The Ultimate Mystery Thriller Horror Box Set (7 Mystery Thriller Horror Bestsellers)

by Perkins, Cathy

  “Yes, sir.”

  Perhaps the decision was already made, but Brett’s brain began racing. He could think of no reason for this man to report his decision to a Major he had never met before. Something still hung in the balance.

  “Did she ever say so explicitly?”

  So Peterson wanted deniability as well as cherry picked intelligence. While pretending to look at the man’s face, Brett saw the photographs on the far wall just past the right side of his head. Brett couldn’t quite make out the people he shook hands with, but the pictures brought home the fact that he dealt with a politician.

  “No, sir. She never claimed it, and she denied it when asked outright. She didn’t object when others just assumed it.”

  The Senator’s mouth tightened, betraying anger under a layer of self discipline. “She’s very clever.”

  Brett blinked in surprise as the Senator continued.

  “Rollers… aggressively argued her position before all the facts were in. When she got to be a nuisance I asked her to work under Colonel Barr.”

  Had Brett misunderstood? Could the Senator be on the right side after all? The pause didn’t stretch out long enough to indicate a reply was expected.

  “She represents the views of a sizable minority of the Federalist Worlds, including the ambassador we’ve just recalled.”

  Brett didn’t know the ambassador, so he said only, “Yes, sir.”

  He gave no voice to his relief, more for the sake of the Federalist Worlds than for himself.

  The Senator continued, “Ambassador Williams is the result of a compromise. Oceanian nanotechnology remains a potential danger even when confined to Oceania. I’m concerned that his diplomatic instincts might get the better of him.”

  As the Senator shifted in his seat, the picture caught Brett’s eye again and he realized the other man in the photograph was Admiral Lassiter, not a politician or lobbyist. The thought lifted his spirits, although he no more believed in heroism by association than guilt by association.

  Senator Peterson continued, “Part of the problem lay with the man assigned to assist the Ambassador, who was our expert in Oceanian nanotechnology. He was originally sent to verify that people from the Federalist Worlds who wanted to return home had had all the nanotechnology removed from their bloodstream, and to learn as much as he could to help shorten the war if we couldn’t avoid it. Since he had some experience dealing with the Oceanians, he was also involved in negotiations.”

  Apparently the Senator understood the subtle danger they faced and knew the political nuances more deeply than Brett. He continued quietly, but with restrained anger. “He became convinced Oceanian nanotechnology is harmless, and spent more time trying to convince us than convincing the Oceanians. He was recalled as well.”

  Senator Peterson’s eyes bored into him, and Brett prepared to learn his part in this. “You’ll replace him. I’m aware you have no diplomatic experience, but you’ll take part in the negotiations as your predecessor did. The possibility that you might not be diplomatic enough is not my main worry. Make sure Williams doesn’t make concessions we can’t live with. Breaking an agreement would be preferable to tolerating a threat to humanity, but it would be better to do neither.”

  For an instant Brett wanted to cheer. He would negotiate instead of a politician. He understood what was at stake. Then reality came crashing in.

  “Sir I – I’ve never negotiated anything, never dealt with politicians.”

  Inside his head he added that he only wrote reports the politicians ignored, then subtracted it again since the Senator hadn’t ignored this one.

  “The Ambassador will be there for that.”

  Brett shifted just slightly, becoming aware how rigid the last few shocks had made his body. “Sir, are you saying I’m expected to forbid him to make certain concessions?”

  “Not directly, but you’ll communicate with my staff.”

  Brett considered the problems this would create. The Senator continued, “There’s a time factor involved. These talks have been spun out for years already. We cannot permit endless negotiations, nor keep this force in place indefinitely. Contingency plans for the invasion are already being made. Much of the equipment used to replicate the nanotechnology is decentralized, as is the information system that technology communicates with. We will be forced to destroy a large number of industrial buildings if war cannot be avoided – and many casualties will result if they attempt to defend them rather than agreeing to evacuate. War can only be avoided if you convey to them the fact that we are serious and action is imminent.”

  Brett hadn’t finished talking about the problems his inexperience might cause. A misstep on his part could conceivably cause a war. Yet an hour ago he had feared he was a sole unheard voice for the dangers they were dealing with. He wouldn’t beg off now, even if the Senator let him.

  The Senator continued as if his participation were a foregone conclusion. Perhaps it was. “Anything you can learn about their systems that would make a war shorter and easier will be of great benefit as well. Be as discreet as you can, but I rely on your judgment. Nobody wants war, but anything that makes the Oceanians realize how serious we are is not all bad.”

  Brett wasn’t too worried about being caught at cloak and dagger espionage. In an open society where scientists and engineers trained and studied and shared ideas, information that didn’t seem worth keeping secret might turn out to be valuable.

  The Senator was still speaking. “Military intelligence will go through your chain of command. Colonel Barr has an excellent professional reputation on that score. He’ll give you more details on your assignment.”

  Brett had only a moment to wonder about the slight emphasis on ‘that score.’ The Senator thanked him for coming and nodded a dismissal. Brett had already turned to leave and opened the door when his host spoke again.

  “Brett.”

  Before Brett could turn around again the Senator spoke rapidly. His voice was quiet, yet so raw it was painful to hear. “Your only responsibility is to the Space Force, which reports to the Council of Federalist Worlds. That’s all that matters, and my son probably isn’t here anyway. He just mentioned Oceania a few times before leaving home. The Oceanians say that his right to privacy prevents them from telling me if he’s here or not, but that if he’s here they’ve given him all my messages and he hasn’t answered. I’ve forwarded a few details to your computer, and if you do happen to find out anything I’d be grateful.”

  Brett turned back towards the Senator. “I will, sir,” he replied, and this time finished closing the door behind him.

  Brett would have to report to his immediate superior, and began to make his way to Colonel Barr’s office. Each image that passed through his mind overwhelmed the previous one. He would soon breathe unrecycled air, eat fresh food, stride through open spaces. No, that was trivial, one misstep might lead to war. No, even that was trivial, failure to act might betray all of the Federalist Worlds, including trillions of lives.

  As soon as he left the civilian section of the ship, he was again conscious of the gray metal passageways that hooked up the rest of the ship. In theory the ship was designed so two people could easily pass each other going opposite directions, but in practice sometimes various pipes and equipment interfered. He took three tubes, one following what would have been a line of longitude on the surface of a planet, one following a line of latitude, and one taking him towards the center of the ship, where gravity was weak even while the ship was spinning. Colonel Barr’s office was quite cramped, but he encouraged guests to use the space with maximum efficiency. At 1/5 G, Brett was quite comfortable hanging around there, especially when he had a little ledge near his feet. He reported in and took a deep breath.

  “Colonel, you’re not going to believe this, unless you recommended me in the first place. I’m the new assistant to Ambassador Williams.”

  Barr responded obliquely, “Roundhouse is the only world where you ever actually saw ground
combat, isn’t it?”

  Brett nodded. He knew Barr well enough not to interrupt his flow with a verbal response.

  “You probably saw more actual danger than any other medical officer in the fleet. That was an ugly war, bloodier than most. The thing was, there was already a civil war going on when we got there, and many people on both sides were secretly glad to see us. This is different. It isn’t often we try to occupy a peaceful planet and do something that will indirectly cost many lives.”

  Brett wanted to protest, but he knew Oceania’s entire economy and medical system were interwoven with the nanotechnology that they used to communicate with their information systems. Colonel Barr was correct. They should be prepared for determined resistance.

  “I have a great deal of respect for Senator Peterson. He supports the Space Marines. It’s just that when a war turns really ugly, sometimes a politician forgets who decided it was necessary and who merely gave advice on how it should be done. I’m not suggesting he would do such a thing, just that it sometimes happens.”

  This wasn’t the can-do Space Force officer Brett worked for. Brett struggled to remain impassive in the face of this near disrespect for their civilian masters. The Colonel was still speaking.

  “Just remember, even though the orders to speak with Senator Peterson came through your chain of command, he isn’t part of it. The orders you’re going to receive will direct you to assist Ambassador Williams, and that is your assignment. Despite his quirks he’s very knowledgeable. He’ll be counting on you.”

  Less than an enthusiastic endorsement of the man he would be working with. Brett had something more important on his mind though. “Sir, on Roundhouse I saw what a hive mind could do. I won’t exceed my authority, but I won’t conceal from the Senator exactly what orders I receive.”

  Barr scowled. “That’s what I don’t like about you. All this ass kissing and sucking up makes me nauseous. Give it to me straight.”

  Brett grinned at the sarcasm. “Sorry sir. I’ll do better next time.”

  Colonel Barr continued, “In answer to your earlier question, I didn’t recommend you for this. You’re a smart guy, but you weren’t transferred to military intelligence because of your skills as a diplomat … or a spy. It just so happened you were one of the neurosurgeons who spent the most time working with people exposed to nanomachines… at just the time Oceanian technology was booted way up in our list of priorities.”

  The Colonel had left out Brett’s Silver Sun, which was fair enough, since arguably it was as much a product of stubbornness as courage. Brett had never heard of a neurosurgeon winning one before him. He hadn’t wanted it after learning what had happened to Sergeant Mackey, but the Colonel had convinced him he deserved it, and that the Space Force needed heroes just then. Now it seemed Barr felt he needed a dose of humility, and continued to deliver it. He hadn’t even mentioned Brett’s independent research.

  “I’m not saying I wouldn’t recommend my worst enemy for this. I might. I know how strongly you believe in this, and I’ve heard how impressive the Senator is in person, but take care. No matter how resolute he seemed, you have his clout behind you to a point, but he won’t shoulder the blame if things go wrong. Good luck, Major.”

  Brett respected Colonel Barr, but was convinced this mission was necessary. He hadn’t been asked to argue though, and he didn’t.

  As soon as he was dismissed, Brett headed back to his cabin to make sure his dress uniforms were ready for the trip, and examine the skimpy briefing materials given him on their Oceanian counterparts. He made his belt computer project them on the wall. The head of the team they would engage in verbal combat with didn’t sound formidable. According to his predecessor’s notes, the Oceanian ambassador was 213 years old, a living example of the extended Oceanian life expectancy. He had a rare condition, rare even a hundred years ago when Oceanian technology had been cruder. Due to brief periods of ‘totaling’, using his entire brain to participate in the overmind, the sensory and motor cortexes of his brain displayed certain imperfections when performing their normal functions.

  What would that look like in practice? Could it give the Federalist Worlds an advantage? Beware of overconfidence.

  Brett found he only had time to skim the other sections – he would have to rely on Williams to brief him after they landed. There wouldn’t even be time to meet Williams before the shuttle trip.

  Despite the dubious aspects of his mission, it would feel good to breath fresh air again, and walk somewhere with trees and no walls. No claustrophobe could ever join the Space Force, and his time as a lieutenant had taught him to be grateful to have the little cabin all to himself. Yet soon he would be able to stride straight in one direction as long as he wished.

  The shuttle bay had more open space than most areas of the ship. Brett stood on a catwalk above the Firefly. He would step down directly into the passenger seats in the rear of the cockpit. The body of the craft was shaped like an isosceles triangle, with an aerodynamically shaped needle nose, and it was held in place by scaffolding, although the wheels rested firmly on the floor. The crew bubble, shaped to minimize atmospheric friction, currently stood open. The pilot was doing piloty countdown things. There was no copilot in the seat next to him for this routine trip. The two passenger seats were in the rear of the bubble.

  Brett liked the effect the sleek black tiling created, as if warning bystanders not to mess with the Firefly. The color was counterintuitive given the concern about radiation, but surfaces that absorbed light also radiated fastest. Since the heat would come from friction rather than radiation, black was cooler.

  Brett had a few moments to study Ambassador Williams as he crossed the shuttle bay. Certainly over fifty, thin but not athletic, too dark black hair probably dyed.

  “Good afternoon, Major, um, Johnson?”

  Ambassadors were probably supposed to be good at names, but maybe he wanted to save the diplomatic skills for the Oceanians instead of wasting them on the help.

  “A pleasure to meet you, Ambassador,” Brett said, stretching the truth only slightly. He was pleased the man was here so they could get started. When the other man made no move to walk down the steps, Brett led the way. The seats were a little cramped, but well designed for comfort. He helped the other strap into his seat so the pilot didn't need to come back into the passenger compartment.

  A cheerful voice came from the front seat, “Launching in five seconds. Three, two one.”

  The ground cracked open under the center of the craft, and the gap grew as the floor slid away in two sections. The scaffolding released them, and they fell out into space.

  It took a moment to get used to free fall. To avoid vertigo, Brett closed his eyes and didn’t think of them as falling. Doors opened on the outer surface of a rotating sphere, near the ‘equator.’ The Firefly kept going in the same direction as that particular part of the ship had been moving at the moment of release. The shuttle bay doors rotated away from them.

  Brett glanced at the man next to him. Space sickness didn't seem imminent, but distraction might be in order. They had things to discuss anyway. “Ambassador Williams, I'm Major Brett Johnson. This is my second campaign in a twenty year commitment. I spent seven years on Roundhouse as a medical officer, and was transferred to military intelligence when Oceania and the ability to understand their technology became a high priority. Although they'll know I'm there because I'm the closest thing we have to a specialist in their technology, I'm still presenting myself as a medical officer.”

  Brett didn't really feel like telling the ambassador how he had earned his Silver Sun on Roundhouse, or what it had cost him. As it turned out he didn't have to. The ambassador didn't ask questions, or talk about his own qualifications, or even dive right into the briefing.

  Williams spoke in a tone higher than before, unpleasantly like whining, “I don't see why they assigned a military man to this mission. We're here to save lives, not end them.”

  Brett kept silent for
the space of a breath, not letting the civilian get to him. “I'm a doctor, and hurting people isn’t my job, so maybe you could brief me as one man of peace to another?”

  The mission would be easier if he got along with his new boss. Brett did not say, “I'm a doctor, not trained to kill, but in your case I'll make an exception.” He refrained from explaining that he had indeed lost several patients, but saved a great many more, and didn't enjoy talking about the former.

  Williams' face reddened. “People talk like the Oceanians have a contagious disease. If you think what they've done to themselves is wrong, that's your business. We're here to negotiate with them, not judge them.”

  Where had that come from? What had Williams been told about Brett? The Senator hadn’t wanted a doormat for Williams, or he would have chosen someone else. “The Space Force doesn’t judge people. We don’t even kill them without good reason, unless we’re having a very bad day.”

  The Ambassador replied, “Silly remarks aside, it’s not for you to decide if we have good reason to kill.”

  True enough, but the opening implication that the Space Force killed capriciously, and the accusation without evidence that Brett would be judgmental rankled. Still, getting down to cases beat futile arguing. “I'll keep that in mind. What do I need to know to avoid giving accidental offense?”

  “Their ancestors were English speaking people from Old Earth.”

  Of course they were. The Firestorm had been built and crewed on Old York, as part of their contribution to the Federalist Space Marines. The Firestorm and her sister ships were chosen partly because the common language would make occupation of the planet a little easier should it be necessary. So far Williams had told Brett nothing he didn't already know. Patronizing Brett – or concealing ignorance?

  Ambassador Williams warmed slightly to his theme, and his tone became less grating, “The embassy is in Landfall, the capital city of Oceania. For the most part they developed in isolation from the rest of humanity until a few hundred years ago. There was a wave of new immigration when they made themselves a legal haven for nanotechnological research, but English is still the dominant language. Many unique cultures have developed over thousands of years, so it's better to just be polite than to try to cram too much into your head. They know we're from another world. Just be polite and do what everyone else does.”