Before Richard could stammer out a suitable response, Rychen barreled ahead. “Now that the awkward pleasantries are out of the way—” he entered a lengthy sequence on the virtual control panel, and a multitude of new screens opened above the table “—welcome to Project Volnosti.”
Richard laughed. The word was immediately familiar, for once upon a time David Solovy had launched into many a speech on why vol’nosti—the inclination toward personal liberty and freedom—was worth fighting for, worth paying any price to safeguard. The speeches invariably transpired on a Saturday night after several drinks had been enjoyed by those present.
“She does realize the Prime Minister can translate Russian, doesn’t she?”
Rychen laughed as well, shaking his head. “I don’t think she cares.”
“I think you’re right.” He brought a hand to his chin. “So what am I looking at?”
Rychen pointed to the leftmost screens. “These detail what’s going on out there.” He gestured over his shoulder at the hardware across the hall. “Dr. Canivon has already come and schooled us and gone. We’ve got most of the existing databases replicated, but the neural net itself won’t come online until Admiral Solovy presses the trigger.”
He then shifted to the middle screens. “These are tracking our major assets: what’s in production, what’s operation-ready and what we still lack. The attack on Rasogo II threw a wrench in our anticipated supply chain, but we’ve been able to bridge the gap until the facility is up and running again. Most of the assets themselves are being stored offsite until their services are required. For the moment, those are my responsibility.”
Having played a role—or at least been present—in the initial stages of that part of the venture, Richard had an inkling of where ‘offsite’ might be, as well as how and by whom the supply chain gap had been bridged.
“And this—” Rychen slid the final screen to the center “—is what we know, what we don’t know and what we desperately need to find out. Not my area of expertise, but I understand it is yours.”
The admiral smiled. “I won’t make you stand here and study it with an audience. I’m needed back at my real job, anyway. Come on, I’ll show you to your office.”
PANDORA
INDEPENDENT COLONY
The broadcast went out across the shared mindspace of the Noesis—a guarantee only Prevos would receive it and no Prevo could not hear it.
“The time has come.
“I want to make one thing clear to each and every one of you: I am not asking you to endanger your lives to any greater extent than you already have. Anyone who wants refuge, say the word and it will be provided to you. We are setting up safe houses on dozens of worlds and arranging for secure transport to any of Romane, Pandora, Requi or Sagan. Unfortunately, Aesti and Pyxis are considered too Alliance-friendly to offer suitable refuge, and Atlantis is no longer safe.
“I’m sending out a ware tweak which will mask any glow in your eyes so you won’t be identifiable as a Prevo in public even without shadewraps. I know many of you prefer to brandish what you are with pride, but you need to consider both your personal safety and operational security. For those of you who choose to act with us, hiding your nature in most situations may become necessary.
“We will do everything in our power to protect one another from attacks by OTS and from imprisonment under the new Alliance laws.
“For anyone who wants to fight, you had better believe we will be fighting, too. We have people watching known OTS members covertly from sidespace, and we plan to do all we can to subvert their activities and ultimately to bring them down. To do this, we need to organize locally. Find the other Prevos physically near you.
“Wherever OTS stages its next protests, help our plans to counter them. If you want to stand proudly in public and show OTS you are not afraid, this is where and when you can do it.
“Our strategy is not only about subversion, either. We now have people lobbying, often from positions of power, for the Senecan Federation to not follow in the Alliance’s footsteps, and instead to enact legislation protecting the rights of Prevos not merely to exist, but to live free. The IDCC is now making it a condition of joining its consortium that the applicant colony recognize our rights. Thanks for that, Mia.
“Above all, know this: you need not be afraid. They own the fear. They fear us because they believe we’re powerful, and they are correct to do so.
“Most of us probably just want to be left alone to enjoy our lives, but the rest of the galaxy isn’t going to allow it. So instead we will do whatever we must to survive. If for you this means seeking refuge, we are with you. If for you it means standing and fighting, we are with you.”
Devon retreated into his own mind and collapsed into a chair. Parts of his consciousness—the parts which were more Annie than him—worked to turn his words into action, while the parts mostly belonging to him decided whether to order in Chinasian for dinner or go out.
He should go out. He needed to give a visual display of camaraderie, and it would engender confidence in him among the emergent Prevo population on Pandora.
But acting the leader in virtual space was one thing; doing so in person was another, and a role he still wasn’t comfortable embodying.
Mia: Who are you and what have you done with Devon Reynolds?
He chuckled. Come on, Mia. Can’t a person grow and mature?
Mia: Certainly. Impressive to do it so quickly, though. And with such flair!
Devon: Trial by fire, Mia.
Mia: Plus your world spins at quantum speed now. Exhausting, isn’t it?
Devon: I don’t think I’ve slept more than four hours at a stretch in a month. Hey, I’m glad you touched base. I heard from Abigail earlier. She has an idea how to make Olivia Montegreu vulnerable, should anyone catch up to her.
Mia: What brought this on?
Devon: The attack on Rasogo II, but she’d been working on it for a while. I suspect she feels guilty about creating Mecha Olivia, despite the fact her life was on the line. Given the current state of Alliance politics she wasn’t sure who to provide the information to, so she gave it to us.
Mia: Damn. You know where Morgan currently is, right? The timing couldn’t be better. I’m on it.
Devon: Good. I also told Abigail to double her personal security, and triple it if she could. Even after New Babel, she still thinks she’s invincible, but she’s got to be near the top of both OTS’ and Montegreu’s hit lists.
Mia: No doubt. Now that Sagan has seen the light and joined the IDCC, I can throw some additional protection her way.
Devon: Thanks. Is Noah going to be okay?
Mia: Looks like he will be. He’s facing significant reconstruction surgery at a minimum, and maybe prosthetics. They’re keeping him sedated until all of that is handled. But he’ll heal.
Devon: Glad to hear it.
Mia: Me, too. Get some rest, Devon. You’ve earned it.
Devon: Can’t. I made this revolution happen—I’m the one who has to see it through.
After she retreated from his foremost consciousness, he considered being tired. But then an image of the OTS terrorists from Thali’s Lounge rose in his mind to taunt him.
He had a cause, and his cause had an enemy. Emboldened, he stood and grabbed his jacket.
The time had in fact come—the time to be a leader.
37
ROMANE
INDEPENDENT COLONY
INDEPENDENT DEFENSE CONSORTIUM HEADQUARTERS
* * *
MIA’S MOOD BRIGHTENED more than she’d expected when Malcolm Jenner walked into her new office, though his manner was stiff and so very military. “We must stop meeting like this, Colonel Jenner—sorry, Malcolm.”
He stared at her, his expression unreadable, for a lengthy second before he relaxed his shoulders with a small smile. “Maybe next time we can simply meet for lunch, no pressing crisis required.” Then he seemed to realize what he’d said and cleared his throat. “Ha
rper told me to report here, so here I am.”
“I expect also feeling a bit uncomfortable being in the IDCC offices for any reason, but even more so when you’re not in charge of events. Apologies for the circumstances.”
He didn’t respond directly, instead gazing around the office. “Nice digs. Hardly the office of a runaway.”
She flinched in surprise at the term. Did he know so much about her past? How could—oh, he meant a runaway from Earth. From EASC. Right.
“Governor Ledesme has been most gracious and accommodating. I believe she’s gotten past her initial distrust of Prevos that you saw during the Metigen assault—or possibly she hides it better now. Also, she’s tasked me with enough work to require two offices and three assistants at a minimum.”
She went over to the closet and grabbed her coat. “I need to swing by the armory downstairs to pick up some equipment we’ll be making use of, then we can go.”
“Go?”
“I’m coming with you.”
He looked frustrated, and the corners of his eyes pinched in to match his lips. “I don’t understand. You’re not a soldier, and this is certain to be a dangerous mission. Also one I’m becoming anxious for the details of, by the way.”
“You’ll get them as soon as we’re underway.” She paused to glance down at the floor then up at him. He was quite tall—had she never noticed before? “I realize you have no reason to trust me, but do you at least trust that I want to see Olivia Montegreu dead as much as you do?”
“Of course. I…” his eyes darted away “…might have checked up on your history a little. I’m sure you bear no love for the cartels.”
So he did know after all. Which runaway had he meant, then? Why did it matter? She frowned—at herself, though he clearly caught sight of it. “Yes, there is the absence of love. To top it off, a good friend of mine was wounded in the attack on Rasogo II.”
“All the more reason. I don’t blame you. And I do trust you, apart from this mission. You proved yourself the last time I was here on Romane.”
“A few things have happened since then.”
“Not anything that changes my mind, as far as I’m concerned.”
Really? His honorableness was rather bewildering. She started to press him on it, to ask why her fleeing EASC, stealing valuable EASC property and helping to engineer the issuance of false orders to him didn’t make him trust her any less…but they were in a hurry. Every passing second was another second Olivia Montegreu could leave the space station. Also, Morgan was beginning to get awfully crabby in her head.
“Well, thank you. Now I am coming with you, and I will fill you in on the way. Promise.”
SPACE, CENTRAL QUADRANT
INDEPENDENT SPACE
EAS GAMBIER
They rendezvoused with the IDCC recon craft ten megameters out from the space station. The small craft didn’t have a ship-to-ship docking mechanism, so Harper executed a space walk over to the Gambier.
She collapsed her helmet and jerked a nod at Malcolm. “Good to see you, sir—sorry, old habits.” She waved a vague greeting in Mia’s direction.
“And you, Harper.” He introduced the six members of his team he’d brought along, and they got down to business. The trip here had been short, and Mia had briefed them only in generalities.
They were going to hijack a supply ship en route to the station, hold the crew hostage and use the ship to hitch a ride inside. They could retrieve the proper clearance codes and procedures by force if necessary, but with any luck a promise of amnesty and new identities would persuade the crew to cooperate. Malcolm and several members of his team would infiltrate the station, sneak to Montegreu’s office—or wherever she happened to be at the time—and kill her.
There were a few details still to be worked out, obviously.
Mia dug into one of the bags she’d brought. Her hand emerged holding a compact, flat device, which she offered to him. “Cloaking shield.”
“We have those.”
“Just try it on for size.”
He made a face but accepted it, then fitted it onto his belt and activated it.
If the gasps of surprise from his team were any indication, he wasn’t cloaked but instead had disappeared entirely. He held his hand up in front of him—or thought he did, because he couldn’t see it. At all. There was no telltale shimmer, no offset to the objects behind his hand. “Prevo tech, I assume?”
Mia shrugged. “More Metigen tech, honestly. We found a better way to miniaturize their cloaking shield. They’re prototypes, and we only have two. But they’ve been thoroughly tested, and they should maintain this level of fidelity at speeds up to three meters per second, or a healthy jog. Draw your gun and hold it out as if you were preparing to fire.”
He did as instructed. Beginning at his wrist the illusion began to dissipate, until the last two centimeters of the Daemon’s barrel were clearly visible. He nodded understanding, though no one could see it. “That’s the range then.”
“It begins to fade out at a radius of 0.67 meters and ends at 0.84 meters—the gradual decrease is actually why it’s so effective. We’re working on extending the distance, but for now doing so requires a bulkier power pack than is practical to wear.”
“Hopefully we won’t need to be shooting much, particularly since we’ll be invisible.” He deactivated the shield. “Only two?”
“Take me.” Harper was leaning against the cabin wall, but her posture screamed coiled tension and her arms were crossed and locked stiffly over her chest.
He winced. “Sorry, Harper. I have complete faith in your abilities, but this team has been working together for the last five months. I can’t risk any glitches in communication or orders.” He motioned behind him. “Paredes, you’re up. Even invisible, we’ll still need to get past tight security.”
The young tech officer acknowledged the order. “Yes, sir.”
“Fine, but I’m part of the hijack team.”
He risked another glance at Harper, and found the defiant glare he expected. “Why is it so important to you?”
“Seeing as I don’t need your permission to speak freely, it’s like this. We got the intel, we found the station and we worked out how to execute the infiltration. The IDCC deserves to play a role, and if the mission succeeds, we deserve some of the credit. We have a reputation to build.”
“Point taken. You’re part of the hijack team.” He chuckled lightly. “But the IDCC is already going to play a role, isn’t it, Mia?”
Mia smiled. “It is. I’ll be with you every step of the way, and I’ll get you to Olivia Montegreu.”
“Virtually.”
“Correct. At the same time, Commander Lekkas will be monitoring security and watching for any sign they’ve been alerted to our presence.”
“Also virtually.”
“Correct again. And once we’ve achieved our primary objective, she’ll close in—non-virtually—and place plasma bombs in strategic locations. When they blow, they’ll cripple the station but not so badly people won’t have time to evacuate.”
“Really?” This remark didn’t come from him, but rather Devore.
Mia looked at the special forces captain with startling earnestness. “Really. We—the IDCC, Prevos, whoever it is you have misgivings about—aren’t cold-blooded killers. The people on the station may be criminals, but none of us want a thousand deaths on our conscience. Do you?”
Devore blinked. “No.”
“Good. Then we’re all on the same page.” Mia returned to the bag and retrieved another item, a small transmitter.
“Now for the grand prize. Malcolm, you know firsthand the strength of the shield Montegreu wears. Strictly speaking, ‘wears’ isn’t accurate—the shield is generated and powered by her cybernetics. Activate this transmitter inside a twelve-meter radius of her location, and it will disrupt her shield for a few seconds—five, maybe seven or eight if you’re lucky. It’s a narrow window, but that’s your window to take her down.”
>
It was a narrow window. “How did you come up with it?”
“Abigail copied the technicals of the shield’s programming while she was conducting the Prevo procedure. It took some time, but eventually she uncovered a few weaknesses.”
She stared at him with unnerving intensity. “Malcolm, don’t underestimate this woman. We have no way to know how much or in what ways she’s ‘upgraded’ herself since she became a Prevo. Expect anything.”
“That’s what they pay me to do.”
“If you say so.” Her expression relaxed. “I’ll stay here with the pilot when the rest of you hijack the supply ship. It doesn’t matter where I’m physically located, so long as it’s more or less stationary.”
The pilot indicated assent. “We’ll be out here imitating a hole in space.”
“Yes, you will be. Mia, I’m sending you our pulse-based comm channel information. Will that work? Will you be able to talk to me using it?” He hadn’t the faintest idea how this thing she could do functioned.
“It will.”
“Then let’s get started.” He turned to the pilot. “Major Berg, alert us as soon as a candidate ship comes into range.”
Olivia Montegreu did not inspire loyalty in her underlings—but she did inspire fear.
The captain of the ship they boarded sweated profusely, and his skin had blanched to an ashen gray. “You can’t protect me from her. I do this, and I’m a dead man.”
Malcolm donned a thoughtful countenance as Grenier held the man securely. “If that’s true, you’re already dead simply by allowing your ship to be boarded. I mean, who knows what you’ve told us. At least my way, you have a chance.
“You want to be an Earth Alliance citizen? We can make it happen: new name, new background, new life. Want to be anonymous on Pandora? We can make that happen, too. If you keep a low profile, you’ll have a lot better chance of surviving than you do if you rat us out now.”
“Uh….” The man gaped wide-eyed at the floor. “Good point. I want to live on Shi Shen, and I want my name to be Har—”
Dissonance: Aurora Renegades Book Two (Aurora Rhapsody 5) Page 22
