Ms. Montegreu,
Target refused the Vancouver job. He also discovered the contents of the parcel.
— Kigin
She instantly pulsed Kigin.
Is he dead yet?
Um, no, ma’am. I thought I should check with you for instructions.
My instructions are for him to be dead. Now.
Yes, ma’am. I’ll take care of it.
She sighed and pinched her nose in annoyance. This was why plans existed, and why they should not be deviated from unless there was no other viable option. She succeeded in this business in part because she maintained plans for her plans, short and long-term strategies for numerous scenarios and multilayered schemes to be executed over years, even decades. Indulging ad-hoc modifications to meticulously crafted plans was a recipe for disaster which had brought down more than one otherwise brilliant leader.
She should not have done it.
The thought of informing Marcus his little ‘opportunity’ was a no-go crossed her mind for less than a millisecond before being dismissed. He insisted on QEC only, paranoid beyond reason about secrecy, and she did not remotely have the time to return to the office now.
And besides, she had made him no promises. She’d said she would make an effort to accommodate his last-minute special request, and so she did. Perhaps she might let him know when they next talked. But he had pushed the limits of their business arrangement in making the request, and she wasn’t inclined to reward bad behavior.
She would, however, clean up the mess which had resulted though it was an inconvenience—because she, at least as much as he, held a vested interest in their arrangement continuing forward with great success.
56
SPACE, NORTH-CENTRAL QUADRANT
Seneca Stellar System
* * *
Caleb started over to the small stairwell of the rental ship to tell Alex to dress warmly, as Cavare was quite cool at night—then froze when she ascended the stairs.
She was wearing a deep violet turtleneck made of a silky, shimmery material; when the light hit it hints of indigo and crimson rippled across the fabric. It was paired with sleek, form-fitting black pants and wedge-heeled black boots. Her hair was loosely pulled back to cascade over and behind her shoulders in waves. She had allowed a few strands to escape and frame her cheekbones. It was simple, functional and ordinary attire. It was spectacular.
She paused at the top of the stairs. One hand lingered on the railing. “What? Did I forget something?”
“You’re beautiful.” His voice came out soft and almost reverential. He had told her so the night before as well, while she had straddled him, naked in the starlight shining through the viewport above her bed. It was no less true now.
She blinked. “I…thank you. I didn’t bring a lot of non-work clothes. Maybe I should have picked up a few things with you on Romane….”
He smiled and crossed the space to her, wrapping one arm around her waist while the other hand drew along her jaw. “You look beautiful in those, too, by the way. In case I haven’t told you.”
She appeared utterly flummoxed, which he didn’t understand. He was certain he wasn’t the first man to tell her she was beautiful. No computer algorithm would produce her features as the ideal example of beauty—they were too dramatic, too unique—but make no mistake. She was beautiful.
Finally she relaxed into him, her lips meeting his with a whisper. “You thinking flattery will get you in my pants?”
“That’s the plan.”
A beep in the cockpit signaled their initial approach to Seneca, and he reluctantly disentangled from her and went to the cockpit. It was a little odd him being in charge of the flying, and he knew she found it disorienting. But for the moment at least, this was his show.
“Wait—” he glanced over his shoulder at her, startled at the outburst “—are they going to let me through? Should I have, I don’t know, procured myself a fake ID or something?”
“You’ve been cleared.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean you’ve been cleared. It’s taken care of.”
“Under my own name.”
“Under your own name.” He grasped her hand as she draped her arms along the headrest of the cockpit chair. “It’ll be fine. Promise.”
SENECA
Cavare, Intelligence Division Headquarters
* * *
They were meeting in a conference room on the first floor of Division Headquarters, for several reasons. This way Caleb wouldn’t be running into a number of people who might be curious about where he had been and what he may have been up to. Also, Volosk wasn’t exactly comfortable giving Alex a red carpet tour of Division’s inner sanctum. From an outside perspective Caleb could understand the concern, so he didn’t argue the matter.
He input the security code, which changed every twenty hours, and his own personal ID scan at the outer door and motioned for her to enter ahead of him. Two hallways and another door, then a final door and they reached the small conference room.
Volosk had been notified of their arrival and was waiting on them. He stood and shook Caleb’s hand. “Agent Marano, glad to see you made it back in one piece.”
“As am I, sir.”
Volosk’s gaze shifted to the left. “Ms. Solovy, I presume.” He extended a hand in a more formal manner. “Michael Volosk, Director of Special Operations.”
She graciously accepted the proffered greeting. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
He gestured to the table and they took up seats opposite him. Caleb clasped his hands on the table and leaned forward. “I’m sending you a file I think you will find most useful.”
Volosk raised an eyebrow, but his expression transformed once he received the file. His eyes unfocused for a solid ten seconds before his attention returned to them. He smiled in what looked like relief but was definitely appreciation.
“You have my sincere gratitude—both of you. As soon as we’re done here I’ll start analyzing this information. Perhaps…well, let’s not get our hopes up too high, but perhaps we can do something about the current state of affairs. For now, though, we should talk about Metis.”
Alex caught Caleb’s gaze briefly, then reached in her pocket and removed a small crystal disk. The pause was almost imperceptible before she slid the disk across the table. “A hard copy of all the raw data we collected.”
He accepted it with the deference it deserved. “Thank you.” His head tilted in contemplation. “Alliance leadership also has this information, I take it?”
“They do.”
“If I may ask, is there anything you’re comfortable telling me in regard to their response?”
“Chush’ sobach’ya….” She cleared her throat. “Pardon me. They said they will monitor the situation.”
He smiled, though it came off a bit cold. “They’re hoping the aliens will attack us first so they can take advantage of the opportunity.”
This pause was noticeable. “Something to that effect.”
“And how do you feel about their response, Ms. Solovy?”
She met his stare evenly, without flinching. “I’m here, aren’t I?”
He dipped his chin to concede the point. “Fair enough. I meant no offense.”
Caleb squeezed her hand under the table. “What’s the word from the GOI platoon we sent to investigate? Did they find the alien ships?”
Volosk’s lips pursed. “We’ve had no word from them since they entered Metis four days ago. As communications are not possible inside the Nebula, it’s too early to draw any conclusions. They may simply still be investigating.”
“I imagine they had instructions to deploy drones back out with updates?”
The man’s expression was admirably neutral. “They did.”
Shit. He told them it was too risky to send an entire platoon in, he didn’t care if they were stealth special forces. “I see. Hopefully you’ll hear from them soon.”
“I hope so as we
ll.” The uneasy silence lingered only a breath longer than what was comfortable. “So I’ve reviewed your report, but if you don’t mind I’d like to go over a few details.” His eyes roved over each of them; they each shrugged in acceptance.
“Your spectral analysis of the ships’ composition—it returned no matches, correct?”
“Correct.” She nodded, intrinsically slipping into expert mode. “Chemically, the closest equivalent is lonsdaleite diamond, but this metal is far darker in color than lonsdaleite and isn’t appreciably close to a match. Whatever the metal is, it appeared quite dense and strong. Unfortunately, the sole other fact we’ve determined with any certainty is that the ring is constructed of a similar but not identical material.”
“Okay. So we’re looking at previously undiscovered elements then. And regarding the electromagnetic waves, you suggested the terahertz signals might be a form of communication. Can I ask what your thinking is?”
“Again, it’s merely speculation, but a couple of things. For one, the signal was hyper-precise—focused and compressed, with no detectable bleed. This means it wasn’t an emission byproduct of their technology and was clearly being used for some purpose. Also, Metis doesn’t have significant background terahertz radiation—but in the portal region the terahertz waves were pervasive. And lastly, because we don’t use it for communications. It might not occur to us to eavesdrop on the band.”
“Hmm.” He nodded deliberately. “Not bad as reasons go.” He was quiet a moment before shifting his attention to Caleb. “Where do you think the portal originates?”
It would be the question for him. There were no hard, objective facts or data to rely upon—pretty much no information whatsoever in fact. Nothing but instinct and observation skills born of experience, and a dash of inborn talent.
“Another dimension.”
“Are you serious?” The eyebrow transformed from appreciation to skepticism.
“It may very well lead to the other side of the Milky Way or just as likely to another galaxy. But here’s the thing—and I’d never have thought of it if Alex hadn’t raised the idea of a dimensional portal as a conceivable possibility—the portal had to be built. And as impressive as those superdreadnoughts are, they are miniscule compared to the portal. Building it must have been a tremendous undertaking for even highly advanced aliens.”
He straightened his posture, caught up in the argument. “So why send the workers and machinery and materials to build the portal across the galaxy or universe via conventional means—why spend all the time and effort—to build a shortcut? How much more time would it have taken to simply send the ships instead?”
He sensed Alex regarding him curiously. He hadn’t actually had the opportunity to share his theory with her. There had been escapes to execute and sex and planning and organization and sex and meals to cook and…well. He grinned at her with a corner of his mouth.
Volosk, however, was frowning. “I can imagine plenty of explanations. The personnel and fuel involved, to name one.”
“Absolutely. I concede the point. But I think it’s safe to assume these aliens possess the capability to travel at least as rapidly as we can. So say they’re from the other side of the galaxy. At most it’s forty or so Galactic days’ travel, in no way a trip worthy of building an expensive magic portal instead. If on the other hand we’re talking another galaxy, the trip is nearly half a year at a minimum and in all likelihood far longer, in which case why expend the time and manpower to send the builders but not the fighters?”
He leaned in and dropped his elbows on the table. “And what fighters? Granted, there could be soldiers, organic beings of some sort, inside the dreadnoughts or the tentacle ships—hell, there probably are. But we saw zero evidence of them.” He lifted a hand in preemptive protest. “Before you say it, I agree you wouldn’t see us from the outside of our fleet either. Still, there was a feeling, an impression the ships evoked…like nothing was present that lived and breathed.”
He shrugged, consciously dialing down the fervor. “Either they travel very slow and thus need the portal, which contradicts their otherwise obviously advanced technology, or they travel very fast, which obviates the need for the portal at all. Unless it was the only way.”
Volosk was silent for a long time. Finally he nodded. “Decent assertions—except for one point. If the portal is the only way, how did its builders get here?”
Caleb bit his lower lip. “I’m no expert on hidden dimensions, but…I’m not certain they would need to.”
A ponderous silence again lingered for a moment, until Volosk chuckled wryly. “Well, for now we should focus on how to defend against them. More esoteric musings can wait for the victory party.”
He straightened up in his chair, as if he had convinced himself of the rightness of his conclusion. “I’m trying to arrange a meeting with Delavasi and the Defense Director for later tonight, though their schedules are unsurprisingly rather full. If the two of you can remain available for the next several hours, I’d appreciate it. I’ll let you know as soon as I hear anything definitive.”
He stood and leveled a keen gaze at Caleb. “Until then I must get back to the details of managing an…” he managed not to glance at Alex “…unfortunate war. Agent Marano, until further notice your sole mission is the investigation of these aliens and matters related thereto.”
“Of course. Any special instructions?”
“In the brief time I’ve worked with you, I have come to realize one thing. Of all our agents, you are the last person who needs micromanaging. Act as you see fit—but do try to avoid blowing up any more Division starships if at all possible.”
“I’ll do my best, sir. Though in fairness, the last one was her fault.”
57
EARTH
Washington, Earth Alliance Headquarters
* * *
The basement command center of Earth Alliance Headquarters remained a flurry of activity on this, the sixth day of the Second Crux War.
Aides ensured the secure files were loaded and all necessary information available, the refreshment table was fully stocked and the EM shielding field was in place and active. The noise amplified off the reinforced walls to create a din above which it was difficult to carry on a normal conversation.
The Chief of Staff’s arrival in the bunker served as the aides’ cue to depart the immediate area surrounding the situation room. They filed past the woman and dispersed—some upstairs to their offices, others to stations elsewhere in the command center to monitor war developments.
Marcus Aguirre exited the lift alongside Prime Minister Brennon. They continued their conversation as they walked down the long hallway. “Yes, sir, I believe under the regulations you definitely have the authority to appropriate the necessary—” Upon reaching the situation room he cut himself off. “But we can discuss it in the meeting.” He stepped to the side and allowed Brennon to enter the room ahead of him.
The Assembly Speaker and Chairman of the Armed Forces Committee had already arrived, along with the Defense Minister. Marcus went over to the hutch in the rear of the room and poured himself a glass of water before taking his seat a third of the way down the conference table. He presented himself as reviewing materials for the meeting while he discreetly observed the others through the translucent screen.
Speaker Barrera was a long-time acquaintance and political ally. They had met for dinner two nights earlier; it was a timely reaffirmation of their alliance and a subtle reminder to the Speaker of favors Marcus had granted him in the past. It could be argued the Speaker owed Marcus for his position, but he never spoke of it aloud. He didn’t need to. Such was the way of the political game. Besides, the debt would come due soon enough.
The Armed Forces Chairman was a sharp one. Retired military, he had earned several medals of valor for his service during the First Crux War. He held his current position for those accomplishments, not on account of any political skills. So though he deserved keeping an eye on, real
istically he should be out of his league in the coming maneuvers.
Defense Minister Mori spoke quietly with the Chief of Staff across the table. Mori was weak, a bureaucrat when he had been in the military and even more of one in the government. Any military influence he had was far overshadowed by EASC. But he was an unabashed Senecan opponent; as such, his intense dislike of the enemy may prove useful. The Chief of Staff, on the other hand, was shrewd and highly intelligent, and loyal to Brennon to a fault. She had been at the man’s side for over twenty years, since his early political campaigns.
He glanced up as the Foreign Minister walked in, followed by—
Well this was a complication.
Mori slid his chair back and rose to salute. “Admiral Solovy, it’s a pleasure to see you again. I take it General Alamatto is otherwise engaged today?”
Miriam Solovy nodded politely. “Yes, he spent the afternoon on the Orbital meeting with the Regional Commanders. He’s returning now, but would be unable to arrive here in time. He sends his regrets.”
Alamatto was supposed to be here, and thus out of danger. He could control Alamatto. Solovy was supposed to be in Vancouver, sitting in her office at EASC Headquarters like a good girl.
His face maintained a perfect mask while he tamped down his annoyance and considered his options. It didn’t take long, because for the moment he had none. He couldn’t call off the operation now if he wanted to—and he didn’t want to, as to do so would cause far more complications than it solved. He considered trying to waylay Alamatto and delay his arrival in Vancouver…but he personally didn’t have a viable way to make it happen, and those who might were not currently available.
It would be a setback, but a minor one. The primary objective and several secondary ones would still be achieved. And Solovy would soon find herself facing her own difficulties in any event. He did need to factor her continued presence into matters and formulate countermeasures, but it would have to wait.
Starshine by G. S. Jennsen Page 39
