Unfaithful Covenant

by Michael Anderle

  Damir groaned and stood. “We can’t stay here.”

  The commander nodded and also stood. “You keep heading west until we get behind our lines.”

  Damir looked at the other survivors. Everyone was wounded in some way, and everyone had a med patch on, but they were all mobile. The commander, with his knee wound, was in the worst shape.

  “I’ll help you.” Damir offered the man his shoulder.

  “No, I’ll slow you down,” the commander replied. “You guys make your move, and I’ll stay here. I’m going to draw their attention. It might give you a couple more minutes.”

  “That’s insane.” Damir shook his head. “You’ll die.”

  “I’ll get you all killed and die anyway if I come with you.” The commander hobbled over to the door. “It’s better for one man to die than all of you.” He clapped Damir’s shoulder. “You’ve got a good head on you, Sokov. When this is all over, I’m sure you’ll be a good leader in the new government.”

  Damir looked at the other soldiers. There was a mixture of pity and relief on their faces, but no one else seemed willing to argue. So much for their revolutionary fraternity.

  “Fine.” Damir pointed at the closed back door. “Let’s open that.”

  The soldiers clustered near the door, taking up positions to pull it aside. With a mighty grunt of exertion, they yanked it open.

  The commander hobbled to the door, using his rifle as a cane. “Get going, and stay close to the houses. When you have a minute’s head start, I’ll draw their attention.”

  Damir shook his head. “This isn’t right. We can carry you.”

  “Not fast enough. Now go. That’s an order.”

  The other rebels hurried out, looking back and forth before darting away. They kept close to the wall of the long apartment building next to the house. Damir hesitated for a moment longer before hurrying after them, his injuries a mere ache at this point from the help of the med patch. He sprinted, lungs burning, until he caught up with the other survivors.

  “We shouldn’t—” he began.

  Blood splattered on the ground and one of the men collapsed, a new huge hole in his tactical vest. He might as well have been wearing nothing. The crack of the rifle came right after the man hit the ground. Someone had fired from very, very far away.

  “Sniper!” Damir jumped through a shattered window into the lobby of the apartment building. It wouldn’t protect them from artillery, but a sniper couldn’t shoot what he couldn’t see.

  Half the survivors panicked and opened up on full auto, firing vainly into the distance. It was pointless. Given the delay between the shot and the sound, the sniper was well beyond their engagement distance. Another man gurgled and collapsed, his throat missing. The man right beside him made it one meter toward the building before he lost his head.

  Damir stayed low, crawling the opposite way over the sharp fragments of metal on the ground. They cut into his palms, but adrenaline and painkillers made it a distant concern. He needed to get back to the house with the commander. They hadn’t been getting picked off by a sniper there.

  Something didn’t make sense. The sniper was obviously lying in wait to the west toward their lines, but given their likely distance, they were well in rebel territory. There was no way the Army had pressed that far forward that quickly.

  Damir tried to push the worry out of his mind as he crawled to a hole in the wall leading out to the side. A bright flare shot into the sky in the distance. He stared at it, unsure of what he was seeing for a couple of seconds.

  “Damn it. That’s how you’re going to distract them?” Damir shook his head.

  Thanks to the flare, he couldn’t return to the house. He stayed on the ground, afraid that if he lifted his head, the barest hint of his thermal trace might be spotted by whatever sniper had picked off the rest of the survivors.

  Damir wasn’t sure how long he laid there, his hands bleeding all over the floor when a round whistled overhead and struck the house. The explosion grew like a festive tree, flinging fiery debris all over the area. Pieces crashed into the lobby, smashing through the already weakened wall.

  He groaned and rolled the opposite way, then crawled toward a corner. With the men dead and the commander vaporized, the Army might leave him alone. He didn’t understand their relentless assault on a couple of squads. Was it vengeance for the rumored atrocities?

  Mercs or overzealous rebels, it didn’t matter. They were losing the propaganda war, and Damir suspected they were becoming worse than the UTC dogs they were trying to throw off the planet.

  He took slow, deep breaths, trying to remain conscious. Nanites in med patches could do wonders, but he’d lost a lot of blood before shredding his hands and knees on the floor. The buzzing in his ears, constant since the explosion, didn’t help.

  “Is this how my part in the rebellion’s going to end?” he muttered. “Dead in some damned apartment lobby?”

  Damir closed his eyes. Glory was something for other men.

  Distant voices sounded in the darkness. Damir groaned.

  “Is he the only one?” someone asked.

  “Yes,” someone else replied.

  Damir blinked his eyes open, not recognizing either voice. His whole body felt numb and cold, probably because his shirt was off, and he now wore four patches. Two men in dark uniforms stood next to him with a hoverstretcher, both with rifles slung over their backs. They didn’t wear FSA patches, and they weren’t Army.

  “You’re with the mercenaries?” Damir croaked, his voice hoarse.

  One of the men grinned. “Yeah, we dragged your ass out of there. You’re welcome.”

  “What about the sniper?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper. “He killed…the others.”

  “Don’t worry. You’re not the only rebel we pulled out of there. We took out a bunch of Army, but we didn’t have the numbers to stay and fight.” He pointed the opposite way. “We had some help.”

  Damir turned his head. A sleek gray hovertank floated about fifty meters away. Its cannon was angled up. With a loud buzz, the shell zoomed out of the main gun, a surprisingly quiet blur, not unexpected for a railgun.

  His heart rate kicked up. It’d been the briefest of glimpses, not even a second. He was drugged and wounded, unsure about a lot of things, but that didn’t keep his mind from screaming at him. The Army had dropped all sorts of bombs, missiles, and rockets on the rebels since the war began, and Damir had seen most of them, including the one that had killed his squad commander. The round he had just seen launched reminded him of another he’d seen not all that long ago.

  “It couldn’t be,” he murmured under his breath.

  There was no way the merc tank would have bombed the rebels. He didn’t doubt they would turn on the FSA, but why bother saving him if that was the case?

  He was seeing things. That was the only explanation.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  October 2, 2230, Solar System, En Route to Earth, Aboard Argo

  Jia lay back on the bed in their cabin, a data window floating above her. Her PNIU was transmitting the sound directly to her ear, letting Erik slumber in peace behind her. She wanted to sleep too, but this time she couldn’t blame it on circadian rhythms as much as her paranoid mind working overtime. Alina and the ID were working on processing the information Emma had forwarded, but Jia couldn’t shake the feeling they might already be too late.

  Now that they were so close to Earth, she could get near-real-time Terran news feeds. She didn’t expect the Core to announce anything over the news, but there might be a clue hidden among the relentless noise of the so-called news.

  The feed started, the chyron making bile rise in the back of her throat.

  DEADLY TERROR ON NEW SAMARKAND. FRONTIER MURDER!

  The anchor looked at the camera drone with a stern expression. “The Defense Directorate and Criminal Investigations Directorate are still providing minimal information after a brief admission of what they described as a major t
errorist incident in Sogdia a little under a month ago in the capital city of New Samarkand. There have been no reports of casualties or the nature of the event, leading some to claim a government coverup, especially given the communication delays. We’ll bring you updates as they become available.”

  Jia killed the feed. She hated being right all the time.

  * * *

  October 3, 2230, Neo Southern California Metroplex, Private Hangar of the Argo

  Jia wasn’t surprised that Alina was waiting for them in the hangar, despite having not contacted them ahead of time. She’d voiced her suspicions to Erik, and he’d agreed that New Samarkand might be the delivery target, but without Alina’s go-ahead, that meant nothing. Borrowing the Argo was easy enough, but getting the jumpship required the military to give it up. They needed more to go on.

  They sent a transmission to Alina to tell her to come to the galley, where Jia, Erik, Malcolm, and Emma waited for her. When the ID agent stepped in, her grim mien didn’t portend good news.

  She sat down and frowned. “If you are all half as good as I believe, you already know what I’m going to say.”

  “There’s a full-scale insurrection underway on New Samarkand,” Jia replied, folding her arms. “It started in early September. And let me guess, the military’s totally surprised by the level and amount of weaponry being deployed by the rebel forces.”

  Malcolm swallowed. “It’s just rebels, right? Provide enough reinforcements, and it doesn’t matter if the Core gave them bigger guns.”

  Erik shook his head. “It’s not going to be that simple.”

  “Exactly.” Alina looked at Erik and Jia before visibly calming herself. “The government is selling it, as you might have already seen, as a terrorist disturbance, but Jia’s right. It’s a full-scale insurrection, and it’s pretty bad, based on the initial reports. The local garrison was pushed back right away, and the only reason the rebels haven’t overwhelmed everything is some odd strategic choices by their leadership in the opening assaults. Reinforcements were rerouted from nearby systems, but a transport was heavily damaged either by pirates or a rebel space force, so Fleet is likely spreading resources throughout the system, including guarding the HTP.”

  That was the problem with places so far away. It brought new meaning to the idea of fighting the last war.

  Jia sighed and shook her head. “Then we’re too late. The Core already started the rebellion. We might have helped disrupt their shipping networks, but we can’t do anything for the colony.”

  “I wouldn’t say that.” Alina managed a weak grin. “Normally, we’d be completely outmaneuvered. With the rebellion already underway, this is going to go down like these things always do—the military will fight the enemy to a standstill and convince them it’s not worth their effort to keep fighting.”

  Erik’s brows lifted. “But we have a way of getting there quickly, one the Core doesn’t.”

  Jia shook her head. “We already discussed this. A handful of troops won’t make a difference. What’s the idea, then? That’ll we keep jumping back and forth, filling up with troops?”

  Alina snorted. “Hell, no. The DD hasn’t asked for that, and if they did, I’d argue strongly against it. The rest of the UTC isn’t ready to know about the jumpship, and the more we use it, the more we risk it. Bouncing around as a glorified troop transport, especially when we know there are hostile ships in the system, guarantees trouble.” She pointed at Jia and then Erik. “But yes, you two will be going to New Samarkand.”

  “And doing what?” Erik frowned. “We’re both good in a battle, but we’re not good enough to turn the tide of a war.”

  “That depends on how you’re used.” Alina sliced the air with her hand. Images of the faces of different men and women appeared. “I intend to use you as an ID asset, not a military asset. Ghosts work in the shadows, stabbing men in the back.”

  Jia nodded at the images. “Who are these people?”

  “Dead ID agents,” Alina explained. “We had an unusual number on New Samarkand because of previous leads pointing to trouble there. The thing is, as you can imagine from the comm delay, we’re just finding out about their deaths. One of the best agents was killed investigating—and this should surprise exactly no one—unusual shipments, command and control associated with the rebels, not the weapons. Most of our local agents were wiped out in suspicious rebel and/or mercenary attacks within the first forty-eight hours. Someone knew who they were and where they were to target them. That screams Core to us. They must have been planning this for a long time, scoping out the colony and sniffing out all the ghosts.”

  Erik pounded his palm with his fist. “So, it’s not about stopping the rebellion?”

  “No, it’s about taking down any Core assets. Military intelligence can handle the rest on the ground, and I suspect once the Core’s neutralized, the rebellion fails.” Alina dismissed the images and brought up a smaller version of the star map Emma had shown them on Mars.

  “Ah, my best work in the last week,” Emma announced with a smirk.

  “We cross-referenced that data with other information we have,” Alina explained, pointing at Gliese 581. “It all points to the Core shipping equipment to New Samarkand. Their involvement also might explain the heavy use of mercs and the unusual viciousness being displayed by the rebels. They’re trying to blame it on the government, but the classified reports make it clear the rebel forces aren’t showing a lot of restraint, considering it’s their own colony. What’s the good of taking over if you kill everyone and blow half of it up?”

  Jia rubbed her temples. “They could have wiped out the garrison by now, or blown up the entire colony.”

  Alina shook her head. “It makes no sense to risk exposure with the arms shipments if the end game was simply destroying the colony. If we assume the Core has partial control of the rebels and likely complete control of the mercs, it might explain the unusual activity the military and agents reported. The one thing I don’t doubt is that the Core purposely started an insurrection on New Samarkand.”

  “But why?” Jia asked.

  “To weaken the UTC.” Alina frowned. “We’ve had our suspicions about Diogenes’ Hope, and there have been a couple of close calls in the last few years, more than you might imagine. Someone’s going out of their way to stir up trouble in a lot of colonies.”

  “I thought the Core wanted to take over the UTC,” Malcolm commented with a confused look.

  “Weaken the central government enough and strengthen some alternatives, and they might be able to,” Jia murmured.

  Alina nodded slowly. “If we take them out at the source, it’ll solve the problem, and that’s why I’m sending you to New Samarkand. Not to stop the rebellion, but to investigate and neutralize any elements of the Core.” She tapped her PNIU. “That’s well within your capabilities.”

  An image of a gray hovertank appeared. A gunship materialized next, followed by two small fighters.

  “These are all mercenary vehicles,” Alina explained. “All of them display unusual maneuverability and damage resistance.”

  “So the mercs know what they’re doing,” Erik commented, his eyes on the tank.

  “I think it’s worse than that. Much worse.”

  The images vanished, replaced by a half-destroyed gunship, the wreckage strewn around on a city street. Now that it was at ground level, it was easy to tell there was something wrong with it. The whole thing was too thin. The camera drone flew to the opposite side, revealing where a cockpit would be. A soldier stood next to a pried-open compartment, pointing in disgust to a half-crushed human brain covered in tubes and wires. The feed froze.

  “Elites,” Jia spat through clenched teeth. “They couldn’t be satisfied with sticking them in those damned bots.”

  “The government’s worried about this getting out.” Alina inclined her head toward the recording. “It’s unclear how much the rebels know about it, but it’s highly likely the Core is using the rebellion not
just to weaken the UTC government but to further refine their weapons by field-testing them. We have no idea how stable these things are, but we do know the more opportunities we give the Core to test things, the more dangerous they’ll get. If they can start mass-producing these things, they could present a major threat to half the UTC.”

  “We beat them before,” Erik replied. “I don’t care if they’re hiding in a tank. I’ll just bring a lot of missiles with me.”

  “We could contact the rebel command,” Jia suggested. “Explain who and what they’re working with.”

  Alina chuckled. “Yes, because a bunch of insurrectionists is going to believe a government ghost.” She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter if you present this footage. They won’t believe you. If we had more time, I’d suggest backchannel work to convince the rebels their new benefactors aren’t going to help them, but it’s like Jia pointed out. We’re behind in this, and the rebellion’s already underway. We can’t know on Earth how bad the situation currently is, just what it was weeks ago. Accordingly, this is going to be an unusual mission.” She leaned forward, a faint look of excitement appearing on her face. “You’ll be running far ahead of Earth, the ID, and the DD, so this is going to require a lot of autonomy, and there’s only so much I can do to prepare the ground for you. By the time any messages from me arrive, this whole thing will probably be over one way or another.”

  “Sounds like fun,” Malcolm muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “And by that, I mean it sounds terrifying.”

  Alina grinned. “The best missions are. I can give you credentials and info that’ll introduce you to whatever’s left of the surviving ID and help you recruit assistance from the local military if you need firepower, but I can’t guarantee anything.”

  “What about Anne and Kant?” Erik asked. “If we don’t have soldiers backing us, it’d be nice to have them.”

  Alina sighed. “They’re recovering.”

  “Recovering?” Erik’s brow lifted.