Vendetta Protocol

by Kevin Ikenberry

  I thought he had my back. My heart sank while I focused on the post-flight tasks. I’d gone from euphoric to embarrassed in a matter of minutes. Everyone in the hangar deck was looking at me. I wanted to stand up and tell them all we’d been successful, but I didn’t. Maybe there would have been some support for my actions, but no one said or did anything, likely for fear of reprisals from their own commands. I stood in the cockpit, removed my helmet, and climbed down the ladder. I was met by Admiral LeConté.

  “Trainee Roark, come with me.” He turned on his heel, marching toward the nearest crew elevator.

  The contingent of marines followed us and stared impassively ahead as we stepped inside the small elevator. The marines remained outside as the doors slammed shut with a clang. The commandant and I were alone. He made no effect to select a destination floor.

  I risked a deep breath and froze when the commandant started laughing. It started slowly but built to chest-heaving guffaws that left him doubled over. Uncertain to my very core, I did nothing.

  The commandant straightened, wiped his face with the back of one hand, and clapped the other hand on my shoulder. “You have managed to get the collected staffs of two four-star-general officers completely riled up. The command center is a mess, and the TDF ground forces across the planet are clamoring for the ability to contact friendly aircraft overhead. It’s really funny to see two hundred years of futile planning systems thrown completely out the airlock.”

  I shrugged. “Should I apologize, sir? I mean, with the marine escort and everything? You’re not going to court martial me?”

  “Make no mistake, Kieran.” He chuckled again. “You’re wanted by the commanding general of the TDF exercise and the ranking admiral of the Fleet to discuss what happened. We’re headed there now, and I had to make a show of it, you understand? How far your punishment will go, I cannot say.”

  Wonderful. I sagged.

  <>

  As if listening to Lily, the commandant’s smile faded. “You did something no one has been able to do since Libretto. That you did it outside of regulations is the main thing to counter. Those generals do not have the need to know about your history.”

  “Understood, sir.” I was going to have to tap dance around the subject and not really tell them that all of their collective procedures and tactics were going to kill more soldiers than they could imagine. Men like them did not want to hear how ineffective they were. Being the smartest guy in the room when egos were involved was a dangerous business, and while I knew what I’d done had worked, I had to find another way to describe it.

  “I don’t think you get what I’m saying,” the commandant said. “This isn’t about finite control or the concept you’ve started putting together in your head—which I know was what fueled this incident. For what it’s worth, it worked. The breached Styrahi line could have been completely exploited if the TDF had their shit together.”

  “That’s great, sir, but I’m about to be thrown out of the Fleet. Bussot failed me on a one-versus-one check ride. Never mind the fact I’m sure she cheated, sir. Adding to that, I managed to wrangle control of an exercise from two generals. There’s no way they’re going to let me graduate. I’ll be on the next ship for Earth.” My voice rose, and I knew that yelling at the admiral wouldn’t make it any better.

  “Commander Bussot, and most of her instructor squadron, will not be so lucky. But you’ll hear that through Fleet scuttlebutt, which is always better to hear the first time.” The elevator slowed, and his game face returned.

  Bussot is being thrown out?

  <>

  That’s pretty dangerous for Master Sergeant Veer, isn’t it?

  <>

  I’ll be damned. I felt the weight of the world evaporate off my shoulders despite the fact that I was headed into the lion’s den. Bussot was only one threat, after all.

  LeConté cleared his throat. “Now, keep your head up, and march in step with me. There will be a lot of people watching you. Impress the hell out of them.”

  The massive doors opened, and that was exactly what I did. The hundred meters along the command hallway were littered with high-ranking officers who stopped to stare at me. The more we walked, the higher I kept my chin. At least Admiral LeConté believed in me and what we’d accomplished. That was enough to straighten my backbone.

  At the theater commander’s conference room, my knees shook a little. I heard almost-incoherent shrieking and screaming through the closed reinforced-metal doors. That I was in serious trouble was a veritable certainty. I took a deep breath and tried to prepare myself. When we stopped short of the doors, the commandant regarded me as he was about to say something but then snapped upright and nodded instead.

  “General Faraa.”

  I turned and looked up—several inches up—into the alien’s face. I’d seen the Styrahi general in the Brass Anchor, but this was the first time I’d been face-to-face with one. Her beauty was intimidating. Her auburn hair glistened in the light, and her amethyst-colored eyes were dazzling and clear. She was wearing the same dress she’d worn the first time I saw her. She was regal and alluring. When she spoke, there was no doubt she was both astute and commanding.

  “Is this the trainee responsible?”

  “Indeed, honurrah,” the commandant said.

  <>

  General Faraa examined me, her eyes intense and probing, and nodded. “You did well, Trainee.”

  “Thank you, ma’am.”

  She glanced at the commandant and then back to me. Another burst of screaming came through the wall. This time there were two voices.

  “Lieutenant Colonel Whelan appears to be in need of your assistance. Perhaps you’d like to help him?”

  I swallowed. “Yes, ma’am.”

  The outer door opened to a small vestibule big enough for five or six people at the most. We stepped inside, just the three of us, and the door shut silently.

  The latches for the inner door whined to life behind the wall. I’d been concentrating so hard on the screaming that I almost missed General Faraa whispering down to me.

  “I know who you are.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  White marble headstones stabbed through freshly cut green grass in all directions below her. All of it was familiar, and it brought an angry smile to Ayumi’s face. The tall, athletic girl she’d become had never set foot on these hallowed grounds. Irony, it was called. Her mind knew everything possible to know, inside the body of an innocent girl who had only a vague idea who she was or why she’d been brought back. And to be standing on the hallowed ground again felt as comfortable as she could have imagined despite knowing that she’d lost Kieran here. She’d observed as her companion died to gain the last shreds of his true identity. With certainty, her return to Mountain Home would surprise and maybe scare the ones who had torn him away from her.

  The smile on Ayumi’s face widened. She brushed back a strand of hair and took a deep breath. The air was warm and moist. Dew sharpened the grass into glistening knife blades in the valley below. S
he left the remnant of a gravel road, letting the dew darken the leather of her boots with every step. With a contented sigh, she walked down the slope. Her body responded to every command naturally. She’d completed the takeover of the girl’s inadequate protocol and defeated her weak mind as well. The poor thing somehow remained like an ethereal conscience that Ayumi could not locate or eradicate. Being human, it appeared, came with challenges that she relished. The tale of a puppet who wanted to be a boy came to mind, and she catalogued it for future study. In one version of that story, Amy’s voice was represented by an insect, of all things.

  Ayumi laughed, and the very sound of her new voice, through her new ears, brought a rush of emotional response she classified as joy. She knelt among the first row of graves and ran her fingers through the wet grass to relish the sensory data. Every moment brought new experiences. Every step brought her closer to her goal. It did not matter if they knew she was coming here. Amy’s appearance in this solemn place was expected. Part of the process of integration, she knew. All of the subjects would make their way from Sydney to the hills of what had been Tennessee. The girl had been close to knowing herself before Ayumi hacked her protocol. The girl’s prior life did not interest Ayumi, or so she told herself, even as emotion began to bubble in her chest and her throat constricted. How much of her reaction was based on memories she retained from Kieran’s visit, she could not be sure. The girl certainly knew this place as well, and her emotional response and Kieran’s were almost precisely the same.

  Her eyes danced between the tombstones, looking at names, wars, awards, and the little details that described a life in service for all to see. The grave of a Major Edward Hoffman caught her eye, and she studied the carefully etched pilot’s wings atop the headstone.

  <> the girl’s voice whispered in Ayumi’s mind. A flash of memories filled Ayumi’s sensors, and her heart raced with the influx of knowledge. With the memory came instincts that Ayumi had not considered. The ability to fly would open up possibilities. Ayumi closed her eyes as the memories changed from pleasant flights in small aircraft to a flak-filled desert sky with tracer rounds arcing up through the night and harmlessly below her. The nose of the F-15E Strike Eagle pointed up a mountain valley. The snow-covered ridgelines rose above her. There was beauty even in the midst of war.

  Ayumi blinked the memories away, cataloged them, and wondered briefly if the girl had died that day. Correlating the data, what the girl thought the date to be and the geography of the area, she doubted it was the case. Kieran had several memories and dreams that were not his eventual death.

  Kieran.

  Her eyes snapped up, traced the line of headstones to the north, and found the place where they took him from her. His gravesite sat on the slope of a gentle hill. The verdant grass had been littered with leaves when she’d last seen the cemetery. In the sun, shadows from the enormous oak and maple trees lay like fingers across the white stones and deep-green foliage. Her fingers dug through the wet grass, gripping it as if to tear the Earth apart. They were going to pay for what they had done to him. To her. To the life she wanted to have with him.

  Kieran.

  A figure appeared to the north, away from the transplanted Tomb of the Unknown Soldier. The tomb’s presence at Mountain Home was stunning. A group of men had braved intense radiation to rescue it from the smoldering ruins of Arlington. Running her vision through a filter, the glowing tomb stood out against everything else. She gauged the radiation hazard, but it was far enough away to not bother her. If she became sick, she could be cured, but death, actual physical death, was now possible. Ayumi shivered with the realization.

  The caretaker looked up at her and stopped. She wondered if he was surprised to see her. By all information, the girl had been a long way from determining her identity until Ayumi came along. Then again, the man was part of the ruse. The whole of Livermore, whatever it was meant to be, was a lie—one that had taken Kieran away from her.

  A honeybee buzzed past, ducking through the headstones. Ayumi watched it descend the hill as it searched for a flower to pollenate. The grass lay unbroken. The only flowers the bee would find were outside the boundaries of the cemetery. Ayumi scanned the data, including all of the memory files she held from Kieran and the new ones from the girl who thought herself to be Amy. The rest of whatever life she could make would lie outside of this cemetery.

  The man, Brooks, closed the distance to her. Ayumi stood, brushed grass and dew from her bare knees, and walked down the line of headstones in a direction vaguely toward the caretaker. Studying the gravestones as they passed, Ayumi cataloged the names. Kieran might have been the first of the Livermore subjects, but he would not be the last. There would be others, and their searches would not be fruitless. The knowledge of their names and the subtle little histories of their lives were powerful instruments of data. She could wield that information against Crawley and the Terran Council, if necessary. They would never be able to replicate Kieran’s experiment as long as she knew who their subjects would be. The threat of compromise was too great. One hundred percent of the viable subjects of the sleeper program came from the same cemetery. If she knew who they all could be, Crawley and his experiment would be stalled, and that would make her happy. Kieran had been a pawn right up until his death. No one else deserved that.

  None of the names were familiar, but there was something that stirred in the girl’s heart. A flush of chemicals rushed through her system, and Ayumi recognized the emotional triggers of respect and honor. Kieran was so similar to this girl. The realization raised indicators of sadness, and she tried to blink them away.

  Why did they take Kieran away from me?

  Ayumi flushed with anger and clenched her teeth. It was not the reaction she wanted. The difficulty of controlling a physical body never waned.

  Brooks, the caretaker, was closer now. The smell of chewing tobacco caught her nose. The first time they’d met, she was sure he was irradiated and would live for weeks, not months.

  Another lie. A dime-sized piece of plutonium rested in a pocket on his chest. It was shielded to protect him but give the impression of significant dosage. She’d missed the indicators before in her haste to upload herself and leave Kieran for dead.

  More lies.

  Ayumi turned. The girl was pretty, and she knew a smile would be effective. She would disarm Brooks, get the information she needed, and move on. She brushed her hair back against a freshening breeze and nodded at him. “Good morning.”

  The man nodded, his fingers trembling at the brim of his cap. “Ma’am. Can I help you?”

  His strong Appalachian accent made Ayumi mentally cringe. Amy had tried desperately to live beyond her birthplace. Tennessee had been as much a negative definition for her heritage as it had been a badge of honor for Kieran’s. “Looking for someone.”

  “Anyone in particular?”

  Ayumi dragged her fingertips over the top of a headstone. She looked down the hill, remembering Kieran’s words and the effortless conversation. “Who are you? Can you tell me why the Tomb of the Unknowns is in Mountain Home?”

  “You know this place?”

  Ayumi nodded. “I remember it. Last time I was here, it was fall. The leaves were changing and falling like orange-and-brown snow. It was peaceful.”

  “That is the tomb. A bunch of us went and got it.” The man spat into the grass. “My name is Myron Brooks. I’m one of the Mountain Men.”

  “Not to be confused with the Overmountain Men during the American Revolution.” Ayumi grinned. The effect was perfect and completely disarming. A little knowledge of history and geography could be deadly in skilled hands.

  Brooks beamed. “You must be from around these parts.”

  “A lifetime or two ago,” Ayumi said. The familiar words of Brooks echoed through her ears. Fresh memories surfaced. Faces and places. A school once stood nearby—Amy had attended it for
several years—where first graders and high school students mixed in the hallways. A place that time forgot. A man with black-rimmed glasses hefted a paddle in his office. The principal. The little man with the quiet voice had a miniature basketball goal over his wastebasket.

  “You okay?”

  Ayumi nodded. “Memories.”

  “They flit around ya like fireflies most times, I imagine,” Brooks said. “I’m here if you need any help.”

  Ayumi nodded. The man never asked her name. Conversation was like tiptoeing through a minefield. “Thank you. I know what I’m looking for.”

  Brooks nodded, but his eyes widened slightly. Ayumi ran the data and could not conclude any correlation between his reaction and an emotion.

  “Let me know if you find it.”

  Ayumi nodded. The man was clearly rattled—she liked that word from Kieran’s lexicon—but she didn’t know why. Brooks seemed unsure of her and cautious.

  “I will. I think I’m in the right section. Afghanistan?”

  “First or second time around?” Brooks put his hands into his pockets. “The ones from the first time, from 2001 to 2020, are over yonder.” He pointed around the curve of a hill.

  “What’s this section?”

  “From the second terror war in 2127 to the fall.” Brooks glanced away, but Ayumi could see the look of disgust on his face.

  Would all of these men and women feel the same way? Ayumi searched for the word. Betrayed?

  <>

  Ayumi nodded. The fall of the United States. “Then I should be looking over there.” She pointed to the north and walked slowly in that direction with her eyes on the headstones and the treasure trove of information she could use to her advantage.

  “Are you sure I can’t help you find anything?” Brooks walked behind her, two rows away and keeping his distance.

  She turned and studied him. The older man’s hands remained in his pockets, and his eyes scanned her every move. He looked away, but she knew he did not trust her, either. The distance complicated things, but not enough to divert her plan. Brooks was expendable, after all. She just needed a little information first.