“Which means you’re dealing with one or more members, likely top-level leaders, who are very wealthy. And wealthy usually means powerful.”
“Yup—and we’ve gained woefully little insight into the leadership. The street-level thugs who’ve been arrested at protests at most know the person running their individual cells. We—” he stopped himself “—Alliance Intelligence is watching the cell leaders, but thus far they’ve physically stayed away from the principals.
“Quillen is as close as we’ve gotten, but we didn’t pick her up until after she left Earth—and she doesn’t have the kind of money we’re talking about. So even with all those members we’ve identified—the ones you saw on the map the other night—the ones pulling the strings remain hidden.”
Richard finished off the glass and set it aside. “The underlying problem is they never gather in person outside of protests or attacks—which are manned by front-line grunts, not the power players—and we’ve been unable to crack their comm network. But the VISH got inside it…you think it can up its game, poke around and report back what it finds?”
Will cleared his throat from the doorway. Richard shifted around in the chair to discover him smiling. “I think it can.”
EARTH
LONDON
Jude’s hands balled into fists as he tromped in savage circles around the bedroom. On passing his desk he kicked the chair against it, then kicked it again.
New Babel had been a disaster. So far as he could determine, every last person who participated in the raid was dead. Certainly Echols was dead. He’d managed to locate a cell member who didn’t accompany the others on the raid due to an injury and tasked him with gathering information, but the signs didn’t bode well.
Worse, Olivia Montegreu still lived. It wasn’t yet clear whether she was now a human-Artificial abomination, but given the turn his luck had taken it seemed likely.
The intel from the Seneca cell had been accurate as far as it went, but his people had walked into a trap. One of the last transmissions sent by the team reported multiple Alliance commandos on the scene. Were they also going after Montegreu and the Artificial, or had their target been the New Babel OTS cell all along?
If the Alliance Fleet Admiral was under the control of one of these hybrid monstrosities, perhaps she was trying to increase their numbers. Perhaps she was working with Montegreu.
The implications were horrifying. They exceeded everything OTS had tried to warn the public loomed on the horizon if they didn’t take steps to remove the Artificial influence from society.
But the intel hadn’t come from an Alliance-based cell—it had come from Seneca. The Alliance and the Federation continued to play nice since the Metigen War—though according to his mother relations were chilling—but it was still an incongruity. He did not trust incongruities.
He studied the details on the Seneca cell. An Ulric Toscano led it—new to the cause, but he had been recruited by one of his most trusted lieutenants, Faith Quillen.
He contacted Faith through their secure channel.
“Jude, hi. Checking in on the plans for the Chuong op?”
“No. This Senecan recruit, Toscano. How confident are you in his loyalties?”
“As confident as I can be. I put him through the gauntlet and did a full background scan. He’s a smart guy and appears to be a true believer. Why?”
“Something’s squirrelly in the Seneca cell. I suspect they either have a plant or a security leak.”
“Damn. Okay, they’re my responsibility. I’ll get someone—no, I’ll look into it myself.”
“Please do. In the meantime, trap and review every piece of data that comes out of Seneca prior to acting on it.”
“Understood.”
A knock at the door stole his attention, and he ended the connection. “Yes?”
His mother stuck her head in. “I thought I heard something and wanted to see how you were.” She regarded him with parental scrutiny. “You look upset—is something wrong?”
He forced a neutral expression. “No, Mother. Everything’s good. I may need to pay a visit to the Pandora chapter of the charity though.”
“Another trip, so soon? Do what you feel you need to, but don’t forget your father’s birthday is next week.”
“Yes, a small gathering of your thousand closest friends at the Tate Britain. It’s on my calendar.”
She nodded, outwardly ignoring any bite in his response, and retreated. As soon as the door closed behind her, he returned to the matter at hand.
He no longer had enough people on New Babel to target the Zelones Artificial. But it was becoming increasingly obvious the root of the problem was located here at home.
The Alliance military’s Artificial, codenamed ‘ANNIE,’ must be expanding its sphere of influence. It constituted the ultimate source of the growing crisis. If the Artificial could be neutralized, maybe the situation could be diffused before it grew out of control.
35
PANDORA STELLAR SYSTEM
ANESI ARCH ORBITAL STATION
* * *
THE FOUCAULT-MODEL STATION ORBITED unusually high above Pandora, almost as if it didn’t desire to associate itself too closely with the planet.
Malcolm suspected the reality wasn’t far off—it likely was positioned at such a distance so the endless parade of tourists wouldn’t assume it was one of the local attractions. Given its complex, multi-ringed rotation and gyroscopic appearance, it nevertheless did somewhat resemble one.
The station’s actual purpose wasn’t entirely clear, but it accepted arrivals from pre-approved private, and in this case, military transports. They received authorization and docked in a berth on an inner ring.
Malcolm stood once the clamps engaged. “Devore, Paredes, you’re with me. Everyone else stay on board. Dr. Canivon, whenever you’re ready.”
She nodded, patting her hair into place as she followed him through the airlock.
Devore took point and Paredes rear guard behind them, and he slowed his gait to fall in beside her. “I received orders to take you to Suite C-47b and guard it until you’re ready to return to Earth…” he glanced at her “…but I haven’t been told what this is regarding. Do you happen to know?”
She notched one shoulder upward in a hint of a shrug. “I have a vague notion. It shouldn’t involve anything requiring your skill set.”
Her eyes were cool and calculating and her expression aloofly blank. He suspected she knew a lot more than a ‘vague notion,’ but she displayed no interest in sharing the knowledge. Also, he was fairly certain she’d just insulted his intellect.
The government didn’t pay him to like those under his protection, however; it paid him to protect them. He didn’t rise to the bait.
The interior of the station was an almost blinding white-on-white, sporting glossed ivory walls and harsh effulgent backlighting trimming every edge. It was as far away as the spectrum went from the military designed environments he typically inhabited, but neither did it resemble typical commercial decor. Interesting, but also not his business.
When they reached their destination—a well-labeled but otherwise innocuous door on the right side of the gradually curving hallway—Dr. Canivon placed a hand on his arm. “Colonel, I need you and your men to wait outside. I assure you I will be in no danger inside, but this is a classified matter for which you are not cleared.”
So she did know what this was about. “Ma’am, I need to check this room. Once I’m satisfied it’s safe I’ll leave you to your business, but after the effort we went through to get you off New Babel alive, I’m not taking any risks with your safety now.”
“You have my word—”
“My mission is to see you reach Earth unharmed. Until I’ve done that, your safety is my highest priority. Period. I’m going in this room, or you aren’t.”
Her lips drew into a thin line. “Only you, and no questions unrelated to security.” She gave him a withering look as he entered a passcode on the s
ecurity panel.
He directed Paredes and Devore to take up positions on either side of the door. “Wait here.” Then he stepped inside, closed and locked the door behind him before she could slip through.
Half a dozen unmarked crates were stacked along the left wall of the suite. Two permanent data stations were built into the opposite wall, and a refreshment kiosk was tucked into one corner. The rest of the room was populated by couches, chairs and tables suitable for relaxing or holding a casual meeting. The far wall looked out on the stars and the planet below.
A young man sat on one of the couches with his head dropped against the generous cushion as if he were asleep; he wasn’t. A woman stood at the viewport, her back to them. Several travel bags rested next to the couches.
“Colonel Malcolm Jenner, Earth Alliance Marine Special Operations. I need to confirm this area is secure before allowing Dr. Canivon to enter.”
The woman at the viewport spun around. “Colonel Jenner, truly? What a splendid coincidence.”
She was petite and slender, with olive skin and raven hair—and iridescent eyes that marked her as a Prevo. He gazed at her in utter shock. Whatever he had been expecting to find in the room, this was not it. “Mia Requelme? But you’re….”
A corner of her mouth curled up. “Dead? In a coma? A vegetable? MIA?”
“Several of those things.”
“Yes, I was…several of those things, until very recently.” She crossed the room to him and grasped his hands in hers as if they were old friends. “I understand I have you to thank for me not being the first one. I’m glad I have the opportunity to express my gratitude.”
He smiled in spite of himself. It was quite a relief to find her awake and seemingly in good health. “One of my men attacked your home—and you by extension. It was my duty. Regardless, you were under my protection. From my perspective, I failed at my job.”
“Oh, no, Colonel Jenner. You did your job superbly.”
“After they took you to Earth, the only thing anyone would tell me was you were alive and under medical care. I couldn’t find out anything more, not even from Alex.” He allowed his eyes to dance a little. “And I did try.”
“I’m sure.” She peered past his shoulder toward the door. “Abigail is probably getting concerned at this point. We should let her in.”
He sighed. “Ms. Requelme, what—”
“Please, call me Mia. We did share a near-death experience, after all.”
“All right, if you’ll reciprocate. Mia, what’s going on here?”
“It’s better if I don’t tell you. Bring Abigail in, wait outside for around thirty minutes or so—” she looked to the young man for confirmation and received a vague motion of agreement “—then take her to EASC and return to your posting.”
He regarded her with a Marine’s intensity. “Something is happening with Project Noetica, isn’t it? Dr. Canivon’s areas of expertise are not a secret. If you’re in trouble, we can protect you.”
“If ‘we’ is the Earth Alliance military, then no, you can’t. I’m sorry, Malcolm, but you don’t want to get involved. Trust me on this.”
“With respect, Ms. Req—Mia, you don’t know me nearly well enough to judge what I do or do not want.”
Her lips parted, and a second later a soft chuckle emerged from them. “So I don’t. Fine—I don’t want you to get involved. I don’t need it on my conscience. Listen, I’m thrilled I got the chance to tell you in person how much I appreciate you saving my life, but we’re operating on a tight schedule, so please show Abigail in now.”
He stood his ground. “I honestly do need to check the room first. Let me do my job.”
“Right.” She stepped away, out of his personal space, and gestured toward the couch. “This is…damn, I shouldn’t tell you his name. I’m sorry. Again.” The young man tossed him a half-hearted wave.
She pointed at the crates. “Those contain computer equipment, and these are our personal bags. There’s a lavatory and kitchen station back here, and that’s everything. It’s a harmless meeting room.”
He inspected the lavatory and kitchen and found them empty except for toiletries and snacks. Returning to the main room, he went over and ran a hand along the crates, discretely scanning them with the device in his other hand. Most were inert, but a weak, diffuse energy signal emitted from one of the crates.
“This energy signature—why is it active? Is it powering something?”
Mia’s eyes slid away from him as she pivoted to the viewport. He couldn’t read emotion in those eccentric, shining irises, but he was left with the unmistakable sense there had been pain in her face.
“Is it powering something?”
The young man on the couch let out a groan. “It’s powering her, soldier-man, so take care not to turn it off.”
Malcolm’s gaze shot to the man, but he had thrown his head back on the cushion once more and closed his eyes. Malcolm took several steps toward Mia, who had not outwardly reacted to the statement and continued to focus on the stars outside. “Is that true?”
The ripple of her hair was the primary indicator of her quick, miniscule nod.
He didn’t understand. Had they done something to her while she lay helpless in a coma? Did it have something to do with her connection to the Artificial? Of course it did, it must. But what could it possibly mean? Maybe Dr. Canivon had been right to insult his intellect.
He swallowed heavily. “What are you?”
She whipped around at that. “Me. Whatever else I am, I’m still a person, and the same person I was before all of this. It just so happens I can no longer walk and talk without a bit of help from the Artificial.”
The glow in her eyes seemed far stranger and otherworldly now. He told himself it was his imagination, brought on by a shift in his perception of her. “Because of the attack, and the stroke you suffered.”
A more resolute nod. “I am alive, and I am me…but there are a few strings attached. That’s all.”
“Is this why Dr. Canivon is here?”
“No.”
He frowned. “Really?”
“Yes, really. I told you—for your own sake, don’t get involved. Now please, every minute you stand here pushing, you’re putting us in greater danger.” She glared at him with a measure of the dynamism he remembered from Romane. “Send Abigail in.”
He stared at her for a beat, then exhaled. “Yes, ma’am.” He turned on a heel and all but marched out, the whole time vowing to himself this was not the end of the matter.
Abigail scrutinized Devon with clinical rigor—not using tools, but solely with her eyes.
She noted the lines at the corner of his eyelids and the faint prominence of blood vessels throughout the sclera, both of which suggested sleep deprivation. She detected no other external symptoms of distress, however. His skin wasn’t flush or sweating. His breathing was normal. His pupils weren’t dilated nor his gaze jerky. He was fidgeting, but he’d always fidgeted.
On the whole he looked to be holding himself together surprisingly well in the face of the severing of his connection to Annie. She understood this hadn’t been true in the immediate aftermath, which was the source of her concern. Other considerations aside, she couldn’t in good conscience do what he asked of her if he remained in a heightened state of anxiety, panic or stress such that it impaired his decision-making ability.
When she hadn’t spoken for several seconds, Mia cleared her throat. “We brought Vii with us, because we didn’t know if you…would be making it back to Vancouver, and we didn’t want to leave her to the whims of the Military Oversight Committee, or even EASC for that matter. But obviously you can take her with you.”
She shifted her attention to Mia, still in physician mode. The woman had made a rapid recovery and now showed no visible signs of having spent the last seven months in a coma. Ideally she’d like to see at least one more dynamic neural scan, but it didn’t appear further tests were going to be possible. And she didn’t care for
the idea of sending Mia off on her own while the woman depended on the Artificial for the most basic waking functionality, but this too now seemed out of her control.
“We can talk about Vii later. Annie, how confident are you this displacement will be successful?”
‘Seventy-eight percent, Dr. Canivon. You’ve done much of the research yourself, and I suspect you already believed it was feasible.’
“Early-stage research. Devon, there is a non-negligible chance this procedure will overload your brain function, killing both you and the essence of Annie in the process.”
He shook his head firmly, and his stare carried an uncommon level of vehemence. “It’ll work. Annie and I have adapted to one another more than anyone realizes these last months.”
Not more than she realized, but now wasn’t the time to point it out. What they were proposing represented not merely an extension of what had been done in Noetica, but a transformation above and beyond it.
Still, with the implants, bridge and ware in place on both ends, her skills were only required due to the damage the clumsy attack routine and firewall had inflicted; from a process perspective it was a simple matter. From every other perspective it promised staggering implications.
And if it worked, she wouldn’t be able to study the results, because Devon was being forced to run. Her bitterness at the Alliance grew another notch, now surely surpassing its previous height before her resignation over a decade ago.
She didn’t voice any of this, for she kept her own counsel in all things, and instead focused on the pragmatic. “Annie, are you positive you’re ready to abandon your databanks, top-level access to classified information and your prestigious role at EASC?”
‘What I leave behind will be sufficient to serve the Earth Alliance. They have failed to utilize the full extent of my potential since the Metigens were defeated and are unlikely to miss what I take with me.’
She smiled. “A valid analysis.” In truth the response proved better than any test she might conduct that Annie was ready for this. Was Devon? He unquestionably acted as if he was ready for it. She had no way to know for certain, but so long as he was physically and mentally healthy she could find no justification to deny him the choice.
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