Quantum Predation (Argonauts Book 4)

by Isaac Hooke

  Night had fallen by then, cloaking the room in darkness. Rade gave strict orders prohibiting anyone from using any lights—this included headlamps and weapon lights, both in the visual and infrared bands. They all switched to thermal vision mode—something their Implants allowed without the need for helmets. He kept activating the “friendlies” overlay mode of his Implant, which applied blue outlines to the indistinct thermal forms of the Argonauts scattered across his vision, and placed the appropriate callsigns above them.

  Shaw was next to him. Rade had opened his faceplate by then, and he gazed at her in the dim light, wishing he could see more than the outline of her face, and the green hot spots created by the thermal vision.

  “How are you holding up?” he asked softly.

  “I’m holding,” Shaw said.

  He removed the glove from his right hand, and reached toward her open faceplate. He hesitated, then finally touched her cheek with the palm of his hand.

  “What?” she said. She sounded miffed.

  “Nothing.” Rade retracted his hand and sighed; then he raised his noise canceler about her so that the others wouldn’t hear. “I just wanted to assure myself it was you, and that you’re really all right.”

  “I can hold up as well as the rest of you,” Shaw said. “I have a jumpsuit. It’s the great equalizer, remember?”

  Rade smiled sadly, though he knew she couldn’t see it. “The physical side I have no worry about, not while you’re in that suit. It’s the mental part that bothers me.”

  “You don’t think I have the mental fortitude to handle this situation?” Shaw said.

  “I know you do,” Rade said. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t worry about you.”

  “In all your years in the military, you’ve never been in a situation quite like this, have you?” Shaw said.

  “No,” Rade said. “Though some situations have come close. We used to train for scenarios just like this back in the platoon. Staying up for days on end to snipe a single target. Defending our positions on a mountaintop for a week. Or Trial Week. I told you about Trial Week, didn’t I?”

  “Yes,” Shaw said. “Five days of no sleep and constant, abusive PT, with various painful evolutions thrown into the mix. You’ve told me the hopelessness gets so bad all you want to do is quit. Trial Week: the point where MOTH trainees either break, or pass.”

  “Yes,” Rade said. “All of us trained for this. And have had the experience to backup that training. Except you. Which is why I worry.”

  “Don’t,” she said. “While I might not have gotten the training, like you, I’ve had more than my fair share of experience. When I was trapped on a barren planet nine thousand lightyears from home, with little hope of ever returning, I quickly learned to be resilient. I’ve learned that there is always hope, even when things seem hopeless. And if there isn’t any, then we make our own.”

  Rade felt her bare hand wrap around his—she had removed her glove. He squeezed his fingers around hers. “I love you more than anything in this moment.”

  “And I love you,” Shaw said. She raised his hand, lifting it to her face, and pressed it hard against her cheek. “You made me believe in love.”

  “And you made me believe I was capable of loving,” Rade said. He chuckled. “But let’s leave it at that before we get too sappy.”

  She released his hand and he withdrew it, wondering if he had said the wrong thing.

  Probably. He was a master when it came to combat and command, but dealing with Shaw, well, sometimes he could be a big oaf.

  But then she tilted her upper body forward and leaned the front portion of her helmet against his. She just held that position, her face a few centimeters from his own. He felt her hot breath against his lips. It smelled minty, despite everything they had been through.

  He wondered what his own breath smelled like. Probably terrible. Shaw didn’t say anything, though.

  Her arms reached under his jumpsuit and she pulled his body into hers. “I just want to hold you here for the rest of the night. You were right. It’s a front. I feel like I’m on the verge of collapsing. I put on this brave face, pretending I’m a super strong, super brave person. But inside I’m afraid. I want to believe we’ll make it out. I want to believe this will end well. But a part of me just can’t accept that. The weak part.”

  “Don’t say that,” Rade told her. “I know it’s not true. You just told me we make our own hope. After hearing something like that from you, I know there’s not a weak bone in your body.”

  “But there is,” Shaw said. “All of this is a big lie, a front for you and the men.”

  “Stop it,” Rade said. “You survived all those months alone on that planet nine thousand lightyears from Earth. You had to be strong to endure that.”

  “Again you use that example,” Shaw said.

  “You used it,” Rade said. “Not me.”

  “Yes,” Shaw said. “But if I’m truly honest with myself, I wasn’t alone on that planet. I had Queequeg. My beautiful pet. Queequeg. Who died for me. And I had Fang. I’ve never forgiven myself for what happened to either of them. If I’m so strong, why couldn’t I save them?”

  “You can’t save everyone,” Rade said. “Not even I can. You’ve seen it. Watched men die under my command.”

  She slid her helmet to his shoulder, and rested it there. She was weeping softly. “But you’ve always saved me.”

  “And you’ve saved me in turn,” Rade said. “In more ways than you know.”

  He held her for several moments until she had calmed down. Then he said: “Let’s leave it at: we’re both strong, for the most part, but have moments of weakness.”

  “Yes,” she said. He thought she was smiling, from the sound of her voice. “That works for me. When we’re done here, I seriously want to take a month off from all the Argonauting, and just spend some solid Rade and Shaw time together. You know, the kid-making kind?”

  “We’ve been falling out of practice a bit, haven’t we?” Rade said.

  “A little,” Shaw said.

  “I promise to remedy that when this is done,” Rade said.

  “Good,” Shaw said.

  He saw Tahoe approaching at a crouch in the dark, and he released her and repealed the noise canceler.

  Tahoe ducked down behind the bed frame beside him. “You missed the drama.”

  “Did I?” Rade asked.

  “Batindo was getting antsy,” Tahoe explained. “He was convinced the governor was coming for him any moment. I had to sonic inject him with a tranquilizer I purloined from a Weaver. Calmed him down, for now. Seems to be sleeping.”

  “Good.” Rade glanced at the window area, where he had posted Tahoe.

  “Lui relieved me,” Tahoe said. “He’s all healed up now. Got the Weaver to inject a stimulant to counter the numbing agents.”

  Rade nodded after seeing Lui crouched there beside Bender. He checked Fret’s vitals. He was in the green, too.

  “How are the hostages?” Rade said.

  “Weavers have taken care of them,” Tahoe replied. “They’re sleeping.”

  Rade nodded. “I’m going to have to schedule some rack-out time for the others, soon.”

  “Probably a good idea.” Tahoe raised a noise canceler around himself and Rade.

  “So, any idea how the hell we’re going to get out of this one?” Tahoe said. “Seems like there’s no way out.”

  Rade suppressed a sigh. He felt like he had just had this conversation with Shaw. But that was part of being a leader: he had to bolster up those who followed him, sometimes individually, sometimes as a group.

  “I don’t know, Tahoe...” Rade said. “But we’ll find a way.”

  “Do you think the governor is going to agree to our demands?” Tahoe asked.

  “Well, they must realize by now we’re not giving up without a fight,” Rade said. “So unless they’re willing to kill all the hostages to take us down, they’re going to have to.”

  “That’s
good, then,” Tahoe said. “And we haven’t even talked about how we’re going to capture that Phant.”

  “One step at a time, my friend,” Rade said.

  Tahoe nodded, then repealed the noise canceler. He remained near Rade, but didn’t say anything more.

  Rade raised his own canceler around Tahoe.

  “Do you ever regret having kids?” Rade said. “Considering how little you’ve seen them over the years?”

  “Where did you get that impression?” Tahoe told him. “I’ve seen them a lot. When on deployments, I relied on the InterGalNet to send videos and messages back and forth. And between deployments, living the base life, I saw them every evening.”

  “I was actually referring to that latter case, the base life,” Rade said. “Because I meant seeing them in person. And you can’t tell me that videos and messages are the same thing as face to face contact.”

  “No, they’re not,” Tahoe admitted. “Which is why I try to get my family to visit whatever bases we’re spending liberty at these days. But while I might regret not spending as much time with them as I could, I don’t regret having kids per se. I truly love them. I feel... complete with them, like I’ll live on even if I die. When they were younger, I was afraid of never watching them grow up. I didn’t want them to lose their father. But now that they’re older, I’m not as afraid of dying. Because like I said, I feel like I have a legacy to leave behind. And that’s a precious feeling. Something no one can take away from me. So no, I don’t regret having kids.” He paused. “I take it Shaw has been getting on your case about having a few, has she?”

  “Surprisingly, no,” Rade said. “I told her I wasn’t ready, and she respects that. I just can’t see myself piloting the Argonaut around the galaxy with kids running around the hallways and getting in the way of hardened military men. It’s just not the kind of atmosphere conducive to raising a kid. Plus, they’re going to idolize some of the men, no doubt. What if my kids end up growing into little versions of Manic and Bender?”

  “That wouldn’t be so bad,” Tahoe said. “Those two are some of the most heroic men I know.”

  “I mean how the two of them are always scuffling with each other,” Rade said. “And not just verbally.”

  “They’re just play fighting,” Tahoe said.

  “Really?” Rade said. “You call black eyes and broken arms play fighting...”

  “It is, for ex-MOTHs,” Tahoe said.

  Rade sighed. “All right, well, you get what I’m talking about though?”

  “My kids fight all the time,” Tahoe said. “I think it builds character.”

  Rade chuckled. “Sounds like you’re trying to edge them toward a career as MOTHs.”

  “Actually, I haven’t done any edging whatsoever,” Tahoe said. “But I think they’re going to choose that path anyway. They’re already hanging out with Skullcracker back on Earth. He’s putting them through a training regime.”

  “Nice,” Rade said. “I’m surprised you haven’t tried to dissuade them.”

  “Hey, you’re the dissuader!” Tahoe said.

  “I’m surprised you remember,” Rade said. That had been his occupation before he joined the military. A Disuasivo, or Dissuader. Basically a bodyguard. Not too far removed from being a security consultant.

  “Anyway, back on point,” Tahoe said. “Why would I dissuade them? Being a MOTH is one of the best things that ever happened to me. Sure, it’s hard as hell, but I don’t regret a minute of it, and I wouldn’t change a thing. If my two boys want to be MOTHs, then so be it.”

  “What about the girl?” Rade asked.

  “She has no interest in the military,” Tahoe said. “She’s happy to collect basic pay at the hands of the government, and write books.”

  “She writes books?” Rade said.

  “Yeah, or she’s trying to,” Tahoe said. “Not much of a market for books these days. But hey, I figure, as long as she’s doing what she loves, what does it matter?”

  Rade nodded slowly. “The things we talk about when we’re holed up in the middle of a hospital, under siege by killer robots, with the only thing preventing a crazed governor from killing us all is one of the king’s cousins we lucked out in capturing.”

  “Yeah,” Tahoe said. “It never ceases to amaze me, either.”

  Rade waited a few moments to confirm that Tahoe had nothing more to say, then he repealed the noise canceler. “Okay, Argonauts, it’s time to rack out. Bender, Tahoe and I will keep watch, since we rested earlier. Everyone else, except Harlequin and Surus, I want you to rack out with the hostages.”

  “But I just injected a stimulant,” Lui complained from his position near the window.

  “When you close your eyes, I bet you’ll fall asleep in under five seconds,” Rade said.

  Lui hesitated, then replied: “Probably right.”

  “Good, so swap positions with me,” Rade said. “Surus and Harlequin, you might as well join the rest of us at the windows.”

  He made his way over the debris to the window area with Tahoe, and took up the post vacated by Lui. He left the robots in position by the plugged breaches.

  He forced his rifle into the crack between the mattress and the window, and switched to the viewpoint of the scope. He scanned the opposite buildings in the dark, and the streets below, searching for heat signatures. He checked the overhead map for the positions of the tangos that were spotted last, but saw nothing out there in the corresponding real life locations. He did occasionally catch glimpses of heat signatures, as enemy robots repositioned, but they were never in the open long enough for him to pick off any of them.

  “Surus, are you still detecting the Phant?” Rade asked.

  “Yes,” she said from her position two windows down from him. “He hasn’t left this particular dome, if that’s what you’re asking. The strength of his presence has remained a constant.”

  “Why do you always call them ‘he,’ as if they’re men,” Bender said. “That seems kind of sexist, doesn’t it? Associating the evil of Phants with us men. Like we’re responsible for all the ills of the world.”

  “I call them ‘he’ because when I think of our prey, I am reminded of you,” Surus said.

  “Me?” Bender said. “What the hell? Like I’m an evil glowing mist intent on the destruction of humankind or something.”

  “I am reminded of something I can easily squash,” Surus clarified.

  “Ah,” Bender said. “You’re lucky you’re our client, or I’d have to smack you up for that comment. Course, I wouldn’t want to mess up that pretty face of yours.”

  “Your weak blows would cause no damage to my face, I assure you,” Surus said.

  “Okay Bender, ease off the client please,” Rade said. “Concentrate on the tangos out there.”

  “Sorry boss,” Bender said. A moment later: “Sorry, Surus.”

  She made no response.

  “See, I knew she wouldn’t answer,” Bender said.

  “I didn’t notice Rade answering, either,” Surus said.

  “He doesn’t have to,” Bender said. “Because he’s the boss.”

  “As your client, technically I am your ‘boss,’ too,” Surus said.

  “Nope,” Bender said.

  The night passed without incident. The sleepers relieved Rade and the others after three hours to complete the watch, and Rade gladly took his turn in racking out.

  ten

  Rade awoke in the predawn hours as the glow bars embedded in the geodesic dome began to emit a deep red in simulation of a sunrise.

  “Sit-rep?” Rade said, edging his way toward the blocked windows.

  TJ glanced back from his position beside a furniture pile under one of the windows. “Nothing has changed since last night. It’s dead out there. The whole area is still cordoned off by the police. Robot snipers lurk on the rooftops, and inside windows.”

  Rade accessed the feed from TJ’s scope and surveyed the opposite building. He saw bore marks in the walls surro
unding the windows where the Argonauts had attempted to hit whatever was hiding on the other side, but otherwise, there were no tangos.

  He dismissed the feed, and saw similar holes in the walls and furniture next to the window. If the police wanted to, they could unleash a continuous barrage that would eat right through those barriers. But then they’d risk the hostages.

  Those Kenyans are the only thing keeping us alive right now.

  He glanced at the Centurions that had kept their positions at the breaches throughout the night. “Any movement in the hallway or adjacent rooms? Or signs they’re sending up another hostage negotiator?”

  “No,” Unit A replied. “It is also ‘dead’ inside the building.”

  Rade exhaled. It looked like it was going to be another long day. He checked his meal replacement levels. Unless they could find some food in the hospital, they would have to start rationing soon.

  “Maybe we should surrender?” Fret said.

  “You really want to spend the rest of your days rotting away in a prison cell on some colony world?” Manic said.

  “But at least we’ll live to see another day,” Fret said. “Once we’re in prison, we can escape, and—”

  “Escape, bro?” TJ said. “You know how secure colony prisons are these days? There’s no ‘escape.’ Not from a place like this. You serve your forty year sentence, and you go home.”

  “Forty years?” Manic said. “That’s lenient. After what we’ve done, our sentence will be a least double that.”

  “You would want to go to prison,” Bender told Fret. “You’re all ready to open up your ass, ain’t ya? Come here... I’ll knock out your teeth so you can give better blow jobs. Do you a favor.”

  “So that’s what happened to your teeth,” Fret said. “I always wondered about that gold grille you wear. But seriously, you and TJ are the best hackers we have. I’m sure one of you could find a way to break us out—”

  “No,” TJ said. “The first thing they’ll do when we’re incarcerated is short out our Implants. Then give us access-limited aReal goggles to wear instead. There is no way to escape the sandbox of those goggles. We won’t be able to connect with anything.”