He hadn’t seen her since the battle above Earth. Because he was a piece of shit, too cowardly to confront her about their feelings. Just like he’d always been. Running away from her; not because she was going to hurt him, but because of what she might represent.
Mattis didn’t fear Ramirez saying no to him. He feared her saying yes.
The closer the shuttle got, the more his fear intensified. Putting off talking to her hadn’t helped at all, something he was more than old enough to know. He felt like a child again. Running away from the woman like a teenager with a crush.
Zulu-1 docked. For a time there was nothing as, presumably, the people aboard made their way through the ship to the bridge. The more time passed the more nervous he got. What was taking them so long? The ship was still battle damaged, maybe they had found some kind of hazard, maybe the emergency bulkheads had failed and they’d been sucked out into space, or maybe—
The ruined remains of the door to the bridge, patched haphazardly with welded-on panels, creaked open.
“Martha,” said Mattis, smiling as widely as he could. “It’s a pleasure to—”
A short, mousy looking man wearing civilian clothes poked his head in the door. “Um, no. It’s, uh, Bratta. Steve Bratta. Can I come in?”
Awkward. Mattis gestured for him to do so. “Permission granted, Mister Bratta.”
Gingerly, Bratta stepped over the cooled lumps of metal—the destroyed remnants of their casemate—and moved onto the bridge. Behind him, he saw the vague outline of a woman. Definitely a woman this time. He took another deep breath. “Miss Ramirez, it’s a pleasure to—”
“Nope,” said the woman, stepping fully into view, a hard looking civilian with a powerful looking stun-stick strapped to her hip. She wore a dusty blue coat and had her hair tied up in a neat bun. “I’m Officer Jeannie Tafola.”
Bloody hell, he was making a hash of this. Mattis rubbed the bridge of his nose in frustration and waited. And waited.
“Oh?” came Ramirez’s voice from the other side of the door. “Not going to embarrass yourself a third time?”
Did she mean anything more from that? The first time would be them in the past, the second time just before the battle of Earth—so this would be the third time? He was overthinking it and he knew it, but his mind suddenly felt frazzled. Like he’d stayed up for two nights in a row then had ten cups of coffee. As it stood, it was about twenty hours and two cups of coffee, but—
More overthinking.
“I’ll try to keep the embarrassment under control if I can,” said Mattis, a little later than he really should have. “I hope.”
Ramirez stepped into the room smiling lopsidedly and, for just a little fraction of a second, she actually seemed to be the nervous one. It was actually quite endearing. “A‘right, well, these are the two I told you about.”
“The two people I just had to meet?” Mattis flicked his gaze over to each of them in turn. The cop seemed to have potential, but the little scientist guy seemed to be too busy nervously fiddling with a strand of his hair to be any use to anyone. “Unless there’s someone else?”
“Hey,” said Bratta, somewhat nasally and defensive, “I’ll have you know, Mister Mattis, that Jeannie and I broke this whole thing wide open. We tracked down the plant at Chrysalis, and we are more than capable of taking care of whatever—”
“Steve,” said Jeannie, a distinct note of frustration in her voice, “stop trying to look tough for the admiral, please.”
“Okay,” said Bratta, his shoulders slumping.
“Excuse me,” asked Modi, the first words he’d said in a while. His eyes were drawn to Bratta’s hip. “Is that an X-39?”
Bratta’s whole face lit up. “Why yes, it is indeed! Although it’s been heavily modified. My own personal blend of alterations. I managed to induce a signal resonance in the casing, giving—”
“A substantial boost to signal performance. The Takashima effect.” Modi practically slid across the floor to him, holding out his hand. “May I?”
“You absolutely may,” said Bratta, with something akin to a mix of fatherly pride and childish delight. “Just one moment, I’ll show you how it all works. You see…”
The two of them began talking over each other in increasingly excited tones, huddled over the seemingly normal-looking phone, chattering away in techno-babble that Mattis had no hope of understanding.
His eyes met Jeannie’s briefly, and he saw within them a deep seated, but long subdued, frustration. Nerds and their toys. His eyes strayed next to Martha’s, who met his gaze with her own. They held it, and after a moment he felt the need to distract them all before he felt … something … he didn’t want to feel at this point.
“So,” asked Mattis, a little louder than necessary so he could move past that momentary weirdness. “Enough about phones and stuff. You haven’t really answered my question.”
Jeannie grinned slightly. “I don’t think you believe us, Mattis,” she said, with a slight impish edge to her tone that reminded him of Ramirez.
Ramirez looked to Jeannie, then back to Mattis. “It’s true that Steve and Jeannie investigated this,” she said. “These two really did find out most of what you and your crew also discovered. I know that doesn’t sound like much, but there are just two of them. And I have an idea how they can help us a fair bit further.”
“How’s that?” asked Lynch.
“Well,” said Jeannie, “we found out that everything is connected. The Genetics corporation on Zenith. MaxGainz. Even the damn fucking coffee shop. They’re all companies owned by shell companies, parent companies and umbrella corporations, but there’s one piece of the puzzle we haven’t looked at. I know it.”
“I know,” said Mattis. “That’s exactly what I think.”
“Sir,” said Lynch, cutting into the conversation, “the Luyang III are sending a transmission our way.”
Maybe Yim had an idea. “Send it through,” he said.
“It’s not audio. It’s text only. It reads…” Lynch cleared his throat. “MaxGainz facility on Chrysalis. East end of market. Get inside.” He tilted his screen so that Mattis could see the message himself. It was just as he’d described.
Odd that Yim would send through a text. What was happening over there?
Jeannie snapped her fingers. “ I know just the person to get inside,” she said, looking right at Bratta.
Modi looked at Bratta.
Ramirez looked at Bratta.
Lynch looked at Bratta.
Bratta looked at Bratta, self-conscious that everyone else was suddenly looking at him. He noticed his fly was unzipped, and, eyes widening in embarrassment, struggled to close it.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” said Mattis, eyes widening slowly. “Am I losing my mind here?”
“You’ve got to admit,” said Jeannie, watching Bratta fight with the stuck zipper, “nobody’ll be expecting him.”
Mattis grimaced. “All right. I’ll inform fleet command what’s going on. Maybe they can give me more insight on what this company is really doing.” He pointed his thumb towards Bratta. “That’ll give the good doctor here more time to—” he regarded the small man struggling with his fly, “get ready, so to speak.”
Chapter Sixty-Two
Bridge
CNS Luyang III
Orbit above Chrysalis
Kepler-1011 system
“Prepare a shuttle,” said Yim. “I have to go back there.”
“Of course, sir,” said Xiao, straightening his back. “I’ll have it ready again.” A playful smile crossed his lips. “Going back for more coffee, sir? I’ll have to get you to get me some, too.”
Yim managed a smile of his own. “I’ll do that. Send me your order, and I’ll make sure you get it.” He eased out of his chair with a groan.
Xiao turned back to his console, and then his tone became professional again. “Sir, we’re receiving a Z-space transmission. Wide band. Priority one.”
Priority o
ne? Well, they were popular today. “What’s the origin?” asked Yim. It felt good to stand after sitting down for so long.
“Unclear,” said Xiao. “It’s from General Tsai. And …” he squinted. “It’s addressed to the … bridge crew of the Luyang III.”
A strange and improper way of addressing a communication. Either a ship or the CO was normally specifically called out. “Very well,” said Yim. “Put it through.”
“Mister Yim,” said General Tsai, his tone almost accusatory. “Where is your ship at the present moment?”
Yim blinked and touched his neck, dropping his voice to a lower tone. “Sir, I’m—”
“Speak out loud,” said General Tsai, “if you please, Admiral Yim.”
He scowled. “Sir, the Luyang III is currently investigating a matter of utmost importance to the People’s Republic. We are in orbit of a large asteroid, Chrysalis, and I believe it holds the key to many of the mysteries surrounding the alien invasion upon Earth.”
“I understand,” said General Tsai. “Now hear this, Admiral: we have detected long-range transmissions from the Midway and we believe that they are planning to move on Chrysalis. For reasons of national security, this cannot be allowed. The Luyang III is hereby ordered to revert, immediately and without delay, to its previously assigned mission. This order is to be followed without delay or hesitation of any kind, Admiral. Do I make myself clear?”
What the hell was the General saying? “Sir, if you just listen to me, I’ve been speaking to Admiral Mattis about this place. It’s not what you think. There is a lot going on here, and if you give me a minute, I’ll fill you in on the details of—”
“Is Lieutenant Commander Xiao present?” interrupted General Tsai. “Is he listening to this conversation?”
Yim and Xiao’s eyes met. “He is,” said Yim, uncertainly.
“I’m here,” said Xiao, equally uncertainly.
“Admiral Yim,” said General Tsai, his voice iron. “The grace of the people has expired. Remove your sidearm and give it to Lieutenant Commander Xiao, and then have him relieve you as the Commanding Officer of the CNS Luyang III. Lieutenant Commander Xiao, marines on the bridge, if Admiral Yim refuses this direct order from the Joint Chiefs of Staff, you are ordered to force him to comply in any way you see fit, including putting a bullet in him.”
This was—Yim spluttered for a moment, trying to find the right way of arguing against this madness. Standing down the CO of a ship like this was absolutely improper. Ordering his XO to shoot him on the bridge of his own ship was beyond improper. It was insanity.
Slowly, with obvious reluctance, Xiao drew his pistol, cradling it in both hands. “I’m sorry, sir,” he said. “We can sort this out later. I promise.”
Barely able to disguise his disgust, Yim drew his pistol with two fingers, reversed it, and handed it grip-first to Xiao. “Commander Xiao, I stand relieved.”
“General, sir,” said Xiao, taking the pistol and laying it on his console. “I have the admiral’s weapon.”
“Excellent,” said General Tsai, his tone painted with obvious relief. “Lieutenant Commander Xiao, you are hereby ordered to use the capabilities of your ship to engage the USS Midway. We have classified the demilitarized orbital space of Chrysalis as financial importance to the People’s Republic and its integrity cannot be compromised; that minefield remains Chinese property, after all. Your objective is the following: disable that ship’s engines or weapons, and once that has been accomplished you are then to jump away from the system and head toward Earth to be properly debriefed. Do I make myself clear?”
Xiao hesitated, and then nodded firmly. “Yes, sir. Launching fighters and spinning up heavy guns.”
He only had a few minutes to act. Mattis had to be warned. Yim sunk into his seat and, using his keyboard, typed out a brief message to the Midway. Text only.
“Alert fighters away,” said one of his bridge officers—although they weren’t his bridge officers anymore, were they?
“Thank you,” said Xiao.
Yim scowled as the watched his ship’s fighters fly out of the hangar bay, turning and banking toward the Midway. “I’m not getting you coffee anymore,” he growled.
Chapter Sixty-Three
Senator Pitt’s Office
Washington, D.C.
Earth
Chuck had no idea what Spectre meant, but just mentioning the name had rattled John Smith something fierce. He had stepped away from Chuck to make some kind of long range phone call. It felt odd to just stand there while an armed guy made a call to another star system, speaking quietly and deliberately about something he simply couldn’t overhear.
“Hey,” said Elroy, his voice strained. “You still there, Chuck? I’m about to call the cops.”
“Don’t,” said Chuck, reflexively. “I’m okay.”
Smith glared at him, as though considering taking some serious action, then went back to his call.
“You sure?” asked Elroy, “you were crying for a long while there, Chuck. I’m really worried.”
Chuck moved over to the other corner. “Look,” he whispered, “something’s come up. I’m fine. I’ll call you later.” He hung up. It hurt him to be so callous, but things had gotten suddenly way out of hand and Elroy was a distraction he simply couldn’t afford right now.
A few moments later, Smith finished his call too. “Okay,” said Smith, “change of plans. We’re getting the fuck out of here and we’re taking your data disk and throwing it into a furnace and then scattering the ashes in the ocean. Then we’re splitting up and we’re never speaking again.”
That sounded crazy. “That’s a little paranoid, isn’t it?” asked Chuck, skeptically. “We can just erase it if you’re feeling like the files we recovered were dangerous.”
“That won’t be enough,” said Smith, shaking his head firmly. “You can always recover things from a file system, even if they’ve been securely erased. These spooks are good at what they do. We simply can’t take the risk.” He gave a low chuckle. “Like I said, you’re in way over your head here.”
Chuck frowned. “Pretty sure I was in over my head when I broke into Pitt’s office. What we’re doing is a crime you know.”
“This isn’t some youthful misdemeanor,” said Smith, exasperatedly. “Or even a felony. This it outside the law—outside the shared lie we call society. This is dangerous. And I mean bullet-in-the-back-of-the-head, dump-your-body-in-the-swamp-for-the-gators dangerous. The people you’re missing with—they don’t play by the rules.”
As if breaking into the good Senator’s office would be safe. Or legal. “Hey, you’re here too,” said Chuck.
Smith smiled. “Hardly the first time for the CIA. We’re experts at this kind of thing by now.”
Well. That explained that. Chuck grimaced internally. What had he got into? “What the hell is Spectre, anyway, that’s got you so upset, CIA tough guy?”
“Not a what,” said Smith, “but a who. An extremely dangerous assassin and spy, made all the more dangerous by how innocuous they look. They picked their name because of some old James Bond movie, and it’s apt. If they’re hunting you, you’ll quietly have an accident and nobody will raise an eyebrow, because the circumstances will be entirely believable to the forensic analysts who examine it.”
It sounded crazy, but Smith definitely seemed to believe it. “Okay,” said Chuck, slowly. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Because I know who your old man is. I like him. I want to help him find what he’s looking for, but I can’t do that if I’m laying at the bottom of some bog.”
“What is my dad looking for?” asked Chuck. “He never really talks to me.”
Smith snorted. “Lots of things,” he said. “This goes deep. I’m talking a deep state—a shadow government running things from behind the scenes, performing genetic experiments, operating within and outside nations, doing things nobody in their right mind should ever even consider. They’re waist deep in every distasteful thi
ng you could ever imagine.”
“Why don’t you go public?” asked Chuck. “If you have the proof…”
“That’s the problem,” said Smith. “I don’t. Yet.”
Spoken like a very sane man with extremely normal beliefs. Chuck couldn’t help but let his eyes drift back to the man’s pistol. Suddenly, Chuck trusted him a whole lot less. And yet…
No. It was crazy. “Okay,” said Chuck, lying through his teeth. “I believe it. What do you suggest we do?”
Smith shrugged helplessly. “I know what I’m doing. Leaving. I suggest you do yourself a favor, kid, and drop this. It’s way too deep for you. Hell, it’s probably too deep for me.” He affixed Chuck a firm glare. “You never saw me, kid.”
Chuck nodded and then Smith turned and left the office.
So much for going to Chrysalis, thought Chuck, and then he backtracked too, looking for the hole he’d smashed in the window and hoping there wasn’t a parade of police cars outside waiting to arrest him.
The moment he arrived at the broken glass, the howl of a police siren started up, and a floodlight lit up the whole area, white glare blinding him. He could barely see flashing blue lights.
“Freeze!” shouted the a police officer. “Don’t move, you’re under arrest! Hands above your head!”
Well, thought Chuck as he slowly raised his hands above his head, shit. I jinxed it.
Chapter Sixty-Four
Commander Modi’s Workroom
USS Midway
Orbit above Chrysalis
Kepler-1011 system
Bratta stared at the prototypes on Modi’s glistening bench.
Modi appeared to take note of his interest. “Of course, these are purely recreational projects, hardly military standard. I would never field test them under regular circumstances, but of course, I estimate that the odds of your dying due to lack of support are significantly higher than the odds of significant injury due to equipment malfunction.”
The Last Hero: Book 2 of The Last War Series Page 22
