Escape Velocity (The Quantum War Book 1)

by Jonathan Paul Isaacs

  Chris sniffed a laugh. “No. Because I have his daughter.”

  15

  Venice Mottano District

  Juliet, Alpha Centauri A

  22 February 2272

  The loft office of the old warehouse seemed frozen in time, filled with the leftovers of a busy day brought to full stop. Paper manifests weeks out of date, with coffee rings from empty mugs. A lunch box filled with moldy food. The supervisor’s holo monitor, still open to an extranet gambling site. It was as if all of the workers had upped and vanished and left behind their last actions without a care in the world. Wyatt felt awkward as he sat on a swivel chair, as if he were somehow violating the sanctity of someone’s final resting place.

  Chris had advised getting off the maglev train before it entered the receiving station. Apparently, he and his team had been so successful blowing supply shipments to hell that the arrival of an intact train promised lots of excitement. Wyatt agreed. He ordered Maya to hack the automated pilot from the control room and slow their velocity enough for a quick jump into some low brush. Then they hiked to the deserted storage building in which they now rested, located on the extreme outer edge of the shipping district. The fourth Marine in Chris’s ad-hoc squad, Alonso, had remained behind to fly their aerobike the long way back to a safe house.

  Now what?

  They were technically inside Venice. That seemed like progress. But he was so far outside of his original mission parameters that he wasn’t sure where to go from here. Neither he nor Laramie knew the city. They didn’t have any contacts other than these Marines. And the hobbies of the Marine leader included blowing up trains and kidnapping family members of the most powerful politician on the planet. Could Wyatt trust someone like that?

  Lurking behind it all was the ticking clock. The quantum gate waited for no one.

  He would just have to figure out how to go with it.

  “Those are some deep thoughts there, LT.” Laramie walked up and offered him a meal pouch.

  “Just trying to figure out where we go from here.” He glanced at the indiscernible green letters on the black plastic. “What flavor’s that?”

  “Curry something.”

  Wyatt wrinkled his nose. “Not…what I want.”

  “Why do you think I’m giving it away?”

  “I’ll find something later. Thanks, though.”

  With a shrug, Laramie tore open the top and dipped in a spoon herself.

  Wyatt studied her while she ate. Laramie was one of the most sarcastic people he had ever met. He knew it was her way of coping with stress, to diminish the deadly seriousness inherent in their business. But ever since Parrell, her tone had taken on an edge that usually wasn’t there, as if she was trying a little too hard. He could only imagine what would be going through his own head if his family were at risk in the middle of some epidemic, with no way of knowing if they were safe. As tough as everyone was in his squad, they still needed someone to lead them, to keep them focused on the mission and what they could control.

  For their sake, Wyatt had to keep it together.

  This is all on you.

  A clunking up the metal stair hanger announced the arrival of Chris from the warehouse floor. Prying into Laramie’s state of mind would have to wait.

  Chris glanced at the meal pouch in Laramie’s hands. “Thanks for the rations, Staff Sergeant. We were getting pretty hungry. My boys and I weren’t expecting to be out this long.”

  “Anytime. Glad you liked the curry.” Laramie threw a sidelong glance at Wyatt, trying to hide a smirk.

  “We have about two hours before dark. We should move out after that.” Chris turned to Wyatt. “Before we do, I’d like to understand if we’re sticking together or going our separate ways.”

  Wyatt leaned back in his office chair, squeaking the hinges. “Good question. I’m still not quite sure what to make of you guys.”

  “Likewise,” Chris said. He folded his arms.

  Did he open up to these new allies? Wyatt had been thinking about their next steps for the entire time they stalked from the scrub plains to their hiding place. He didn’t doubt the military background Chris brought. His team knew how to fight. But what about their motivation? He didn’t know anything about these supposed Marines except their words. Did he really buy their story?

  Wyatt decided he didn’t have much choice. He needed local support, and the card he had been dealt was standing across from him.

  “We came to do two things,” Wyatt said. “Secure the quantum gate. Then recon the system to get intel on why no shipping is leaving Alpha A. We’re a RESIT team, and that’s what RESIT does. You understand, Chris, when something disrupts interstellar commerce, it’s a big deal. We’re talking expensive stuff in transit and expensive vehicles to move it.”

  He felt his lip twist into a sour frown. “We bungled the first part. Still working on the second.”

  Chris leaned against a battered office desk. “How do you recon a system from the middle of space?”

  “When you’re looking at interstellar shipping, where else would you do it from?”

  The loft turned quiet. A hungry Laramie fished through her curry meal pouch with clear reluctance. Chris stared out the window at the outlying cityscape. When he turned back, a silent struggle danced across his eyes.

  “Something on your mind, Master Sergeant?” Wyatt asked.

  “Yeah. Look, Lieutenant, I don’t know what’s going on up there. My guess, though, is that it all has to do with down here. All of it.” Chris paused. “I think I can help you. Keep in mind, it’s not altruistic. I help myself, too. I’m waging a guerilla war against an establishment that governs millions of people. I need stuff. So, I help you, and you help me. Interested?”

  “I’m listening.”

  “If you’re after intel, the best kind is the human kind. I know some people. They probably have all the insider information you could want. If they don’t, they’ll know how to get it. This police state, this ... cleansing that’s developed around us. It has to stop. So, I take you to them, you plead your case, and maybe you get everything you need to blast off and give your sitrep back to RESIT.”

  Blasting off was still a problem, but Wyatt would deal with that later. “That’d be great, Chris. What is it you want in return?”

  “Two things. First, I need weapons and gear. Vests, helmets, Vectors. Chem mags. Everything you’ve got, handed over before you leave.” Chris was gesturing as he spoke, his arm knife-handing the air. “Plus, I want your commitment to drop me a supply container from orbit within the next thirty days that has more small arms and ammo.” He gave Wyatt a serious stare. “We need art supplies for our ... art.”

  Wyatt scowled. “You’ve seen the size of my squad. Do you really think a couple small arms will make a difference?”

  “When you live on a planet that’s basically the wild frontier? Everything makes a difference.”

  There was no way Wyatt was going to disarm his troopers. Ever. But the opportunity for human intel was too good to pass up. He’d have to figure out how to renegotiate later. “I can’t give you everything we’ve got, Chris, but I’ll find a way to make it worth your while. And I can’t turn over weapons until we’re about to return to orbit. Fair?”

  Chris studied him for what seemed like a long time before finally speaking. “Okay. I’m working on good faith, Lieutenant. Don’t make me regret it.”

  “What’s the second thing you want?”

  The master sergeant took a deep breath. “When you leave, I have two passengers you need to take with you.”

  “You want us to what?” Laramie blurted.

  Wyatt held up his hand to silence her. He turned back to Chris. “That depends on who and why.”

  “No, it doesn’t. Nonnegotiable.”

  “You can at least tell me the details.”

  Chris’s eyes flitted between the two of them. “I will. In fact, I’ll let you meet them. But I want your commitment now, Lieutenant. Otherwise th
ere’s no point. I’m not asking this lightly and I’m offering you a goldmine of help. I need you to agree. If you don’t like it, we can go our separate ways.”

  Wyatt shared a glance with Laramie. She had stopped eating.

  “Okay.”

  Chris’s eyes were burning a hole in him when he looked back. “Don’t go back on this, Lieutenant. Do we have a deal?”

  “Yes,” Wyatt replied. For better or worse. “We have a deal.”

  “Good.” Chris straightened up. “Then let’s get started. My team has a safe house a few klicks from here, in the next district over. We’ll take you there. Be ready to leave in ninety minutes, when it’s dark.” He looked around. “Remember, we’re under martial law. There’ll be a curfew. We’ll have to move quick and quiet.”

  “Okay. Let’s do it.”

  Wyatt watched as Chris gave him a nod and left down the stairs.

  “Are you really going to give him our gear, LT?” Laramie asked. “You’re making me one unhappy chica.”

  “What else would you have me do? We’re stuck here. Anything that gets us back closer to Thermopylae is progress.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Yeah. Maybe.”

  “By the way,” she said, dipping a spoon back into her meal pouch, “I noticed you didn’t highlight that our Javelin doesn’t have its ascent booster. He has no idea we can’t take his passengers anywhere.”

  “Not yet. That’s need to know.” Wyatt stretched his back. “By the way, any word from Teo?” he asked.

  “No. Maya’s still trying.”

  Wyatt nodded. They had had no contact with the Javelin since the train. The problem could be any number of things—weather interference, something wrong with their portable gear. He just prayed the silence wasn’t due to some catastrophic failure.

  Laramie folded the top of her meal pouch and shoved it into a leg pocket. Wyatt felt a flash of amusement. She was such a spacer—always stowing trash on one’s person. The old joke was that if you didn’t, garbage would float away and always get stuck in the most critical system at the most inopportune time.

  “You know, we’re sitting in a deserted warehouse,” Wyatt pointed out. “You can just chuck that curry on the floor.”

  Laramie thrust her chin at him. “Have you ever seen how big a Julietan rat is?”

  “No.”

  She flashed him wide eyes that said, if you did, you’d understand, and followed Chris’s path down the stairs.

  16

  Nighttime approached, and Chris laid out the plan to head to the safe house. After a heated debate between him and Laramie over security protocol, they had a final meal and synched up their helmet communications. The good news, Chris explained, was that they would be sticking to side streets and less-traveled routes. The bad news was that the curfew patrols would expect this.

  They set out an hour after dark. Finn, the Marine with the yellow helmet, took point. Chris came next, followed by Laramie, Gavin, then Wyatt and the others. Every Marine and trooper wore a CORE helmet with night vision enabled. Wyatt glanced at the sky and noted the thin crescent of Romeo nestled among hundreds of twinkling stars. He recognized a few of the constellations. Pegasus the winged horse. Cygnus the swan. Amazing that the distances between stars remained so great that constellations appeared the same as they did in Proxima, a fifth of a light year away.

  The warehouse district had appeared deserted during the day hours. Dark made it even more so. The gaps between each building formed alleys that crammed power transformers and waste dumpsters together into a utilitarian lifeline. Wyatt marched quietly from cover to cover, pausing for a careful listen before following in the path of Laramie before him. The carbon-fiber panels that comprised the buildings’ exterior facades lent an exotic, alien air to their trek.

  Up ahead, Finn signaled for the column to stop with his fist.

  “Team, halt,” Chris said in a low voice through the comm.

  Wyatt stepped to the side. Up ahead, he could see the greenish outline of Chris slowly working his way up to his point man. Finn had started to peek around a corner when he abruptly turned and dashed back toward the rest of the column.

  “Cover! Everyone take cover!” the radio crackled.

  A deep, throaty rumble echoed from somewhere in the distance. In the corner of Wyatt’s helmet display, an orange threat indicator flashed as sensor telemetry came in from Laramie’s position further up their column.

  Wyatt winced when he realized he was standing in an empty stretch of alley with nothing but shadows for protection. He spotted a dumpster some five meters away and pushed off toward it in a sprint. Frantic steps and a quick dive sent the back of his helmet clacking against the lift handle. Maya came crashing into him a moment later in a desperate bid for the same cover.

  The rumble disappeared for a moment before resurging in volume. Wyatt thought it sounded like a cross between a turbine engine and a growling lion.

  “Stay low and still,” Chris said. “No sighting lasers!”

  The rumble turned more aggressive and Wyatt saw a spindly, olive-green vehicle sweep into view. Four outboard nacelles thundered exhaust that suspended a long, narrow body several meters above the street, whipping dirt and debris in all directions. A sensor pod was mounted on the front next to an autocannon. Through his helmet’s sensors, Wyatt could see the rapid pulses of electromagnetic energy sweeping the area.

  The vehicle moved out of view, but the lull in the noise didn’t last long as a second one followed into the intersection. The new arrival paused, hovering above the ground as it searched for the scent of anything out of order.

  Wyatt’s teeth chattered as the dumpster next to him vibrated in the jet wash. Why wasn’t this patrol leaving? Had they been spotted?

  After what seemed like an eternity, the vehicle tilted forward and cleared out of the intersection. Wyatt waited a good thirty seconds before he stood up and edged out from cover. Maya remained glued to the dumpster.

  “You can get up now,” he said.

  As if startled, Maya tried to push herself up in the heavy gravity. “Sorry, sir.”

  “It’s okay.” Wyatt grabbed her hand and hauled her to her feet. He blinked in surprise that someone so short could be so solid. “You doing all right?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Good.” He wanted to encourage her, to keep repairing her confidence after Parrell.

  “What was that thing, Lieutenant?” she asked.

  Chris was walking toward them and overheard. “Those were police Ibex. VTOL patrol craft. I don’t think they saw us.”

  “Were those typical curfew patrols?” Wyatt asked.

  “No. That was unusual. They don’t scout the warehouses much. I didn’t expect us to come across anything until we got to the residential areas.” Chris looked over his shoulder. “I wonder if they’re searching for whoever waxed their guards on the train.”

  “Yeah, what a bunch of jerks,” Wyatt said.

  Chris gave him a double-take. Then he chuckled.

  “Right. Let’s get back into our spread. We still have a lot of ground to cover.”

  Their column wound through streets and alleyways that zigzagged toward the city center. Floodlights occasionally swept their path and dispelled the safety of darkness. Wyatt noticed the industrial buildings gradually giving way to more commercial-looking facades, with brick-and-mortar walls, windows, and elaborate porticos replacing the drab and utilitarian carbon-fiber structures of the warehouse sector. He tried to keep focused on scanning for threats, but his mind wandered in wonder at how Venice must have evolved from the first settlers.

  He opened a private channel. “Laramie. The buildings are different here.”

  “Yeah. Looks like middle-period architecture.” Her voice had its own twinge of curiosity. “The early settlements all used cargo containers, like you saw in Parrell. Easiest thing to drop from orbit. Then that got replaced by brick and stone as colonists started using local building materials. The last
thirty years have all been carbon fiber. You can see the fancy downtown stuff over there.”

  She pointed at a section of the sky to their right. Wyatt glimpsed a knot of tall skyscrapers visible through the gap of two squat stone buildings. They glittered in the night, with the illumination of decorative floodlights sparkling off their black skin.

  “Ever been up in one of those?”

  “My dad took me downtown a couple times growing up, before I enlisted. We went on a tour to the top of the Warren Commerce Tower.” She walked silently for a moment. “Once was enough.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Because I don’t like heights. You know that.”

  “What? You—what?”

  The blank visor of a CORE helmet turned back to look at him. “Wyatt. We’ve been over this.”

  “No we haven’t.”

  “I’m sure we have.”

  “You served in the army!”

  “Yeah. Doesn’t mean I enjoyed climbing obstacles.”

  “You’re a RESIT trooper!”

  “Which is perfect, because there ain’t no ‘height’ in space, LT.”

  “I just … I’m surprised by this. We’ve never had this discussion.”

  “Yes, we have.

  “Not that I recall.”

  “Huh. Well, you have a crap memory.”

  They veered out of the alley and trudged quietly onto one of the larger streets, past a series of five-story shops and restaurants with ground-floor entryways. The night remained silent except for the chirps of exotic insects. Locked shutters covered dark windows. If someone remained in any of the buildings, they seemed determined to stay indoors and avoid the wrath of an Ibex bearing down on them. Wyatt thought it felt like another ghost town, like Parrell, only with no wreckage or bodies strewn about, and no dark shapes in the windows ready to burn away his mind with constriction.

  This wasn’t what he had imagined Juliet to be like. An amazing Earth-like planet, right next door to Sol in the cosmic neighborhood, ripe with resources and potential and life. The odds were astronomically against such a lucky find. Yet the city reeked of fear, as if the inhabitants regretted humanity’s foray into interstellar colonization.