Aristide didn’t bother with the shrug this time. “More or less.”
“Then what are we grousing over? Without this Project Noetica, we’re all dead. With it, we’re only maybe all dead.”
“Wow, Graham, you really know how to look on the bright side of things.”
“I do try.”
Aristide drew his chair in closer to his desk. “We’re grousing over the fact we just stood at the crossroads and made a deal with the Devil without knowing the terms of the arrangement. If there were any other option available to us, if the stakes were anything other than complete annihilation, I would never have allowed it. Humans employ weapons of terrifying power as it is…to put such power in the hands of Artificials?”
“In fairness, Artificials controlled by humans.”
“So they say. Not real clear how it works in practice.”
Graham eased back in his chair, deciding it was best to refrain from provoking Vranas further when he was not in the best state of mind. “What’s Brennon’s opinion on the matter?”
“That we must do whatever it takes. I of course agreed. And I do. I merely hope God forgives us our sins when this is all ended.”
He had no response, so he turned to Gianno. “And Commander Lekkas? How are we intending to use her?”
Gianno smiled; it might have carried a touch of wryness, but it was hard to tell. “She solved the technical difficulties plaguing the arcalaser weaponry in less than three hours—without any help from STAN—so we’re scrambling to install it on as many fighters as we can. The hardware’s unfortunately too complex to push it to the larger vessels in time.
“Then? She’s a fighter pilot, and a damn good one. So I believe we’re going to see what she can do when upwards of a thousand fighters equipped with bending lasers are at her command.”
Graham had been back in his office less than five minutes when Will Sutton walked in.
The agent had arrived on Seneca shortly after he returned from Pandora and had been a tremendous help the last several days. He hadn’t appreciated exactly how much work Oberti had done to keep Division running smoothly.
While Sutton was not asking to nor would he likely accept if offered the position of Graham’s deputy, the man had a keen mind and an eye for detail. They had worked together to track down the perpetrators of the safe house bombing and continued cleaning up the mess left in Oberti’s wake.
He motioned to one of the chairs opposite his desk and decreased the tint on the window behind him. A steel-hued sunrise bathed the office in early dawn light. “I just left a meeting with Chairman Vranas. It seems we’ve taken the leap and assigned our fate to some Artificials, a hot-shot fighter pilot, an uber-wunderkind and Alex Solovy.”
Will chuckled as he settled in the chair. “I don’t know about the others, but Alex is good, Director. I admit I never thought I’d see her in this particular position, but I have faith she’s up to the task.” His brow furrowed a little. “Assuming she realizes cursing in Russian at the Metigens will probably not be sufficient to convince them to leave.”
“You never know.” Graham tried and failed to stifle a yawn. “It’s either ridiculously late or horrifically early, I can’t be sure. What you got?”
“Something which I suspect will result in you not getting that elusive sleep anytime soon.”
40
KRYSK
SENECAN FEDERATION COLONY
* * *
“SIR, THE STEALTH RECONNAISSANCE CRAFT is reporting deployment of all mines.”
Liam jerked his head in approval. “Order it to return to the Akagi.”
He took a step closer to the viewport, clasped his hands at parade rest behind his back and waited for the fireworks. The Akagi hovered too distant for the triple orbital arrays to be visible with the unaided eye except for the occasional glint of sunlight off the scaffolding. The detonations, however, most certainly would be visible.
He directed half his observation to the visual scanner as the first array node approached the location of the mines. Their placement had been tricky, as Krysk deployed the most robust array network they had contended with thus far: three stacked arrays moving in a staggered pattern, two synchronous and one counter to the planet’s orbit to provide maximum coverage. All but six of the Akagi’s supply of mines had been deployed in the tight grouping necessary to blow a hole sufficiently large in the defenses.
Just before the node came into position his focus sprung to the viewport. His pulse leapt in anticipation. 3…2…1….
A small plume erupted, then petered out into the surrounding space. A puny little explosion. It was followed two seconds later by another, similarly puny event. The array and its framework continued to orbit unimpeded as one by one the interlocking nodes encountered the remaining mines and feeble detonations flared then faded away.
Liam blinked repetitively while his brain worked to process the absence of the expected spectacle.
“Those were not nuclear explosions. Were they, Colonel?”
In his peripheral vision his XO scrambled to study his tactical screens. “Uh, no, sir. It looks as if only the mines themselves detonated.”
Liam’s jaw ground tortuously together. “Would someone care to explain to me why there were no nuclear explosions?”
“I’m not sure, sir. Scans are picking up scattered pieces of the warheads…they appear to have been torn apart in the primary blasts but….”
“But nothing. Have the stealth craft load up more mines and try the fuck again.”
“Perhaps we should inspect the rest of the mines before deploying them?”
A rare intelligent suggestion. “Yes. Let’s do that.”
Liam spun to traipse vehemently across the breadth of the overlook; the space shrank to press in on him. Complications were the last thing he needed now. Krysk’s defense arrays represented a substantial challenge. If he strayed too close they were capable of crippling the cruiser with a single coordinated shot. If he wanted to reach the planet, he required a gap to slip through.
His thoughts had completed several mental loops when he noticed the XO stood fidgeting beside him. “What?”
“Sir, the warheads seem to have been…disarmed.”
“What do you mean, ‘disarmed’? Rearm them.”
“We can’t, sir. They’ve been rendered inert.”
“How many of them?”
“A-All of them, sir.”
“Dammit!” His fist slammed down on the railing to send a shudder through the overlook. “I want the traitors who did this found now!”
“I’ll alert the Security Chief to begin an investigation—”
“Get the flight deck and armament officers for the last three shifts in front of me ASAP.”
“Uh, excuse me, General O’Connell?”
He whipped around to the voice behind him. One of the ship systems officers, Lieutenant something-or-other, held a hand up.
“You have something to add, Lieutenant?”
“I might know something, sir. Last night when I was leaving the exercise room around 2030, I saw Captain Kone in the hallway near the armament room. I didn’t say anything at the time because I figured, special forces, he probably had a reason for being there.”
“Security, where is Kone now?”
“On the flight deck. You instructed the ground forces to prepare for possible deployment.”
“Get him up here. Forcibly.”
Captain Gregor Kone arrived on the bridge in the grasp of two MPs, his face blanched but his demeanor stoic. Arrogant, like all the MSOs.
The MPs halted their prisoner two meters from where Liam stood at the edge of the platform. He sneered at the young Marine. He’d have towered over Kone on equal footing, but from the overlook his looming presence dwarfed the man, arrogant or no.
“Captain, why were you in the armament room last night?”
The man’s Adam’s apple bobbed once. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, sir.”
“
Don’t even try denial with me, boy. You were seen leaving the armament room.”
The muscles beneath Kone’s cheeks flexed as his expression hardened and his stance stiffened. His voice resounded with annoying self-assurance. “I’m exercising my right under Earth Alliance Military Justice Code Section 5.1B to remain silent.”
Liam cracked his neck as his lips curled into a snarl. “So you were disarming the nukes then. You would know how to do it. Why? I didn’t think they let peacenik pansies into the special forces.”
“I am exercising my Section 5 right to remain silent.”
“Did you have help? Name the other traitors and I’ll consider mercy.”
“I am exercising my Section 5 right to—”
“Coward. As commanding officer of the EAS Akagi, I find you guilty of sedition and treason.” Liam drew his Daemon from its holster at his hip, leveled it at Kone’s forehead and pressed the trigger.
Screams and gasps rang through the bridge. He ignored them to jab a finger toward the body now sprawled on the floor in front of a wide spray of blood and other fluids.
“Have maintenance clean this mess up. Security, open an investigation into the Captain’s recent activities. He may not have been working alone. Now, did those pathetic blasts do any useful damage to the nodes?”
Receiving no response, he pivoted to find his XO gaping at the corpse. “Well? Did they?”
The XO jumped and skittered backwards. “I’ll ch-check….” He rushed to his station and studied the readouts as beads of sweat trickled down from his hairline. “It’s possible the first node was significantly damaged. We’ll need to send a drone in to confirm.”
“And the second and third?”
“Uh…some exterior damage, but their mechanisms are intact. Sir.”
Liam ran a hand across his buzz-cut hair. He needed to…needed to…needed to…. “Instruct six fighters to do blocking runs on those nodes and take them out.”
“Sir, the first two fighters—and possibly the third—on each run will be destroyed in the attempt.”
“I know they’ll be destroyed, you dolt. Tell the pilots to be ready to eject.”
“Yes, sir.”
It was a shame. He only had twelve fighters, a skeleton complement assigned to the cruiser for small, quick missions. But the Akagi, the frigates and the other fighters possessed sufficient firepower to inflict plenty of damage on the planet below; he could afford the sacrifice.
Liam turned his back on the gore decorating the floor as a medical crew and maintenance personnel arrived to begin cleaning it up. Eyes darted away from him as his leering stare passed over the bridge, but he didn’t care. Of course they feared him. Fear was control.
A few minutes later he was treated to a series of proper explosions as the fighters dive-bombed the array nodes. The first absorbed the attack while the second suicided into the node and the third fired on it. The debris, brute force impact and weapons fire combined to render it incapable of firing. The nodes managed to damage even the final fighters before being destroyed and two of the six pilots were lost, but the outcome was the same.
The resulting gap was small—any error in their trajectory and the adjoining nodes would target his ships—but it was enough. Satisfied, he squared his shoulders.
“Prepare for atmospheric traversal.”
In a dark, empty maintenance corridor on Deck 3, Brooklyn covered her mouth with one hand while the other grasped frantically for the wall behind her.
A wave of nausea roiled her stomach, threatening to send her to her knees. The scene replayed in her mind in a constant loop for which she couldn’t find the ‘stop’ command, and after the fourth replay she lost the battle against the nausea. She leaned over and vomited onto the grate floor, hoping the remnants of her lunch didn’t find their way to Deck 4 and land on the head of some unsuspecting soldier.
Guilt-flavored acid followed the vomit to lodge in her throat as she wiped her mouth with the sleeve of her shirt. Kone was dead because of her.
No. He’s dead because O’Connell is a deranged psychopath.
The certainty of the truth of the statement did little to ease her guilt. She was responsible for the sabotaged warheads; it had been her idea and she had been the one to drag him along to help. He should have ratted her out and saved his own damn skin! She should have—would have—taken the shot for him. Goddamn Marines and their goddamn honor….
She wouldn’t be expected to know about the execution, not immediately. The only reason she did know was due to the fact she’d planted a tiny surveillance cam near the entrance to the bridge days earlier and the feed went directly to her eVi. But no one knew about the cam. Not even Kone…which meant he’d given his life without knowing that she would learn the true nature and extent of his sacrifice.
Dammit, Kone, you stupid bastard. Her hands sank into her hair, and before she realized it she’d yanked out random locks and ruined her tight ponytail. Dammit. She needed to get herself together.
She also needed to prepare the correct response for when someone told her his fate. Ugh, they did not teach acting skills in Marine Recon. It had been all she could do to project detached professionalism when in O’Connell’s presence. How would she manage to not explode in rage the next time she saw him, much less act normal?
She would manage it because she had to do so, if she wanted Kone’s sacrifice to mean a damn thing. And she wasn’t going to have to do it for much longer, because O’Connell’s abhorrent, mad reign of terror was about to end, even if she had to die to make it happen. Kone had done no less.
Which, she admitted as she redid her ponytail then exited the corridor with renewed purpose and began taking a circuitous route to the engine room, she very well might.
“Mommy, I wanna go to the adventure store!”
Isabela ignored her daughter to concentrate on maneuvering through the chaotic airlanes near the spaceport. The fact the skycar’s navigation ware ostensibly would not allow a mid-air collision did little to ease her anxiety. There must surely be a point where the number of vehicles in proximity exceeded the abilities of the guidance system, and the skies above the spaceport had just as surely reached that point of saturation.
She’d expected the flow of traffic to be predominantly in the exit lanes since there were no departing ships, but such was not the case. Apparently she was far from the only person to make an in-person visit on the off chance the scheduling VI fudged the truth about the lack of departures in an effort to keep the crowds down.
The trip had been to no avail, of course. The aliens approached from the east; Krysk was the second westernmost Federation colony and the sole western colony with the infrastructure to support an influx of several million refugees.
“Anna said there’s a new holovid of Punkie Bear & Saskoo where you visit a hidden castle in the trees and I wanna visit the castle.”
The traffic eased as she left the spaceport behind, and she turned the attention freed up to considering what to do now. She believed Caleb’s warning that Krysk was in danger of being attacked by rogue Alliance ships—before being attacked by the aliens. She was grateful her mother had never made it to Krysk, having instead been taken under the protection of Caleb’s employer. The news feeds were reporting devastating attacks on New Cairo and Ogham by warships bearing Alliance markings, though official Alliance statements disavowed any association with the ‘incidents.’ And the peace accord did appear to otherwise be holding so far.
She’d get out of the city. Any military attack would concentrate on the population centers, so she and Marlee would head to one of the small towns a couple of hours into the countryside. Their bags were already packed and in the trunk of the skycar, so they didn’t even need to go home. Decision made, she swerved into the next northbound airlane—
“Mommy, the adventure store’s the other way!”
She breathed in and readied her ‘mom’ voice. “Sweetheart, we can’t go shopping downtown right now. We’re going to go s
tay at the lake we went to earlier this year for a few days.”
“But Mommy, I’ll be so bored. Please, please, please let’s get the holovid first. I can play in it while we’re at the boring lake.”
A glance at the passenger seat revealed her daughter in full-on pout mode, lower lip poked out and skinny little arms crossed theatrically across her chest. She grumbled inwardly. She shouldn’t fold—but if she didn’t fold, Marlee was going to whine and cry and be uncooperative in every way for hours if not days.
“Ten minutes. We go inside, get this holovid you want and leave—no browsing, no crying for other toys and no changing your mind. Do you understand me?”
Instantly Marlee was bouncing in the seat, squealing in delight. “Yes, ma’am. I know exactly what it looks like and I bet I know where it is in the store.”
With a grimace she reversed direction to head downtown.
Parking was a nightmare. Krysk’s infrastructure may be able to support the influx of refugees, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t sagging under their weight. She finally located a spot in a rooftop lot six blocks from ImaginA, a children’s store featuring interactive educational and entertainment offerings. They called their products “holovids,” but in truth they were closer to a light, introductory form of illusoire.
Marlee had unbuckled her harness, grabbed Mr. Freckles from the floorboard and scampered out of the car before Isabela had shut off the engine. “Wait for me, okay?” Even as she uttered the warning she recognized the futility of it and swiftly exited to hurry around and grab her daughter’s hand.
Marlee tugged her toward the lift and danced in circles on the ride down, but hesitated when they reached the street. “Which way is the store, Mommy?”
She smiled in spite of herself and guided Marlee to the left. She needed to remember to treasure these times when her daughter still needed her, because they would be gone before she could blink.
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