Agent Kodiak licked his lips. He glanced down at the table, tapped the translucent red datasheet in front of him. Cait’s eyes flicked down, then back up. She’d been staring at the sequence for what felt like hours.
Eight-seven-nine-one-two-two-Juno-Juno.
She sighed, shook her head. “How many times do we have to go through this?”
Kodiak frowned. “Okay, fine. They’re coordinates. Proprietary coordinates. They belong to the Jovian Mining Corporation, IDing something within Jupiter’s system. We don’t know what yet, but the JMC is looking into it for us.” He tapped the datasheet with an index finger. “So what I want to know is, where did you get the coordinates from? Did the Morning Star cell tell you? How did they get them? Do they know what they point to?”
Cait blinked. She looked back at the code. “Jupiter?” She’d heard of the JMC, but Flood had never mentioned anything about them, or the Jovian system. She also knew that the whole planetary system, moons, rings, and all, was owned by the corporation, a giant slice of private company real estate right in the middle of the solar system.
Cait pulled the sheet closer, staring at it. She didn’t know why they were asking her these questions—wouldn’t they have the information extracted from her own mind? They knew that she didn’t know anything about it. She’d never heard or seen the coordinates before the agents had shown her the datasheet.
And then it clicked. She looked up at the two agents.
“That’s where my brother is, isn’t it? He’s there. Jupiter. That’s where they were going to take me.”
Braben and Kodiak exchanged a look. Cait shook her head. “Have you caught them?”
Kodiak sucked on his lip again, like he was considering whether to answer her question. They would know she wasn’t part of their group, so there wouldn’t be any harm in telling her, would there?
After another beat Kodiak shook his head. “No. We cleared out the warehouse—they left a lot of gear behind. All brand-new, expensive, but untraceable. They were good at covering their tracks. The city is on lockdown and we have multiple sweeps in progress. No sign of them yet.”
Cait nodded, then winced as her neck ached. She reached up to feel the collar, but was brought short by the manacles. “Why did they take out my tag?”
Kodiak spread his hands. “We don’t know that either.”
She shook her head. She looked at the datasheet again.
Jupiter. That was where Tyler was. She had to get there, somehow. But it seemed impossible. She was a prisoner, on Earth. The only place she was going was a holding cell prior to her trial. She was in it, and in it deep, that she knew. Even if the results of her psi-interrogation showed she wasn’t the assassin …
Cait looked down at the datasheet, looked up at Kodiak.
“We have to go to Jupiter. We have to find my brother.”
Braben leaned forward across the table. He tilted his head and fixed Cait with a hard glare, almost as though he’d been able to read her own thoughts, as he outlined her situation.
“We’ve got you on conspiracy and collusion with a known terrorist organization, conspiracy to commit acts of treason, felony evasion, and about a dozen other serious charges. You’re not even looking at life imprisonment—we’re talking the death penalty here. Under martial law we could even carry out your sentence here and now.”
Okay. Okay, okay, okay. Cait closed her eyes as the room spun a little. There was a faint prickle across her skin, but her power seemed to be exhausted after her ordeal.
And what was she going to do with it, anyway? Break free of her manacles and kill the two agents? Smash her way out of the interview room, smash her way out of the Bureau offices, out of the Capitol Complex?
Yeah right. They may as well just shoot her here, sitting at the table in the interrogation room.
When she opened her eyes, she saw Braben had his arms folded. He had turned on his seat and was looking at Kodiak. He also looked pretty pissed. Kodiak, on the other hand, had a small smile playing at the corner of his mouth.
What the fuck was up with these guys?
Then Kodiak pulled a key from the pocket of his vest. He held it up between two fingers.
“There is an alternative,” he said.
Cait’s jaw dropped. She looked between the two agents. Now Braben was shaking his head and he looked away, to the floor, his arms still tightly crossed.
She met Kodiak’s eye. The smile had gone—had it ever been there?—and he was staring at her with his brows furrowed. But still he held the key up. The key to her manacles.
Cait stammered. “I…”
“Cooperation,” said Kodiak. “Full and complete and unconditional. You are already Fleet property, so you have no rights and no protection.”
Cait’s eyes moved back to the key.
“But,” said Kodiak, “if you help us, then we can re-evaluate the charges, perhaps get whatever sentence you receive commuted. If you help us.”
Her mind raced. Was this real, or some kind of trick or bluff? But before she could ask, before she could say anything at all, Kodiak leaned over and unlocked Cait’s manacles, then replaced the key in his pocket. He tapped his fingers on the table.
Cait rubbed her wrists. Her neck was aching. There was a prickle on her skin but it was so, so faint.
Then Kodiak stood. “Please don’t make me regret this,” he said, and then he nodded at Braben and left the interview room.
Cait and Braben locked eyes. Seconds passed, Cait’s heartbeat thumping out the time. Then Braben sniffed, grabbed his coffee cup, and followed his partner out.
The door closed. Cait was alone. Alone with her thoughts.
What the hell had just happened? They’d offered her a bargain—her cooperation for leniency. Her cooperation … for the return of her brother?
Perhaps she could get to Jupiter after all.
Perhaps they really would try and help her.
Perhaps they wanted to find out what the Fleet was doing as much as she did.
Good work, Ms. Smith. You’re doing very well.
Cait jumped, glanced to her left. The room was still empty, reflected in the mirror of the observation window.
And in that mirror, the image of Glass stood right next to the table at which she sat. Her eyes flicked right. There was nobody there.
I’m still here. In your mind. Hitching a lift, so to speak. It’s only temporary, but I find myself without a permanent abode at present, if you get my meaning.
Cait held her breath.
Get the fuck out of my mind, she screamed inside. Get. The. Fuck. Out.
I understand—
You understand nothing! Do you hear me? You and the others used me. Tricked me. Made me promises that were lies. Lies!
Your brother is alive. That isn’t a lie.
You said the Fleet was keeping secrets. Keeping things hidden.
And they are—
Didn’t you see what happened, jackass? They’ve offered me a bargain. They want to find out what happened to Tyler as much as I do. So tell me, how is the Fleet keeping secrets from itself, huh?
All I can do is ask for you to trust me.
Trust you?
Cait snickered and rolled her eyes. There was no doubt she was still being watched by someone through the two-way, but to any observer it would look like she was just considering what the two agents had offered her.
How the fuck can I trust you, she thought, willing the voice in her mind to be louder than war. After what you did to me—used me for your dirty work, tricked me into helping. Operated on me, against my will. You fucks deserve everything that is coming.
Do you want to find Tyler?
Cait took a breath.
Of course.
Then just know that things are proceeding according to plan.
Who the fuck are you?
That question does not have an easy answer, Ms. Smith. And I know this is very hard for you to understand, but I have your best interests at heart.
I know that your trust doesn’t come easily, but I’m doing all I can to get you and Tyler back together.
The reflection of Glass smiled.
Cait swore. Her head hurt. Her neck hurt. There was a tightness in her chest, a lump in her throat. She tried to ignore them.
She felt her eyes grow wet. Felt the tears on her cheeks. She tried to ignore those too.
Is Tyler on Jupiter?
Glass nodded. Nearby. He glanced at the ceiling in his reflected world, then nodded, perhaps to himself. They’re coming back. Good luck, Ms. Smith.
The interview room door opened. Agent Kodiak walked in, carrying a datapad. “Come with me. I need to take you to see my commander.”
Cait stood and massaged her wrists, and as she left she took one look behind her. In the mirrored two-way, the room was reflected back at her, and all she saw was her own image, looking back at her over one shoulder.
She stepped out into the corridor and followed Agent Kodiak.
28
The shuttle, U-Star Cassilda, was Fleet standard: small, utilitarian, fast. It could pop the quickspace highway that ran the length of the solar system and drop them in Jovian orbit in just a few hours.
Kodiak sat in the pilot’s position, re-familiarizing himself with the systems with the aid of the ship’s datapad. He was fully certified for flight, but it occurred to him that it had been quite some time since he’d actually been at the controls. Normally he would have let Braben take the pilot’s seat, but Braben hadn’t even stuck around to say goodbye and good luck.
Cait sat next to him, adjusting the straps of her harness over her flak jacket. As part of their prep for the Jupiter mission, Kodiak had taken her down to the uniform store and got her kitted out in the same field gear as he was wearing—she might have been a prisoner, but as far as the personnel at the JMC refinery were aware, she was a Bureau agent just like him. In a sense, that was true, given she’d been officially deputized by Commander Avalon. But the arrangement was purely temporary.
At least, he thought, he had some back-up. Behind the cockpit in the shuttle’s small cargo hold were two dozen Bureau servitors, armed and ready, just waiting for Kodiak’s commands. He didn’t think Cait was going to do anything to jeopardize the mission—she wanted to know what was going on at the coordinates as much as he did—but her unique psi-ability played at the back of his own mind. She was powerful and dangerous. She also wanted to help, not just Kodiak and the investigation, but herself, and her brother.
But still. Twenty-four killer robots sitting in the hold gave Kodiak a little peace of mind.
Cait tightened a strap and then paused as Kodiak flicked a switch, frowned at the datapad, and flicked it back. “You sure you know how to fly this thing?” she asked.
Kodiak laughed. “Agent, my mother could fly this thing,” he said, and then his laugh choked off as he stared at the datapad again. “They’ve just updated a few things since the last time I sat in one of these.” He cleared his throat.
“Agent,” said Cait, more to herself than to him. She looked down at her chest, emblazoned with the words FLEET BUREAU in large white letters. “Today has been a strange day.”
Kodiak looked up to check the controls on the bulkhead above him. “Well, in theory, you’re doing better than I am. I’m officially dead.” He punched a control and was rewarded with a green light.
“You’re … what?”
Kodiak glanced sideways at his new partner. “Long story,” he said, and then the shuttle’s comm chimed. Kodiak leaned forward and hit the channel. “Kodiak.”
“Avalon,” said the chief. “You’re all cleared. JMC flight control will contact you when you clear quickspace. And remember, we’re waiting to hear from you. Just say the word and we’ll get you out.”
“Roger that,” said Kodiak. He looked at Cait. “Ready?”
Cait shrugged. “As I’ll ever be.”
“Jupiter, here we come.”
Kodiak flicked the flight systems to manual and gently pulled back on the yoke, lifting the shuttle from the starport hangar. Ahead of them, the hangar doors opened, and bright daylight streamed in.
As he punched the engine and guided the shuttle out of the hangar and into the sky over New Orem, Kodiak really hoped he knew what he was doing.
* * *
In high Earth orbit, in the shadow of one of the gravitational satellites that stabilized Earth’s atmosphere and tides after the destruction of the moon, a pilot watched the screen of his own craft as the U-Star Cassilda shot through the flotilla of Fleet ships that crowded the planet. There was the vast destroyer Ultramassive and its companion frigates Monolithic and Thor’s Hammer, behind which floated a dozen other of the Fleet’s most powerful, most destructive vessels, as well as a plethora of smaller craft: patrol boats, cruisers, transports, individual shuttles and fighters, and a swarm of one-man hot seats that buzzed between them all. Within moments, the Cassilda was out of sight, following a trajectory that would take it to the quickspace jump point a light-second out from Earth, where it would be clear to punch through into that interstitial dimension and re-emerge at Jupiter.
The other shuttle rotated under the gravitational satellite, adjusting its position before moving forward, matching the engine pulse of the Cassilda and quickly falling into that shuttle’s quantum wake. It was an old trick, but one that worked well, hiding the other shuttle’s signature from the one it followed. Follow the wake close enough and when the first ship popped quickspace, the pursuing one could even get a tow, not needing to fire up its own Q-Gen coil—something that would show up on the sensors of any ship within a light-minute’s radius.
In the darkened cockpit, the pilot squeezed the yoke with one hand as his other tapped in a command sequence on the shuttle’s primary console. The computer confirmed the entry with a chime, and the pilot released the manual control, allowing the yoke to reseat itself in its alcove.
Both hands now free, the pilot used the opportunity to loosen his black tie and release the top button of his black shirt, before sweeping one hand down his front, flattening out any creases that might have gathered since he’d been sitting in the shuttle, waiting for the Cassilda to cruise past.
The shuttle rocked slightly as the automatics got a lock on the Cassilda’s quantum wake. The pilot waited until the movement had abated, then turned on his chair to check the cargo.
Behind the two primary flight positions was an open space where the shuttle’s passenger seats would normally be, the cockpit able to hold eight persons in addition to the pilot and co-pilot under normal configuration.
But in this shuttle, sitting behind the two remaining seats was an oblong container with a curved top. The object was black and shiny, and there was a control panel in the middle, the lights of which silently blinked in the dark cockpit. Above the control panel, at the far end of the object, was a dark window.
The pilot stood, straightened his jacket, and, apparently noticing he was still wearing it, unclipped the chrome Bureau badge from his lapel and tossed it onto the console behind him. He walked to the head of the object, cast an eye at the control panel, and reached down and touched a button.
The window was lit from within the object by a blue light. The pilot leaned over and peered inside. He smiled.
“Hang in there, sleeping beauty,” said Special Agent Braben, looking down at the sleeping form of Psi-Marine Tyler Smith inside the stasis pod. “Your next job is coming right up.”
INTO THE DARKEST NIGHT
A single turn to the right and the door opened like he had been told it would. He wondered for a moment how that was going to be explained, what kind of cover they would concoct to account for how he’d gained access to the room and to the server within it. It didn’t matter. Whatever it was, it would be good, he knew that much. It would have to be. This was the start of something big, something deep. Very, very deep.
The server room was a long gallery filled with monolithic computer cabinets, just like any other, excep
t for the fact that it was the most secure room in the most secure part of the Bureau. It was entirely automated, and therefore entirely empty.
Von Kodiak stepped across the threshold, the door closing silently behind him. Although devoid of staff, the room was monitored closely. Cameras covered every part of it, and after an entry that required very particular authorization, the movements of anybody in the facility were closely watched.
Kodiak glanced up into the corner, where the first camera was pointed straight at the door—at him. He sucked in his cheeks and, unable to resist, gave it a wave, knowing that, for the next ten minutes, there was nobody watching, and there was no recording being made.
If his ability to enter the secure room was strange, the glitch in the security system that meant his presence went unrecorded was going to be a real mystery for the Bureau.
Again, it didn’t matter. There would be an explanation. Heads would roll. He wouldn’t get caught.
That was the plan.
Kodiak skipped across the gallery of server cabinets, counting them off until he reached the sixth row. For some reason, he felt the need to creep around, to not make any sound. Just in case. He told himself he was just getting into character; then he told himself not to be ridiculous and to stop wasting time. So at the sixth row he ran toward the other end, the fingers of one hand already pulling the data key out of his pocket.
The cabinets were white, featureless, entirely silent, entirely smooth—there was no sign of doors or access panels, handles, anything, not even any seams or sections. Up close, they looked like they were carved out of white stone, the surface smooth and cold as Kodiak placed one palm against it. He would leave fingerprints. That was also part of the plan. No doubt some poor agent would spend hours poring over the data, wondering why the rogue agent hadn’t worn gloves.
The Machine Awakes Page 21
