A Dragon at the Gate (The New Aeneid Cycle Book 3)

by Michael G. Munz

  “For whom?”

  “For myself.”

  An air of concern flashed across Knapp’s face. “In that case, I expect I should hear your report first.”

  Marette gave an account of the developments of which she had spoken to Marc, with greater detail of the events themselves but with no more in the way of available explanation. Knapp listened in silence. Her brows furrowed with every new detail. On occasion, she would take a deeper breath while her eyes drifted, as if weighing a specific point.

  “What is more,” Marette went on, “without the Undernet to help us coordinate, the stealth protocols hiding AoA comm traffic with Omicron are deteriorating, even with minimal usage. Those of us still operating in ESA are doing what we can to maintain it, but we lack resources to do more than delay the process. I recommend we continue at our current restricted comm levels. We should conduct as much communication as possible via physical courier on the supply shuttles instead.”

  “And how long before we can no longer hide shuttle traffic?”

  “Assuming no further complications?”

  Knapp pursed her lips. “Only a simpleton assumes no complications.”

  “As things stand now then, if you prefer,” Marette said. “Two months, at the most. If you leave Omicron to help re-coordinate with your company, perhaps three.”

  “I am not the only one within Knapp Aerospace with ties to the AoA, Agent Clarion.”

  “But the only one with the surname of Knapp. You have a flair for making things happen, would you not agree?” Knapp was being defensive. Did she think Marette was trying to push her out? “Your absence from Omicron need not be permanent. I have analysis reports outlining ways in which you might be able to expedite matters.”

  “And with everything that’s occurred—this ESA sabotage, the surge, the increasing communications troubles—you think it wise for you to return to Omicron?”

  “I am not certain I follow your reasoning,” Marette said.

  “Despite the progress we have made here toward the Exodus Project, we still need agents outside, especially in light of these events. You are highly placed in ESA, Agent Clarion. We need you to remain so.”

  “I was at Alpha Station to monitor ESA’s investigation,” Marette pressed, speaking of ESA’s primary lunar base. When the AoA had faked Omicron’s destruction to force ESA’s evacuation of the site, preventing ESA from learning the truth had been vital. As the ESA site leader during the evacuation, Marette was ESA’s choice to determine whether they could salvage anything from the “destroyed” base. It had given her the unique opportunity to keep things hidden. “Now that the investigation is complete, I am of less use to us there. My position begins to suffer political damage from the loss of the base. But I was in charge here for six months. I am familiar with Paragon and our work here, perhaps more so than anyone.”

  Knapp went to speak, but Marette cut her off. “I wish to be of as much use as possible; to resume my duty of helping unlock the secrets of Paragon; to help the AoA achieve its goals: escape the self-destruction of humanity on Earth; colonize another world for our own!” Marette became aware that she was now standing. She eased back down. “We have experienced greater setbacks than we could have imagined in the past months, yet we are closer to our goals than ever before. I do not wish for us to fall short. I do not wish for the lives lost to be in vain.”

  Knapp’s gaze was dour, unreadable. Marette met it with her own and added, “I do not wish to be useless.”

  XI

  A NEON BLUE GLOW washed through the taxi’s windows. It heralded their arrival outside the building that housed Felix’s loft. All heads in the brief queue outside Revelations, the night club on the ground level, turned their way when the taxi came to a stop, but neither Caitlin, nor Michael, nor Jade held their attention as the queue resumed its flow toward the entrance.

  Caitlin pulled her coat close around her as they waited for the driver to charge their fare. “If you two can find us a place in the club, I’ll find his laptop and bring it down.” Why did it seem a smaller violation for them to investigate Felix’s laptop outside his loft than in?

  “Do you want us to come up with you?” Michael asked.

  “English is my first language, Michael. If I did, I would have said so.” It came out harsher than she’d meant it. She opened the taxi door. “Just find us a table. I’ll be up and down in a tick.”

  Her phone rang before Michael could respond. Gideon was returning her earlier message quicker than expected. Michael and Jade clambered out of the taxi behind her while Caitlin answered.

  Gideon launched into the conversation with little preamble. “How’s your boyfriend?”

  “Little change. I’m still worried.” She trotted toward the staircase clinging to the building’s exterior, which led to Felix’s home. “And Ondrea?”

  Gideon’s sigh descended across the connection and dragged Caitlin’s hopes down with it. “Nothing further,” he said. “Still away wherever she’s gone, doing whatever she’s doing. I should have heard more by now.”

  Caitlin reached the top of the stairs. If Ondrea told Gideon to tell Caitlin she was away, would he lie for her? “Have you investigated? Perhaps she’s in trouble.”

  Gideon gave what almost sounded like a growl. “No time. Marquand’s leash is short. They’ve kept me busy. The thought has entered my mind that it’s intentional.”

  “Ondrea felt confident her new employer could protect her from any Marquand retaliation, aye?”

  “And I’ve leased to Marquand whatever soul I have left to keep them from trying. I thought that would be enough. I thought. I’ve returned to Northgate for the moment. If Marquand doesn’t give me personal time I’ll take it for myself. If I learn anything, you’ll know.”

  Caitlin keyed into the building. “Thank you, Gideon.”

  “I owe you and Felix both.” He seemed to hesitate. “But answer me this: How different am I from the Gideon you knew before?”

  It was her turn to hesitate. “I’m not entirely certain how to answer that.”

  “Why?”

  “You’re different. But it’s not a bad thing. You’re more stable, more rational.”

  “I see.” His reply didn’t hold the relief she’d expected to hear.

  “I never knew you well, Gideon. Perhaps I’m not the best judge.” She stopped herself from asking how he felt to himself. She didn’t have time to explore it. Bollocks.

  “Well.”

  “Aye.” She reached Felix’s door. Gideon remained silent. “Gideon, I have to go for now. I’ll check in with you again soon, alright?”

  “I will find some answers. Something.”

  “I hope you do.”

  Gideon hung up.

  “So this Felix guy,” Jade shouted over the club’s music, “he seemed pretty okay when I talked with him.” They were seated at a table against the rear wall of the club’s mezzanine. Jade’s back was to the wall as she kept watch, and Michael mirrored her stance. She’d done no more when she spoke but lean Michael’s way and glance.

  “Maybe,” Michael shouted back. “But how would you know if something was wrong? You didn’t know him before the hospital, did you?”

  “No, I mean he seemed okay, like: a decent guy. Funny, crafty. Not the sort to shank a gal in the back. Talked you up, too.” She leaned in closer. “I just mean I think it’s good you’re helping him.”

  “He is. And he’d do the same for me.” Really, Felix had done the same for him. When Michael’s life had shattered, Felix had taken him in. And he’d been trying to help Michael even before that.

  “Worthy cause! You know, I’d be glad to pitch in on that one. Do a little sub-contracting.” She turned to catch his eye. “If you’re interested, that is.”

  “You mean pay you?”

  “Worthy cause or no, Mikey, I don’t do pro-bono. Personal rule.”

  “Don’t call me Mikey.”

  Jade only dazzled him with a grin and turned her att
ention back onto the room.

  “You’re already getting paid to protect me,” Michael said. “So I guess you’ll be tagging along anyway.”

  “Yeah, but that just makes my job harder, ace! Much easier if you’re not actively looking for dangerous situations.”

  “You’ll have to take that one up with your employer,” he said. Would she really refuse to help if she wasn’t paid? “You don’t work for free? Ever? You see a stranger getting beat in an alley and just walk away?”

  “Well, maybe whoever it is deserves it.” She shrugged. “I don’t know, do I? I could do more harm than good.”

  Michael rolled his eyes. “Okay, bad example. Say some woman comes to you looking beat up, dirty, crying, like she just escaped hell. She tells you her abusive husband, who’s locked her up in the basement for the last five years, is after her. You’re just going to do nothing unless she’s able to pay?”

  Jade laughed. “Why stop there, Mister Hypothetical? Why not say he’s also a demon who’s kidnapped her baby and if she doesn’t get to Alaska by noon tomorrow, the oceans dry up and the Moon falls out of the sky?”

  Michael turned to face her, as if he could hold her to the question with his stare. “One thing at a time. Answer.”

  An enormous man with glowing orange tattoos across dark, muscled arms passed their table. Though sunglasses hid his eyes, he appeared to pay Jade and Michael no heed. Jade kept an eye on the man until he’d passed.

  “I wouldn’t just turn my back on her, no,” Jade said finally. “But there’s others I know who do free work. You ever hear of a guy named Finley?” Michael shook his head. “He works free sometimes, and usually just gets a bunch of problems for his trouble. But I’d get her to someone like that, then wash my hands of the thing.”

  Michael leaned back against the wall again. “Ah, so you do have a heart.”

  “Well, sure. But here’s the thing, Mikey. Michael. How do I know for sure that woman is on the level? People—that’s People with a capital P—aren’t trustworthy. They’re liars, they screw things up, and they—” Her eyes blazed violet. She blinked it away with a scowl, still staring into the crowd, before she went on.

  “You just can’t be too careful. Sure, there’re exceptions, but no one gets the benefit of the doubt right out of the box.” She gave him a sidelong glance. “But you already know that, right, Mister Don’t-You-Want-To-Know-Who-Hired-You?”

  “That’s different.”

  “Different sides, maybe, but the same coin.”

  “But didn’t you say Felix seemed like a trustworthy guy just a minute ago?” Michael tried.

  “Seemed, yeah. But like I said, ‘no free work’ is a personal rule. I have to draw the line somewhere, and that’s a nice, clean line.”

  Michael frowned. “Doesn’t seem clean to me.”

  “So your way’s the only way?” Jade said. “Spend a few more years in this line of work and then talk to me, ace.”

  “You sound like Diomedes,” he muttered.

  “What’s that?” she asked, apparently unable to hear over the music cluttering the air.

  Michael stopped short of asking what she expected would happen to him in those “few more years.” There were other things to deal with. He raised his voice. “I said we should look for Caitlin! She might not find us up here. Stay here. I’ll have a look over the balcony.”

  Jade put a hand on his arm before he could stand. “Safer back here. You wait, I’ll look.”

  He let her, and opened his pack as she left. A single purple light on Holes’s platform glowed from within. “Any luck on the employer’s email address?”

  “Nope. I am thus far unable to access origin data of sufficient detail to determine identity. More favorable results may be possible with continued processing.”

  “Keep at it.” Michael glanced up to find Jade still at the mezzanine railing. “What about Jade’s email account?” he asked, not without a pang of guilt.

  “Accessed. Her message content holds no evidence of deception in her assertions that she is hired solely to protect you, however I did not find direct indication of her employer’s identity. I have collected metadata from message headers that will aid my analysis.”

  “Will she notice the hack?”

  “There is a chance of detection of less than two percent, in the event she chooses to search for intrusions. Do you wish a copy of her message content?”

  Jade turned from the railing with a nod and a wink when she saw Michael watching her, and made her way back to the table.

  Michael took a breath, finding his back teeth clenching. “No,” he whispered. “No copy.”

  XII

  “SECURITY BYPASSED. Data-tether established. Now scanning.”

  Caitlin nodded to the A.I.’s report without comment. She sat with her back to the club. The fingertips of her right hand pressed on the corner of Felix’s laptop, as if she were trying to keep it from blowing away. Michael and the freelancer woman sat flanking her on either side of the table.

  Caitlin caught herself holding her breath and let it out. What was Felix doing in Gibson? Rue had lost track of him there. She would wait at the train station to try to regain him. Perhaps Holes would find something more substantial on the laptop. She sighed inwardly and wished she had the luxury of being able to feel bad about such a breach of Felix’s trust. If they found nothing, if this was all in her head, then she’d own up to it and apologize when the whole business was over. Yet she knew in her gut something was wrong.

  Michael’s gaze caught hers before they both looked back down to the laptop. Jade seemed focused on watching the room. On the screen of Holes’s platform, the A.I.’s quintet of circles spun with an inscrutable, undulating rhythm.

  In the sense it could “like” anything, Holes liked having new objectives. While the term “like” was merely a defined state of a higher-than-standard number of active system directives, it was also a label useful for interfacing with its creator and other humans. Weeks after Holes’s intelligence passed the sapience-point in its emergent creation, the A.I. became cognizant of a difference between the human use of the term and its own use. The specific parameters of that difference remained unexplored.

  While it was a curiosity, it was not a priority.

  Encapsulated within the AE-35 portable processor platform on the table, Holes focused the majority of its resources on an analysis of the laptop computer belonging to Felix Hiatt—this analysis being a subset of obeying all directives given from Michael Flynn, itself a subset of obeying all directives of Holes’s creator, Marc Triton. Specific parameters: scan for and collect data related to the locations and/or activities and/or directives of Felix Hiatt within the past forty days. Additional parameters gave priority to those data that indicated a clandestine purpose. Analyze such data to extrapolate probable employers or other missing details, if possible.

  Assuming Holes comprehended the definition of clandestine—one of many terms for which Marc had tested understanding in Holes’s first weeks of awareness—contents scanned so far contained little in the way of promising data, even in encrypted areas.

  And yet . . .

  Pattern detection continued to return a possible hit on levels barely above coincidence. Holes noted it, raised threat level protocols by a factor it judged appropriate, and then detected a concealed partition on a virtual GNDN drive that Felix Hiatt had created within the target dates. The partition featured encryption greater than Holes would have forecasted for its size and Felix Hiatt’s known level of skill. Counter-encryption required a full seventy-two seconds.

  The partition contained seven image files. Each was identical save for slight variations in creation dates and filenames.

  “Michael and Caitlin,” Holes announced to the humans clustered around it. “Can you identify any significance to the following images?” Holes waited the appropriate time for the humans’ understanding, registered a positional change that indicated that its platform screen was being swiveled
toward Michael and Caitlin, and then displayed the images.

  “Isn’t that Niagara Falls?” Michael asked.

  Caitlin studied it an additional point-eight seconds. “Aye, looks like.”

  “Why?”

  Holes related the details of its find, the directory location, and encryption. “I am unable to discern any significance to these images. They may be intended as a diversionary tactic. Should I continue to devote resources to them?” Holes opted to continue its analysis in the event it could provide additional information in the time required for the humans to answer with an affirmative or a nope.

  “Is there something hidden in the images?” Michael asked. “In the file, I mean.”

  “Nothing I have yet detected.”

  “Keep checking.”

  “Holes,” Caitlin said, “can you tell how the files got on his computer?”

  Holes estimated a ninety-five percent probability that Caitlin’s intent was to inquire as to how the files got onto the computer, rather than to gauge his ability to find out. It was a human colloquialism, the proper identification of which had required over a week’s worth of coaching from Marc. Holes investigated before answering.

  “The files were each transferred from Felix Hiatt’s phone after being received via email.”

  “Email from who?” The question came at once from all three humans, expressed in slightly different ways. Of the three, Caitlin’s use of “whom,” was the most grammatically correct. Holes made a note for future investigation into the correlation between human grammar and human accents.

  “Multiple sources. Back-tracing. Please stand by. I continue to find no hidden data within the image files.”

  Holes followed the metadata back through the system, packet-tracing along a complex web of IP addresses, servers, and routing protocols. It could trace no one address to anything but an ambiguous end. Holes cross-referenced each to create a logical puzzle of partial differential equations.