EACV-7A492X to ORSC: Arrival sequence initiation requested Bay L-19
ORSC to EACV-7A492X: Arrival sequence initiated Bay L-19
ORSC to EACV-7A492X: Arrival clearance window 14 seconds Docking Lane 27
She eased in and lowered the ship to the roof. The clamps grasped the ship with a gentle clang.
The process was all automated for the next few moments as the lift descended to the L level and rotated to her private hangar bay. The force field shimmered as they passed through it, re-solidifying once they were on the other side. A small jolt and the clamps locked into place in the hangar floor.
She shut off the engine and toed around to face him. “Shall we—” A blinking red light flashed in the corner of her eVi; she frowned but accepted the livecomm.
“Alexis, dear, I’m afraid the Defense Minister has arrived and requested a personal briefing. We’ll need to push your meeting until 1430.”
“Oh, for fucks sake, Mom.”
“Now, I—”
“Was there something about ‘urgent’ and ‘vital importance’ and ‘grave threat’ and ‘alien yebanyy superdreadnoughts’ that you didn’t understand?”
“Of course not. But I have many responsibilities which impact the safety and security of the entire Alliance, and we are at war, and some—”
“You mean you have a Very Important Job? I hadn’t noticed.”
“There’s no reason for you to take such a tone with me. I can’t exactly keep the Defense Minister waiting.”
“I’d keep the Defense Minister waiting, if it was important enough. Probably even if it wasn’t.”
“Alexis.”
“Fine. 1430. Don’t postpone it any further.” She cut the link and pursed her lips, grimacing at the effort of not punching the wall or spewing forth a tirade of expletives. She realized Caleb was looking at her expectantly, an eyebrow raised in question. Unsurprisingly, as he would have only heard one side of the conversation.
She glared at him, though not at him. “There’s been a small delay. Let’s get some lunch.”
49 New Babel
Independent Colony
“Yes, I understand we need a larger production facility. But these things take time to build. Besides, I’m not happy with the chosen location. I don’t enjoy the thought of flying halfway across the planet should I decide to pay a visit.”
Olivia regarded the holos above her desk. “It will be cheaper and faster to simply seize an existing facility for ourselves.”
The man in the left holo frowned. “It would mean bloodshed to do so….”
“Obviously it would mean bloodshed—inevitably everything always means bloodshed, it’s merely a question of timing. If this war generates the level of chaos I expect it to, we need to position ourselves quickly. Hence, bloodshed now rather than bloodshed later.”
Her nod foreclosed any further discussion. “It’s decided. John, I need a list of the top four candidates in two hours. I’ll arrange a team and the post-op additional security. That’s all for now.”
Not waiting for their sign off, she gestured away the holos, stood and stretched. She needed—
Her eVi indicated a priority incoming message. It was encrypted and coded, but Marcus wanted to speak, now if possible.
She scowled at nothing in particular. She didn’t care to create an impression with him that she was at his beck and call, lest it set a dangerous precedent. On the other hand, events were moving rapidly and significant wealth was at stake. With a roll of her eyes she went over to the QEC room.
She had met Marcus almost fifty years earlier—though that hadn’t been his name at the time—when she ran Zelones operations in South America. He had risen to the top of an upstart gang on the streets of Rio, one which had begun to impinge upon clearly demarcated Zelones interests. After a series of escalating threats did nothing to stop the encroachments, she had sent a squad of her best enforcers to wipe them out.
Marcus and his lieutenants killed the entire squad. He sent her a message to let her know of this—despite the fact he shouldn’t possess her contact information. He then proceeded to come to her headquarters, kill, incapacitate or evade the entire building’s security detail and her personal guards, and stroll into her office.
For one of the few times in her life, she had been genuinely surprised when he walked in. He couldn’t have been more than fifteen years old, scrawny and gangly in secondhand threads. But the sharp, dynamic sea-green irises regarding her shone bright with intelligence, cunning and most of all confidence.
Her personal weaponry had not been so advanced then as it was now, but she pointed a quite lethal customized Daemon at him while she calmly inquired what she could do for him.
* * *
“I want out.”
“Done. You’ve proven your point. Walk out the door, and no one will stop you. Keep walking, and no one will come after you. You have my word.”
“You misunderstand, Ms. Montegreu. I want a new life—a new identity and a new background, one which is gold-plated and foolproof. I want fifty thousand credits and a ticket to Miami and your vow you will never speak a word of this conversation to another soul.”
She arched an eyebrow and rested against the front of her desk, though the gun remained in her hand. “And why ever should I agree to do such favors for you?”
A smile crept across his face, more chilling than any she had seen on the cruelest, most malicious killers. A shiver ran down her spine…but at least now she knew what she was negotiating with.
“Because then I will be in your debt. And at some time in the future, I expect that will be worth a great deal.”
* * *
She had conceded to the transaction, arranged everything he had asked for and not seen a trace of him for more than thirty years. Then one day his face showed up on the news feed. It seemed he was being named the youngest ever Deputy Minister of the Justice Department for the North American Region.
She wouldn’t have recognized him, so transformed was his appearance, but for the memorable sea-green eyes—and the name she had given him.
It was another fifteen years before he reached out to her and, in due course, offered her the opportunity to collect on an old debt.
He was turning around as he shimmered into existence on the QEC holo, a charming smile well in place when he faced her. “Olivia. My apologies for the short notice. Are the materials on their way to Earth yet?”
She likely looked far less charming, and didn’t especially care. “Are you trying to micromanage my end of the operation, Marcus?”
“Not at all, Olivia dear. I do have a good reason for asking.”
“I certainly hope so. The answer is no. The ‘materials’ aren’t exactly the kind of items you leave sitting around on Earth for too long.”
“Good. An opportunity has presented itself—to kill two birds with one stone, as the old saying goes.”
“An opportunity?”
“A fortuitous coincidence. I need you to route at least a portion of the materials through a specific individual if possible. Ideally, have him be the one to deliver them to the necessary party on Earth. He’s a smuggler and tech dealer on Pandora.”
She glanced at the information he sent. “He doesn’t work for me, not even indirectly. It’ll take some doing. This is last minute, Marcus, and I don’t care for surprises. Again I ask—are you trying to micromanage my end of the operation?”
“Again, no. This is a unique opportunity which has only just arisen.”
“Fine. Dare I venture to ask why?”
“The details aren’t important from your perspective and would require far too long to explain—but it will help ensure the blame is placed appropriately and the war continues unabated. That is what you want, Olivia, is it not?”
Of course it was what she wanted. The greatest threat to her business was and had always been order. Crime flourished in the friction generated by conflict, and the First Crux War had carved a landscape rife with f
ractures. While the Alliance and Senecan governments jockeyed for leverage, independent worlds were able to grow and thrive in the spaces in between, like weeds in sidewalk cracks.
Prior to a week ago, relations between Earth and Seneca had been steadily thawing. Left unaltered, mere inertia would eventually lead to true peace. The independent worlds would be ‘persuaded’ to return under the umbrella of a benevolent government. The spaces in between would vanish.
It would take decades, perhaps even half a century. But she would live for another hundred fifty years; decades mattered quite a lot to her. So yes, she wanted to alter the field of play.
She gave him a miniscule nod. “Very well. I’ll see what I can make happen, but time is short. No promises.”
“I understand. Do what you can.”
50 Earth
Vancouver, EASC Headquarters
Earth Alliance Strategic Command was not nearly so pompous and decadent as Senecan propaganda painted it. Oh, it was certainly shiny and polished and self-important, yet there were no spotlights sweeping across the sky or garish colors decorating the walls or waterfalls spilling champagne. At its core it remained a military installation. The walls and floors gleamed brighter and the artwork appeared showier than what was found in Senecan government facilities; he imagined the cafeteria and break rooms stocked posher amenities as well. Still, the difference was one of degrees…and not so many degrees at that.
It wasn’t as though Caleb was shocked or even particularly surprised. No childhood illusions were being shattered as they paused at the security scanner and Alex authorized for him—which he did have to stifle a chuckle at.
Technically speaking, she had just committed high treason against the Earth Alliance government. But she didn’t view the world in such a way. To her, there were good people and bad people, and most of the rest weren’t worth classifying. He had—he hoped—qualified for the ‘good people’ side of the equation, and that was the end of it. Government intrigue and games of espionage simply didn’t impress her, something he found both amazing and delightful.
And while his training, rules of engagement, experience and the teachings of his superiors and his mentor all told him he should take full advantage of this opportunity and record, image and hack every item he could find or see…he didn’t intend on abusing her trust. He remained observant, but observation would be the extent of his espionage. Besides, he had a mission.
“Capt—Ms—Solovy. Ma’am. The Admiral is expecting you. I’ll inform Colonel Navick you’ve arrived.”
“Thank you, Lieutenant.”
Alex moved away from the reception desk to roll her eyes at him then grasp his hand and pull him toward a fish tank along one wall of the lobby. He instinctively sucked in a breath at the sensation of her hand in his. They had still only touched skin-to-skin a few times, the last one being the intimate moment the night before. Her palm was cooler than his, but not cold. It felt natural and confident—much like her, here.
She believed she didn’t belong in this environment, saw herself as an outsider. Yet she strode through the halls as though she owned the place, and so unaffectedly so that he had no doubt she didn’t know it. It merely reflected her inherent self-assurance and sense of worth, which oozed out of her every pore. It was impressive to witness.
“Richard….” Her hand left his, and he immediately felt the sting of its absence. He turned to see her embrace a man in BDUs save for an officer insignia on his shoulder. The embrace was warm and friendly to a degree he’d never seen her be. Until now he hadn’t realized she was to some extent still always on edge around him. Seeing her this relaxed and at ease jarred him.
The man appeared in perhaps his sixties and was handsome in an average, unassuming way. He did have kind eyes.
“This is Cameron Roark, a professional colleague. He works for Advent Materials.” The lie rolled off her tongue with impressive ease, but her eyes twinkled as she gazed at him. And like that he was back on the inside. It made him far happier than it should.
The plan, as finalized by them on the way over, was for him to maintain the fictitious identity to start. The alien threat constituted an even higher priority than diffusing the war, and they agreed she needed to focus first and foremost on the Metis report. Once they had been assured the Alliance was moving ahead with a clear action plan—and her mother and Navick had become somewhat comfortable in his presence—she would ease into a discussion of the war and his true identity and purpose. And if things didn’t go according to plan…he’d improvise.
He grasped the outstretched hand of Colonel Navick with the slightly awkward formality a mid-level corporate scout might exhibit toward a relatively high-ranking military official. “Good to meet you, sir.”
Navick regarded him appraisingly, his gaze not harsh but definitely sharp. A tiny twitch of his mouth was the sole sign he gave of any reaction at all. Teddy bear, my ass.
“And you, Mr. Roark. Have you known Alex long?”
“Not long, sir. We bumped into one another while scouting the Metis Nebula and, well, found more than we bargained for I’m afraid.”
“So I understand.” A smile sprung to life on his features as he looked at Alex. It was evident he held great affection for her, regardless of his position or profession. “It must be serious indeed for Alex to willingly grace us here at EASC by her presence.”
She began to smile in return, but it faltered away. “You’re right, and it is.” She glanced over her shoulder. “Lieutenant? Are we allowed to enter now?”
“Um….” The man behind the desk looked down then up again. “Yes, Capt—Ms—Ma’am. And Colonel. And, uh, sir.”
Caleb swallowed a laugh and wondered what in the hell he had gotten himself into as he fell in two steps behind them.
The office was well-appointed but spartan and rather sterile. The woman who rounded the desk to greet them wore a dress admiral’s uniform, and other than the color of her hair bore almost no resemblance to Alex. She held herself with the stiff, rigid bearing common among high-ranking military officers. Her expression only briefly deviated from the bearing as she faced but did not approach Alex.
“I am sorry for the delay. It was unavoidable, but I know you made efforts to arrive here with due speed and I do appreciate it.” Her gaze shifted to fall on him, and deep, dusky hazel eyes penetrated straight into him. He decided—though for reasons he did comprehend—Alex seriously underestimated her mother.
“Mr. Roark, is it?”
“Yes, ma’am. A pleasure to meet you, though I wish it were under better circumstances.” He shook her hand warmly but couldn’t shake the feeling she had instantly deduced everything about him, and them, and the last week.
“Okay, pleasantries done.” With a word Alex somehow dominated the room. “Now about the aliens preparing to invade. You’ve had the report for three days—what are you doing about it?”
Navick had retreated toward the rear of the office; the brief glance he managed told him the man was involved in a private interaction of some sort. It made him nervous having the man at his back, but he didn’t dare show it as a simple corporate space scout. Here in this room, he was submissive and in awe and totally out of his element. Yessiree.
“General Alamatto has tasked his advisors with reviewing the data to verify its credibility and plausibility and—”
“Oh you have got to be—”
“Alexis, do not start with this. You know I have absolute faith in your abilities and competence. But—”
“My competence? I don’t—”
“Yes. That was a compliment, in case you didn’t notice. I have no doubt as to the accuracy of your report, I truly don’t. But mine is not the only opinion which matters.”
Damn, this was fascinating. He had surmised Alex’s relationship with her mother was complicated at best and knew it was informed by decades of conflict, but…damn.
He was so enthralled by the interchange that for half a second he missed the rigid tension abr
uptly manifesting in Navick’s stance behind and a little to the left of him. When he did sense it he recognized what it meant, even if he didn’t know precisely what it meant.
He tried to get Alex’s attention, but she was fully engaged in antagonizing her mother, who he had already discerned very clearly loved her daughter and just as clearly had no idea how to talk to her. He made a mental note to try to find a way to diplomatically point it out to Alex at a more opportune time.
Navick stepped in front of him and produced a military-issue Daemon. He displayed no reaction to the gun pointed at his chest and remained calm as his wrists were grabbed from behind. “Sir, if you will let me explain, you will find I am not your enemy.”
Alex finally turned around. Her jaw dropped in considerable surprise to see two MPs handcuffing him and her oldest friend holding a gun on him. Her brow furrowed, eyes searching his for guidance. He gave her a small shrug…plans rarely survived contact with the enemy, after all.
“What the hell is going on?”
“I’m sorry, Alex, but Mr. Roark is not who he represented himself to be. His name is actually Caleb Marano and he’s an intelligence operative for the Senecan Federation government.”
Her face screwed up at Navick. “I know that. We were going to get around to telling you. Why the fuck are you handcuffing him?”
“You know? Alexis, you brought a Senecan operative into Headquarters? How could you!”
She whipped back to her mother. “Because he’s not a threat to—”
“Not a threat? How gullible must you—”
He ignored their yelling to meet Navick’s stare directly. “I apologize for the subterfuge, but I am not here to harm the Alliance in any way. I beg you, give me two minutes of your time. I am—”
“I’m gullible? You’re the one who fell for this stupid farce of a war. We are trying to save your asses, and everyone else’s in the process—”
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