And as Benjamin had warned, it also told him that the Andreus Republic could listen in to an all-they-could-eat buffet of below-the-wire communications — and had been able to from the beginning. The expression said that knowledge was power, and that seemed to have been literally true for Nathan Andreus. While the world had been scrambling to find its bearings, Andreus had used his software to rig a rudimentary protocol that he’d later released onto the web like a virus. The Andreus Republic had been first to manage communication — and once others found ways to plug in, Andreus had sat behind the switchboard, watching and hearing it all.
But to Cameron, he didn’t look like a criminal. Beyond those narrow, experience-hardened eyes, Andreus was a man.
“Are you from the Moab research facility? The group allied with those assholes who led the attack on Heaven’s Veil the other day?”
Cameron felt his eyebrows rise. “You know our lab?”
“Of course I know it. At the top of Snake Canyon. There’s a house and a building stuffed into a cave. It’s where the mothership above Vail sat before sliding over to the capital.”
Cameron felt blindsided. He’d come in with what he’d thought was an informational ace, and yet Andreus had taken fifteen seconds to flip the conversation. He was sitting in the big chair, with one leg crossed over the other, his face serious but not intimidating or angry. Everything in the leader’s body spoke of strength and certainty. It was easy to see how he’d risen to power. This was the kind of man people assumed was in charge simply because he seemed to be, and few had guts enough to ask.
Knowing he was only feeding the fire, Cameron said, “How do you know all of this?”
Andreus gave a humorless smirk. If Cameron wasn’t withholding something sensitive that the bastard across from him was desperate to know (and resented Cameron for holding it back), he felt sure the smirk would have held genuine humor, maybe respectful companionship. But right now the smirk was laced with ire — a power play more than a mention.
“There’s a backdoor to the protocol you’ve been using to reach your worldwide network, for one. Failing that, I can see you on the satellites.”
“You have access to the satellites?”
“I have access to those who control the access.”
There was a quiet, assessing moment wherein Andreus seemed to be asking whether they understood each other. Cameron did, and didn’t like it at all. He’d come here because the Andreus Republic controlled the outlands between Moab and Heaven’s Veil, and those who controlled the outlands owned the roads. If he tried to sneak through the underbrush, making the trip might take a week or two, but using the roads he could make it in a day.
But this changed things.
The idea of getting the man’s attention with the necklace (proof that Cameron knew at least one thing Andreus didn’t) had sounded logical back at the ranch. Now he felt himself wanting to sweat. New information had just been added to the mix — information about communication, of all things. But this wasn’t someone Cameron wanted to bring deeper into his father’s plans than that of gatekeeper — especially considering Andreus’s soldiers had almost killed him and Piper once upon a time.
Andreus sat back in his chair, chin slightly lowered, his gaze intense, blazing from the top half of his eyes rather than their dead center. It was a sure look: one that made Cameron feel that handing over the necklace hadn’t bought him a free ride so much as quicksand.
I have access to those who control the access.
Did they understand each other? Cameron was afraid they did. The aliens and their beast peacemakers patrolled the cities and outposts, but they had an entire planet to occupy. The best way to watch the vast outlands wasn’t to survey everything themselves. It was to enlist help. Human help, provided by people with something to gain.
“I used to own a small company,” Andreus said, now dominating the discussion and leaving Cameron feeling stupid and meek. “Everyone around me had contracts with all their partners, but I always did my business with a handshake. I just shook your hand. I’m sure that means we’re on the same page, and that I can trust whatever you came here to tell me. Am I right?”
Cameron nodded slowly, unsure where Andreus was going.
“Because the way I see it, there are two reasons you might have brought me my wife’s necklace. The first is as a peace offering. Maybe you know where she and my daughter are and have come to tell me we can all be reunited as a big, happy family. The second possibility says you meant it as a threat. Or an implied threat, like a bargaining chip. Like you wanted to hold this over me — ” He patted his pants pocket, indicating the necklace. “ — as some sort of leverage. But I hope it’s not that second choice … Cameron. Because it would insult me if you thought you couldn’t just come here for a chat. That’s the kind of thing that might make me more allegiant to my silent partners. The kind of devotion that would make me eager to report a band of malcontents rather than letting them continue with what I’d previously believed to be sensible work — in the interest of universal checks and balances, I mean.”
Cameron felt all his carefully arranged cool coming unraveled. He’d steeled himself while the woman went to get Andreus, and he’d thought he was in control — of himself first, and of the ensuing negotiation second. This was supposed to be simple: You get me to Heaven’s Veil, and I’ll tell you where your family is hiding from you. A betrayal, sure, but once Ivan realized who was among those at the rebel camp, he’d had no compunctions about using that knowledge for the greater good.
As Cameron prepared his response, Andreus derailed his question with a new one.
“What do you want?”
Cameron had been thinking of the Moab ranch and of how he’d barely escaped warriors from the fledgling Andreus Republic two years ago. He’d wondered what had happened after they’d fled. Had Andreus been in contact with the Astral ships back then, too? Had they watched Piper and Cameron arrive at Moab, and decided not to pursue them? The man had nerves of steel. Anything was possible. Cameron couldn’t tell which side the man was on, other than his own.
“I need transportation to Heaven’s Veil,” Cameron blurted.
“Why would you want to go to Heaven’s Veil?”
“Why do you care?”
“Because it affects my territory.”
“Heaven’s Veil isn’t your territory,” Cameron said.
Andreus smiled then rose from his chair. He went to the window, looked back, and said, “Have you ever heard of a biodome?”
Cameron wanted to blink and ask the man to repeat himself.
“They kept trying them, before all this started,” Andreus continued. “In the years before the first Mars missions, they ramped up. There was one in Canada, another in Europe. Truly isolated environments. But do you know why they’re so difficult to pull off in the long term?”
The question was several paces ahead of Cameron. He knew nothing about biodomes beyond the concept: to wall off a piece of nature and see if it could sustain itself with no exchange beyond the bubble.
Cameron shook his head.
“It’s because nobody really understands the complex interactions of an ecosystem,” Nathan said, still glancing toward the window. “There’s the question of what eats what and what breathes what — biologist, ecologist stuff. But I think there’s a lot they’re forgetting, because it’s on a higher level. A thinking level perhaps. Like how a zoo animal will never truly behave like a wild one simply because it’s not free to wander.”
“Okay.”
“What the Astrals are trying to do by colonizing the planet, if I had to guess,” said Andreus, folding his hands behind his back, “is to control us. Not exploit or destroy us — not yet anyway — but simply to keep us under control. But like with a biodome, there’s a lot of ‘thinking stuff’ that’s maybe too chaotic to account for, if their little colonization experiment is to work. Stuff in the way we communicate person to person. The way we interact, cooperate, and think in
pieces along with collaborators who pick up other pieces. And things like healthy rebellion.”
Andreus turned to Cameron.
“This Republic isn’t the only game in town when you consider the whole globe, but it’s definitely the only game in this town. That puts me in a curiously responsible position. I’m supposed to control the outlands to keep the Astrals happy, which in turn makes them want to leave me alone and keep me happy. But even that control has limits, because too much upsets necessary elements within the ecosystem. Does that make sense?”
It didn’t, but Cameron kept his mouth shut.
“Someone was always going to fill the void that was once filled with police, government, and other authorities. I didn’t want this position, if you can believe that. But if it wasn’t me, it would have been someone else — someone who maybe wouldn’t have understood that cooperation has its place in a balanced society — as does dissent.”
Cameron wasn’t sure he could keep playing along. His mission had been completely upended. “What are you talking about?”
“In your shoes, I’d be trying to work out which side Nathan Andreus is on. Is he helping the Astrals by acting as sheriff or helping the rebels by deliberately allowing their activities to proceed — even when they do stupid shit like trying to launch a 9/11 suicide attack on the viceroy’s mansion?”
Cameron couldn’t help himself. Andreus’s manner was hypnotic. “We were aiming for the pyramid.”
Andreus turned. He seemed not to have expected that.
“Why?”
“That’s what I came here to tell you about. The Astrals seem to be … ”
Oh, just tell him.
“They’re looking for something. Deep underground. Something to help finish off whatever they’re doing here on Earth. Something not good for us. For any of us.” He gave Andreus a look that said, Not good for the Andreus Republic, and certainly apt to shatter whatever biodome it’s trying to keep whole.
“Is that why you want to go to Heaven’s Veil? To destroy the Apex?”
“To find out what it’s for,” Cameron said, admitting a half truth. It would be folly to tell Andreus about the digging if curiosity about the pyramid itself was reason enough. And it would be the height of folly to convey his real mission — as unsure as he was about which side of the information war Andreus truly meant to play.
“What about the other eight capitals?” Andreus asked. “They’re building structures like the Apex at all of them.”
“The leader of our group thinks there’s something special about Heaven’s Veil. A reason this structure might be different.” Cameron could continue, but he’d said too much already.
Fortunately, Andreus didn’t ask. Instead, he looked out the window again, quiet for a while. Finally, he returned to his chair without sitting and again veered the conversation in a fresh direction, disorienting Cameron just as he was feeling settled.
“Are they alive?”
Cameron looked up, his face pinched.
“My wife and daughter. Are they alive?”
Cameron nodded slowly.
“Where?”
This was Cameron’s ace. But for some reason deep down, he knew it was also the tipping point, and the place to surrender his ace. They were still at a standoff, new information notwithstanding. One of them would have to budge, and trust the other to follow. It might as well be Cameron. If he refused to answer, Andreus would probably have him killed — a long-overdue punishment for trespassing that Cameron had already narrowly escaped once.
“There’s a camp not far from our lab. Just to the east. It’s — ”
“I know it.”
“They’re both in that camp. Healthy and fine, according to our people.”
Andreus took a moment to digest then sighed. It was a curiously vulnerable thing to hear from the man Cameron had always imagined as a mindless warlord, but the past twenty minutes had changed his impression of who Nathan Andreus was and who he’d once been. Violent? Yes. Ruthless? Yes. Cruel? Perhaps. But mindless? Not in the least.
“I won’t help you, but I won’t get in your way, either. Due east along Route 70, there was a biker gang stupid enough to try and gate crash one of our barricades. It was unmanned at the time, but as soon as they passed it, the shuttles picked them up and put an end to their joyride. I imagine one of those bikes will get you most of the way to the capital, if it’s fueled or charged. You’ll want to steer it manually. Self-driving bikes rely on GPS, and that’s a protocol I won’t show you how to open. I’ll tell them to let you pass along the way. But once you reach the gates of the capital, you’ll be on your own. Understood?”
Cameron nodded. He wouldn’t trust a bike to drive itself anyway, and he’d always assumed he’d need to find a way to talk himself into the city. He felt upended and out of sorts. He’d come in here thinking he had the situation under control, had ridden through its middle terrified that he’d misstepped, and was now leaving with the despot’s blessing. How it had happened and what had persuaded Nathan Andreus to — well, not help him, but not hinder him either — was a mystery.
“So … ” Cameron eyed the door and the soldiers beyond it.
“Out the way you came. I’ll send word to let you go.”
Andreus wasn’t going to escort him out. Cameron was on his own. He’d surrendered his information, and now had to trust the man at his word. Soldiers outside the study might knife him in the belly the second he stepped into the foyer, but somehow Cameron doubted it. The Andreus Republic was the main reason few people tried to cross the outlands in this area, and there were still severed heads on pikes near the headquarters. But that was the work of zealous worker bees, not the man himself. And as frightening as the cabal was, everything Cameron had heard said it valued honor above all.
Not because Nathan himself was sentimental, Cameron thought, but because honor was an excellent way to maintain loyalty and control.
Something struck Cameron at the door. He turned to Andreus.
“Don’t blame the rebels,” he said.
“Blame them for what?”
“For hiding your wife and daughter. When you go in … keep in mind that they were only trying to keep people safe — ”
“I’m not going in,” Andreus interrupted.
“Why not?”
“They don’t want to see me. They ran away. I won’t break into that camp and drag them back here. They’re always welcome if they choose to come to me on their own, but I won’t force myself on them. For now, it’s enough to know they’re safe.”
He watched the man’s stern face for a long moment, but apparently their conversation was over.
Cameron left the room, realizing he’d somehow managed to get what he came for without giving Nathan Andreus anything other than peace of mind.
Maybe there was hope in the world after all.
CHAPTER 10
Trevor was out the door before he realized that Christopher seemed to have forgotten all about him, and that Trevor’s summons from Lila’s room had them running in the first place.
“Christopher!” he shouted.
Christopher paused long enough to let Trevor catch him, and they both ran toward the estate’s front gates. Trevor wasn’t in uniform, but that was okay; his was more ceremonial than anything, seeing as he was family more than Guard. More like a protégé to his father than Christopher’s boss — though if push came to shove, Trevor was probably both, technically speaking.
They ran through the gates and into the strangely perfect city streets. Everything was pristine and square without being precisely nice, in contrast to the Apex pyramid’s useless extravagance. The city’s buildings had the look of better-than-average barracks — but barracks nonetheless.
Trevor had a hard time imagining the place as it had been beneath the footprint of Heaven’s Veil after the ground leveling and slight terraforming, but he thought they might be running near the old location of his father’s Axis Mundi — the home they’d all once
thought was just a home. If so, the barrack-like homes and small, almost-businesses were an upgrade: hippie tents replaced by socialist bunks. Nobody had to pay their way inside Heaven’s Veil, but many tried to make a living anyway. The American spirit hard at work, Trevor’s father sometimes said with what always sounded like a politician’s falsely positive voice. His mother had a different interpretation. Assholes will be assholes, she said.
Trevor and Christopher ran side by side, making their way through the streets toward the precinct. Christopher was part of the Apex Guard, and Trevor was son of the viceroy, but the city’s human nexus of authority was still the precinct five blocks up. They could simply call in, but neither wanted to receive assignments and shatter the illusion that they were masters of their own fate.
So they ran. And as they did, Trevor felt like he was using his legs to burn worry.
Things had happened one-two back at the house: Trevor’s curiosity about Piper followed by the sounds of outside activity, as if someone were searching. The pair of events, side by side, made Trevor uneasy.
Purring Reptar patrols filled the air, making Trevor’s skin crawl. He forced himself forward, seeing black flashes as the beasts passed intersections, making their horrible sounds. The things acted like animals (huge, shambling timberwolves or cats perhaps, moving like insects), but Trevor tried to remind himself that they were supposedly every bit as intelligent as the Titans or even the rumored Divinity class.
But that, Trevor supposed, was why they were used as peacekeepers in the city. Nothing kept the peace quite like terror.
They arrived at a precinct in chaos. A dozen human city police jockeyed with an equal number of Reptars for the same positions. The precinct only had the one main set of double doors — if the action was inside, they’d bottleneck in confusion. Reptars were supposed to stay out of the precinct. Human and Astral patrols were supposed to do their jobs to the same technical ends, but cops didn’t like the alien creatures any more than the Reptars seemed to care for them.
Colonization (Alien Invasion Book 3) Page 6
