by Andria Stone
“He’s a real Martian puke, alright,” Kamryn said. “Seen way too many of them this trip.”
“When we were still planetside,” Petra said, “Mark asked me to gather some military stats. What do you suppose he wanted them for?”
Kamryn became interested. “What kind of intel?’
“How many TMD warships in Martian space, how many are on the way, the size of the Martian fleet, and where their augmented troops are stationed.”
Fresh from his shower, Mark entered, rubbing his hands together, ready for a task. “Yes, we’ll get to it in a minute, but let’s see what Ohashi has on this hacker first.”
Unable to hide her smugness, she turned her screen toward him.
He tilted his head, leaned in to inspect the image. “Albinism. A mutation in the TYR gene causes most common forms. Rare nowadays, due to all the genetic testing available to pregnant women. Most cases are found on the South American continent and the outer reaches of Siberia.”
“Thank you, Dr. Warren,” Kamryn said. “We’ve seen his picture, too. What about the military stats?”
“Patience, Kamryn.” He turned back to Ohashi. “Continue, please.”
“His name’s Chesnokov Dreghorovich—or Dreghor, for short. He’s 32, speaks Russian, Chinese, and English. He’s a monster. Stabbed his parents to death in their sleep when he was eight years old, then set the house on fire. Claimed he’d been abused. Committed to a Russian mental health treatment facility for the next twelve years. Released when he turned twenty. He was diagnosed as a near genius, but with antisocial, narcissistic, egomaniacal, and sadistic tendencies. I doubt any human heart beats inside that package. He’s been off the grid since.
“Remember when the Indian stock market almost crashed two years ago? It was rumored to be his work. He’s been linked to wire fraud, plus an extensive list of other cybercrimes. No wonder he’s hiding on Mars with Valerie Parker as a patron. A marriage made in hell, if you ask me.
“I think he harvested someone’s authorized credentials to access the MMC network,” Ohashi continued. “The malware code he planted is always tweaked between attacks so their firewalls can’t recognize it. I spotted a few lines attached to a file. It turned out to be a remote-access tool common to hackers. After analyzing it, I knew what to look for. I’ve been hunting it down and eliminating it. He’s got a foothold in the network, but when I find him, he’s screwed. At which point we can alert cyber units on all three bases, to attack him simultaneously.”
Facing Kamryn, Mark asked, “What do you think his end game is?”
“Knock out communications.”
“How would you disable a military installation?”
“Munitions. A small, well-placed device, remotely detonated, could wreak havoc on an underground base. Then disable power, communications, and life support, in that order.”
“Now, Petra, what did you find?” he asked.
“Four TMD warships docked here at the space station. Four more will arrive by tomorrow morning. More coming, but won’t reach us before the deadline. The MMC has a fleet of ten, with one down for repairs. There are 1,500 troops, plus 300 augmented armored soldiers spread evenly throughout the three bases, supported by a force of 450 MPLE officers.”
“Mars built their underground military bases first,” Mark said. “They planned on a civilian population of no more than 250,000 in each biodome. Those numbers were predicated on the MMC, and MPLE personnel extrapolated to maintain law and order. These domes are the strongest human shelters ever conceived. They’re aerodynamic to withstand Martian winds, and cover the maximum living area with the least amount of surface area without any interior load-bearing walls. They maximize solar gain, use fewer materials than conventional buildings, and the larger the dome, the more efficient it becomes. Parker won’t endanger the domes. I believe she wants to neutralize the military.”
“Thank you again, Dr. Warren. The next time I have insomnia, you can talk me to sleep about biodomes. Can we get back to the military?”
“For you, Kamryn, yes.” Mark adopted a serious face. “In my opinion, Parker isn’t an either/or person. She has an all-or-nothing temperament. Taking that into account, plus the fact she’s aligned herself with Dreghor, who seems to be a similar, if not identical personality, I’d say she means to attack on two fronts. First, eliminate the MMC’s firepower. Second, dismantle their communications.
“Ohashi,” he said, “didn’t Essex say Parker’s warehouse, Edenvale property, and comm traffic were being monitored?”
“He did.”
“Back on Terra, I remember you ladies,” he motioned to both cybers, “piggybacked on the TMD when they were tracking BioKlon. Is the Martian network set up for you to repeat the same maneuvers here?”
The familiar, smug look crept across Ohashi’s face. “They are.”
“Ah-ha. You’re already on it. Good. Let me toss one more thing out. Dreghor’s not here. I’ll wager he’s in Dome 1. Valerie would never allow the both of them to be in close proximity. It’s clear to me Coulter groomed Valerie to a much greater extent than she did Victor. I don’t see Valerie ever making the mistake of overloading the spaceship with weapons as he did. She’s much more the mastermind of the pair.” He bowed his head, muttering, “And she killed Maeve.”
***
Several sharp raps on the metal entry hatch brought the MAVREK crew running. The women pointed a variety of guns at it as Mark swung it open.
Gaige Rayburn stood on the other side, smiling.
“Do you know this man?” asked the TMD guard, leveling a rifle at Gaige.
“Yes, he’s my uncle Rayburn, twice removed on my mother’s side. Kind of the black sheep of our family. Mom said to look him up.” Mark grabbed Rayburn’s sleeve, dragged him in, and secured the hatch. “How’d you get here?”
“I am a pilot. I have a ship.” Rayburn scanned the plush blue interior. “This is delightful. It puts my poor bucket to shame.” He dug in his jacket pocket, drew out a red, heart-shaped candy box. “Compliments of Dr. Hullum. We thought you might need this.”
Mark lifted the lid to find six vials of clear liquid.
Kamryn snatched it out of his hands. “Quazar? Oh, Gaige, I hope it wasn’t hard to make. What do we owe you?”
“You call it Quazar? Synthia’s dubbed it ‘Tell Me No Lies’. She’ll sell it to wives who suspect their husbands of cheating. The formula was a little tricky, but you don’t owe us. Quid pro quo. She made extra. The barter system is alive and well on Mars. Let’s hope it stays that way.”
Mark led him back to the conference room, asking, “How did you find us?”
“I have surveillance on the house. Saw who came to get you. Figured they weren’t taking you to lunch. I checked with my contact at the spaceport. She said you left on a military shuttle. A group of six people is much easier to track than one person. It wasn’t hard to locate you once I got here.”
Gathered around the conference table, Rayburn eyed the carafe of coffee. He reached over to help himself. “I’ve lived here for many years, know most the bar owners in every dome, and many owe me favors. Think what you will, but I have a stake in this. Mars is my adopted home. I’ll do whatever I can to keep it free of tyranny. Tell me what you need. I’ll do my best to make it happen.”
Mark wanted to tell Rayburn everything to enlist his help, yet he held back because he couldn’t make this decision alone. He went to check on his two missing people, and found Eva bandaging Axel’s hands in the Med Lab. “You’re wearing the skin off those knuckles.”
Axel had showered, but hadn’t shaved his head or face. He glanced up with half a smile, looking rested.
“Rayburn’s here. He brought a new supply of Quazar. Wants to help.”
They followed Mark back to the others, with Eva scuffing along in her slippers.
“I propose we bring Rayburn up to speed on everything, starting with Beth Coulter,” Mark announced. “I think he needs to see the big picture.” To his su
rprise, even Axel agreed.
Kamryn stood. “I’ll be back with more coffee.”
Mark laid out events for Rayburn. “It started eight months ago on Terra, with a woman named Beth Coulter, who sabotaged the Europa mission. My brother died on that ship. Later, she gained employment as a scientist in a classified military installation in Canada, ironically becoming my lab partner. She arranged for mercenaries to attack the facility while she tried to steal proprietary data. Axel’s troops were sent in to neutralize the threat. When she was the only one missing, the TMD issued a system-wide warrant for her arrest.”
Petra picked up the thread. “We were all in the military then, and began working as a team to hunt her down. All her plans started to unravel. Coulter intended to steal Mark’s research, as well as Eva’s. For their protection, both were relocated to Luna. Coulter left a trail of body bags searching for them. One of her cyborg’s nearly killed Mark’s father. Eva’s brother was murdered by one. In the meantime, we closed her manufacturing plants across the globe, where she’d been making clones and metal cyborgs that looked human.”
Rayburn kept twisting his pinky ring. “You told me about the clones on Mars. How many more are there of these metal cyborgs?”
“Maybe fifteen,” Axel said. “A few less now than before our ambush the other night.”
Rayburn crossed his arms, leaning back in his chair, trying to take it all in. He looked troubled.
Eva, sitting next to Rayburn, said, “She planned to colonize Europa first, terraforming it using cyborgs and clones, then spread outward. The TMD closed the plants in Malaysia, India, Houston, then targeted the one in Germany. Our guys were captured there, hauled onto Coulter’s ship with a group of clones heading for Mars. Axel was severely injured, Mark tortured, and Coulter died.”
Kamryn joined them with a coffee tray. She sat across from Rayburn. “Mars invited Eva for the terraforming experiments. You reported seeing this on a newsfeed. We’d ordered a cake for a friend from our ship. Fifteen minutes after we docked, Mark was almost arrested for murder. It happened in a bakery owned by the Parker twins, who, unknown to us at the time, had been adopted as children by Coulter. She’d groomed them to inherit her off-world empire. They’d also learned Eva would be here for the ceremonies, the same as you did. Because she’s part of the MAVREK crew, they knew Mark would be here. He’d been the intended victim, as payback for killing Coulter.”
“We walked into a trap,” Axel said in a subdued voice. “Mark could have died. Hours later, three TMD soldiers did die by the hands of Valerie and Victor Parker. We uncovered the relationship between the Parkers and Coulter. Tracked them down and uncovered every bit of intel Mars is using to stop her plans to overthrow the government, for what? So Mars could throw us off their damn dust ball? Terra’s keeping us here under house arrest because TMD’s commanding General doesn’t want to explain any more Terran deaths.”
“This ship makes an excellent war room from which to plan strategies and monitor attacks,” Rayburn observed. “If you are, however, set on returning to the dust ball, there may be a way.”
Chapter 15
“What do you mean Victor is off-world?” Valerie Parker screamed, staring in total shock at the image of her new attorney.
“Miss Parker,” Mr. Russo said, sitting at his desk, looking apologetic, “as per your instructions, I went through legal channels to inquire about securing his release. The transcripts stated he tried to hire pilots, who informed the authorities of a ship overloaded with illegal weapons, including two naked girls. When the authorities arrived to check out the accusations, three mercenaries with extensive histories were on the ship as well. They were interrogated. Victor’s DNA was found on everything; crates, weapons, plus the young women. They’ve all been charged with a multitude of offenses, and were extradited yesterday to Terra for arms trafficking. Your former attorney knew this. It happened before you engaged me. I’m not a citizen of Terra, therefore, I cannot represent him in their courts. The most I can do is recommend a good criminal attorney there. I’m requesting you release my accounts—”
Valerie severed the connection. She grabbed her tablet, retrieved a hidden bag from her closet, then said a mental farewell to the expensive condo in Edenvale.
She was on the run, but she had a plan. She always had a plan.
Victor was the dumb one. This would be his last mistake. He might withstand a simple questioning, but he’d spill his guts under an enhanced MPLE interrogation. The authorities possessed unrestricted methods of making prisoners talk.
Although her communications were encrypted, they might be cracked with sufficient expertise; however, her computers were set to self-destruct if someone tried. The MPLE would be searching for her, meaning time was her most valuable commodity.
In a storage room next to the elevator, she changed into the old woman disguise she kept in the bag, complete with a gray wig. On the ground floor, she used the service exit, slumped over, and shuffled down the street to catch a green cab to an open-air market, where she’d get lost in a hurry. It took three seconds to transfer the pertinent data from her tablet to the new one programmed by Dreghor, in case she ever needed a quick escape plan. She tossed the old one out the window.
At the market, she stopped at a busy café to use the PAN, Public Access Network. Climbing onto a stool, she faced one of six screens built into a fake brick wall. Beneath them stretched a long counter no wider than a plate so customers could eat while using the PAN at the same time. She contacted Dreghor on an emergency channel.
His young, pink-haired, female avatar appeared on her screen. “Oh, Grannie, you look like you’re having a bad day. What can I do to help?”
“Grandpa’s on his way to the big blue ball in the sky because he couldn’t keep his mouth shut, and I’m in a germ-infested public eatery talking to a twit because I’ve been compromised. I’m moving everything up to Plan B. Is that doable on your end?”
“Uh, it’ll be cutting it close, but yeah, sure. I’ll make it happen.”
“Good, because you’re not getting the final payment until after your work is done. I’ll find a private flight out of here. You check every single contact. I want a comprehensive status report ready for me the minute I see you.”
“Consider it done.”
“I’ll be there as soon as I can.” Valerie cut the connection, then hopped down to amble out into the square, rubbing elbows with the peasants as she purchased a few inexpensive disguises for her trip. After a bus ride to the spaceport, she worked her new tablet to find a flight to Polaris.
Two hours later, she had a ticket to board a private shuttle carrying three other passengers.
She visited the public restrooms and, unused to communal facilities, almost regurgitated. Her eyes watered from the smell as she sat in the stall applying the rest of her facial disguise to match the picture on her phony ID card. She stayed long enough to move the bulk of her assets to a financial institution in Polaris. When the necessity of a Plan C occurred to her, she acquired an ultra-class ticket for Carolyn Graves—with guaranteed passage on any Hyperion flight to Terra—as a Hail Mary if all else failed.
Valerie Parker, as an elderly, hunched widow named Carolyn Graves, limped through the checkpoint with the help of her antique, lion’s head cane without garnering a second glance. A short trolley ride delivered passengers to the craft, where she settled into a dark green velvet reclining seat for a relaxing flight to the southernmost domed city on her future planet.
She smiled, relishing the thought. Victor would just have to enjoy Terran hospitality for his stupid mistakes until she could spring him from the jaws of that over-reaching, omnipotent planet.
She believed Governor Bryant preferred his son, Clay, alive as opposed to dead, which meant he’d continue functioning as her puppet for as long as he remained useful. With a squad of mercenaries—plus a reserve of clones—tucked away in his house, he wasn’t going anywhere. The same leverage had been applied to Governors Are
ncia in Meridian, as well as Quesada in Polaris to secure their cooperation. If they were good little worker bees, she’d allow them to stay on. If not, she’d spelled it out clearly so they knew what to expect. With the number of weapons, mercenaries, and government employees on her payroll in each city, even a few hiccups wouldn’t derail her plans.
***
Kamryn sat across from Eva in the plush blue chairs near the hatch. The men were up front talking to the pilots. She watched Eva nibble on a thumbnail for a full minute before asking, “What’s bothering you?”
Eva wiped the thumb on her PJ’s as she glanced up. “I believe Mark’s wrong.”
Kamryn straightened. “I thought you guys shared the same brain because you always think alike. What’s different this time?”
“He’s based his assumptions on what he went through with Coulter. Except,” Eva waggled her index finger in the air, “Valerie is not Coulter. They’re not the same people. Although twins, Valerie and Victor are not duplicates of each other, as we’ve seen. To use one of Mark’s gambling expressions, Valerie is a ‘wild card’. He’s convinced she won’t go to Polaris. I’m sure she will. Her brother’s gone. She’s not used to being alone. She’ll need support, and will gravitate toward Dreghor because, in her mind, he’s filling Victor’s role.”
Eva sat cross-legged in her chair. The quietest and smallest member of their team at just over five feet tall and weighing half of Mark’s 200 pounds, Eva’s superior mental abilities were every bit equal to his.
Kamryn emulated Eva’s posture, leaning forward with her elbows on her knees. “Convince me.”
Eva’s tone became conspiratorial. “I’m sure Mark’s had more than his fair share of female conquests, yet he still fell for the conniving wiles of Scarlett McDonnell, right? We all saw it on Luna, don’t tell me you didn’t.”
Kamryn smirked, nodding. “I knew it would blow up in his face, just didn’t know when.”
“He’s fallible, everyone is, but we’re up against people who are genetically predisposed to violence and psychopathic behaviors. Mark’s fond of saying that as a scientist, he must be creative. Think outside the box. Well, this time I don’t believe he’s thought far enough.”
