by J. W. Elliot
“Thanks to you,” Kaiden said without looking at her. Two days of awkward interaction had proven that she was capable and skilled. It was a ghastly business—one that would haunt him for the rest of his life, to say nothing about what it would do to his career. They would both be suspended, at the very least, and certainly investigated. The terrorists had carried out their worst attack on clones in months—right under his nose and on his own ship.
“I made a full report of how you saved the ship,” Kaiden said.
Willow glanced at him. “I didn’t do it alone.”
“I recommended you for a citation and possible promotion,” Kaiden said. He looked at her. “I’m sorry I accused you.”
Willow waved him away. “You were in shock. And no one is going to promote me. We’ll be lucky if we’re not fired and thrown in prison for this.”
Kaiden studied her for a moment before turning to peer at the monitor from the co-pilot’s seat. The pilot’s seat was gone, and the pilot controls were too mangled to be repaired, so he had been forced to rewire much of the console to allow them to fly the spacecraft from the co-pilot’s seat. Communication was still down, though as they neared the Space Station, they might be able to make contact with their personal wrist terminals, or WTs, which had a much shorter range.
Guiding the spacecraft toward the space station was always tricky, but it was downright dangerous with compromised controls. He tried to focus on nudging the craft into position, but his mind kept struggling to make sense of the last two days.
It was supposed to be a routine flight, and Kaiden had lost his crew—his friends since cadet school. Raven had meant to kill him, and he had failed to protect his own people. He was returning with a cargo of dead clones, each with a single hole in their foreheads, like any nice, clean execution. He should have done something to stop it. He should have recognized Raven’s betrayal. He was their captain. He was responsible.
“Here we go,” he said as he nudged the controls, steering the craft toward the docking station.
The great, donut-shaped, centrifugal gravity generator of the International Space Station spun in front of him, nearly blocking the view of the blue orb of Earth behind it. The space station stretched out on either side of the donut, like an immense hot dog. Kaiden avoided the spinning gravity generator and maneuvered toward the blinking green lights of the docking station.
This was the secure TAP section of the station, and it was a good thing. Anyone coming in with a cargo of dead bodies would have caused an international sensation, especially if it was known that clones were on board. But TAP worked overtime to keep the lid on things like this. Formally, TAP and its programs didn’t exist, and the success of their mission required absolute secrecy. But there would still be hell to pay when he faced Commander Rio, the head of TAP security at Ararat.
Kaiden glanced at Willow. He wanted to trust her, but he had become even more convinced that she was hiding something. It was just a gut feeling, but he had learned to trust his instincts, and they told him something wasn’t right with her.
Kaiden coaxed the craft onto the pad.
“I’m sorry about your friends,” Willow said.
“Yeah. Thanks.” Kaiden didn’t want to talk about them. He knew their deaths would go unnoticed by all those billions of people down there—unnoticed and unreported. The Ark Project was top secret. Those who served the project lived inside a world that the masses of natural humans knew nothing about.
This galled him. Good young men and women were giving their lives to save humanity from its own stupidity, and what did they get for it? Nothing but suspicion and indifference. He may not like the idea of cloning humans, but at least they were doing something. Now, they were being murdered by religious fanatics.
Kaiden sighed. None of this self-recrimination was going to help him when he faced Commander Rio and took responsibility for what happened to his ship and crew.
Several hours later, Kaiden and Willow pulled themselves into the space elevator and strapped themselves into their seats before beginning the descent toward Earth. The elevator consisted of two large cargo bays on either side of the cable and half a dozen smaller pressurized passenger compartments between the cargo bays. Kaiden and Willow found themselves alone in one of the passenger compartments.
The descenders whirred into motion as they sped down the nano-fiber carbon tether that was secured to the earth on a huge floating ship near the equator. The Earth Orbital Space Station was attached to the tether at the geostationary altitude far above the earth with a counterweight swinging in space even farther out. The elevator shuddered as it picked up speed. This trip used to take four or five days but had been reduced to twenty-four hours by the new high-speed descenders.
Kaiden settled into his seat to gaze out the window at a world awash in a flood of blue and churning white that could not hide the great scars of humanity. It always surprised him how blue Earth appeared from space. It seemed so inviting with no hint of the burning heat, arid winds, and massive storms that raged across the surface. The only green left on the planet hugged the coastlines or cut through the barren lands—little ribbons of life clinging to dwindling rivers. The rest was a dull brown, like it was diseased and dying. Megacities sprawled out to enfold the desperate natural humans in protective arms of metal and glass.
“She was one of us,” Kaiden said.
“What?” Willow turned away from the window and her own musings.
“Raven was one of us,” he repeated. “She started a year after I did.” He didn’t want to believe that Raven could so brazenly murder the people who had trusted her to protect their backs. It was the worst kind of betrayal, but he had seen it for himself in the footage of the security cameras.
When Willow didn’t say anything, he glanced at her. She still had her hair drawn back in a ponytail that stood on end.
“I’m sorry,” Willow said. “I wish there was something I could do.”
Kaiden looked away. Did he want her to do anything? Maybe not. Maybe he just needed someone to understand.
As they fell earthward and began to feel the draw of Earth’s gravity, her ponytail slowly assumed a more natural look. Kaiden blinked at the dizziness that spun around in his head as his backside took the weight of his body. The shoulder straps ceased tugging at his shoulders, and he settled more comfortably into the padded seat.
“I never get used to this,” Kaiden said.
“Me neither,” Willow said.
Kaiden glanced back out the window when pain suddenly flashed behind his eyes. He sagged against the shoulder straps, groaning in pain. He stared at the blank cover of the coffin. She was in there, her little body so ravaged by disease that they couldn’t even cover it up with makeup. Kaiden placed the single rose on the lid. “I’m sorry, Rose,” he said. “I’ll stop them.”
“Captain?” Willow said. She touched his shoulder.
Kaiden blinked and regained his balance. He massaged his forehead. The pain focused right behind his eyes.
“You all right?” Willow peered closely at him.
Kaiden nodded. “My head,” he said, “it feels like my brain is going to explode.”
Willow straightened and studied him. She knew something he did not. “You still have a concussion,” she said. “You should have seen the doctor at the Space Station, like I told you.”
“I’m all right,” Kaiden snapped more harshly than he intended. He couldn’t afford to see a doctor. He didn’t need that kind of scrutiny now—not after having two strange visions in the space of a couple of days. This kind of thing got good security personnel reassigned or discharged.
“Umm, who’s Rose?” Willow asked.
“What?” Kaiden glared at her.
“You said, ‘I’m sorry, Rose.’”
“I didn’t say anything.”
Kaiden blinked and ran a hand over his c
lose-shaved head. He was having hallucinations—first the woman and then the coffin. How could he get PTSD from a bomb blast he could barely remember? But he didn’t want Willow to report him to Rio. If Rio, or anyone else, got so much as a whiff of an idea that he had PTSD, his career would be over. He would be dismissed from his command and probably retired. TAP didn’t mess around with mental disorders of any kind.
“I’m fine,” he said.
Kaiden turned to watch as the elevator descended through the clouds, doing his best to appear as if everything was all right. When it burst through the bottom of the cloud canopy, the Pacific’s wide blue waters spread out on the western horizon and the dry, rocky coast of the Isthmus of Panama on the eastern. All over the world, sprawling cities swarmed with millions of unhappy people who couldn’t care less that his friends had died trying to give humanity a second chance.
Chapter Four
Reprimand
The barren, crumbling landscape that hid TAP passed beneath the airship. Ararat, the extensive complex that housed the top-secret Ark Project labs, couldn’t be seen from the air. No one was supposed to know it was there. It had been carved deep into the bedrock—an impregnable and unassailable fortress buried beneath miles of solid stone. It had been Kaiden’s home for over ten years. The jagged peaks of the Rocky Mountains stabbed upward to the west. From horizon to horizon, barely a single patch of green could be seen in the vast, barren landscape.
Willow sat beside him in silence. They had boarded a fast airship at the sea base that anchored the space elevator and sped north to a TAP installation in Mexico before switching to a TAP gunship that would take them north to their base at Ararat. Kaiden had tried to sleep, but he hadn’t been able to rest. Strange dreams and disturbing emotions boiled inside him. Had he lost control of his own mind?
Ever since the elevator, Willow had given him sideways glances as if she wanted to say something. But Kaiden didn’t want to talk. He kept replaying what had happened in his head, searching for the clue he had missed. There must have been signs. All the little details of Raven’s strange behavior while on the mission crept into his mind. He should have noticed the way she refused to look at him when they boarded the ship. He should have noticed when she ate alone and refused to socialize with them. Then, she was suddenly friendly when they picked up the clones. She was off, and it had been his responsibility to know. Why did he miss it? Was he so confident in his team’s preparations that he had been too willing to give her leeway?
As they entered the docking bay, Kaiden found Commander Rio standing with his hands behind his back, waiting for him. The golden Commander stripes stood out bold on his right sleeve. Rio was a young black man like Kaiden, but he was far more ambitious than Kaiden had ever been. Kaiden had hoped to avoid the confrontation for a little while, at least, but Commander Rio clearly had other ideas.
Kaiden had been offered Rio’s job as head of security, but he needed to be on the move, not stuck behind a desk. Still, Rio had never forgiven him for beating him in the exams, marksmanship, and hand-to-hand combat. Secretly, Kaiden believed that Rio saw him as a threat.
“Your boss is waiting for you,” Willow said.
TAP security personnel were not part of the military since they belonged to no state and were not part of the International Confederation of States and its associated International Security Agency. But they borrowed military protocols and traditions in an effort to maintain discipline and effectiveness. There was no point in reinventing the wheel, after all.
Kaiden grunted in annoyance. “Yeah,” he said as he rose. “See ya.”
Willow scowled, and Kaiden felt a pang of guilt. He knew he was being churlish, but he couldn’t help it, not after all that had happened. He clambered down the steps and paused to salute his commanding officer. Commander Rio gave him an impatient salute in reply.
“Follow me, Captain,” Commander Rio ordered without ceremony. Kaiden fell in behind him, wishing he could sneak off and find his best friend, Quill.
Commander Rio marched down the corridors toward his office. Despite being underground, TAP was brightly lit with white-walled hallways that had a scrubbed-clean feel and smell. Ararat was a huge installation, and Kaiden had never seen all of it. They passed the lower labs and engineering units and took the elevator up to the security wing. Their boots clicked against the tiled floor as they marched to Rio’s office.
Rio stalked to his desk and dropped into his chair with an air of fury that set Kaiden’s teeth on edge. Rio had no business censoring him while Rio lounged in his nice, air-conditioned office protected by others, like Kaiden, who kept the facility safe from attacks. Kaiden wrinkled his nose at the odd smell of Rio’s office. While the TAP hallways were clean and bright, Rio’s office was dim and possessed the lingering odor of gun oil mixed with cologne.
“You want to explain what happened up there?” Rio demanded.
Commander Rio pushed a pile of papers aside on his desk and leaned back with his hands behind his head. His skin was charcoal black—much darker than Kaiden’s—and he had a way of lifting his upper lip in a sneer. He wore the same security uniform of black tactical pants and a black jacket, but three golden commander stripes adorned his right sleeve. As usual, his uniform was immaculate.
Kaiden snapped to attention in front of Commander Rio’s desk, surrounded by holographic images that displayed the feed from several dozen security cameras. He restrained the sarcastic comment that rose to the tip of his tongue. He had relied on the intelligence Rio had given him. Didn’t Rio bear as much blame as Kaiden? But Rio was already fuming. It wouldn’t do any good to send him over the edge.
“I sent my report, sir,” Kaiden said.
Rio sat forward. “I read your report, Captain. Now, tell me what happened.”
Kaiden’s insides churned as he explained about the bomb and Raven and Willow, while Rio gazed at him with that permanent sneer. Kaiden didn’t need Rio to reprimand him. He knew full well that he bore responsibility for the death of his friends. The bitter ache of it hadn’t left his chest since he had seen Raven floating amid the expanding bubble of her own blood. Nothing Rio could say to him would make him feel worse than he already did.
“I’ve ordered a complete investigation,” Rio said.
“Yes, sir.”
Rio exhaled loudly. “We didn’t need this,” he said.
“May I see their bodies before they’re composted, sir?” Kaiden asked when he had finished recounting the attack.
Rio wrinkled his brow, surprised by the request.
“They were my friends, sir,” Kaiden said.
Rio pursed his lips, and Kaiden thought Rio seemed to be considering something.
“You know what your failure has cost TAP?” Rio asked. Rio had always been a hardnose, but Kaiden figured that’s why he was the commander. TAP couldn’t afford softies. Their work was too secretive and potentially valuable. And Kaiden had just come back with news of the worst setback TAP had experienced in a decade.
Kaiden bowed his head. “Yes, sir.”
“Three years’ worth of work.” Rio clicked his tongue. “I don’t know what Noah will decide, but, for now, consider yourself reprimanded until the investigation is complete, and this will go into your permanent file.”
Noah was the code name given to the head of The Ark Project. Everyone thought it was a joke, but no one Kaiden knew had ever seen Noah, except maybe Rio. Still, a mere reprimand for a failure of this magnitude seemed overly lenient.
“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”
“Don’t thank me, Captain,” Rio snapped. “You’re one mission away from probation.”
“Mission, sir?” A warm tingle of suspicion rippled through Kaiden’s stomach. What mission would Rio have in mind now that the experimental clones were dead?
Rio eyed Kaiden with open dislike. “I’m going to give you another chance to redeem
yourself.”
Kaiden waited, trying not to fidget. He wasn’t sure he was ready for another mission—not after losing so many of his friends.
“I’m sending you on an extraction mission.”
“Extraction, sir?” Kaiden was sure he had heard wrong.
“Senator Benton has been making waves lately. We need to help him see the light.”
“Sir, my team is strictly security and transport. We don’t do offensive operations.”
This mission was wrong for Kaiden’s team. Sure, they had gone through offensive operations in training, but they specialized in security and transport between Ararat and the lunar seed bank. There was no reason why Rio should want to send them on such a mission—not when he had five experienced offensive operation teams available.
Rio slammed his fist onto his desk, making the pictures and computer tablets jump. “You have no team!” he shouted. “They just died under your watch.”
Kaiden struggled to keep his face impassive. “Yes, sir,” he said. He hadn’t lost his entire team—only those that went on this mission. But there was no point in reminding Rio of that now.
“You do what I tell you to do, Captain,” Rio said. “You’re an inch away from being disciplined.”
Kaiden eyed Rio. He had only been “disciplined” twice since he came to TAP before he figured out how to avoid it. The discipline was a special TAP technology that allowed it to control all of its employees. There was no way to explain what the discipline did to a person, but Kaiden had seen people go crazy. One fourteen-year-old recruit shot himself after being disciplined just so he would never have to experience it again.
“With all due respect, sir,” Kaiden said, “I was unaware that TAP was involved in kidnapping political leaders. I thought that’s what terrorists did.” He knew he shouldn’t have said it, but Rio had made him angry.
Rio lunged to his feet.
“You watch your mouth, Captain. Your priority is the protection of TAP. This man is threatening the project. So, you will find him and bring him here. You have one week to reassemble your team. Dismissed.”
