became less convinced that there would even be an attack.
