Redemption Protocol (Contact)

by Mike Freeman

  The United Systems Ambassador pointed past Abbott.

  “Look at the light.”

  Abbott nodded.

  “Indeed, but just wait until the altar itself illuminates together with a facet in the ceiling that will brighten to reveal Ualus.”

  “Isn't the altar already lit?” the People's Republic Ambassador said.

  “You mean that glowing facet in the ceiling?” the United Systems Ambassador said.

  Jafari looked up at the illuminated altar, stunned. He gestured at Abbott to turn round. Abbott started to respond, confused.

  “Well...”

  Abbott noticed Jafari nodding at him and turned.

  “What? What the...”

  A Gathering soldier, marked with the elite colors of the Nmr Qátl, was kneeling on the altar with his arms raised. A stunning column of light rose from the altar to the ceiling. Surrounding the brilliant column was a halo that hovered near the ceiling. The halo was moving almost imperceptibly downward.

  The People's Republic Ambassador shook his head.

  “It's incredible. Truly, it is one of the wonders of the universe.”

  The United Systems Ambassador looked at Abbott.

  “Is this meant to be happening?”

  Abbott turned to Jafari. Jafari spread his hands. He had no idea. Abbott flicked his gaze upward to indicate the Gathering soldier.

  > Do you have any idea how to stop this?

  Jafari shook his head.

  > No, but if we're going to try we need to do it right now, Ambassador. Otherwise...

  Abbott stared up at the column of light.

  > The genie is out of the bottle.

  164.

  Tyburn monitored the building confrontation with Havoc from the shuttle cockpit.

  Sensor fusion blended the myriad of data pouring into their battlespace. Each possible track had a confidence level assigned to it. If there was a single high confidence track, or multiple low confidence tracks that together provided a sufficient joint likelihood, then these tracks were promoted to targets. The battlespace displayed a bright dot showing each target's most likely position and surrounded it with a spheroid denoting its ninety percent confidence level. All well and good.

  The problem was that, despite sophisticated probabilistic analysis, the targets oscillated wildly around the battlespace at impossible speeds and surrounded by massive, and therefore useless, balloons of probabilistic confidence. The sheer strength of Havoc's electronic warfare package was overwhelming Intrepido. They were being outfought at the sensor level. And Havoc was moving and they were not – Havoc knew exactly where they were.

  Tyburn had seen enough. He turned to Ekker and spun a finger in the air as he open a channel to Intrepido.

  “We've got the signal. We're moving out to meet the ORC.”

  Intrepido's response was curt, his concentration focused elsewhere.

  “Ok.”

  Ekker piloted the shuttle away from the shaft, staying low as they headed north west. They exchanged interrogate friend or foe information with the six-legged ORC walkers as they passed overhead. The ORC walkers strode away from the shaft with the alien energy systems swinging underneath them, their speed deceptive. Tyburn relaxed back into his seat.

  “Looks like the ORC should be nicely clear.”

  Ekker nodded.

  “The ORC should be moving into the pyramid as well soon, shouldn't they?”

  Tyburn tracked the disposition of their decoy platforms as they spread outward from their flight path on diverging tracks.

  “Any minute I think. We're still on for the clean sweep. The energy systems, the alien and the scientists.”

  “You don't think Havoc will pursue us?”

  “Of course, after he's checked the shaft.”

  “At which point he'll be dead.”

  “Right.”

  Ekker banked the shuttle northward.

  “Who took out Darkwood?”

  Tyburn shrugged.

  “The saboteur. Or enemy action. I can’t see how anyone uncovered him working with us.”

  “And the saboteur?”

  Tyburn thought about it.

  “Difficult. I think either Jafari or Stephanie is Section Nine and the other one is the spy. Maybe one of the boy princes if they really are boys. Havoc will know it too, but he'll put the sabotage down to us.”

  “Time to target the platform on the Intrepid?”

  “Yes.”

  “Go live?”

  Tyburn shook his head.

  “No, not yet. But we might need to destroy the Intrepid to get the scientists from the Colosseum.”

  “Only Weaver is left.”

  “Weaver is enough.”

  “Who will it be?”

  Tyburn gazed out of the window.

  “Hmm. Let's help the ORC gather some data on the new Empire of the Sun superweapon.”

  Ekker transmitted targeting data to the Alliance sleeper platform that Tyburn had subverted on deployment.

  “The EOS Brilliance it is.”

  Tyburn smiled as he closed his eyes and savored the moment.

  “Alright. Let's save our lead scientist from the madman.”

  165.

  On the bridge of the ORC battlecruiser Relentless, Admiral Szabo gazed out through the large window into space. It was his favorite position on the ship.

  The bronze immensity of Plash stretched away beneath him, its roiling atmosphere a swirling palette of bronze, mahogany and gold. The rim of the planet gleamed with an ephemeral white-gold halo created by Jötunn's fierce light.

  Behind him, in the pit that was their secondary combat control center, the main holo displayed a live image of the alien pyramid thousands of kilometers below him. On the holo, just north of the pyramid, the position of his assault team was highlighted.

  Szabo contemplated the planet.

  “You are ready to commence the assault, Captain?”

  “We are in position, Comrade Admiral.”

  “Resistance?”

  “Nothing so far. Opposition forces look manageable. We anticipate no problems. There is a group of the Gathering approaching the western entrance.”

  Szabo turned at this revelation. The captain highlighted positions around the pyramid on the holo.

  “The Alliance camp and the northern entrance look deserted. The People's Republic and the United Systems are assembling in the south.”

  “Excellent.”

  “Proceed, Comrade Admiral?”

  “Take care not to damage the alien, Captain. We want it alive and in good humor.”

  “Understood, Comrade Admiral.”

  “Proceed.”

  “Surface team, proceed. Take care not to damage the alien.”

  166.

  Intrepido followed Havoc's approach as best he could. The tracks in his battlespace leaped around in defiance of physics. He smiled as he saw a pattern and opened a circuit to Tyburn.

  “I think he's coming from the south east, Tyburn, he's turned. Just like you said he would.”

  “Great news. Let's use the magnetic field that God gave this planet, Intrepido. You got those Starfish ready?”

  Intrepido had been skeptical of Tyburn's manner at first but he couldn't deny it – in the heat of battle, having Tyburn on his side gave him confidence. Tyburn was always one step ahead; he always had another card to play.

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “When you get the forward reference, let them all go.”

  “All of them? But––”

  “But nothing, Intrepido. Trust my instincts. Let 'em go.”

  “Alright. Incoming...”

  “Count me in.”

  “On three, Sir.”

  Intrepido watched the probabilistic curves converge.

  “Three...”

  “Two...”

  167.

  Havoc rocketed over the surface of Plash, five seconds from the shaft.

  The vacuum where his soul used to reside – the utter
desolation of eleven years in the wilderness – was about to be expunged. Killing Forge was all that mattered. He didn't feel pressure, he felt liberated. There was nowhere Forge could take this fight that he wouldn't follow. God help Forge, because no one else would.

  He knew there was a chance that Stone was still alive – Forge wouldn’t hesitate to use Stone as a diversion if he could. Havoc didn't know how he would react to that – Forge was every point of his compass now.

  Ahead of him loomed a pair of gigantic towers. The immense hyperboloid structures erupted from the planet's surface in front of him, only ten kilometers from the shaft. He would decelerate brutally as he threaded between them. He expected a massive barrage when he slowed – he’d be traveling predictably and generating so much heat it would be impossible to hide. His fleet would be tested to the limit.

  He curved upward as the gigantic towers raced toward him. Missiles streaked out from concealed positions high on the alien structures. It happened slowly enough for him to register but too fast for him to react properly. He worked to discriminate the genuine targets from the decoys.

  Five Starfish blazed on his battlespace; nuclear EMP weapons designed to generate a massive E1 pulse using the planet's magnetic field. His remaining laser platform lit one Starfish up, blowing out its control system. It glittered as it broke up in flight. His electronic warfare platforms targeted another Starfish and mission killed it. There was a flash as it veered into a tower.

  Three Starfish arced across the sky kilometers overhead. His platforms launched salvo after salvo of missiles upward.

  Too far.

  Too slow.

  Too late.

  He decelerated brutally as he flashed his suit, retracted interfaces and de-powered and flooded key systems. His aerial frame cockpit was shielded, but that would mean almost nothing directly under the three nuclear gamma bombs. His platforms had Faraday boxes, induction shielding and other mechanisms to minimize EMP effects, but the weapons were so close that mission kill seemed inevitable.

  The Starfish detonated.

  His platform telemetry surged then ceased. Their glowing debris streaked away and burned up. He was too close. The systems in his aerial frame surged and blew. What had been a functional hypersonic vehicle was now a spinning disc of composite junk. He ejected explosively, knowing he was flying far too fast for a safe exit.

  The wind shear smashed him straight back into his aerial frame. His suit pulverized the vehicle like a mallet through cinder toffee. He spun in the atmosphere, traveling insanely fast. His hopeless non-aerodynamic profile generated shock waves that he fought to get under control. His suit temperature shot up two thousand degrees as he rapidly decelerated.

  The hydrodynamic shock fronts from the nukes hit his suit like three hammers on one nail. He was punched downward like a rag doll. He desoaked and reactivated his suit as he tumbled, fighting for a stable orientation.

  He shot toward the right hand tower as salvo after salvo of missiles launched skyward from the shaft – Intrepido's coup de grâce. Given the temperature of his suit, he knew he would stand out like a penny whore at a society dinner. Time dilated as his mind worked in bullet time. His jetpack would never stop him spinning into the rocket barrage that spelled certain destruction.

  He explosively ejected the auxiliary power cell out of the back of his suit. When it was ten meters away he partially blew it and braced for impact. The shock wave was a lot more immediate than the nukes. His suit's active armor blew out as he was kicked sideways.

  The explosion gave him the directional nudge and deceleration he needed to crash into one of the sloping surfaces of the tower at a survivable angle. He screeched hundreds of meters across the curving surface of the disc and into shelter from the incoming rocket barrage. Micromissiles swarmed from his launchers to interdict missiles curving round the rear of the tower. Directional micronukes obliterated enemy munitions. He rolled and boosted from his suit jets, launching forward, thrusting his jetpack as he sought to maximize his cover. He was most of the way round the tower when a layer cake of explosions ruptured the very fabric of the atmo around him.

  168.

  Intrepido scowled at the holo, willing for Havoc to vanish.

  “There it is! Got him.”

  Tyburn’s reaction was instantaneous.

  “Confirmed kill?”

  “No, he's ejected from his frame. He's lit up though. He’s fucking glowing. Another explosion, very close. I think his secondary systems have blown.”

  “Did it take him into cover?”

  “Affirmative, behind the tower.”

  “It's a pack jump, Intrepido, his armor will be damaged.”

  “A pack jump? Is that shit even real? The only people I ever saw try that didn't live to regret it.”

  “The barrage?”

  The skyline erupted with explosions around the two towers. Intrepido was bemused by the question.

  “You can't see it?”

  “Of course. What other assets do we have nearby?”

  “Three blades in the canyons leading to the shaft. And the G6. Which he doesn't even know exists.”

  “Can you move the blades toward the tower and intercept?”

  Intrepido felt his confidence returning as he transitioned to the blades.

  “Already done, Sir. And you can leave the tactics to me.”

  “You’re good?”

  Intrepido grinned.

  “He's lost his frame and his electronic warfare platforms. He’ll jet or cover the ground to get here. Either way he'll be slow. The ambush didn't kill him but it might as well have. My blades will fucking shred him.”

  “You're tracking him now?”

  Intrepido paused.

  “I think so. Not sure what he's doing though.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “He's heading up the tower, not down.”

  “He’s moving up the tower?”

  ~ ~ ~

  Havoc thrust up around the lip of the next disc, moving up the giant tower, seeking cover as he intercepted another set of missiles a hundred meters below him. He flew with his jetpack and boosted from his suit thrusters where possible, working around the structure, threading walls, columns and levels for cover. Intrepido was pounding the tower pretty hard. And as soon as Intrepido was sure he was going upward, Havoc was sure he would light him up even more.

  He launched his SLAM from orbit as he spun left, jetting round the tower. His suit lasers subverted three missiles and they exploded off the walls below him. He doubled back, dropping down a level into cover to avoid the next burst as he detonated a micronuke overhead. The spread of rockets above him was obliterated.

  He was astonished at the performance of his munitions and his suit. The only thing that surprised him more than they did was his own capability. He’d been good before he’d died – he’d been the best. He didn’t have words to describe his capability now. His suit was extraordinary. He felt like it was holding him back. Is this what it felt like to be eXtraordinary? Because it felt incredible.

  He jetted higher, fighting for height.

  ~ ~ ~

  Tyburn frowned as he studied the battlespace in his mind’s eye.

  “What the fuck is he doing?”

  Intrepido licked his lips.

  “Painting himself into a corner. He knows the blades are there.”

  Tyburn was confused. He didn't like the feeling.

  “Take him. Hit that fucking tower with everything.”

  Ekker looked at Tyburn, apparently surprised by Tyburn’s emotive outburst.

  Intrepido nodded.

  “Done. The top of that tower is about to become hell.”

  An alarm chimed in their battlespace and a calm female voice spoke.

  “Orbital launch. Nuclear launch detected. We have a SLAM inbound.”

  “Impacting where?” Tyburn demanded.

  Intrepido analyzed.

  “For our position at the shaft. No, wait. Discriminating. For H
avoc. Someone is trying to take out Havoc.”

  “Orbital launch. Nuclear launch detected. We have a SLAM inbound.”

  Intrepido killed the alarm. Tyburn frowned heavily.

  “Can we take the nuke out?”

  Intrepido shook his head as he worked frenetically.

  “Negative, low confidence of intercept... It looks like Havoc's SLAM.”

  “What the fuck is going on?”

  “No idea.”

  “The nuke, Intrepido. Count us in.”

  “Ground impact on the tower on five.”

  “Ok.”

  “Five... What the fuck is that?”

  Silence.

  Tyburn glared at the console.

  “Update, please, Intrepido.”

  “I have a track moving between the towers.”

  “The SLAM?”

  “Toward the SLAM.”

  “Havoc?”

  “Affirmative.”

  Tyburn’s bewilderment was total.

  “Havoc is moving toward the nuke?”

  ~ ~ ~

  Havoc launched from the edge of the disc, blasting from his jetpack, boot and hip thrusters. He needed everything to pull this off – it was all or nothing. He spun and fired at the disc he was leaving. The explosion smashed into him, accelerating him dramatically. He arced across the sky, a sitting duck as he rocket jumped and thrust at maximum to cover the gap between the two towers. He would be in the atmo for just under three seconds. A lifetime.

  Behind him the top of the first tower disappeared in a raging inferno, explosions building on explosions as the tower was shrouded by plasmite detonations. The missile shock waves battered him, the searing flames grasping outward as shrapnel rattled his suit like hail. Intrepido must have hit the tower with everything. Hopefully that meant Intrepido didn’t have a lot left.

  A salvo of missiles at the trailing edge of Intrepido’s barrage redirected to annihilate him. He rotated in the atmo, kinetics poured from his tricannons and micromissiles flooding out of his launchers to intercept them. His suit systems injected code to subvert one of the warheads and it detonated in flight, destroying most of the remaining barrage. His suit lasers blinded and mission killed three of the remainder, diverting them off track as his micromissiles destroyed the final two warheads.