The Odyssey and the Iliad (Kinsella Universe Book 7)

by Gina Marie Wylie

  “Bastard!” Charlotte said to Steve.

  Turning to Susan, she said, “In the attack in Campbell’s, I was with my father in CIC. ‘Bring your daughter to work day.’ They were getting a handle on the attack when something happened. I was seven; I didn’t understand. The dependent’s area had taken a direct hit.

  “My mother, my sister and two little brothers vanished in a fireball.

  “For a long time, I believed it was an alien missile -- that was the official explanation. Except I grew to understand that it wasn’t a gigaton weapon, like the aliens use. It was fifty megatons, like the Fleet uses.

  “Except it hadn’t come from a Fleet weapon. It was from the so-called Campbell’s Patrol and wasn’t aimed at anything else. They had deliberately killed ten thousand dependants and their children. My father has always maintained that vengeance wouldn’t bring them back; damn it, I know I can’t get them back. But I sure as hell want to send Merriweather to join his ancestors.”

  Steve nodded. “Your father knows... why do you think he’s stayed on California all these years? The Federation knows as well. A great many people want to pin Merriweather to a board and throw darts at him.”

  “Sorry, Charlotte,” Susan said. She looked at her board. “We’ll be down in five minutes. Then what, O mighty leader?”

  “We’ll exit the shuttle and go through the Campbell’s entry point. Theory says, they never look at your ID, and only spot check the tape back at HQ -- sometime tomorrow.

  “By then, we’ll have rented office space for cash, set up and started work. The Kerwick Building advertises ‘all amenities,’ which includes showers for those who visit a gym every day. We will sleep in the supply closet. If we never go out, they can’t track us.”

  “Food?” Charlotte asked.

  “We’ll stop at three stores on the way, and stock up on non-perishables. I’ll go in, get some items and come back out. There shouldn’t be any problems, but I will know about them if they occur.”

  They set up in the office they rented near the Capital Building, a huge pile of masonry about half a kilometer away. It was Susan who pointed out there were some flaws in Steve’s plan.

  “Bedding, boss?” she asked.

  “Steve,” Charlotte said mildly, “I only have three sets of clothes. We can probably shower without comment, but that won’t hold true if we wash clothes at the same time.”

  “I’ll go out,” Steve told the others. “I can sense at a distance if someone is watching me. I’ll scout a nearby laundry, then buy three pads, sleeping bags and pillows, one at a time and bring them here. Do either of you have an eye shadow pencil?”

  He had Charlotte draw thicker eyebrows and a few lines that made his face look older and heavier. “Be sure to tell Eli that spy school was useful!” he quipped. “With these and sunglasses, I’ll be mostly immune from facial recognition software.”

  He visited an information kiosk in the lobby of the Kerwick Building, mapped his routes and visited them, walking briskly, but not visibly hurrying.

  Finally he returned to the office, then he smiled at the others. “I found someone on my rambles who is part of the Campbell’s Home Defense Force. That’s the new name. So, we’ll start now and go for eight hours; that’s later than I like, but hopefully we’ll slow down at night. Since Rank Hath It’s Privileges, Charlotte, you’re up first.”

  She took pad and pencil and looked at Steve. “Ready.”

  “Edward Williams, ID number 121-005-54-7689, known as Brother Zeke, is in Home Defense. He’s a fighter pilot, unassigned a squadron as yet. His cell leader is Brother William, real name unknown, and his cell mates are Brother Zebulon, and Sister Zazu -- Zazu is evidently a real looker, at least in Brother Zeke’s mind. Oh yeah, my telepathy came without a graphics card. I can receive text, but pictures are just a mish-mash of colors of all shades and variations.”

  For two hours he rolled off a list of names, and then Susan took over the note-taking duties as Steve took a short break. Five minutes later he was frowning.

  “Carson Pomeroy, an architect, is talking to the man who is head of security in Capital City and his name is Karl-Heinz Black.” Steve gave the two men’s ID numbers. “I’ll look at Black first.” Steve was silent for several minutes. “Well, the good news first. No one is looking for us or our shuttle, at least that the head security guy knows about. He knows the code names of all the top tier of Home Defense -- but not the real names. They have very tight security on the contact numbers. Both parties have to report a wrong number or a hang up and each is investigated.

  “Of course, to make it easy to remember, they are a stretch of numbers starting with 999-682-111-3322, the first and third triplets being reserved for the Home Defense organization.

  “And now for Mr. Pomeroy.” Steve was silent for about five minutes. “Mr. Pomeroy is a military architect responsible for designing bunkers for the Capital. Seventy-two of them have been completed, with none less than five hundred meters below grade. Each bunker controls three separate Blue missile silos, each silo capable of firing a missile an hour by hand, with twenty missiles in each magazine. Here are the GPS coordinates of some of them; Pomeroy has a lousy memory for numbers, I’m giving just the ones he remembers.”

  Steve rattled off a string of numbers.

  “Pomeroy has a partner that does space-based designs. He thinks there are a hundred or so laser and missile platforms.”

  He stopped talking. “Susan, get that sheet scanned at once and take a nap if you can. Charlotte, you ready to go a little early?”

  “I’m ready anytime you need me, Steve.”

  The days blurred together. Steve dictated until he was hoarse, then went on with a harsh croak. He worked from sunup to after dark, sometimes late into the evening. Charlotte was the only one of two women who could keep up with him, but even she started to flag.

  One evening she awoke with a start. Steve was sitting, leaning against the wall, his head pillowed in his arms. At first Charlotte thought he was sleeping, but then she realized that he was crying.

  She touched his shoulder. He looked up, wiping his eyes on his sleeve. “Charlotte, he’s been out of town. He came back this afternoon; I caught him at a reception in the Capital Rotunda.

  “The man is the most evil, the most foul person I’ve ever touched. Write ‘Op over, briefing soonest.’ Wake up Susan after you’ve coded it and have her look at it. In the morning we’ll go, just as soon as I peek at Brother Black and check if we’ve been spotted.”

  The next morning they boarded their shuttle without incident and headed for California.

  Steve hadn’t realized the stress he’d been under until they landed. He could barely stand up, wobbling across the deck, helped by Susan and Charlotte.

  They were greeted by Captain Shapiro, Makaa and Charlotte’s father. Makaa held out her hand to Steve. “Now you know why no Union telepath has ever done what you have.”

  “It was like a big ocean wave, slowly bulking up until it finally broke. I am not going to be able to walk, Makaa. I’m sorry that I didn’t understand sooner.”

  “Honestly, you are the strongest telepath I’ve ever met. Anyone else would have given up much sooner.”

  “Lieutenant Yardley is a telepath?” Admiral Timmu asked, stunned.

  “Just back from two weeks exploring the network of the Campbell’s Home Defense Force. Not, mind you, that I know what he reported, because that was all forwarded to a higher headquarters without our being able to read it.”

  “Admiral, can we get a cart for the Lieutenant?” Captain Shapiro asked. “And Lieutenant, is this going to be a briefing for everyone, or only limited individuals?”

  “First for the heavy hitters. Admiral Timmu, does California have a latch-frame link back to Earth?”

  “Yes, but there is a lot of traffic.”

  “Preempt it. Send a message to Admiral Fletcher: Urgent we meet ASAP.” He turned to Captain Shapiro. “How fast can we get the captains here?”<
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  “They maneuvered to match intrinsics with California; that was completed days ago. California is outside the fan well at Campbell’s. Call it twenty minutes.”

  “Then, when we get the message from Admiral Fletcher, that’s when,” Steve told her.

  Steve turned to Admiral Timmu. “In a short while, you will go to your CIC and tell them you are running an unannounced alert with fifteen shuttles that have been maneuvering in the outer system, testing a new stealth technology. They weren’t detected, you’ve ended the exercise and the shuttles are returning to California.”

  “Steve,” Captain Shapiro said, “Cliff is awake again. He is even weaker than you, but his prognosis is full recovery.”

  Steve took the data supplied by Makaa. “And limited to Port.”

  Lynn touched his arm gently. “I’m sorry, Steve. But there is always hope. Consider me.”

  An hour and a half later Admiral Timmu, Captain Shapiro and Lieutenant Yardley stood in the quiet bustle of the Combat Information Center. There were another half dozen officers standing a little distance away, waiting on their commanding officer’s orders, mystified as to what the unannounced visit of their admiral was about.

  On a particular tick, Admiral Timmu went to a communications station and handed the watchstander a message. “Please send this at once by latch-frame and in the clear.”

  The watchstander was a senior petty officer and just did what he’d been told. “Shepherd to collies: alley, alley outs in free.” He repeated it three times.

  One of the sensor officers sang out, “Unknown fan sources detected! Random spacing around the system, out beyond the heliosphere!”

  Admiral Timmu turned to his operations officer. “It’s been some time since we last had an alert. Lets call one. Those ships are clearly shuttles.”

  “Ten of them, sir,” Steve volunteered.

  Admiral Timmu looked at Steve expressionlessly for a second, clearly consigning Steve to the depths of hell.

  A little over two minutes later, the shuttles were calling California base for permission to land. All of them had good IFF.

  One of the communications watchstanders spoke up. “Campbell’s is asking what is going on.”

  “Tell them we had an internal alert and not to worry,” the admiral told the petty officer.

  “I suppose someone should greet them,” Admiral Timmu said dryly.

  “I imagine someone should,” Captain Shapiro told him.

  Admiral Timmu snorted and asked the sensor officer, “What is the first ETA?”

  “It’s odd, sir. They are coming at two-minute intervals. From all over the sky,” the sensor officer said.

  “When is the first?” the admiral said impatiently.

  “The first in eight minutes and some odd seconds. They have asked for clearance to the Flag Officer Shuttle Bay.”

  “Give it,” the admiral commanded. “How many flag officers are we expecting?”

  “Three that I know of,” Captain Shapiro said cheerfully. “And a Marine major general, but he’s with one of the other flag officers.”

  The first flag officer was a short person, wearing sunglasses and a hood pulled over her face. Admiral Timmu started to say something and the short-statured officer growled, “I’m incognito.”

  There were more and more, with the last nearly as much of a surprise as the first. He was a tall man, wearing Levis and a red-checked shirt -- and cowboy boots. Admiral Charles Gull never traveled incognito.

  They were ushered to a secure conference room, then connected to Earth by latch-frame. Latch-frame was faster than light, but even FTL took some time to travel forty-six light years through four dozen relay stations. About a six-second delay, enough to be annoying, but still useable.

  When the connection was made the screen was split between Fleet headquarters and a group of six admirals, including Admiral Cloud, and Federation Building in Atlanta with the Federation Council, including the president.

  Admiral Fletcher spoke first. “Admiral Cloud is the convener of this extraordinary meeting of the War Board. Admiral Cloud.”

  Admiral Cloud was brief. “Lieutenant Steve Yardley is the Action Officer in this matter. I turn the meeting over to him.”

  Steve stood. “Last night I completed my work, or at least as much as I felt justified.

  “I am a telepath. I’m not unique, the Union has telepaths and the AIs were functional telepaths. When the one Union telepath I knew learned of my plan, she told me it was a bad idea, but didn’t explain.

  “It seemed simple, really. Arrive undetected in a place where we sure the local government was violating the Federation Agreement; sit like a spider in his web, collecting information, never once having to perform any of the traditional espionage derring-do.

  “In truth we were in and out, with no one on the ground being the wiser, even though I made a few mistakes in tradecraft at the beginning.

  “It’s true; Richard Merriweather is working to take Campbell’s out of the Federation, declare independence and go his own way. I was tasked to find out the extent of the conspiracy, identify the leaders and the various assets.

  “Our original plan was to appearing in overwhelming force. To this Fleet assigned a Fleet carrier and six Fleet transports, along with a reinforced Marine division. Admiral Gull has augmented this force with another carrier and six battle moons from Snow Dance. Two of the moons have human crews, the rest are commanded by AIs.

  “I have learned that the Federation faces a formidable force. In Capital City alone there are seventy-two bunkers, each buried at least five hundred meters below grade. Each bunker controls three missile silos, each with a missile in the silo and ten in magazines.

  “I obtained the GPS coordinates to those installations. They are evenly distributed throughout the area of Capital City. Ten million people live within a kilometer of one of those sites.

  “Campbell’s has constituted something they call the ‘Campbell’s Home Defense Force.’” Steve hesitated. “There are one hundred defense platforms orbiting Campbell’s as part of that force. These are each armed with twenty-four Blues and two hundred Blue missiles. In addition, there are upwards of a thousand fighters hidden away in remote spots. Each fighter carries three Blue missiles.

  “For the last three years, the Kalliste Habitat has been adding what they have called ‘new cubic.’ This new cubic consists of small cruiser-class ships, armed with eight Blues and one hundred Blue missiles. There are more than two hundred of these, ready to detach and launch in a very short time.

  “In addition to the bunkers in the capital, there are two other cities with more than a million people that have additional bunkers. Those responsible for the installations stay away from the capital; there are assuredly more missiles.

  “Any questions up to now?”

  “You got to be funnin’ us, young man! If we brought the whole Fleet here, it would be touch and go who would win. The aliens would find Campbell’s equally tough. What is the status of their manning?” Admiral Gull said.

  “All facilities are manned twenty-four seven. A quarter of the fighters are on ten minute alert status, and the rest could launch within an hour. Ships are manned similarly.”

  “As I see it, the only way to win is to jump to the planet and let fly with everything we’ve got. We’d need to kill everyone on the planet,” Charlie Gull stated.

  “That’s my appreciation as well, sir,” Steve told him. “My appreciation is that that level of civilian casualties would be unacceptable to the Federation.”

  There was a long silence until the Federation President spoke. “It would seem that we have no alternative to letting Campbell’s go.”

  “Sir, I need a short period of an Executive session,” Steve told the president. “Fifteen or twenty minutes, tops.”

  Steve saw the look that passed between President Drummlin and Admiral Fletcher. It was Admiral Fletcher who spoke, “We’ll call a thirty minute recess while we meet in Executive Session.
”

  It took five minutes before they cleared both rooms; only Admiral Fletcher, Admiral Cloud, President Drumlin and Senator Rhodes remained, while on California Admirals Gull, Timmu and Merriweather remained. Steve asked Makaa to stay as well.

  “What’s this about, son?” Admiral Gull asked.

  “Last night, about 1930 local time, Merriweather returned from a visit to inspect the preparations. I quickly located him and entered his mind.

  “It was a cesspool...”

  “Now that’s a surprise,” Donna Merriweather said sourly.

  “With respect, Admiral, this is hard enough without interruptions,” Steve replied.

  “Are you telling me to shut my mouth?” Donna said hotly.

  “I am,” Admiral Timmu retorted.

  “Ditto, albeit politely.” said Admiral Gull.

  Donna Merriweather sat back in her seat, seething.

  “His mind was unlike any I’ve ever encountered. It was like meeting Satan incarnate. He is the most thoroughly evil man I’ve ever met.

  “Further, he’s had some contact with the Union, Makaa. He knows all about them, and he has benefited from gene and other therapies so that he is convinced his life span is in the hundreds of years.

  “It is his intention to rule Campbell’s for all of that time, and gradually expand his sphere of influence. I am not a softie, but his plans reduced me to tears. You see, if he fails on Campbell’s it is his intention to flee elsewhere and set the same plan in motion, not concerned that Campbell’s World would be a lifeless cinder.”

  Steve grinned at Makaa. “He’s wearing a tin foil hat. If nothing else, I know where to drop a fifty-megaton bomb on him.”

  “And do you have an idea of how to succeed against this array of firepower?” asked Admiral Fletcher.

  “I see a chance, sir. If the plan succeeds, we would lose Admiral Merriweather; if it fails we lose California, which we can evacuate in advance.”

  “I am ready to sacrifice my life for my people,” Admiral Merriweather stated bluntly.

  Admiral Gull shook his head. “Ernie and I discussed this the first time; I’ve been kicking myself since I heard he was causing trouble again.”