“The only thing other than Dad you gave a damn about in the entire universe.”
Miriam fell back against the wall in abject shock. “What did you…how did you…?”
Alex stepped forward to hug her mother again; she was getting the hang of this. “It’s a long story. But the point is—”
Delavasi’s bellow from the hallway interrupted the poignant moment, which was probably for the best. Any more sentimentality in such close proximity and the universe might implode. “Richard, tell me you’re here somewhere—I want at least one friend in this splendorous Hell.”
“In here, Graham.”
Richard met him with a welcoming pat on the back; it served to moderately counteract the chill coming off Caleb in waves.
Richard introduced the man to Miriam, then winced in Delavasi’s direction. “Is it time for the epic drinking yet?”
Delavasi grunted. “Oh, how I wish it were. Perhaps a beer, though?” At Richard’s concurrence he headed into the hallway toward the kitchen. “I’ll go grab us some.”
As soon as he was gone Richard stepped closer to her. “Alex, I realize you have a lot you want to tell us—and trust me we have questions—but before we get started I need to ask you something.”
Her eyes narrowed, immediately suspicious. “That is not a good tone. What’s going on?”
He placed a hand on her elbow and drew her away from the others into a corner, then crossed his arms over his chest. “Is something wrong between Caleb and Graham? You could freeze the Sun with Caleb’s glare when he showed up.”
“There is, but it’s a personal matter. And it’s not why you called me over here.”
“No, it isn’t. I need to know where you got the code to hack EASC Detention Center security.”
A groan accompanied a trenchant shake of her head. “I cannot tell you that. I’m sorry.”
“Yes, you can, because it’s important.”
“How is it important? It can’t conceivably matter now.”
“The person who wrote the code also wrote the virus which General O’Connell has used to wreak havoc with NW Regional Headquarters communications.”
Shit. She dropped her head to the wall behind her and scowled at the ceiling. “Shit.”
“Agreed.”
Would Claire have provided someone the ware if she’d been apprised of its intended use? Possibly. “I’ve known this person for years. I can’t send them to prison.”
“You won’t. I don’t care about arresting some hacker—I care about reestablishing communications with Fionava. Your mother requires it to fight this war, and I intend to restore it to her.”
“Come on, Richard, guilt tripping isn’t your style—oh wait, never mind, it’s completely your style.”
“Yes, and I don’t even feel guilty about it.”
The firmness in his expression provided her no room for negotiation. Her shoulders sank in defeat. “What do you need?”
“A copy of the code which created the virus. Do whatever you can to get it in the hands of my people, and I won’t ask anything else of you.”
“Okay…dammit. Give me a few minutes. I’ll see what I can do.”
She suddenly realized she had left Caleb at the mercy of her mother. But he appeared to be holding his own, so she imparted an apologetic grimace on her way out.
Delavasi passed her in the hallway; she stole a beer from the bundle under his arm.
The first door she located led to a bath, and a rather extravagant one. She took a long swig of the beer then livecommed Claire Zabroi.
“Alex, babe, you have been living extremely. I am most impressed. By the way, I totally approve of how you used my spoofing routine. He is delish.”
“I know he is. Listen, you sold a comm system virus to someone recently.”
Claire’s voice instantly grew cold and clipped. “I did no such thing. Why would you think I did—and why would you care?”
“Because it bears your signature, and because the man you sold it to is an Alliance General gone rogue—”
“That fenian paddy was a fragger? I knew the reprobate was wrong. Though if he cocked-up the Complex…. And you won’t believe how much he overpaid for it. I am swimming in credits after the trade.”
“Claire, we need a copy of the virus.”
“Not a chance. And who the hell’s ‘we,’ anyway?”
“He used it to destroy the communications system at the NW Regional Headquarters. The military needs it working, and in order to make that happen they require the source code.”
“Babe, did you forget what I do, what I am? No way in forty hells am I going down for some PTSD fragger.”
Alex willed patience and took another sip of her beer. “You won’t be arrested. You won’t be charged. All you have to do is meet a guy and give him a disk. You have my word.” Well, she had Richard’s word, which was close enough.
“No. My rep will be toast. I do not—”
And that was the end of the patience.
“Claire, I think it’s terrific your world continues to spin merrily along with no disruption inside the hip San Fran bubble you’re living in, but trust me when I tell you it is not going to last. Your precious little bad-girl hacker-cool party life will come crashing down, along with everyone else’s on Earth and the rest of the damn galaxy. The old world is over, and we are playing a new game. Deliver the damn code.”
“I should’ve known you’d turn into your mother one day.”
“Don’t even go there. It’s past time for us both to be grown-ups.”
A string of expletives preceded a sputtered reply. “You are such a spoilsport. Fine.”
“I’m sending you the contact details. Much appreciated.”
Alex returned to the business center to find it in a state of minor uproar.
Delavasi was traipsing along the far end of the room like a caged lion, waving his arms around flamboyantly while barking orders she couldn’t quite make out at unseen recipients. Richard and her mother huddled at the center table, conversing in hushed but intense tones.
Caleb leaned against the wall beside the doorway, idly tossing the hilt of his kinetic blade in the air. It would have represented a stark contrast to the others’ frenzied activities, except she perceived how much tension resided within his casual stance.
She took up a position beside him. “What happened?”
“Someone blew up the bunker in Cavare.”
“What? The one we were at?”
“None other.”
A surge of lightheadedness washed over her, leaving her unsteady in its wake. They had undoubtedly been the target; perhaps the enemy hadn’t realized they’d departed due to the Siyane’s cloaking. “They really are hunting us.”
“As well they should. We are dangerous. But I meant what I said to Mesme. They won’t get us.”
She squeezed his hand. “I believe you. So what are they—” she gestured around the room “—doing?”
“The Director has transitioned from yelling at deputies for not informing him sooner through yelling at different deputies to increase rescue efforts on-scene to yelling at still other deputies to determine how this sort of disaster could happen. On the assumption we’ll be headed to Earth, Richard is setting up draconian security protection for when we arrive, and your mother is terrifying the estate personnel into doubling the doubled security here.”
“I thought Delavasi was the contact person for the estate?”
His countenance lightened into genuine amusement for the briefest interval. “She’s your mother.”
“Yes, she most certainly is.” Her gaze found the ceiling while a sigh found its way to her lips. “All right, time’s wasting.”
She pushed off the wall and cleared her throat loudly. “Hey, guys? We knew the aliens were going to be hunting us. I’m confident you’ve all ensured we’re safe here for the time being, so we need to concentrate on why we’re here. Defeating them.”
11
EARTH
NEW YORK
* * *
NOAH TERRAGE HAD VISITED NEW YORK once before, maybe a decade before. The city did not fail to impress the second time around. He’d never seen another location that began to match the sheer spectacle of the Manhattan skyline. Cavare on Seneca and the capital of Romane were each beautiful urban centers and impressive in their own right, but they paled in comparison if one was inclined to do so.
No, Manhattan was without a doubt the crown jewel of Earth’s Northeastern Seaboard Metropolis, and thus of the galaxy.
Lore said it was constantly being rebuilt, old buildings eradicated and newer, shinier, taller ones perpetually replacing them. All he knew as he strolled down a sidewalk jammed shoulder-to-shoulder with pedestrians was that even craning his neck to an awkward angle did not allow him to see the rooftops of most of the buildings he passed. In fact, he was barely able to see the sky paths that connected the upper floors of a number of the towers. In the early days they’d been pedestrian footways, but most people couldn’t handle the vertigo-inducing passage so now they enclosed mini-trams with frosted windows.
The atmosphere of the city was far too uptight and hurried for his tastes—even discounting the now rampant anxiety about the aliens—though the party scene had the reputation of being a unique level of insane. Regardless, he did hope it wasn’t reduced to a mammoth pile of rubble this time next month.
His eVi chirped to alert him he had reached his destination. He stared up at the bronze and glass tower to his left, grumbled, cursed Kennedy, cursed the Metigens, cursed the Zelones cartel…and stepped through the overwrought doorway.
Surno Materials didn’t occupy the entire building, merely a single floor three-quarters of the way up. He worked his way through the lobby full of businessmen and women so tightly-coiled they might shatter if he punched one—again, hard to say if it was the aliens or just the city. Finally he located an already-crowded lift encased in ornately etched glass.
What felt like thousands of stops later he reached his floor. He cracked his neck once then strolled into the Surno offices full of deliberate swagger and attitude.
An absurdly attractive secretary perched behind a tall, too-polished bronze desk. An elaborate inlay of stylized chemical symbols decorated its front panel. Was it supposed to be art? He considered vomiting, but decided doing so wouldn’t get this over with any faster.
Instead he dropped an arm on the edge of the desk and gave the secretary a wink. “Hi, gorgeous. What are you doing cooped up in this gaudy, cheerless office?” He wasn’t intending on going anywhere with the flirting, simply hoping to win a supporter in the event of complications.
The young woman’s eyes sparkled playfully as a corner of her mouth turned up, but only a touch. She was clearly accustomed to men fawning over her. “Waiting for men like you to walk in and sweep me off my feet, obviously.”
He chuckled briefly. “Would you mind telling my father I’ve arrived for my tearful reunion before the world ends?”
That knocked her off her game and added a stutter to her voice. “Your…father? And you are…?”
“Why, I thought the resemblance would have been uncanny. Noah Terrage, obviously.”
She gaped at him in silence for a good three seconds before fumbling for the panel in front of her. “Sir, your son is here to see you…yes, sir…no, I’m not trying to be funny…yes, sir.”
She gave him a weak smile, now thoroughly flustered. “He’ll be with you in a minute.”
“I bet he will.” Noah pushed off the desk to wander around the waiting area. He wished he’d managed to surprise the man and catch the look on his face; now his father would be prepared. Alas.
“Okay, um, I guess you can go in now. Good luck!”
“Don’t need it.” He crossed to the door and sauntered into the office.
Upon seeing his father standing haughtily behind an ostentatious desk, he understood why the secretary hadn’t recognized him or at least been suspicious. It was really rather amazing how little they favored one another now, despite being genetic clones.
His father had permanently darkened his hair to a more ‘respectable’ chestnut brown and kept it short and impeccably styled. His frame was thin, the product of a lifetime spent in boardrooms and labs. While Noah had perfected the art of the five o’clock shadow, his father’s skin glistened with waxy smoothness.
One glimpse was all it took for him to decide he had made the right decision two decades ago. He did not want to be this man.
Sure enough, his father was prepared, his features locked into a cold mask. “I assumed you were dead.”
Noah leaned casually against the back wall and crossed his ankles. “Almost was last week—I found myself on Messium at the wrong time, got shot at by some aliens. Almost was the week before that, too—I exercised my conscience, which got me shot at by Zelones mercs. Yet here I am, alive and kicking.”
“How charming. So, what? You figure the apocalypse is a good time to come beg forgiveness?”
“Well it’s good to see you haven’t changed in nineteen years. I have nothing to beg forgiveness for, Dad.”
“Why are you here then? Do you need me to bail you out of trouble? Fishing for money? The budget is a little tight at present, what with my largest factory destroyed and my home likely suffering the same fate any minute now.”
“Nope. I don’t want or need anything from you—never have, never will.” He pushed off the wall. “But others would like to borrow your brain for a spell, and they sent me to come ask nicely.”
“I’m a bit too busy to do any consulting work. And if this is you asking nicely, I’ll skip the asking rudely.”
“Unfortunately, I’m afraid the rude alternative is a team of armed military officers showing up to conscript your services.”
Shock now overpowered his father’s mask, and Noah snorted. “Did you presume I was asking on behalf of those gangsters who are aiming to kill me or another equally sleazy tribe? On the contrary, I’m here because there are people—people who aren’t you—working to try to save humanity, and for some godforsaken reason they seem to think they could use your help to do it. So are you in, or should I call my military associates?”
His father blinked. His gaze fell to the desk, then rose back to Noah. He blinked again.
“Still here. Not a dream or a nightmare, and the clock’s ticking.”
“What am I supposed to do?”
“Come to Berlin with me. Now.”
“The Space Materiels Complex?”
“Good, you’ve heard of it.”
“Of course I’ve—it doesn’t matter. Give me fifteen minutes to wrap up a few things, then we can take my transport.”
Noah cringed to exaggerated effect. “I don’t think I want to spend an hour in a confined space with you. I’ll get my own ride.”
“Oh, do not be a petulant child, Noah. Take my damn transport.”
“But I thought I was a petulant child? I’m just trying to live up to your expectations.” He growled under his breath. “Fine, I’ll go with you—but only to make sure you actually show up, because I did not suffer you to arrive empty-handed.”
12
PANDORA
INDEPENDENT COLONY
* * *
AT ALEX’S REQUEST THEY had abandoned the business center for the comfort of a spacious, airy living room. The late-afternoon rays from Pandora’s magenta sun cast warm shafts of light through the row of windows stretching along the upper third of the front wall.
To an outside observer this might have been a casual gathering among friends and family or a long-weekend getaway. Instead it was a meeting at which the fate of humanity may be cast.
Her mother had assured her Dr. Canivon was safely off Sagan and on her way to Earth with her ‘equipment’ accompanying her. When pressed for details, Alex asked her to be patient for a few minutes longer. Richard had implemented a surveillance shield over the room as an additional layer of protection inside
the shield they’d been informed encompassed the entire estate.
She had no idea if either of the shields would prevent the aliens from recording what was said, but the information had to be shared at some point—a point which had now arrived.
Caleb had willingly ceded the stage to her, and in this instance she was grateful for it. For one, she would be speaking most of all to her mother; it was only right that it be her responsibility to make the case. For another, the simple truth was he continued to be troubled and distracted by the revelations about his father and his mentor. She didn’t blame him for being so, but right now his head was not totally in the game.
She decided a second beer was required for the task to come and opened a fresh bottle before returning to her spot beside Caleb. Miriam and Richard sat on the opposite couch, Delavasi in the oversized chair to the left. She leaned forward and regarded them across the low table separating them.
“I have a story to tell you. It’s an unbelievable story—literally I would never expect you to believe it, which is why I also have numerous visuals and reams of data. But first, the story.”
“You mean they’ve been watching us since we crawled out of caves?”
“How many other universes did you track?”
“Wait, you? We were discussing other people—military leaders, ship captains, analysts. Not you.”
She adjusted her posture so she could give Caleb her full attention. Her voice was soft, her words for him alone. “I’ve been giving it a lot of thought since we got back.” Then she realized it was unfair to him to even risk their audience hearing the rest and switched to a pulse.
I would’ve talked to you about it on the way over, but you were…preoccupied.
Frustration began to form in the increasing tightness of his jaw and set of his mouth; she allayed it with a squeeze of his hand.
Rightfully so, and I completely understand. But yes, me.
Transcendence: Aurora Rising Book Three Page 9
