Vendetta Protocol

by Kevin Ikenberry

  “Doing what?” Chastity asked to deflect the onslaught of memories threatening to ruin her composure. What does she know about a new life?

  After a moment, she realized that they were both trying to make up for bad decisions and move forward. Maybe it would be something worth her time and skills. Or maybe, just maybe, it would be a chance to do the right things she’d walked away from at eighteen.

  Maybe.

  Ayumi smiled at her. Chastity decided it was a friendly smile and returned it. The dark-haired young woman said simply, “Something you’ll love.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  The inner sanctum of the prelate’s chambers was a quiet, empty room with chairs and tables for those awaiting their appointments. Crawley answered the prelate’s summons within minutes of the death of Penelope Neige. He knew that it would be best to settle his differences with the council immediately. While Neige had been more enemy than friend, there had been good times when they were younger. Try as he might to hate her, he could not. He would even miss her. They’d been friends, after all. As he walked the hallways, Crawley noticed that things appeared to be very different.

  A coffee and tea service stood along one wall, with fresh pastries and fruit. Crawley noted that the usual croissants were absent, either out of good taste or mourning. Every other visit to Shannon, in the south of Ireland, had given Crawley the impression that no one enjoyed working for the council or the prelate himself. That was not the case now. People actually smiled at one another and spoke to each other. The atmosphere inside the prelate’s entire house, which was really an expansive office complex and not a home, was electric and optimistic for the first time in years.

  After the death of Prelate Wren, who had no heir, the position had come to a vote by the members of the council. A young, handsome man from South Africa named Dannir took the reins and promptly became the butt of jokes. Once he was installed as the prelate, the council dictated everything he did—the same as they had done with Wren and McMasters before him. The council had their way with him and all of Earth, and not necessarily for the better.

  With the exposure of Neige’s state-sponsored murders and corruption, thanks in part to her own copious hidden data files, Prelate Dannir took advantage of several little-known codicils that Prelate Andrew Cartner had developed nearly fifty years before. Within minutes of Neige’s death, Dannir ordered the Terran Council—all twelve continental representatives—to disband and surrender for investigation under security precautions. Using his emergency powers, Dannir immediately selected representatives for the vacant council seats with himself holding the de facto position of chairman, according to the bylaws of the council, for two years.

  Given Dannir’s history and support for TDF and Fleet initiatives, it was the perfect time for a visit. Officially being alive again had some advantages. Crawly had bypassed the Terran Defense Force and gone straight to the top.

  Of course, there were other reasons to go to Shannon, all of them business but not all of them as immediately profitable. Those could wait. There were many pieces to his operations that needed more time to develop.

  “General Crawley? The prelate will see you now.”

  Crawley met the eyes of the young executive assistant. Dannir’s housecleaning efforts had taken care of just about all of the staff in the house, it seemed. The young, short-haired blonde with glittering green eyes smiled at him. A secure connection window opened in Crawley’s neurals while he folded the paper and made to stand.

  I cleared his calendar for thirty minutes, but you won’t need that much time. He’s already spoken to the Styrahi consulate this morning. He’s scheduled a meeting with the chief of Fleet operations and the commanding general this evening to discuss the details. They did seem to like the idea.

  Crawley kept his face straight despite his surprise. It appeared the young woman could get into any system, including his own. Thank you, Chastity.

  Raquel, General. Remember? She tilted her head as he approached her. “Right this way, sir.”

  The outer doors closed, leaving them alone in the inner office. Crawley smiled down at the young woman he’d carefully inserted into the prelate’s confidence. Her bright eyes glittered. She was dressed in a business suit that made her look older and more professional than even he had imagined possible given that a week before, she’d been in a hospital bed in Paris. “And how are you?”

  “Never been better.”

  Crawley narrowed his eyes and lowered his voice. “You know what I’m asking.”

  “My last scan was Tuesday. I’m almost where I need to be. More than enough to do this job and all it entails, General.”

  Crawley nodded. Dannir was a single man. There were reasons for replacing his old battle-ax of an assistant with a pretty young woman. He had to admit, though, he’d partially done it for her—not out of guilt for what Mally-Ayumi had done to her but from a sense of appreciation. Recovering from that type of brain injury was impressive if not unprecedented. Someone with that tough a brain deserved a place in the plan.

  “I hope you enjoy every minute of it, Raquel. You deserve it.”

  Color appeared in her cheeks. “Thank you, General.”

  “Have you—”

  “Yes, she’s waiting for her outbound transport at Perth right now. I should know when she reaches Pluto-Charon.” Raquel grinned. “We decided to retain our connection. A bit more protected now, but she’ll know what I know and vice versa. Working together was a lot better than the alternative.”

  Having the best of both worlds enabled Crawley to connect the political and military information faster than any Earth-bound analyst. With Ayumi on the front line and Raquel in the prelate’s inner sanctum, he had almost everything he needed to bring the sleeper program to reality and give Earth a fighting chance.

  “I’m glad to hear it. Please give her my best. Let me know when she signs in to her unit.”

  “You’ll be the second to know.” Raquel grinned. “You know the way, I presume?”

  “All too well,” Crawley said. The wide outer office housed Raquel’s desk as well as two additional ones for the communications operators. A side office contained operators for both the Fleet and the TDF. Behind it was a conference room capable of connecting to almost anywhere in the galaxy.

  Just before reaching the prelate’s office door, he noticed that another door was ajar. He could not resist the temptation and looked inside.

  Miles Flatley looked up from a tablet of information with a smirk. “It appears the news of your untimely death was false.”

  “Very,” Crawley said. Miles and Thirenalla had helped with the myriad details necessary to make his plan succeed, and he would never be able to reciprocate. He owed them his life and so much more. “How are you, Miles?”

  “I can’t complain. I have a package being delivered to you in a few hours.”

  Crawley frowned. “I’ll be home tonight to take the delivery.”

  They were great friends, and the whole reason Crawley stood in the prelate’s chambers with two stars on each shoulder was because of Flatley. He was also the whole reason Earth was about to take the fight where it needed to be instead of resting on its collective laurels to do anything.

  “He’s waiting,” Flatley said. “We’ll talk soon enough.”

  Crawley nodded and pushed through the prelate’s door. Emeke Dannir stood and met him with a warm embrace. The prelate smiled as they parted. His dark skin was alive with color and emotion for the first time in years.

  “Adam.” His hands held firm to Crawley’s elbows. “It has been far too long.”

  Crawley returned the gesture. “It has, Sir Prelate.”

  Dannir shook his head. “If we are to work together, please call me Emeke.”

  “That will be difficult, given our positions.”

  “You can’t take the military out of a man,
right?” Dannir laughed. “Please forgive me as I try, Adam. I am trying to do many things differently.”

  They released each other, and Dannir gestured to two comfortable chairs looking out over the coastline. Above the spaceport, the constant coming and going of transports made Crawley long for travel beyond the moon or Mars, but it would be some time before he could go that far. Responsibility was a burden that he would shoulder a bit longer.

  “Pity about Chairman Neige and her advisory team,” Dannir said. “Wouldn’t you say?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “My advisors are concerned that the former chairman authorized your assassination and undertook several unauthorized operations against protected civilians over the past year. I understand your project was targeted.”

  Crawley nodded. “It was.”

  “And yet you survived? Why didn’t they find you by your emergency beacon?”

  “Sir Prelate…” Crawley smiled and bit back laughter. “I had that thing removed when I was a colonel. My business is my business.”

  “Indeed.” Dannir stroked his chin and gazed at the horizon. “Tell me about your subjects. I understand you were able to save all of your current sleepers. Is that correct?”

  Crawley nodded. “We made arrangements to move them as soon as Ayumi showed signs of integration. The council’s use of agents to forcibly collect her was unfortunate.”

  “She was a bit late integrating, was she not?” Dannir asked.

  “She is also a Stage Five success.”

  “She killed several trained men along the way as if it was nothing.”

  Crawley closed his eyes for a moment. Dannir had deftly cut through the clutter and showed more promise than any leader Crawley had known. It was time for an olive branch, but more importantly, it was time to put down his albatross. “That was my fault, sir. I should have brought her in much sooner. My belief in her ability to process the integration was greater than her actual capability. Violence was a possibility. My people knew the risks, but it doesn’t make their deaths any easier.”

  Dannir studied him for a moment. “Was that part of the plan?”

  “Her response was standard fight-or-flight response. We’re dealing with twenty-first-century subjects who were trained to fight. It was to be expected: Kieran Roark had a similar incident in the badlands of Colorado.”

  “Indeed.” Dannir folded his hands in his lap, and the pleasant look on his face soured. “I am concerned that you lied to the council on several occasions, General.”

  “I had my reasons, sir.” Crawley frowned. “In my situation, with the unnecessary intrusions of Penelope Neige and her minions, my dishonesty was validated by results. We have had two successful subjects, and real potential exists to have more than one hundred within the next five years. The council wanted complete control of the subjects, to the point of adjusting the parameters of the experiment to fit their desires. I could not operate like that and be successful. Neither can the soldiers we’re bringing back, sir. The Greys could hit Carantan any time now. Maybe Styrah or Earth. We have to be ready.”

  Dannir nodded thoughtfully. “I understand that, General. Your frequent discussions with the council on the subjects of the sleeper program and the training and development of our forces are a matter of record that I do not intend to ignore.”

  Crawley brightened. “Thank you, sir.”

  “Emeke.” The smile slowly faded from the prelate’s face. “I am concerned, though, that you are lying to me again right now. Your subject, Ayumi, appears to be much more than she seems. Specifically, Adam, she hacked Penelope Neige’s autocar and killed her, did she not?”

  Oh, shit.

  Crawley squinted. For a moment, he considered another lie, a thinly veiled subterfuge, but made a decision he hoped he would not regret. “My predecessor had a unique relationship with your predecessors, both Wren and McMasters. They were completely honest with each other about the boundaries of this program. At the time of Prelate McMasters’s death, we were still years from any measure of success. He knew what the stakes were. Unfortunately, McMasters conferred with Penelope Neige and placed her as the go-between while he focused on rebuilding the Outer Rim. You can see where that got us.”

  Dannir’s eyebrows rose, but he said nothing. Raquel came in with a tray holding steaming mugs of coffee and a pile of grapes and apple slices. Stomach grumbling, Crawley gathered a couple of apple slices before retrieving the coffee.

  Dannir smiled. “Thank you, Raquel.”

  “You’re very welcome, sir.” Raquel smiled radiantly at her boss and then Crawley. “General.”

  “Thank you,” he said. The connection window winked open again.

  Don’t even say it, she wrote across his retina. I am behaving myself. You need to tell him the truth.

  Crawley bit into the first apple slice to cover a smile. For a moment, he said nothing although he knew Dannir was waiting for a complete explanation. “Ayumi Nakamura is a construct, Emeke.”

  Dannir smiled at the use of his first name. Crawley knew it was taken as a measure of trust, as intended. “A construct?”

  “Captain Amy Nakamura was born to Japanese-American parents and died in Afghanistan in 2019. She was a decorated F-15E Strike Eagle pilot—the equivalent of Fleet Devastators today. When she went on walkabout, she experienced a serious mental block that we decided to let run its course. She rebooted her protocol in an attempt to perform seppuku—ritual disembowelment.”

  “Suicide? Really?”

  “We should have acted on her situation sooner. I had too much trust in the process and wanted her to integrate completely on her own. She had overcome the civil programming and rebooted her protocol when the Terran Council agents confronted her in Hokkaido. During the reboot sequence, when her protocol reached out with an emergency communication…”

  Crawley paused and then chuckled. “This is where it gets difficult to explain. When Kieran Roark went walkabout, Neige ordered that he would receive a Series III protocol with complete AI engagement. In the process, the untested AI achieved self-realization and uploaded herself. If we’d not been successful in downloading his batch file, at almost the exact same time, we would have lost Roark. His protocol was named Mally, and she successfully made it to a collection of your private servers on Luna, where she waited.”

  “My servers?” Dannir laughed, a big booming sound. “Even I cannot access my own servers. Impressive.”

  Crawley nodded. “Mally briefly took control of Amy and then achieved a total download. Interestingly enough, the two consciences are working together very well via stasis configuration. We owe that development to Berkeley Roark.” He sighed, pained.

  “She was an extraordinary woman,” Dannir said. “I am sorry, Adam.”

  Crawley almost did not reply. Instead, he merely nodded, blinked away sudden tears, and said, “Thank you, sir.”

  He expected Dannir to say something else, but the younger man simply waited as Crawley composed himself.

  “You said they were working together?”

  “Berkeley found a way for Mally to emulate Amy’s personality and correctly process the emotional data. They are essentially two in one. Hence, the name they chose—Ayumi.”

  Dannir shook his head. “And she is headed to the Outer Rim to assume command of your mission?”

  “Not command. She has a specific role to fill elsewhere. Once the squadron is formed, we’ll see where the greatest need for her is.”

  “And Kieran Roark?”

  Crawley smiled. “I am glad that Thirenalla told you. It makes things easier between us.”

  “Chairman Neige and the council forbade direct engagement between me and any of our allies. They believed that strength was in staff work. I disagree with that wholeheartedly. I believe we’re already seeing the benefits. The TDF and Fleet command teams are already working through se
veral possible operational plans. But more importantly, when the prelate can speak directly with our allies, things happen quickly.” Dannir grinned.

  “I can see that. I hope Fleet and the TDF can see it as well.”

  “I will make them see,” Dannir said, his eyes bright and clear. Crawley did not see him failing. The transformation in the man was inspiring.

  “With your permission, Emeke,” Crawley said, “as you are the prelate and have ordered this composite squadron formed under your direct supervision, with myself serving as the liaison, I am recommending that Commander Roark assume command of the mission. While I do see him commanding the eventual defense of Earth, the piracy and lawlessness of the Rim needs to be addressed to provide distant early warning.”

  “That will be odd, won’t it? I mean, according to sealed TDF records, Roark died a year ago. Fleet says he died two weeks ago.” Dannir smiled, but Crawley decided it was friendly. “Mistakes can be made, though. Right? I would imagine that the reaction squadron is going to be a little different from simply sending a complement of TDF and Fleet to police up the Rim.”

  “Being under your direct supervision and my support channels, yes, it will.” Crawley smiled. “I cannot leave the sleeper program. For the purposes of what we need on the Outer Rim, the squadron will work well with a Styrahi field commander if Roark is not who you want in command. However, I feel that’s the wrong way to go. Roark impressed a species that is not easily impressed. He did that and gained the trust of higher-ranking officers in both services. I believe he is the correct choice.”

  Dannir chuckled. “The Styrahi have made their case for Commander Roark as well. I have no plan to dissuade you from his selection.”

  Crawley sensed there was more unsaid. “We’ve discussed trust, Emeke. I’ve shared many things with you I would never have discussed with your predecessor or with the council. Before I send this composite force to the Rim, I need assurances that we are on the same sheet of music, so to speak.”