He withdrew a sheet of paper from a manila folder and slid it over to her, along with a pen. “We’re about to talk about some highly classified information. Before I can disclose it to you, I need you to read and then sign this. It’s a pretty standard form. Basically, you’re acknowledging that you’re about to be disclosed on some compartmentalized military intelligence, and you’ll be obligated to keep whatever you learn to yourself for the rest of your days. That means you can’t talk to anyone about what you learn here, including your friends and family.”
Priya lifted the paper and raised an eyebrow. “The military still does actual printed-out paperwork? It’s the twenty-third century, for God’s sake.”
The colonel shrugged. “We wouldn’t be the military if we didn’t stick to certain traditions.”
Priya read the document through to the end, nodded, signed, and slid it back across the desk. The butterflies in her stomach were dancing a jig as the colonel glanced at the paper and put it back in its folder. He sat back and stared silently in her direction for a few seconds. She wanted to jump up and scream, “Hurry up and tell me something, you bloody bastard!” But she maintained her composure and tried not to throw up.
“Let me start at the beginning,” said the colonel at last. “I knew both of your parents. In fact, they were founding members of Project Voyager. Their deaths were a great loss to this team, and I can’t even begin to imagine how it affected you. However, I’ve been keeping an eye on you from afar, especially since you joined the Academy. And I’m very, very impressed. Even though you’re taking a heavier course load than most of your peers, you’re sitting at the top of your class by a good margin. So, Priya, if you haven’t figured it out already, I’m trying to recruit you. Normally we’d wait until sometime next year before reaching out to prospective recruits, but this is not exactly a normal situation.”
That was exactly what Priya had been expecting, but she still felt a thrill of excitement to have it confirmed. At the same time her mind was whirling at the revelation that her parents had worked on this very same project. She’d known that they worked for the military doing science research, but they’d never taken their work home with them.
Jenkins continued. “Let me ask you a question or two. I know it was before you were born, but what do you think of the terrorist attack that occurred in The Hague against the UN’s First Council?”
Priya sat back, surprised by the question. “I don’t know that I’ve ever given it much thought. Of course I learned about it in school. The attack coincided with the first meeting of the UNFC. The year before, radicals protested the UN’s greater role in how resources were coordinated globally.” She shrugged. “I guess some didn’t trust the new court system, the First Council, or perhaps any part of what had to feel to them like a very distant government. They were used to controlling everything themselves. I’d say that’s understandable. Still, the protestors had to be mental. Violence wasn’t going to help the situation.”
Jenkins nodded. “Okay, and what about the attack seven years ago?”
A wave of emotion bubbled up inside Priya. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly before carefully choosing her words. “Seven years ago, the terrorists attacked this campus. A couple missiles were launched, but the Patriot laser defenses worked… for the most part.”
Memories of the news reports replayed in her mind. The campus had been saved, but two of the missiles had been deflected. One of those missiles struck the tube her parents were traveling in at the time—directly causing their deaths. And yet their loss was barely a footnote in that evening’s news reporting.
Her voice sounded small as she continued. “My parents died in that attack. I would have died as well, but I was sick that morning and so wasn’t traveling with them.” She took another deep breath and gathered herself. When she spoke again, she was stronger, more confident. “We don’t even know for sure why we were attacked. Some news reports suggested it was because the campus symbolized the post-Exodus military complex. Others had even wilder speculations.”
Jenkins leaned forward and stared unblinkingly at her. “Can you think of anything that would have made such an attack justifiable?”
“Are you bloody serious?” Priya’s face flushed hot with anger. “There’s no justifying the killing of innocents! If it were up to me, the scum responsible for those attacks would be tossed in a meat grinder and used as fertilizer.” The blood drained from her face as she realized what she’d just said. “I’m sorry—”
“No,” Jenkins said forcefully. “Don’t apologize.” He gave her a curt nod. “That’s the fiery spirit your professors warned me about.”
He tapped his thumbs on the desk, and his voice took on an ominous tone. “The news reports weren’t necessarily wrong about the terrorists’ motivations. They just didn’t have the complete picture. In particular, they didn’t know about this.” He picked up the heaviest cube and turned it in his hands, the light from the LEDs above reflecting off the polished metal. “We call this metal Holmesium, after Dr. Holmes, who predicted the existence of this metal shortly before his death. He hypothesized its precise nuclear shell makeup almost sixty years before we first discovered deposits of this stuff at the Chrysalis mining colony.”
Priya knew a little about Chrysalis. After Earth’s position was set during the early years, planet Epsilon was deemed uninhabitable, but its moon showed promise. It took about fifty years of terraforming, but in time a mining colony took hold there.
“Is that why we established a mining colony there?” she asked. “Because of this metal? Holmesium?”
“Actually, we didn’t know even know Holmesium was there until years later. But once we found out, well… as you can imagine, our plans for space exploration are now entirely dependent on that colony. Which is what has led to our current problems.” He set the cube down on the desk with a loud thud. “Unfortunately, it appears there is a rogue element on Chrysalis. We aren’t sure who, and we aren’t sure how, but some group on Chrysalis helped put together the missiles that were responsible for both of the attacks we just discussed. The attack against the UN’s First Council, and the attack that—”
“—That killed my parents,” Priya blurted. Her stomach lurched. “Why are you telling me all this?”
“Miss Radcliffe,” said a voice behind her. She turned to see an older gentleman stepping into Jenkins’s office. His blue UNFC uniform was decorated with ribbons and medals galore. He gave her a nod before motioning for Jenkins to sit back down. “I’m General Heinrich Duhrer, first attaché to the UNSOC’s anti-terrorism division, and I’m going to be blunt with you. We believe the terrorist element on Chrysalis is now planning another attack. One on a much larger scale than ever before. We’ve sent people to the colony to try to infiltrate this element, to root out the source of our problems—more people than I’d care to admit, in fact. Yet not only have we learned nothing, none of our people have returned.”
Priya wished she could be anywhere but in this room right now. It took everything she had not to throw up on this man’s brightly polished shoes.
“You’re here for two reasons, young lady, neither of which has to do with your academic brilliance, though we all believe that will help. First, you’re here because you have a powerful interest in finding out who killed your parents—and believe you me, it’s someone up there.” The general pointed to the ceiling. “And second, you’re here because you’re a Radcliffe. You may not appreciate the significance of that, and it may not even be that significant here on Earth. But it’s significant to the people on Chrysalis. They’re not like us; not anymore. They have very strong memories of the Great Exodus, and fond memories of the roles played by Dr. Holmes and the Radcliffes. That means they’ll be much more likely to trust you. And therefore, you’ll be more likely to succeed in your mission.”
Priya frowned. “Mission? Are you asking me to spy on these people to figure out who wants to kill us?”
The general nodded. �
��Precisely.”
Now Priya really wanted to throw up.
The general glanced at Jenkins before focusing back on Priya. “I must impress upon you the importance of this mission, Miss Radcliffe. Our government can’t tolerate the attack on innocents like your parents, and we suspect their next targets are going to be much more public, bloodier, more destabilizing, and that’s something our society won’t tolerate. If we can’t determine who is responsible, we’ll have very few options other than wiping out the entire colony. In fact, this option is already being discussed at the highest levels. I believe I can delay those proceedings—but only if I can tell them someone like you is on board.”
Great, thought Priya. No pressure.
The general continued. “If you manage to get us what we need, well … I can guarantee you any position you’d like once this is all over. Obviously, if I can’t count on you to get on board, then I seriously doubt we’ll find a place for you in future service.” He turned to Jenkins. “Let me know what she decides.”
The general walked stiffly out of the office.
Priya leaned forward, aiming for the trash can. She just barely made it as she threw up her lunch.
In the student meditation alcove, Priya shivered. She felt Harold slowly drifting from her head, down her neck, and under her sleeve. The only time he ever shifted shape was when she was upset, like she was now—and of course when there was no chance of him being seen while changing his form.
Despite all of her years of learning about materials science, she had only the faintest guesses as to how Harold managed to do what he did. He shifted and adapted as he slithered toward her lap, like a chameleon that could emulate not only color, but shape and texture. She’d seen him take on all manner of shapes—a metal spider with binocular-like eyes, a snake, a plant—but when she was upset, his go-to form was that of a kitten. That was what he was transforming into now.
The transformation process took less than thirty seconds, and when it was done she scooped the purring kitten from her lap and held it close. She didn’t particularly care that this wasn’t a real kitten, or that Harold was merely following some advanced programming directive to comfort her. Hugging the AI in this form helped. It helped a lot.
And right now, she needed that comfort. There were over three million people living on Chrysalis. She couldn’t be the reason the UN would destroy them all. She just couldn’t. As ridiculous as the whole thing sounded—her, Priya Radcliffe, a spy—she had to try. It was the only choice she had.
All she had to do was go to Chrysalis, earn some people’s trust, and then betray them.
She buried her tear-streaked face into Harold’s belly and cried.
Chapter Three
“Listen to me, Captain. As head of security for the Chrysalis mining colony, the health and welfare of over three million people are in my hands. I won’t grant you clearance until you’ve confirmed that all disembarking passengers have taken the mandatory cleansing procedures for Earth-based pathogens. If this is a problem, you and your passengers can turn right around and head back to Earth. You hear me?”
“No worries, Mr. Chapper.” The pilot’s Australian accent came through loud and clear in the air traffic control tower. “It’s being done. I’ve got someone doing the final sweep now.”
Ranger barked at the speaker as if to punctuate the message.
“Sorry to call you in on this, Mr. Chapper,” said Gene, the on-duty orbital traffic controller. “But the guy was being a real jerk when I started going through the immigration checklist with him. Didn’t want to give me straight answers. I figured I needed someone with a bit more authority to set him straight.”
“First of all, call me Terry. We’re on the same team.” Terry looked at the young controller. The man was probably not much older than twenty. “Gene, how long have you been doing this job?”
“Six weeks. Just graduated two months ago.”
Terry felt every bit of his forty years. “And one of your jobs is to ensure the immigration checklists are completed and verified by the ships coming out of orbit.”
“That’s right, sir. I mean, Terry.”
“It’s called assumed responsibility. You are the final authority on whether or not someone is allowed to land here. You got that?”
“But—”
“The final authority. When those pilots are in orbit or flying in from one of the outposts, it’s you who calls the shots. Just remember that. That said, if there’s ever a doubt or something doesn’t seem right, don’t hesitate to reach out to security like you did. Better safe than sorry.”
“Mr. Chapper, confirmed. All one hundred seventy-six passengers who are disembarking have gone through the pathogen sterilization procedures. We’re all good up here.”
“Copy that. Handing you back to the controller.”
Gene leaned in closer to the microphone. “Earth transport vessel Stavropoulos, this is Chrysalis tower, you’re cleared for entry into Chrysalis air space. Lock on to beacon signal kilo x-ray tango.”
“Chrysalis tower, breaking orbital trajectory. Lock on to beacon signal kilo x-ray tango. Earth transport vessel Stavropoulos.”
Terry leaned against the wall and looked up at the darkness of the night sky. “How do you like being in charge of all this?” he asked Gene, pointing at the miles of runway and support buildings.
Gene smiled. “I’m still getting used to it. There’s a lot to do, but it’s a nice challenge.”
Terry chatted with the new controller for a few minutes. He made a point of getting to know everyone who was part of the chain of security. He knew from his days as a member of the Special Forces that since he couldn’t be everywhere, it was important to gain the trust of others. They were all on the same team, and if everyone understood that, it made his job infinitely easier.
Through the viewing window, the Stavropoulos was an ever-brightening light in the sky. Gene checked the green-tinted hologram that showed a satellite view of the ship on approach, then leaned in toward his microphone. “Earth transport vessel Stavropoulos, this is Chrysalis tower, turn left heading two-seven-zero to intercept the localizer, cleared ILS runway alpha into Chrysalis, maintain two thousand five hundred feet until established.”
“Chrysalis Tower, turning left heading two-seven-zero, cleared ISL runway alpha into Chrysalis, maintain two thousand five hundred feet until established. Earth transport vessel Stavropoulos.”
Gene swiped his fingers across the holographic image, switching through various views of the incoming vessel, before settling in on a view from ground level.
“How long before they land?” Terry asked.
“Looks like a smooth approach,” said Gene. “I’d say they’ll be wheels down in eight minutes.”
“Make sure the ship taxis through the scanners.”
“Will do.”
Terry gave Gene a thumbs-up and left the young man to do his job.
Five minutes later Terry arrived at the orbital arrivals and departures terminal. At the entrance to the security viewing area, he looked up at a video camera. It beamed a wide-spectrum scanning laser across him, and the door opened with a whoosh of compressed air.
Inside, he was greeted by a two-hundred-and-seventy-degree viewing window overseeing the customs processing area. He flipped down his monocle and studied the miners who trickled into the staging area for departures.
“Chap, I don’t get you,” said Ian Wexler in his gravelly voice. “It’s the twenty-third century, my friend. Why don’t you get your eye patched up if it’s not up to snuff?”
Terry tossed a smile at his old friend, an army buddy from back in the day. His vision was perfectly fine, but he let the assumption go unchallenged. Explaining the monocle was complicated. After all, it worked only for him.
“Anything caught by the scanners?” he asked, gesturing toward the miners.
“Actually, yes. My guys just pulled someone aside.” He expanded his fingers, and a hologram popped up showing an empty r
oom. The door opened, and a miner walked in with a duffel, accompanied by one of the customs employees.
“Mr. Tanaka, it’s just a random check. Totally routine. We need to go through your baggage, and I didn’t want to do it in front of everyone.”
“Okay, I guess. I just can’t miss this transport. My wife is about to pop back on Earth and I need to get back home.”
“Don’t worry. We won’t hold you up for long.”
“Did they install the viewing window for that room?” Terry asked Ian.
“Sure. There’s a one-way mirror at the end of the hall.”
“Show me,” Terry said, then pressed on his lapel mic. “Vincent, allow the vessel to approach, but put a hold on them disembarking until I say otherwise.”
His earpiece crackled with the sounds of an engine whining out on the tarmac. “Understood. I’ll have the marshaller hold the ship just off the arrivals gate.”
Ian led him down the unlit hallway to the window overlooking the room where the miner’s bag was being checked. Through his monocle, Terry could see what others could not. The monocle beamed an enhanced image directly onto his retina, providing more colors and details than his other eye could discern. Some objects shimmered oddly when viewed through the monocle, but that was something he had gotten used to over the years.
“From the reading on the scanner, it’s probably something small,” Ian said.
Terry panned his gaze across the items being pulled from the miner’s duffel. One of the benefits of the monocle was that its enhanced color patterns allowed him to identify the core materials in everyday objects. Although there was no manual for the alien tech he was using, with practice he’d trained himself to associate the most common materials with the color-enhanced patterns he was seeing.
“Mr. Tanaka, are you sure you didn’t take any mining samples with you by mistake?”
“Of course not! I know the rules.”
“I hope this guy didn’t swallow whatever it is,” Ian said with a frown. “He’ll have a very bad day if that’s the case.”
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