Graham dove into the nearly empty bowl of nuts still sitting on the desk. “So they can steal all our glory?”
“Oh, I’m sure we’ll get mentioned in the press release. ‘With the assistance of’ and such.”
“Why aren’t we just passing on the tip to SENTRI and letting them do all the work?”
Richard smiled wryly. “This is Aiden Trieneri’s son. He’s aiming to recreate his father’s empire, which became Olivia Montegreu’s empire when she killed Trieneri, then go far beyond its previous boundaries. Don’t you want the satisfaction of bringing him down yourself?”
“You mean, doesn’t it feel like this is our mess to clean up?”
“That, too.”
“All right. Let’s quit dancing around and get to work. I’ve read the files you forwarded, and I have thoughts.”
“Excellent. Since I sent those files to you, Cliff’s pieced together a couple of new tidbits as well.” Richard swept his arm across the desk, and a row of virtual screens flared to life.
27
* * *
THE PRESIDIO
Milky Way Galaxy
Malcolm stopped in the lavatory to check the lines and seams of his uniform in the mirror. He forced himself to take a deep breath and steady his mind in the moment. He’d lost track of how many days he’d been fighting and hunting the Rasu, with only a few hours of sleep snatched here and there. But he was the fleet admiral, and he didn’t get to be worn down or weary.
Marginally satisfied, with his appearance at least, he returned to the corridor outside and headed for the top floor. The officer guarding the meeting room snapped a salute then cleared the entrance, and Malcolm strode inside.
The AEGIS Oversight Board members’ uniforms all shone with extreme crispness. But then again, none of them had been on the front lines less than three hours ago, for they were all retired from active duty. Technically, they weren’t his superiors; in most respects, he was theirs. But they’d appointed him to his position, twice, and they could fire him from it.
Back when Miriam, and Christopher Rychen after her, had served as Earth Alliance fleet admirals, they had enjoyed nearly unlimited power on and off the battlefield. But when AEGIS had taken over leadership of every human military, the various power brokers hadn’t been willing to give up all control, especially when that control might be exercised by an officer from one of the other governments. So while Malcolm did enjoy absolute authority over AEGIS forces during combat engagements, his decisions were subject to scrutiny, second-guessing and even reversal by a two-thirds vote of the Oversight Board. Oversight, indeed.
“Fleet Admiral, welcome.” General Colby gestured to the table situated in front of the dais. It sat on the same level as the dais, adding to the optics of everyone here being on equal footing. “How goes the front?”
“It depends on which front you mean, General.” Malcolm sat and squared his chair to the table. “We’ve been able to secure the Khokteh stellar system for now, but the situation in the Large Magellanic Cloud overall continues to be precarious. We suspect the Rasu are searching it for fruitful targets, but they are proving difficult to track through the void.”
“And how is the Tandem Defense Shield performing?”
His brow furrowed for a second; then he remembered this was the name they had invented for the Machim double-shielding, the better to erase the notion that they would ever employ something of Anaden origin. “Exceptionally well. The power requirements are significant, but the newer Zero Engines can handle it. Thus far, when deployed, the double—the TDS has a one hundred percent success rate in protecting the vessel from enemy fire, other damage or infiltration.”
Admiral Zenshen scowled, as he almost always did. “It still seems a waste to spend so much money and power to protect ships that are already invulnerable.”
“Invulnerable to destruction by conventional weapons, Admiral—not invulnerable to boarding or theft. Not by the Rasu.”
“Yes, I’ve seen the mission reports.”
“Allow me to reemphasize the point, Admiral. There is much the Rasu do not know about us—about humanity and about our allies in Concord—and we must do everything in our power to ensure they never learn more. Also, we should do everything possible to prevent the kidnapping, torture and murder of our service people. The cost of the shielding is worth it, in information security and in lives saved.”
“It is.” Colby shot Zenshen a brief glare. “While they do not fall within your primary areas of responsibility, we want to fill you in on some decisions we’ve made regarding planetary defenses.”
They spent the next twenty minutes reviewing and, on several occasions, heatedly debating the minutiae of keeping AEGIS colonies and citizens safe in the event of a Rasu attack. Having fought through a single Rasu attack now, Malcolm took every opportunity to hammer home his belief that the measures they’d adopted were woefully inadequate. He didn’t dare speculate whether he got through to anyone on the Board.
General Colby moved a screen pad from one side of his workspace to the other. “I think we’ve covered everything on the agenda. But before you go, there is one other matter we want to discuss.”
Malcolm steeled himself for the coming ambush. “I’m listening.”
“We’re very sensitive to the trial you underwent during your captivity on Savrak. As we’ve previously stated, you have our sympathies and our commendation for the honorable manner in which you conducted yourself throughout your ordeal.
“It is unfortunate that your capture created a difficult situation for us as well, namely the position of Fleet Admiral changing hands twice in a brief period. This led to much uncertainty in the ranks and several double-reversals of policies. Such complications are never desirable, but especially so in wartime. Now, both you and Field Marshal Bastian handled the situation as diplomatically as we expected, but lapses did occur. If the Rasu had attacked an AEGIS world during either of these transfers of power, disaster could have unfolded.”
“But it didn’t. The system worked.”
“So far. The repercussions of two swift changes in power are still rippling through the system. Our goal is not to cast blame after the fact, but to try to ensure such glitches do not happen again, either here at AEGIS Central Command or at any point in the chain of command.”
Malcolm frowned; they couldn’t realistically add any more regulations and directives than what already existed, could they? “What are you suggesting?”
“The Regenesis Extension Project is showing tremendous success within our ranks. Commandant Solovy is a high-profile example, but as a result of the ships lost in the First Namino Battle, there are many others. However, the majority of service people are reluctant to trust in the science of regenesis. We think it would set an important example for our officers and enlisted personnel if all senior commanders publicly affirmed their intention to undergo regenesis, should the worst happen.”
Malcolm blinked. “Are you asking me to revoke the ‘no regenesis’ clause in my will?”
“No, no, of course not. We don’t wish to issue an order regarding what is an inherently personal decision.”
Order? He’d used the word ‘asking’ on purpose. “Then what are you saying?”
“We’re asking you to reconsider your position on the matter. Your tenure as Fleet Admiral has been a successful one, and we hope to see it continue for many years. If you were to endorse regenesis, it would give us a great deal more confidence that the chain of command will not be disrupted again. It would also inspire those serving under you to take the same step, thereby strengthening the robustness of our fighting forces.”
“General, I don’t—”
“Simply take it under advisement.” Colby’s gaze drifted across the other Board members. “Strong advisement. We’ll continue to review the issue from a policy perspective and consider what steps might need to be taken as events warrant.”
Malcolm worked to keep a poker face. Couched in political-speak or n
ot, this was a warning, and possibly a threat. “I will, as you say, take it under advisement. Now, if there is nothing else, we’re running over schedule here.”
“So we are. Good luck out there, Fleet Admiral.”
EARTH
Seattle
Malcolm idly studied the amber glow of the beer filling his frosted mug to the brim. The condensation dampened his hands as he held the mug in a vise grip atop the bar. He should drink it; he had ordered it, after all. But for now, he watched intently as tiny bubbles raced one another to join the foam at the head.
With the situation in the Khokteh stellar system again under Concord control, he’d given the crew of the Denali twenty-four hours leave on The Presidio—where they could be recalled in a matter of minutes if necessary—and mental health guidelines mandated he give himself the same. The Oversight Board had taken up three hours of the leave, but afterward he’d treated himself to a visit to his favorite pub in Seattle to contemplate what had transpired.
Religious freedom hadn’t originated in the United States of old, but it had grown strong there. The principle that had formed one of the nation’s bedrocks had transferred to the Earth Alliance and most other human governments, and AEGIS’ charter had followed in their stead. Fewer people were overtly religious today than at any time in history, but their right to be so and to follow the tenets of their chosen religion remained as protected as ever.
Was this about to change?
The Oversight Board hadn’t threatened to depose him as Fleet Admiral unless he revoked his ‘no regenesis’ clause. Not today. But they had clearly implied that it was on the table. In his experience, if suggestions and heavy-handed statements of preference didn’t work, orders inevitably followed.
His left hand dropped from the mug to curl into a fist on the bar. They didn’t have the right. If push came to shove, it would be up to the courts to decide if they had the ability.
Nothing mattered more to him than fulfilling his duty to protect innocents. Nothing, perhaps, except Mia. Now those interests were converging in a way that would make it so easy to comply with both the Board’s and her wishes. Doing so would tie the current complications in his life, Rasu excepted, into a neat, tidy bow.
But it wasn’t their right—either of their right—to ask this of him. To extract this price for his devotion.
Dammit!
He didn’t want to blame Mia for any of this. But even as he sat here, he could feel the resentment that had been building toward the Oversight Board all afternoon seeping into his feelings toward her. Anger against one was becoming anger against the other, their motivations blurring together to feed his frustration.
Intellectually, he recognized both ‘requests’ came from a sympathetic place. Everyone wanted him to stay alive. So did he. They merely had somewhat different definitions of what constituted ‘alive.’
“Is your drink no good? It looks refreshing, so I was thinking about ordering it. But you haven’t touched it in five minutes, so…save me from a mistake?”
Malcolm turned to his left to find that a man had taken a seat on the barstool beside him. Slim build, blondish hair falling neatly across his brow, standard corporate office attire. Hazel eyes that reflected the ambient light of the pub a little too much to be natural.
He huffed a breath and took a sip of the beer, then nodded. “No, it’s good. My mind was just elsewhere.”
“Excellent. Bartender, I’ll have what the Fleet Admiral is having.”
Malcolm looked at him sharply, and the man shrugged. “Sorry to catch you off guard, but it’s an honor to meet you.”
He wanted to feel uncomfortable with the interaction, but the truth was, his face had been on the news a lot lately—more than he preferred—so he forced a smile. “Thank you. And you are?”
“Philippe Beaumont. I work at Fraser Consolidated downtown.”
Malcolm tilted his head in greeting, then took a longer, slow sip of his beer. He really didn’t want company, of the stranger variety or otherwise.
The man fell silent until the bartender brought his drink, then cradled it without drinking any, either. “Listen, I heard about what the Oversight Board is trying to force you into. It’s not right.”
A dozen warnings flared in his mind. “Excuse me?”
“I have a buddy who works on The Presidio for one of the Board members. I know it’s not common knowledge yet, but he clued me in.”
Malcolm stood, knocking his bar stool back. “Everything that transpires in Oversight Board meetings is highly classified. Your ‘buddy’ has committed a serious crime by disclosing—”
Beaumont held up a hand. “I know. Please, hear me out. No one’s trying to steal military secrets and sell them to the Anadens or anything. But it’s not fair what the leadership is doing to you. They don’t have the authority to dictate matters of life and death.”
He should have walked out then and there. But he was angry, and the man’s words echoed his own ruminations so damn much. So instead he eased back onto the barstool, though his demeanor was guarded. “You’re not in favor of regenesis?”
“No, and I’m not the only one. It’s bad science we klepted together from those ungodly, immoral Anaden bastards. Our scientists have always been arrogant, but I believe they’ve gone too far this time. The notion that they can create life out of a basic brain scan? It’s an insult to what it means to be human.”
“People used to say the same thing about Prevos.”
The man stared at him blankly. “I don’t see the relevance.”
“Your eyes might not be glowing at the moment, but I know the signs.”
“Because of…course you do.” Because of Mia Requelme went unsaid by them both, and the man clumsily tried to regain his composure. “Prevos are an enhancement of humankind. Regenesis is an abomination of it.”
People had said the latter about Prevos, too. Malcolm waited for the rest of the pitch.
As expected, Beaumont obliged. “The simple fact is, regenesis has been legal for the blink of an eye, and the military is already toying with making it mandatory. How long before governments follow suit? New zombies are being awoken every day, most of them in positions of power. Soon, the average person on the street will be a slave to these new overlords, in practice if not in law. If this continues unfettered, it could mean the end of the human race as we know it, and sooner than we think.”
“That’s a fairly extreme position to take.”
“Maybe, but if we want to protect our humanity—the humanity of everyone—then we need to get in front of the problem now, before it spreads like a virus through society.” The man ran a fingertip along the top of his still-full mug. “There’s a group of people I know. Like-minded people. Many of them are religious, while some simply reject the idea of being forced to be reborn as a zombie. They—we—want to make sure it never goes so far. No one should ever be forced into such a half-life or have to take orders from someone who has been.”
Malcolm frowned darkly, and Beaumont quickly backtracked. “Not through violence—nothing criminal. We’re a peaceful organization, I assure you. But we do want to make our feelings known. We intend to make it clear to our governments that we won’t stand for regenesis taking over society. We’re actually having a meeting tonight, here in town, if you wanted to stop by.”
Malcolm’s expression shut down. “I don’t think it would be appropriate.”
“You don’t have to advertise your identity or anything. Just sit in the back and listen to what people have to say. Draw your own conclusions.”
When Malcolm remained silent, Beaumont slid a holo card over to him. “No pressure. Here’s the address for the meeting. I hope I see you there.” The man stood, nodded a farewell, and headed out the door.
28
* * *
EARTH
Seattle
The meeting was being held in a large conference room in a mid-rise office building in eastern Seattle. Multiple businesses called the buildin
g home, and the name of the company the conference room belonged to was covered up with white tape. Did the company not want to be publicly associated with the meeting, or had it not authorized the room’s use for this purpose at all?
Malcolm slipped through the door as quietly as possible and took a seat near the back on the left. Around a hundred seats were positioned in orderly rows, and nearly all of them were full. He wasn’t certain what he’d expected, but a big crowd wasn’t it. He pulled the bill of his cap lower and tried to appear both anonymous and inconspicuous.
He told himself for the fifth time this evening that he wasn’t here to join this cause, whatever it turned out to be, but instead to simply find out more—about sentiments surrounding regenesis, what the group was planning, and whether there was any possibility of criminal activity afoot. But he couldn’t deny that part of him wanted to hear what these people had to say.
As the doors were closed behind him, he checked the time. He was due back on the Denali’s bridge in four hours; assuming the meeting didn’t stretch on for too long, he should have enough time to stop by the townhouse, shower and pack a fresh bag before returning to the Presidio dry dock.
A podium was situated at the front of the room. Behind it, a tasteful holo sign spelled out ‘Gardiens: Protectors of Life.’ The group was far enough along to have an official name and slogan. Interesting.
He looked around until he spotted the man who had approached him in the pub—Beaumont was the name—sitting with two other people in a semi-circle of chairs near the front. He was one of the leaders.
One of the other men in the semi-circle stood and approached the podium, then began to speak. “My name is George Takanas. Thank you, everyone, for coming tonight. This is amazing. Our numbers have doubled just since our last meeting. Well done on getting the word out and finding other concerned citizens who share in our cause. As we have so many new people here, I’d like to begin by asking anyone who’s new, and who’s comfortable talking, to share why they decided to join us this evening.”
All Our Tomorrows Page 16
