Aurora Renegades

by G. S. Jennsen

  “Yes, ma’am.” The man pivoted and left. Morgan noticed the dramatic relaxing of his shoulders once he reached the lift. He had to be a trusted lieutenant, but Olivia still terrified him. Much as she imagined Olivia terrified everyone who crossed her path.

  Rather than retreat to the ship immediately, Morgan backed out to the perimeter of the station, noting dozens of turrets and proximity sensors as her mind floated in space outside the structure. Calling it well defended understated the matter.

  A brute force assault would fail. In another two months the IDCC—which was to say she, Mia and Devon—might develop the technological tools necessary to succeed, but that was in the future, and this was today.

  Return.

  She opened her eyes. “She’s here, at least for the moment.”

  “What the hell did you do?”

  “Oh. Guess I haven’t gotten around to talking about this particular trick.”

  Brooklyn stared at her deadpan. Not horrified or panicked by confusion, merely awaiting an explanation.

  “We—Prevos—can project our consciousness into this special quantum dimension. We call it ‘sidespace,’ not that it matters. And we can use it to observe other locations. I’ll explain the specifics later, but first we need to deal with the here and now, okay?”

  Harper’s brow creased briefly, then she jerked a nod. “Okay. Tell me what you saw.”

  Damn, she was impressively…impressive. Nothing frightened her, or frightened her away.

  Morgan gave her an apologetic smile. “Thanks. I promise I will explain it better later. Montegreu is inside, but the defenses are as robust as you’d expect. IDCC forces aren’t strong enough to infiltrate the station, not yet. If we had a few of those negative energy bombs we used against the Metigens, we could blow the whole place. But the IDCC is going to need a far larger budget to be able to afford those…and everyone on the station would die, not just Olivia Montegreu. So I guess that idea’s out either way.” Oh, the responsibilities of command.

  She met Harper’s still intense gaze. “Your Alliance friend Colonel Jenner is hunting Montegreu. Contact him and tell him to get his ass here yesterday, and to bring the cavalry with him.” Then she frowned. “Wait. No. Not the entire cavalry. How good a special forces Marine is he, really?”

  Harper shrugged. “Exceptional. Maybe even one of the best there is serving right now. But how do you know he’s hunting her?”

  “Devon. Annie, whoever. Tell Jenner whatever you have to tell him in order to get him and…not his cavalry, but his best people, headed this way.”

  She smiled again—this woman was making her do that far too frequently; her cheeks were starting to get sore. “We can’t leave. We need to keep eyes on Montegreu. So I’ll be up here—” she tapped her temple “—for a while.”

  ARCADIA

  Earth Alliance Colony

  Malcolm sat in his small office at the Alliance Forward Naval Base on Arcadia doing nothing except being troubled.

  Olivia Montegreu was acting in too many places at once, creating far more incidents than his team hoped to track, much less prevent. If he hoped to catch her and bring her to justice, he was going to need a serious influx of backup and resources.

  But on this particular morning, Montegreu wasn’t even the source of his concerns. It should have been a welcome change, but it turned out to be closer to the opposite.

  Pamela Winslow had won the election; immediately thereafter she’d begun issuing executive orders prohibiting a variety of activities related to Artificials, designed to ‘bridge the gap’ until more draconian legislation was able to be passed by the Assembly.

  She planned to cut off all relations with the newly formed IDCC on the basis of it being controlled by Prevos. She didn’t call them Prevos, but the implication was clear. Restrictions on importation of a variety of quantum computing equipment and products had been proposed, lest they contain components which might be used to create a sentient neural net.

  To top things off, she’d accused the Federation of secretly supporting the expansion of the Zelones cartel, citing reasons bearing little relation to reality.

  It wasn’t his business—not until such time as he was ordered to start enforcing the new laws. But when the day arrived…could he really do it? Could he carry out orders he believed were morally wrong? Or worse, the alternative: could he defy orders? Commit insubordination or, if worse came to worst, sedition?

  He didn’t know a damn thing about Artificials. But he did know about Prevos—he knew Alex, and he couldn’t help but feel he knew Mia, though he probably hadn’t the right to feel it. He knew they’d enabled the defeat of the Metigens while risking their own lives in the process, saved the entirety of humankind and demanded no power in return. Were they frightening, something new and unfathomable? Maybe in the abstract, but not in the flesh.

  It was all a disaster in the making. Terrorists were attacking anything associated with Artificials, whether it be research labs, businesses who used them or Prevos themselves. Now the Prevos were fighting back, or someone was. An OTS protest of Suiren Corp on Demeter the day before had been disrupted by EM grenades, frying every eVi in a hundred-meter radius. No one had died, but dozens had been taken to clinics.

  His train of thought was interrupted by a holocomm request. He blinked in surprise when he saw the sender. Less surprise than he would’ve had prior to the referral contact from Lekkas, but surprise nonetheless.

  He accepted it immediately. “Harper. It’s good to hear from you.”

  “Good to be heard from, sir.”

  “I’m not your superior officer any longer. You can call me Malcolm.”

  She shrugged in acceptance. She appeared to be on a ship, but he wasn’t able to tell anything else about her surroundings. She looked good, though. Healthy. “I’d say you can call me ‘Brooklyn,’ but no one does that. Listen, I learned from a—” she glanced at something or someone to her left “—reliable source you’re hunting Olivia Montegreu. Is it true?”

  His team was covert in the formalities, but there wasn’t a genuine need for it. And she’d already been informed. And he seemed to be adhering to fewer bureaucratic regs every day.

  “I’m leading a task force with that singular goal, in fact. Thus far all we’ve accomplished is cleaning up the bodies and wreckage left in her wake, however.”

  “I know where she is right now.”

  He leaned forward in his chair. “Excuse me?”

  “She has a secret station in dead space near Romane. And as of right now, she is in residence.”

  The news of the attack on Advent Materials’ Rasogo II facility and the IDCC response had made the rounds, and he didn’t have to be a genius to connect the dots. She was working on Romane. The attack had occurred in Romane space. Montegreu was an all too believable suspect. “You’re working for the IDCC.”

  She shrugged. “Leading its ground response forces, actually. I hope this isn’t a problem for you.”

  He shook his head, if a tad weakly. “I understand why the independents think they need to be able to defend themselves, given everything that’s happened in the last year. Everything happening now. I only….”

  “I’m protecting people, Malcolm, not attacking them.”

  “O’Connell was a traitor and a psychopath, Harper. He did not represent the Earth Alliance military.”

  “Maybe not, but given what I’m seeing on the news feeds these days, he could have represented more of the government than you think.”

  He grimaced. “I don’t have a good response to that, so let’s just leave it alone. Talk to me about this space station.”

  “Admiral, it will require us to go to Romane. To work with the IDCC.”

  Miriam Solovy gave him a dismissive wave. She seemed busy bordering on distracted. And…hard, displaying a steel in her eyes and determination in her expression beyond what he’d seen in the past.

  “Winslow’s overblown rhetoric aside, the IDCC is not our enemy. Not
yet. In the absence of regulations or an Executive Order prescribing our interaction with the organization, you may interact with them as you see fit to protect the interests of the Earth Alliance. Needless to say, eliminating Olivia Montegreu is in the highest interests of the Earth Alliance.”

  “Understood, ma’am.” He paused, debating whether to broach the next point. “Mia Requelme is also there. Working for the IDCC.”

  “I’m aware. Are you asking me whether you have permission to cooperate with her as well?”

  “Well, given the circumstances of her departure from Earth….”

  Miriam stopped whatever else she was doing and sighed, eyes downcast for several seconds before rising to meet his gaze. “Colonel, there are matters in flux and plans in motion you don’t—can’t—know about. Perhaps later, if you’re willing, but for now ending the threat Olivia Montegreu poses must be your only priority. So I’ll say again—the IDCC is not our enemy. It is not…it is not my enemy, and it need not be yours.”

  She squared her shoulders and notched her chin yet higher. “I’ll make this simple for you, Colonel. I tasked you with hunting down Olivia Montegreu, and I’m reaffirming this now, verbally and by official record. I expect you to use your thus far exemplary judgment to do whatever you feel is necessary in pursuit of that singular goal, and I will stand behind any actions which result. That is an order, Colonel Jenner. Are we clear?”

  What in God’s name had he wandered into? And by ‘wandered into’ he meant forcefully elbowed and bullied his way in. “We’re clear, ma’am. In that case, we’ll leave straightaway.”

  36

  MESSIUM

  Earth Alliance Colony

  * * *

  The sprawling Earth Alliance Northeast Regional Headquarters on Messium continued to show a few scars from the Metigen invasion, in part because once essential capabilities were restored Admiral Rychen had prioritized civilian reconstruction efforts over military ones. Cranes still swung above some of the outlying buildings, and scaffolding still adorned a wall here and there. But the base was up and running and busier than ever.

  He liked Messium, Richard decided as he abandoned the shuttle from the commercial spaceport for a brisk walk across the grounds.

  First impressions could be revised later, but he liked the muted hues and practical infrastructure and the way the air carried a hint of pine on the breeze. It bore little similarity to Vancouver, but it was nice. He thought he’d choose a hotel in walking distance of the base to make up for the many hours he expected to be spending indoors.

  He mysteriously cleared all the security checks on the base, and without so much as a second glance. Every query returned the same information: retired Naval Intelligence, here to consult on a classified matter.

  That much was true, as far as it went. The fact his current position did not appear to be included in his file made for a curious deviation from standard procedure.

  The Communications and Data Building looked almost entirely new, and everything shone in the understated way the best military architecture did. He had to stop himself several times from saluting when he passed high-ranking officers. He wasn’t in uniform, because he no longer had a uniform.

  A wing in the back of the complex, designated simply “E-13,” was his destination. Here he encountered the tightest security thus far, with his name, fingerprints and facial and retinal scans checked against an approved list. But whatever the list consisted of, he was on it and was granted entry.

  Several conference rooms were arranged around a central atrium. All were equipped with brand new data nooks and interactive tables. Beyond the semicircle were a couple of offices.

  Most of the space, however, was dedicated to hardware. It reminded him of Annie’s lab at Special Projects, if both smaller and more modern. At the rear of the wing, one-way glass spanned the wall to look out on the verdant landscape.

  He found Rychen in the largest meeting room. The admiral stood alone, quietly studying a screen above the center table.

  Richard saluted this time, technicalities be damned.

  He was left a bit flustered when Rychen returned the salute then stuck his hand out. He accepted it, but frowned. “It’s a pleasure to see you again, sir. It’s been quite a few years. But I’m no longer serving—”

  “The Cross-Sector Security Conference on New Columbia, summer of 2318. I remember. And I’m aware of your situation. All I really care about is Admiral Solovy trusts you with her life, and I trust her with mine.”

  “As do I. Thank you, sir.”

  “I also know that without the actions of your husband, we likely would have fought the Second Crux War until we were unable to win the Metigen War, so you both have my personal and professional thanks.”

  Before Richard could stammer out a suitable response, Rychen barreled ahead. “Now that the awkward pleasantries are out of the way—” he entered a lengthy sequence on the virtual control panel, and a multitude of new screens opened above the table “—welcome to Project Volnosti.”

  Richard laughed. The word was immediately familiar, for once upon a time David Solovy had launched into many a speech on why vol’nosti—the inclination toward personal liberty and freedom—was worth fighting for, worth paying any price to safeguard. The speeches invariably transpired on a Saturday night after several drinks had been enjoyed by those present.

  “She does realize the Prime Minister can translate Russian, doesn’t she?”

  Rychen laughed as well, shaking his head. “I don’t think she cares.”

  “I think you’re right.” He brought a hand to his chin. “So what am I looking at?”

  Rychen pointed to the leftmost screens. “These detail what’s going on out there.” He gestured over his shoulder at the hardware across the hall. “Dr. Canivon has already come and schooled us and gone. We’ve got most of the existing databases replicated, but the neural net itself won’t come online until Admiral Solovy presses the trigger.”

  He then shifted to the middle screens. “These are tracking our major assets: what’s in production, what’s operation-ready and what we still lack. The attack on Rasogo II threw a wrench in our anticipated supply chain, but we’ve been able to bridge the gap until the facility is up and running again. Most of the assets themselves are being stored offsite until their services are required. For the moment, those are my responsibility.”

  Having played a role—or at least been present—in the initial stages of that part of the venture, Richard had an inkling of where ‘offsite’ might be, as well as how and by whom the supply chain gap had been bridged.

  “And this—” Rychen slid the final screen to the center “—is what we know, what we don’t know and what we desperately need to find out. Not my area of expertise, but I understand it is yours.”

  The admiral smiled. “I won’t make you stand here and study it with an audience. I’m needed back at my real job, anyway. Come on, I’ll show you to your office.”

  PANDORA

  Independent Colony

  The broadcast went out across the shared mindspace of the Noesis—a guarantee only Prevos would receive it and no Prevo could not hear it.

  “The time has come.

  “I want to make one thing clear to each and every one of you: I am not asking you to endanger your lives to any greater extent than you already have. Anyone who wants refuge, say the word and it will be provided to you. We are setting up safe houses on dozens of worlds and arranging for secure transport to any of Romane, Pandora, Requi or Sagan. Unfortunately, Aesti and Pyxis are considered too Alliance-friendly to offer suitable refuge, and Atlantis is no longer safe.

  “I’m sending out a ware tweak which will mask any glow in your eyes so you won’t be identifiable as a Prevo in public even without shadewraps. I know many of you prefer to brandish what you are with pride, but you need to consider both your personal safety and operational security. For those of you who choose to act with us, hiding your nature in most situations may become necess
ary.

  “We will do everything in our power to protect one another from attacks by OTS and from imprisonment under the new Alliance laws.

  “For anyone who wants to fight, you had better believe we will be fighting, too. We have people watching known OTS members covertly from sidespace, and we plan to do all we can to subvert their activities and ultimately to bring them down. To do this, we need to organize locally. Find the other Prevos physically near you.

  “Wherever OTS stages its next protests, help our plans to counter them. If you want to stand proudly in public and show OTS you are not afraid, this is where and when you can do it.

  “Our strategy is not only about subversion, either. We now have people lobbying, often from positions of power, for the Senecan Federation to not follow in the Alliance’s footsteps, and instead to enact legislation protecting the rights of Prevos not merely to exist, but to live free. The IDCC is now making it a condition of joining its consortium that the applicant colony recognize our rights. Thanks for that, Mia.

  “Above all, know this: you need not be afraid. They own the fear. They fear us because they believe we’re powerful, and they are correct to do so.

  “Most of us probably just want to be left alone to enjoy our lives, but the rest of the galaxy isn’t going to allow it. So instead we will do whatever we must to survive. If for you this means seeking refuge, we are with you. If for you it means standing and fighting, we are with you.”

  Devon retreated into his own mind and collapsed into a chair. Parts of his consciousness—the parts which were more Annie than him—worked to turn his words into action, while the parts mostly belonging to him decided whether to order in Chinasian for dinner or go out.

  He should go out. He needed to give a visual display of camaraderie, and it would engender confidence in him among the emergent Prevo population on Pandora.