Right Ascension

by David Derrico

  Daniel’s anger was immense, but he grudgingly realized that the President did have a point, and that it was unfair for Daniel to levy his anger against him simply because he was in charge now.

  “So what’s the story?” Anastasia asked. “Was this the plan all along? Or was Cole acting on his own?”

  Stadler laughed, a laugh of nervousness, not humor. “I don’t know. I doubt anyone knows. But clearly you see why the truth can not be told?”

  “All I see is that we are responsible for the murder of the entire Korgian race,” impugned the Admiral.

  “So what are we supposed to do about it now?” shot the President, raising his voice several decibels. “Tell everyone and incite mass chaos and revolt? Lay down and let the Vr’amil’een or the Lucani Ibron destroy us? Tell me, Admiral—what would you have us do about it now?”

  “The truth must be told, William. We owe the Korgians at least that much.”

  “Will that bring them back? Will that help anything? Would that make you sleep any better at night? And would that be worth the anarchy it would bring?”

  “The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil,” countered the Admiral, “is for good men to do nothing.”

  William sighed heavily. “Edmund Burke.”

  “Yes,” replied the Admiral. “And he knew then what I know now: it had to be told. It had to be told to ensure that it could never happen again.”

  The President opened his mouth, but froze. “Had to be told?” he repeated.

  “Turn on the newsgrids,” Daniel replied casually, “and see for yourself.”

  “You idiot,” said the President weakly, slumping into a chair. “Do you realize what you’ve done?”

  “Yes, William,” Daniel replied. “I do.”

  • • •

  Daniel and Anastasia walked directly from the ConFedCom Capitol building to a waiting aircar. Wordlessly, Daniel opened the gull-wing door, holding it open for Anastasia to enter. As soon as they were inside and the door had closed, the aircar began to accelerate.

  “Good work, Ryan,” said the Admiral, settling into the memory-gel rear seat cushion. “Did you find anything?”

  “All I could find was Le Jaunte’s home address and a little background,” Taylor replied. “Since the truth about Le Jaunte has become known, ConFedCom has made any information pertaining to him Top Secret.” Ryan slowed the aircar as it approached one of the security gates ringing the Capitol. “Oh, and, as an added bonus,” he added sarcastically, “his house is now being guarded around the clock.”

  “Great,” muttered Anastasia.

  “So what were you able to dig up?” asked the Admiral.

  “Not much, sir. It seems he lived alone at a house near Norfolk, Virginia, and has no known living relatives.”

  “Interesting,” mused the Admiral. “No relatives? How convenient.”

  Though the aircar, now through the security checkpoint, was traveling at a fair speed, faster than the normal flow of traffic, the Admiral could not help but feel as if the pedestrian civilian transport was plodding interminably toward their destination.

  “Computer: activate,” commanded the Admiral, and a section of the seatback in front of him slid away to reveal a flat display screen. Daniel’s hands flashed through the air, the screen’s sensors interpreting the movements and carrying out the Admiral’s directives.

  “It seems as if, as an ancillary benefit, the Indomitable news story and its reaction has preoccupied the Military Police for us,” began the Admiral, “which is good, inasmuch as there will be that many fewer MPs there to arrest us when we break into Le Jaunte’s house.”

  “That is fantastic,” shot Anastasia wryly.

  “I don’t think we’ll have to worry about the MPs,” Taylor predicted. “You see, according to their duty log, his house is already guarded by three people.”

  “And that is good for us because … ?” prompted Anastasia.

  “Well, the three people assigned to guard it for the next six hours are Ryan Taylor, Anastasia Mason, and Daniel Atgard.”

  “So much for doing this covertly,” Anastasia lamented.

  “If it makes you feel any better,” Ryan explained, “the odds of them not finding some evidence of our presence there are just slightly worse than zero percent. Besides,” he added, “the two of you are tagged. They’d be able to trace you there anyway.”

  “He’s right,” agreed the Admiral, though he did mildly object to the word “tagged” as used in reference to his locator implant.

  “Is all this really necessary anyway?” asked Commander Mason. “Wouldn’t the guards let us in?”

  “Well, they do tend to look down on unauthorized investigations, especially of Top Secret areas. But our main problem,” explained the Admiral, “is that Stadler will be looking for any excuse he can find to bury me after that little news story stunt I just pulled.”

  “Yeah,” chuckled Anastasia, “you should have seen his face, Ryan.” She looked toward Daniel, shaking her head. “Boy, was he pissed.”

  • • •

  The aircar descended quickly, alighting in a field adjacent to a nondescript house. There were no other structures that could be seen from the ground in any direction, and no roads—dirt, paved, or otherwise—led to the isolated domicile.

  “Just the type of place I could see Le Jaunte living,” muttered Anastasia.

  The three of them exited the aircar and started toward the house, walking past an MP vehicle parked on a small gravel landing pad of sorts. As Ryan had predicted, three MPs waited for them at the door, ready to be relieved from their posts. At the Admiral’s approach, they each stiffened into a rigid military salute.

  “At ease, gentlemen,” said Daniel casually, returning their salutes. “We’ll take it from here.”

  Two of the guards immediately turned to walk away, clearly cowed by the Admiral’s rank and prestige. The third guard, however, hesitated, calling forth the gumption to question the Admiral’s authority. “Um, you’re here to relieve us, sir?” he asked.

  “That’s right, Sergeant,” he declared, adding just the right touch of mild annoyance to his voice. “That’s what it says on the duty roster, doesn’t it?”

  The nervous Sergeant fumbled with his nanocomputer. “Yes–yes, sir, it does. But that’s not what it said this morning … sir. If I’m not mistaken.”

  “Have you ever seen a duty roster changed at the last minute, Sergeant?” asked the Admiral rhetorically, subtly raising his voice and strengthening his tone. He stared unblinkingly at the soldier.

  “Well … yes, of course, sir,” he replied, his confidence clearly wavering in the face of Daniel’s puissant demeanor. Abruptly, he straightened himself up to his full height. “But I’ve never been relieved by an Admiral, sir.” The other two guards stood idly, clearly unwilling to intervene in the confrontation.

  Daniel retorted without missing a beat, his voice still gaining strength and authority. “If you had the requisite security clearance, perhaps I could inform you of the situation,” he said, his eyes widening dramatically. “However, I have neither the need nor the inclination to explain myself to you. Now, if you need to check up on my orders with your supervisor personally, you can go do that. But right now, you are relieved, Sergeant, and you are to vacate this area immediately if you wish to avoid being court-martialed, dishonorably discharged, and arrested. Have I made myself clear?”

  Though, physically, he was not overly daunting, when Daniel wanted to be, he was as intimidating a presence as a pack of enraged Vamalians. Even were he not dressed in full military uniform, there would have been little doubt that he was a man of great authority, and when he raised his voice and stared into the virgin eyes of a young soldier such as this one, it was almost as if he were using some form of hypnosis against the hapless youth.

  “Yes, sir. Crystal clear,” replied the Sergeant belatedly, trying to save face. “I just wanted to make sure I followed proper protocol to ensure there was not a
mistake, sir.”

  Daniel’s tone relaxed noticeably. “I understand, soldier. We would not want to dismiss protocol, after all.”

  With that, the Sergeant saluted, and he and his two subordinates, clearly glad to leave, walked to their MP vehicle and took off.

  “How do you do that?” laughed Anastasia after the aircar was out of sight.

  Daniel’s eyebrow elevated subtly. “Those whose minds are weak are easy to control.”

  CHAPTER 21

  Once the departing MP vehicle was out of sight, Ryan immediately turned his attention to the front door. Ryan extended his arm, allowing his nanocomputer to scan the doorknob for skin cells or other bodily residue that would allow them to cross-check Le Jaunte’s DNA. After a few moments of scanning, the computer beeped affirmatively and Ryan retracted his arm to study its tiny screen. His eyes narrowed, as if he did not want to see what he knew was coming. A few seconds later, he closed his eyes completely, despondently releasing the breath he had been holding.

  The Admiral knew that what he had found was not good. “What is it?” he asked.

  Ryan took a deep breath, steeling himself as he began. “Back when I worked on the IMP, we wanted to test the implants on a broad spectrum of candidates—men and women, young and old, and, most importantly, intelligent and stupid.”

  “So Le Jaunte was one of the original IMP subjects?” prompted Anastasia.

  “Yes, yes, according to his DNA, he was. But I did not know him as Pierre Le Jaunte then. We only knew him as a number: X-222.7. It was only later that I learned his name. At that time, his name was Damian Savage.”

  “But you’re sure it’s the same person?” asked the Admiral.

  “Yes, sir. The DNA doesn’t lie, and I checked it against my personal records, not the official ones that he might have changed.” Ryan nervously ran his fingers over his bald head. “But, you see, sir, X-222.7 was not simply an average candidate. He was the smartest subject we could find, with intelligence tests off the scale. However,” he lamented, looking downwards, “his psychological profile was borderline at best, but certain … concessions … were made in order to facilitate his acceptance as a candidate.”

  “I see,” said the Admiral.

  “And, as you know, sir, the most intelligent subjects were the ones who fared the best.” He paused for a long moment and slowly shook his head. “Relatively speaking.”

  “But I thought all the subjects—even the more intelligent ones—went insane and eventually died, right?” asked Anastasia.

  “Well,” Ryan began, “they all certainly did go insane. But it seems the records have been altered somehow, because, clearly, Le Jaunte is far from dead.”

  “With the power of his implant, it would have been easy for Le Jaunte to fake his own death, change the records, and give himself a new identity.” Daniel sighed heavily. “And God knows what else that madman could do, how he’s modified himself since then. Everything’s networked, so he has a direct cerebral connection to basically every computer in the sector.”

  “Which means,” Ryan concluded, “that Le Jaunte is all but omnipotent.”

  • • •

  The front door opened into a small foyer. The walls were decorated with replicas of classical artwork, and lush potted plants occupied each corner of the room. Arched doorways in the center of each wall were framed by rich wood moldings, contrasting against the pastel floral-printed wallpaper. All in all, it was one of the most cozy, inviting rooms the Admiral could ever remember seeing.

  “Something’s wrong,” he declared.

  Ryan looked at him quizzically, but apparently Anastasia had also noticed something was amiss. “No known relatives, eh? This room definitely has a woman’s touch.”

  “Maybe he just has good taste?” offered Ryan diplomatically.

  Daniel and Anastasia exchanged glances.

  “This,” said Daniel, gesturing about the perimeter of the room, “was not done by Le Jaunte.”

  “Maybe he hired a decorator?” Ryan offered again.

  “Yeah, maybe,” he replied absently, but it was clear the Admiral was not convinced.

  “Well,” said Anastasia, “I guess we might as well split up and search the place.”

  Admiral Atgard nodded his assent and walked through the archway directly before him as Ryan and Anastasia each chose directions of their own. Daniel’s archway opened into a neat sitting room, where perfectly-matched teal leather sofas and chairs were arranged in a comfortable semicircle, facing a full-wall flat panel display that currently depicted an imaginary, though convincing, image of an exotic fish tank. Hanging plants again decorated the corners of the room, and several walls contained glass-covered recesses that held various statuettes and small sculptures.

  As Daniel turned to walk through another doorway on the room’s far wall, he caught a glimpse of a reflection on one of the niches’ glass surfaces. Spinning to find where the reflection had come from, his eyes finally narrowed on a recess on the wall beside him. The Admiral walked to the display case, opening the glass door, and reached in to grasp the sculpture it held. He looked at the piece, an exquisitely detailed abstract representation of the evolution of man, and tried to remember where he had seen it before. He closed his eyes and ran his fingers along the sculpture’s soft contours, his fingers remembering the unique shape and feel of the piece.

  And suddenly it hit him. Daniel remembered where he had seen the sculpture before.

  “Ryan, Anastasia, get in here.”

  When they arrived, Daniel was standing in the center of the room, slowly pivoting, his outstretched nanocomputer performing a video capture of the perimeter of the room.

  “What is it?” asked Anastasia, walking to him as he completed his rotation.

  “Doesn’t this whole house look somehow … familiar?” he asked absently, keying in a command on his nanocomputer. “Don’t you have a strange feeling you’ve seen it before somewhere?”

  “Well, I had kinda noticed it seemed sort of familiar,” she replied, thinking. “But I thought it was just because it was so cozy.”

  “Cozy and antiseptic,” Ryan interjected. “Sir, other than the outer doorknob, I have yet to find a single fingerprint, hair follicle, or speck of dust in this whole house.”

  “That’s because he doesn’t actually live up here, Ryan,” replied the Admiral, still staring at his nanocomputer. Finally looking up, his face contorted into a wide grin.

  “But I made sure to check the logs on his locator beacon, sir. He spent a great deal of time here.”

  “Perhaps, perhaps,” mused the Admiral. “But he doesn’t live here. Not in the sections of the house we’ve seen.”

  “It sure seems like he went through an awful lot of trouble to decorate a house he doesn’t actually live in,” Anastasia said.

  “But he didn’t go through any trouble at all, Ana,” said Daniel as he keyed a button on his nanocomputer, causing it to project a display into the air. “I remember where I’ve seen all this before, and you probably do also.”

  Anastasia stared at the display, and she, too, smiled in recognition.

  Noticing Ryan’s confusion, Daniel explained. “You see, Ryan, this house is actually simply an exact, inch for inch replica of the Emperor’s Palace on Traxil IX, and not one thing is so much as a micrometer out of place. Neither Le Jaunte nor anyone else actually lives here.”

  “But the locator—” Ryan began.

  “If the locator said he was here, but he doesn’t actually live in this area …” prompted the Admiral.

  Anastasia picked up on where he was going. “Then he must live underneath this structure.”

  The Admiral nodded. “Alright, then. Let’s start looking for a way down.”

  • • •

  “Found it!”

  Daniel and Anastasia rushed to the sound of Ryan’s voice, finding the engineer kneeling in a corner of one of the bedrooms of the house.

  “I finally found a few more of Le Jaunte’s s
kin cells in this room, sir, so I performed a thorough scan. The computer found minute stress fractures in the floorboard of this corner,” Ryan explained, studying the floor where he had already ripped up the carpet. “They indicate an uneven distribution of force consistent with a non-load-bearing opening or trap door.”

  “Excellent,” replied the Admiral. “Now how do we open it?”

  “Well, sir, it won’t be easy,” he replied, scanning the area with his nanocomputer. “It’s magnetically and hermetically sealed. The lock is computer controlled, and appears to use a fractal code matrix with 1,024 kilobit encryption.”

  Daniel nodded, and as he did, the hairs on the back of his neck began to tingle and a sudden shiver ran through him. He had the unmistakable feeling that he was being watched. Reflexively, Daniel looked above him, and noticed that the slowly-spinning ceiling fan had begun to wobble precariously.

  “Look out!” he yelled, diving at Anastasia and tackling her onto the bed just seconds before the ceiling fan came crashing down, impacting on the edge of the bed and falling to the floor with a resounding crash.

  “Everyone okay?” asked the Admiral, getting off Anastasia and helping her to her feet.

  “I’m fine, Admiral,” Ryan replied, surveying the damage the fallen fan had caused. “That was one heavy fan.”

  “And one unfortunate coincidence,” Anastasia grumbled. “One would almost think that was somehow done intentionally.”

  “Yes,” mused the Admiral, warily looking around the room. “One would almost think.”

  • • •

  While Ryan worked on the electronic combination, Daniel and Anastasia searched the remainder of the house, using their nanocomputers to compare video captures of the various rooms to the schematics of the Emperor’s Palace, but not a single thing was found to be out of place. Indeed, it seemed Le Jaunte had somehow made an exact duplicate of the Palace, which the Admiral remembered visiting for a diplomatic function several years ago. Daniel, the more he thought about it, recalled being notably impressed by the Palace, which was suitably famous for its award-winning interior design.