by CH Gideon
Li stood from his chair and made his way to the conference room’s hatch. “Now let me be clear,” the Bonhoeffer’s CO said gravely, coming to a stop beside the hatch. “Anyone who stays in this room after I close the hatch is signing on for this. There’s no backing out, and dissent may be met with a bullet. Your freedom, as well as your right to opt out, are gone until we complete our objective. None of us is free as long as this threat hangs over humanity’s head.”
Even Jenkins felt a measure of unease at Li’s words, but he knew the ship’s CO was right.
“Agreed,” Jenkins said with a supportive nod. “If we do this, we do it all the way.”
“Stop wasting time,” Xi quipped, “and shut the fucking hatch. We’ve got an op to plan.”
“Hear, hear,” Podsy concurred.
Li nodded approvingly before slamming the hatch shut, locking the team into a twelve-hour planning session that none of them would have thought possible (or even sane) a few weeks earlier.
“You’re sure you can do this, Jem?” Jenkins pressed.
“I have analyzed Solar and Terran technology at some length,” Jem replied matter-of-factly. “They are in alignment with my predictions. The issue is not the efficacy of my technique, but the range limitations imposed upon us by available hardware. This ship’s transceivers are not powerful enough to englobe an entire planet, so my transmission will be unable to overtake the entire system from the single point of the Dietrich Bonhoeffer.”
Styles whistled appreciatively. “Ok, here’s the thing: every living human knows where there’s a big enough relay center to upload the signal where it will achieve blanket coverage. But forget about surviving the approach for a second. How are we supposed to gain access to the system even if we do manage to reach a direct uplink?”
“This technique is precisely the same one I predicted Jemmin would use to initiate a planetary-scale eradication,” Jem explained. “The Vorr corroborated my hypothesis with evidence of a Jemmin takeover of a system similar to the one we intend to infiltrate.”
“I love how you gloss over the approach, Chief.” Colonel Li cracked a wry grin. “Our objective is the most heavily-fortified human outpost in the entire galaxy. An entire Terran Battle Fleet wouldn’t be able to get close enough to chip the paint before it was vaporized.”
“Assuming we can get close,” Jenkins interrupted, “which I fully understand is anything but a given, what’s to stop Jemmin from reversing Jem’s takeover?”
“An appropriate analogy is found in organic immunological function,” Jem replied matter-of-factly. “Jemmin uses the hidden mechanism in the quantum processor upon which nearly all human technology is based to infect adjacent systems with override commands that cause catastrophic cascade failures. Think of Jemmin’s objective as similar to that of a virus, which seeks to reorganize a cellular interior into a new matrix. I do not intend to infiltrate the system for the purpose of initiating a takeover; my technique is designed to inoculate the system, and every adjacent system, against future takeovers of this type by false-triggering the system in a controlled cascade.”
Styles nodded eagerly as Jem spoke, but Jenkins was not yet convinced. “It’s like this, Colonel,” Styles explained. “Once we false-trip the system, it will reject future Jemmin commands. Or Jem’s, for that matter.”
“Correct,” Jem agreed.
“Won’t that cause every piece of attached hardware to fail?” Podsy asked with a concern that Jenkins shared. “We’re talking about impacting everything from traffic lights to the electrical grid; fusion reactor containment to weapons control systems. Almost every piece of autonomous or cogitative human technology is built on those processors now.”
“The simulations we’ve run show that there will be interruptions,” Styles said heavily, “but they should be brief and relatively contained.”
“Just like an old-school vaccination,” Li mused.
“And just like a bad strain of flu,” Styles nodded grimly, “the vaccine is less destructive than the disease it prevents.”
Xi grunted. “This is sounding eerily similar to what we did on Durgan’s Folly.”
“I don’t think that’s a coincidence,” Jenkins said pointedly.
Podsy’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean, sir?”
“I think part of the reason we were able to trick General Kavanaugh into believing the Vorr are behind all this,” Jenkins explained, “is because they probably are.”
“What?” Li, Xi, and Styles demanded in unison.
“Hear me out,” Jenkins explained. “I don’t think the Vorr mean us harm…at least, not in the sense Jemmin does. I do think they were behind the implantation of the Arh’Kel on Durgan’s Folly. I think they knew precisely when the Jemmin fleet would show up at Shiva’s Wrath and orchestrated a withdrawal before we could link up with them. I think they provided Solar tech to the rebel colonists on the Brick through a Finjou intermediary. And I think,” he finished pointedly, “they did all of that to prepare us for what we’re about to do.”
“That’s the crinkle of tinfoil if ever I’ve heard it,” Colonel Li observed.
“Think about it,” Jenkins urged. “They’ve been feeding tech and intel to the Durgan group for decades. Why? Is it because Durgan has something valuable to offer? Of course not.” He shook his head resolutely. “And the Vorr aren’t an aggressive species. They’re so anxious about meeting new groups that they literally pop off part of a limb as a token sacrifice rather than risk all-out destruction in the first meeting. This isn’t a species that acts rashly or takes unnecessary risks. I’m not saying we should be thankful for the hell they’ve put in front of us, but I do think that on a pretty high level, they’ve demonstrated they care about our species’ survival.”
“They could be manipulating us into delivering Jem into the heart of humanity,” Li said, and an ominous silence fell over the room at hearing that. “If Jem’s lying, and there’s no way we can determine whether it is telling the truth in the amount of time before us,” he added pointedly, “we could be doing the very thing we’re trying to prevent.”
“It’s possible,” Jenkins agreed, feeling no pleasure at acknowledging that legitimate and terrifying concern. “But frankly, if they’re playing some kind of Machiavellian game at that level, we were beaten before we even suited up. You can’t win a knife fight while you’re watching for inbound nukes.”
“More is lost to indecision than wrong decision,” Xi assented. “Fuck doubt. We’ve got intel, and we’re going to act on it.”
“Agreed.” Podsy nodded.
“If we all agree to this,” Jenkins said pointedly, “our next step is to select a roster. We don’t go to them unless we are all one hundred percent on this. I’m already committed after failing to follow General Kavanaugh’s order to send Styles and Xi back to HQ, so I say we roll.”
“Let’s rock and roll,” Styles said with an eager grin.
“Metal never dies,” Xi intoned reverently, snapping the group into perfect unity as she repeated General Akinouye’s last words.
“Amen to that,” Li said after a respectful silence.
“All right, everyone.” Jenkins stood from the chair, prompting the others to do likewise. “Let’s do this.”
23
Virtuous Leadership
“Captain Chao,” Jenkins greeted the Terra Han Colonial Guardsman at the Bonhoeffer’s airlock. “I’m glad you were able to make it.”
“Colonel Jenkins,” Chao acknowledged with a salute, which Jenkins returned before gesturing to the corridor.
“Even with the Dietrich Bonhoeffer’s extensive battle damage, these old Behemoth-class assault carriers are impressive,” Chao said reverently. “The kinetic impact dampeners we now use throughout the Republic’s various fleets were first installed on the Lao Tzu, the prototype Behemoth.”
“You know your naval history,” Jenkins said approvingly.
“Would you expect less of my father’s son?” Chao asked, h
is query as much a challenge as it was rhetorical.
“I appreciate your being direct on that matter,” Jenkins said as they arrived at one of the Bonhoeffer’s larger briefing rooms. Large enough to fit a company of Jocks, it was standing room only when Jenkins and Chao entered. The room was packed with nearly two full companies of Dragon Brigade’s Jocks and Wrenches.
Jenkins had known that these men and women shared a bond which made impossible the very thought that they might abandon each other. Most of them had been together since Shiva’s Wrath, and as Jenkins scanned the room, he knew he had assembled the best possible team for this job.
Operation Antivenom was almost ready to execute, but doing the deed would only be the first step if the efforts of the men and women in this room were to have the maximum impact.
The most valuable lesson of Jenkins’ thus-far brief Armor Corps career had been that simply doing good work was rarely, if ever, enough to move the political needle. And where he was taking this group of people, playing politics in the aftermath would be almost as important as achieving the objective.
Which was where Captain Chao came in.
“Captain Chao,” Jenkins gestured to the Armored Corps’ elite, “these are the finest men and women in the Metal Legion. They’re about to undertake a secret mission of vital importance to the Republic, and they need your help.”
Chao briefly scanned the room, his razor-sharp eyes flicking from face to face as he took in the assemblage’s expressions in a span of just a few seconds. “What can I do, Colonel?”
“Everyone in this room is aware that you’re Admiral Zhao’s son, and that you aren’t on the best terms with your father after transferring from Fleet to Terra Han’s Colonial Guard,” Jenkins explained, causing Chao’s jaw to bunch irritably. “I’m aware it’s a sore subject,” Jenkins continued, “but I’m also aware that, in spite of significant friction in my past dealings with him, he’s one of the finest officers in Fleet history. I need you to deliver a message to him, but only if certain conditions are met.”
“Conditions?” Chao asked through briefly-gritted teeth.
“Yes, Captain,” Jenkins replied gravely. “I’m not going to beat around the bush here: if a certain theory of mine is correct, then the Republic’s wormhole gates are going to go offline sometime in the next few days. If that happens, the men and women in this room,” he gestured to the assemblage, “are going to move to secure humanity’s interests. We don’t expect to come back from this mission, but we do expect to achieve our objective.”
“Colonel,” Chao glanced around the room, a skeptical cast falling over his sharp features, “what kind of intel are you basing this theory on?”
“The same intel that General Akinouye used to keep Operation Brick Top under wraps,” Jenkins explained, causing Chao’s brow to quirk in surprise. “This isn’t my theory, Captain. It was General Benjamin Akinouye’s. He died before coming into possession of evidence that corroborated the theory, and I’m afraid that Terran Armor Corps’ internal security has been dangerously compromised following his death. He didn’t trust Major General Kavanaugh with certain operational details and neither did General Pushkin who, as far as we can tell, is under house arrest under the guise of voluntary retirement.” He proffered a data slate bearing the last message Jenkins had received from Pushkin. “Generals Akinouye and Pushkin believed the Jemmin have infiltrated the Terran government at the highest levels, and that they will move against humanity in the event their conspiracy is uncovered. Operation Brick Top’s primary objective was to retrieve evidence that paints a clear picture of the Jemmin as hostile to humanity and several other Illumination League members.”
Chao took the slate and scanned the document several times before realization dawned in his eyes. “Major General Kavanaugh is compromised?”
“Yes, but she’s probably not knowingly aiding the enemy,” Jenkins replied frankly. “She’s dangerously ambitious. My guess is that General Kavanaugh will open Armor Corps’ books in order to buy herself political capital, which she’ll then use to propel her career as she sells Armor Corps off to Fleet one piece at a time. Nobody here wants that,” he said, drawing a chorus of boos and shaking heads supporting his sentiment, “but she’s put too many wheels in motion to be stopped by internal dissent, and both Admirals Zhao and Corbyn have already arrived at Armor Corps HQ. She and Rear Admiral Corbyn are close, and both Corbyn and your father have been temporarily assigned to oversee a restructuring of the Metal Legion’s leadership in the aftermath of General Akinouye’s death. Your father’s an honorable man who views the Legion as a rival branch and not a potential subordinate. That’s why I trust that he will work to maintain the integrity of Armor Corps rather than tear it down brick by brick. He’ll resist immediate declassification, but...”
Chao nodded in understanding as he processed the torrent of information. “Kavanaugh and Corbyn will want to declassify your sensitive intel and will work around my father’s objections…which, if your theory holds, will alert the Jemmin to the true nature of your operations.”
“That’s my guess,” Jenkins agreed heavily as he produced a hardened, unmodifiable data storage module containing a full report that included everything they had learned since Durgan’s Folly. It also featured the signatures of every man and woman in Dragon Brigade who had signed on for this op, along with full acknowledgments of liability for what were mutinous actions. “Everything is there, Captain, but I cannot stress this enough: those files must be for your father’s eyes only. I sincerely hope we’re wrong, and that the worst to come of this is a firing squad for the men and women in this room. But if we’re right—”
“If you’re right,” Chao interrupted smartly, plucking the data bar from Jenkins’ fingers and tucking it into his uniform’s hip pocket, “I need to move ASAP.”
“I’ve arranged for a courier.” Jenkins gestured to the door.
Chao stopped at the hatch and his eyes snagging on Colonel Li, who had remained silent throughout the exchange. “Colonel Li,” Chao produced the data module and waved it emphatically, “do you believe in this?”
“I do, Captain Chao,” Li replied without hesitation.
Chao nodded in satisfaction before ducking through the hatch. Five minutes later, the courier DC04 pulled away from the Bonhoeffer’s airlock and initiated a max-burn run to the New America 1 wormhole gate.
Standing in the Bonhoeffer’s CAC for the next sixteen hours was the most nerve-wracking experience of Jenkins’ life. Watching helplessly as the courier drew steadily nearer to the wormhole’s event horizon, knowing that humanity would be dealt a grievous blow if the gate went offline before it arrived, was almost too much for him to handle.
DC04 finally slipped through the wormhole, disappearing from sensors and causing both Jenkins and Li to exhale loud sighs of relief. A quick check of his wrist-link showed that Captain Xi should have reached her objective an hour earlier. Aboard DC03, another of Durgan’s courier vessels, the talented young captain had gone to secure transit for their admittedly insane operation.
The next leg of this relay was squarely on her shoulders, and Jenkins could not have been more confident that she would come through. The only question now was, would the Jemmin make their move before or after General Kavanaugh sent arrest teams to the Bonhoeffer to secure it and its wayward crew?
If the gates didn’t go dark before that happened, Jenkins and his people would be helpless to stop the Jemmin.
Silent and motionless, the sleek Terran courier ship DC03 waited in the cold interplanetary space of the Orca System. Orca was Vorr territory, and it just so happened that one of the DC03’s three occupants was Vorr.
The Vorr’s name was Deep Currents of Radiant Warmth, and Xi had conversed extensively with it during the trip to Orca. It had spent most of the past decade locked inside Director Durgan’s headquarters, serving as a secret emissary to the business mogul.
“Your species is remarkably fragile, Captain Xi Bao,” Deep
Currents said, its tentacles weaving back and forth within its transparent, fluid-filled, vaguely egg-shaped enviropod. “Vorr are capable of operating without detriment at pressures over one hundred times human atmospheric norms. We therefore have little need of such crude compensatory systems.” The Vorr gestured to Xi’s transit couch, which was equal parts torture device and life-saver. “Our fluid-filled compartments are designed to passively support our bodies during acceleration, and without endoskeletons or centralized nervous tissues like yours, we can survive what you call ‘gee forces’ that would kill humans even with the assistance of such devices.”
“Lucky you,” Xi quipped.
“Of course,” Deep Currents continued thoughtfully, “we Vorr were delayed in our mastery of aerial travel due to our environmental needs, primary among them the need for constant hydration and our relatively narrow thermal tolerances.”
“I guess it’s kind of hard to design primitive aircraft filled with water.” Xi snickered.
“Indeed.” Deep Currents’ tentacles curled tightly in unison, which Xi had learned was a confirmatory gesture. “Although we did eventually design systems which permitted us to limit the volume of water, that particular innovation required significant advances in nanotechnology. As a result, my people invented graphene before we made our first directly-operated aerial flight.”
“Jesus!” Xi recoiled in surprise. “And I thought we were backward.”
“Your technological development was typical for a terrestrial species,” the Vorr assured her. “Until Jemmin intervened, of course.”
“Did you know humanity was interfered with when it happened?” Xi asked, suspecting she wasn’t going to like the answer however it came. But she was too curious not to ask since she had the exceptionally rare opportunity to do so.
“We suspected that Jemmin was manipulating the sequential induction of younger species into the Illumination League,” Deep Currents explained hesitantly. “But we lacked proof. The Finjou were a significantly more obvious case of technological intervention, which was why we conducted remote clandestine surveys of their territory in the hope of uncovering evidence to that effect. What we discovered on the world you call ‘the Brick’ was more than we could have ever imagined.”
