Eve of Destruction
Page 29
Felix said.
Cara snorted a laugh, which made a nearby table of executives glance at her. She ignored them and walked down the corridor toward the larger room where the party waited.
EVERMORE
STELLAR DATE: 3.23.3011 (Adjusted Years)
LOCATION: City Governmental Heart, New Austin
REGION: Luna, Terran Hegemony, InnerSol
Scratching at his sweaty palms, Rondo walked quickly back through the display aisles.
Rondo stood in the middle of a crowd of salespeople, Jentry’s voice grating angrily in his Link.
Rondo gritted his teeth. He’d knew he’d overstepped his bounds, but he hadn’t expected the TSF officer to cut him loose completely.
Jentry hesitated.
Rondo cut the connection. Yeah, I don’t think so.
Standing in the middle of the crowd for another minute, Rondo took stock of his location. He didn’t want to go by the booths where he’d grabbed Cara’s equipment. He didn’t expect anyone to see through his hack job on their security systems anytime soon, but they might fixate on him out of general suspicion. That was the curse of being a giant among normal people.
Pushing his way through the crowd, Rondo reached the edge of the demonstration hall just as some sort of chaingun went off on the far side of the chamber. People froze around him, terrified, until a round of laughter proved it was only a demonstration. Watching all the sheep around him, Rondo couldn’t help but feel like he’d just witnessed some vision of the future.
Even in the middle of the presentation hall, Cara Sykes had looked like a killer. He couldn’t shake the intensity that had been in her gaze as she stared him down, even as he towered over her. She was every bit the pirate captain. All she needed was a ship.
Maybe I can help with that.
He had been providing Fugia with background support to get Cara off Earth, so why couldn’t he help directly? The more he thought about the idea, the more he liked it.
He would give Cara the Marsian courser.
Rondo reached the nearest exit and left the buzzing hall for the quiet of a service corridor. From there, he had to reach the main lifts that would carry him to the surface and the local launch facility where Jentry and his crew waited in their shuttle.
Most of the activity in the area was focused on the demonstration hall, so few of the hurried workers gave him a second glance as he moved quickly toward his goal.
When a small man in a technician’s uniform gave Rondo a frightened glance, the giant realized he had been grumbling to himself as he walked, his internal debate with Jentry leaking into the real world.
Rondo shook his head and ran a hand through his wild hair.
“Stay calm,” he muttered. “You’re a bear in a circus, balancing a ball on your nose. Just like in the old pictures.”
He calmed himself with the idea of stealing the ship. While he’d certainly run bigger hacks before, moving trillions in banking data across Sol, he had never tried to steal such a large physical thing.
Didn’t I coordinate Cara’s launch off Earth? Wasn’t that a massive heist?
True, but there had been others helping; Fugia’s agents on Earth had played a role. This would be all him, with no pre-planning, and no escape plan if everything failed.
Adama complained and poked his head out of the jacket’s inside pocket, and Rondo looked around for a place to let the cat do his business. Settling on a utility closet littered with packing material, which Adama accepted after a few uncertain scratches, Rondo adjusted his coat and stood outside the closet door.
Any debate with Jentry would only make the agent more likely to kick him off the crew again. The man was obviously volatile, so Rondo calmed his breathing and practiced various phrases he could use to regain Jentry’s trust.
Bears don’t negotiate, he complained inwardly.
Bears adapt to survive, he answered himself.
Rondo shook his head as he knelt to scoop Adama up for a quick hug, nuzzling the cat’s tiny head against his beard. Adama purred, drooling a bit as he returned the affection.
“You adapted, didn’t you?” Rondo said in a low voice. “Or I guess, someone made you adapt. Genetically engineered to do your business in low gravity, to jump and float in zero-g. Ship cat. I don’t hear you complaining about it. I should learn to adapt.”
At the entrance to the shuttle port, Rondo shouldered his way through a crowd of schmoozing salespeople and broke into the open space leading out to a row of berths. Four shuttles sat waiting, and he spotted Jentry at the far end. The TSF officer’s two helpers lounged on crates behind him.
Jentry straightened as Rondo approached, but still had to crane his neck to meet Rondo’s angry gaze.
“It’s about time,” Jentry said sharply. “Did you dump the cat?”
“No,” Rondo said.
Jentry bit his lip. He shook his head in frustration and turned without a response.
“Let’s go,” he snapped at the others. “The dignitaries have already left. We won’t have much time once they start the tour.”
“How do you know what they’re up to?” Rondo asked.
“We’ve got an agent on the inside,” the blonde woman said. “He’s sending us updates.”
Inside the shuttle, Rondo familiarized himself with the controls, running through panels with his free hand as he absently petted Adama.
Once the others were strapped in, Rondo cleared their short flight plan with the port authority, and activated the launch sequence. The shuttle rose on short blasts from its attitude thrusters and navigated the exit airlock. As the NSAI performed most of the work, Rondo quickly checked the shuttle’s activity logs, noting that it had arrived from High Terra just forty-eight hours before, with only three passengers. Before that, it had been in use on a TSF cruiser inbound from the Mars 1 Ring.
The flight was silent, which led Rondo to assume that the TSF agents were shutting him out via their Links. He used the quiet time to establish several backchannels to his various data caches, run checks, send Fugia a quick update, and verify that his stash on Luna was truly destroyed.
He stopped himself from sending Sylvia a funny note—mainly because he couldn’t think of anything. In any case, he didn’t want to have to explain that he was still
working with Jentry. And he didn’t know how complicit the trader might be in the TSF’s assassination attempt.
You’re too trusting, Rondo, he chastised himself.
You’re lonely. You need more friends.
Bears are solitary.
Now, that’s not completely true. You have friends. But you need to check in with them more. When was the last time you called someone besides Fugia Wong? Too long. You’re practically in hibernation.
But I’m coming out, now, aren’t I?
Rondo finished his internal argument with a feeling of resolve that he had, in fact, decided to re-enter the world, be part of things again. He had a mission, and it was fast approaching in the form of the Caged Fury.
“What are you grinning about?” Jentry asked from the co-pilot’s seat.
Rondo just shrugged and answered, “It’s good to be free.”
SPECTACULAR FAILURE
STELLAR DATE: 3.23.3011 (Adjusted Years)
LOCATION: City Governmental Heart, New Austin
REGION: Luna, Terran Hegemony, InnerSol
Round tables filled the room, with a central cleared space where a giant hologram of the Caged Fury floated over the diners. A man walked into the open space, his voice broadcasting over the room.
“My name is Jack, and I’m excited to be here today to talk to you about the Caged Fury. But it’s not the Caged Fury anymore. That was its Marsian name, and this is no longer a Marsian ship. Renovate Industries purchased this courser at auction after an engine failure left its crew stranded in the Ceres demarcation zone. Renovate rescued the crew, took ownership of the ship, and then moved it to Europa, where we maintain our specialty shipyards.”
Cara navigated the tables, moving closer to Osla. The chancellor sat at a table close to the speaker. Other dignitaries sat at his table, but the seat next to him was empty.
She waved to the chancellor’s security detail as she pulled out the seat next to Osla.
“Mind if I sit here?” she asked.
Osla glanced up with anger on his face that quickly turned into surprise. He narrowed his eyes, smiling at Cara.
“Of course, Captain Sykes. It’s so good to see you again.”
Cara sat. She reached for a decanter and poured herself a glass of water.
“Water, Chancellor?” she asked.
Osla gave her a surprised look and then moved his glass closer. Cara filled it.
“The Caged Fury is now the Amplified Solution,” Jack said. He looked around the room as muted applause followed the reveal.
He spent five minutes explaining the upgraded features on the courser. Cara listened with interest, watching Osla out of the corner of her eye. The Andersonian leader was obviously interested in the ship. He nodded along with the salesman like he was reading scripture.
Osla raised his hand to get Jack’s attention.
“Yes, Chancellor?”
“Did you say upgraded railguns as well?”
“That’s right. And I’m glad you mentioned that. The original Marsian combat systems were quite robust, as they’re known to be.” He tossed a smile at the Marsian contingent in the room. “But we made a few private-side upgrades that aren’t feasible for a governmental organization.”
Jack described the three layers of defensive repulsion shields, then went into the hull and structural systems that had been improved.
While Cara had expected Osla to throw a few angry remarks her way, the chancellor looked just as interested in learning about the ship as she was.
The presenter was in the midst of describing the engine enhancements, when Osla finished the water Cara had poured and brought the glass down on the table with a thump that made the salesman pause.
“I’m tired of looking at a hologram and listening to you describe a meal I want to eat,” the chancellor said. “When are we going up to tour this beauty?”
The salesman tempered his initially terrified expression. “Right now, Chancellor. Your table is the first up.”
Osla pushed his seat back. “Excellent.” He looked down at Cara. “You’d better come, too,” he said. “I want you where I can see you.”
“My pleasure, Chancellor,” Cara said.
Osla’s security detail folded around him as Jack directed them all to another lift on the side of the room. Cara fell in beside a soldier who eyed her warily, and she offered a smile in return.
In five minutes, they were all sitting in a posh shuttle. Osla and Cara faced each other across the center space. Randal Harrin now sat beside the chancellor. The blonde senator had been waiting in the foyer outside the shuttle bay, staring into the distance as he did something on his Link.
Harrin had given Cara an attempt at a menacing look as he came aboard the shuttle. She smiled at him.
Jack the salesman continued to describe the many upgrades to Amplified Solution, including an onboard espresso machine that could operate during hard g maneuvers, and even recycle its liquids from grey water.
Cara was tempted to ask him more questions about the espresso machine, when her attention was drawn to Osla and Harrin talking to each other in low voices. They didn’t seem to care about her listening, as she easily overheard their conversation.
“That’s not what she wants,” Harrin said.
“I don’t work for her,” Osla shot back. “If she wants to make demands, she’s going to have to go bang on another door. I’m sure there are any number of places she can take her cause.”
“Are you sure you can make that threat? Where do you want to be when this all falls out? What if she calls you on it and pulls out?”
Osla rolled his eyes. “I’m not convinced she hasn’t infiltrated my leadership council. How would I know?”
“Active scan could tell you easily enough.”
“She has ways around that.”
“You believe her?”
“Shouldn’t I?”
The two men fell silent as the pilot made an announcement, and the shuttle left its mooring. There was a brief wobble as the pilot adjusted the shuttle’s attitude controls relative to the bay, and then thrust pushed them all back in their seats.
“We’ll be boarding Amplified Solution in just ten minutes,” Jack said. “Sit back, relax, and enjoy our flight.”
A few of the soldiers thanked him, and Jack nodded awkwardly. He was obviously frustrated that his two most important passengers weren’t listening to anything he said.
For a minute, Cara wondered if the “she” Harrin and Osla were discussing was Lyssa. But that didn’t fit. The course of their conversation made the person sound like a government official or head of a corporation.
She had been away from the world for so long that she had no idea what players might vie for influence over the Anderson Collective.
Cara’s body quickly went weightless as the shuttle left the surface of Luna, and she let herself float against her harness. The soldiers laughed and poked at each other until their sergeant told them to shut up.
They reached the airlock off the command habitat in just over ten minutes. The pilot made several deft thrust maneuvers to match spin with the habitat, and then the shuttle docked in a single motion. The light over the shuttle’s cabin door switched from red to green, and Jack instructed them all on how to make the climb to the exit.
Cara hadn’t caught the last part of Harrin and Osla’s conversation, but something the senator said made Osla throw off his seat harness in frustration. The muscled chancellor easily maneuvered to the rungs along the shuttle’s deck and climbed away from Harrin, who struggled to unfasten his harness.
“Need help, Senator?” Cara asked.
“I’ve got it,” he said brusquely, then fell forward with an arm still caught.
Dangling from his seat, he cursed, kicking his legs, until two soldiers lifted him out of the harness.
Climbing out of the shuttle, Cara reoriented herself in the airlock and activated her new magboots as she walked through. Aside from a slight sticky feeling in th
e soles of the boots, she was able to walk easily onto the Amplified Solution’s command hab, where three stewards waited with drinks and snacks.
Cara took a seltzer water to calm her stomach, and studied the clean bulkheads and deck as the rest of the shuttle’s passengers made it on board.
Once Harrin was extracted, Jack left the shuttle with the senator and launched into a fresh sales pitch, now that he had his targets in a captive location.
“Don’t tell me what you think yet,” he said, waving a hand. “Get some refreshments, and then let’s go directly to the command deck. Chancellor Osla, I can’t wait to see you in the captain’s seat, looking down over the updated battle display and full-floor holotank. I think you’re going to really enjoy it.”
Osla only grunted and accompanied Jack down the corridor, away from the airlock.
Cara followed as the security sergeant told most of his soldiers to wait at the airlock. The sergeant and two of the more seasoned soldiers went after the chancellor.
The corridors were all polished metal, with the reinforced rib structures that Jack had described down on Luna. Cara marveled at how many retrofitted details she noticed in just the stretch of corridor form the airlock to the command deck. They passed several apartments for command personnel, but Jack was bent on getting Osla in the captain’s seat.
Osla seemed to have lost all interest in the tour, brooding over whatever Harrin had told him on the ride up.
“I’m looking for that espresso machine,” Cara told Jack, who wagged his finger at her.
“All good things to those who wait, Captain Sykes. I promise, I’ll pull you a couple shots myself.”
“Will you use your own urine in the machine?” she asked.
Jack laughed uncomfortably. “Thankfully, we don’t need to demonstrate that feature just yet. But if you ever use recycled liquids, you’ll praise the rebuild team.”
“Only if you ate asparagus,” Cara said.
Jack blanched and Cara jabbed him in the shoulder.
“Lighten up,” she said. “If you’d spent any time in space, you’d know everything is recycled, right down to your dandruff.”