by T. R. Harris
“Another one; is that what you’re thinking?” Angus asked. “What is it?”
“Hell, if I know, no one tells me anything. But if they brought you all the way out here, this thing has been in the works for a while. You would think they’d tell me at some point.”
The comm box in his cabin chimed. “Major Murphy, you and Lt. Price are to report to Admiral Armitage’s’ quarters immediately.”
Zac pressed the reply button. “We’re on our way.” He looked at Angus. “Seems now that you’re here, the party can start.”
“I always love a good party, especially if there’s going to be strippers. After you, Major Murphy, sir.”
The admiral’s away cabin was off the bridge and the CIC. The fact that they were meeting there, rather than a conference room, told Zac something more covert was up, involving a smaller operation than the mission to Enif. This was the first time he’d been to the admiral’s cabin, and he was impressed by how large it was, at least by shipboard standards. He knew it was more than just a place for Armitage to sleep; she conducted tactics and strategy meetings here, as well as hosted visiting dignitaries. Zac was surprised to find only the admiral in the cabin when he and Angus arrived.
“Welcome, gentlemen,” the fleet commander greeted. “There’s liquor in the cabinet over there. Help yourselves.”
Zac passed up the offer, but Angus made a beeline for the glass-front shelving unit. He poured a whiskey and then took a seat at the table with Zac and the Admiral.
“We’re waiting on some others to join us,” she began. “Until then, it’s been a crazy time for you recently, hasn’t it, Mr. Murphy?”
“You could say that, ma’am. I’m sorry if the Enif mission didn’t turn out as planned.”
“Don’t be sorry, major. You survived. Honestly, that wasn’t something we were expecting.” She smiled through thin, cracked lips. “I should know by now not to underestimate you and the other REVs.”
Jerica Armitage was a slight, almost frail-looking woman in her early sixties. But if anyone mistook her diminutive size and frumpy look as weakness and indecisiveness, they would have been gravely mistaken. She was a banshee, the consummate warrior. She had nerves of steel and a determination bordering on fanatical when it came to mission success. Behind her back, crewmembers called her The Honey Badger. Zac looked up the term once on the internet. It fit her to a tee.
A knock came to her door, and a steward opened it, before stepping aside and letting the three people behind him enter.
Zac and Angus shot to their feet, a mix of emotions and questions on their faces.
General David Cross came in, followed closely by Technical Sergeant Joanie Hollis and a second female the REVs recognized as the deep-cover spy, Ashley Hunter. Zac didn’t know how to respond. He hadn’t seen Ashley since she helped with his rescue on Enif, ending his six-month-long captivity by the Antaere. Having Joanie here was also a big question mark. Was she here simply as Cross’s assistant, or was there more to it? And then there was David Cross. Every time the REV doctor showed up, Zac’s life took a sudden turn, mostly for the worse.
The women introduced themselves to the admiral, while Cross made cursory handshakes, his face tense. Ashley placed a metal briefcase on the table.
“Welcome, everyone,” Admiral Armitage said through a sinister smile. “I suppose you’re all wondering why I called you here today—”
“I have to voice my opposition again, admiral,” said Cross, his anger boiling over. “I’ve put too much effort into this project for you to jeopardize it just as it’s beginning to come to fruition.”
“Relax, David,” the admiral said. “This mission is too important for us not to give it top priority. If this works, you’ll have ample opportunity to pursue your experiments to your heart’s content.”
“Excuse me, ma’am,” Zac said, “but why is Sergeant Hollis here? She’s not a field operative.”
“Let me get to it,” the admiral said. “Ms. Hunter and Sergeant Hollis—along with General Cross—already know the mission parameters. Now I’ll let our two Deltas know what’s up. Gentlemen … you’re going to Antara.”
9
“Antara!” Zac blurted. “Did I hear that right, ma’am?”
“You did,” Armitage said. “And by way of background, this mission has come about as a result of certain information we’ve only recently come to learn. And for that, we have you to thank Mr. Murphy. It seems that Ha’curn prisoner you so graciously brought back to us from Enif has been an invaluable wealth of information. As you know, we’ve never captured a Ha’curn before and what he has told us has changed, well, everything.
“First of all, you were fortunate to have captured a pilot—a low-level pilot, but one, nonetheless. He was able to give us the location of his homeworld, a place called Falmoria-cra. Until then, all we knew was that it was located in someplace called the Green Nebula, but we never had an exact location. With this information, we were able to send spies into the system. We haven’t been able to land on the planet, but we have managed to intercept electronic communications and to send remote drones to the surface and observe Ha’curn activity.”
Her expression turned dark. “Where once we thought the prisoner was simply blowing smoke about a big Ha’curn buildup of troops and ships, we now know it’s true. The aliens have a rather robust ship-building program going, even though the rest of their technology isn’t as advanced. The Antaere are responsible for this, having taught the Ha’curn how to build spaceships with a unique design to pass them off as their own. The bottom line, gentlemen: The Ha’curn recently launched a four-hundred-ship fleet that is currently steaming toward Antara with the intention of linking up with the remaining Antaere fleet before making another attempt at reaching Earth.”
She was silent for a moment, letting the information sink in. Armitage studied the faces of the REVs, seeing from their expressions they understood the grave nature of this disclosure.
“From a strategic vantage point, this is the worst news possible,” she continued. “This means that soon, the Antaere/Ha’curn fleet will be over six hundred ships strong. In addition, it’s estimated that one million Ha’curn fighters are with the fleet, being transported in huge troop carriers. And to face this threat, we currently have two-hundred fourteen warships, and we’re cranking out a new vessel every two weeks, so you see we’re at a decided disadvantage. Not only that, but most of the screening ships we had around the planet are gone, and we only have a little over thirty of the 308s left. This time when the enemy makes their move on the homeworld, we won’t have anything to stop them.”
Zac and Angus were crestfallen.
“Don’t look so forlorn, gentlemen,” said the admiral. “I haven’t even gotten to the worst part yet.” She snorted. “As you recall, the Antaere once placed hybrid nuclear devices on the Ha’curn homeworld designed to keep the crazy cats in line. There were forty-eight of these super-nukes, estimated to have a yield equivalent to three hundred megatons. By comparison, the largest bomb Humanity has ever built had a yield of just fifty megatons. Even so, forty-eight of these weapons wouldn’t be enough to destroy the planet, but the threat of a combined explosion, along with the long-term nuclear fallout, was enough to do the job. This happened several hundred years ago and was the status quo until relatively recently.
“As we’ve now learned, about six years ago, the Antaere began making overtures to the Ha’curn, seeking a partnership in their efforts to defeat us. In exchange for their help, the Antaere shut down the triggering uplink to the weapons and allowed the Ha’curn to remove the bombs from their vaults. The nukes were taken from the planet and subsequently stored away rather than be destroyed.
She sighed deeply. “As you probably already guessed, those forty-eight super-bombs are now aboard the fleet currently heading for Antara, and ultimately destined for Earth.”
The room sat silent for a full minute while the gravity of the situation sank in. “And that, gentlemen, is w
hy you’re going to Antara. You’re going to stop the impending destruction of the Earth.”
The sudden shift in topic shocked the REVs back to the present.
Admiral Armitage looked to Ashley Hunter. “And now for further explanation, I’ll turn the briefing over to the mission specialist for the details.” She gave Ashley a nod.
The super-spy clicked the latches on the briefcase and lifted the lid. Inside, it was packed with electronics. A voice sounded from hidden speakers.
“Hello, Major Murphy and Lt. Price. I’m happy to see you again.”
Zac recognized the voice. “Amber, is that you?”
“Yes, it is.”
‘Amber’ was the most sophisticated artificial intelligence program he’d ever encountered, an electronic entity created over seventy-five years ago that had been learning ever since. She piloted the starship that saved the President of Earth on Enif and also played an important role in his second mission to Iz’zar when Zac first met the very accomplished super-spy, Ashley Hunter. Their paths kept crossing, and each time they did, a wild adventure ensued.
“Amber will complete the briefing,” the admiral said. “Go ahead.”
“Thank you, Admiral Armitage. As mentioned, you are all going to Antara, you Maj. Murphy and Lt. Price, along with Ashley Hunter and Sergeant Hollis.”
Zac bit his lip to keep from interrupting. Why Joanie, he kept thinking. What’s going on here?
“As a mission overview, the four of you are to gain access to the grounds of the Andorium on Antara, the site of the Grand Temple and the Court of Antara. There you will locate the control facility for the nuclear weapons currently aboard the Ha’curn fleet. You will then reestablish the uplink and detonate the weapons, thereby destroying a sizeable portion of the Ha’curn fleet and eliminating the near-term threat. Once this is done, Admiral Armitage will be free to begin the final push to Antara and end the war.”
Zac looked at Admiral Armitage, his mouth slightly ajar. She smiled. “Nothing like having the fate of everything riding on the mission, is there, Major Murphy? Are you up for it?”
“Ma’am, that’s not it,” Zac said. “Is this possible? Can the bombs still be triggered remotely?”
“We have reliable intelligence that says they can. Once the remote uplink was terminated and the weapons removed, no one thought to remove the triggers. And the site of the remote uplink has been found to be on the grounds of the Andorium.”
“But how … how do we get there?” Zac asked. “Humans don’t go to Antara.”
“You did,” Amber stated.
“As a prisoner.”
“And while there, you spent considerable time within the grounds of the Andorium. You have first-hand knowledge of the layout.”
“I was paraded around like a circus animal, most of the time whacked out on Antaerean Rev. That hardly counts.”
“Yet, you remember everything, do you not?”
“Eh, well, yeah. I do, now,” he stammered. “But that doesn’t explain how we’re going to get to the planet or how we’re going to get on the grounds.”
“And you mentioned something about reestablishing the uplink,” Angus added. “What the bloody hell is that all about?”
“If you will please be patient, I shall explain everything,” said Amber. “May I continue?”
Both Zac and Angus nodded at the silver briefcase.
“As you are aware, my owner has considerable resources within the Grid. It was through him that confirmation of the trigger facility and its current status was established. The uplink to the bombs was severed at the beginning of the Ha’curn participation in the war; however, it’s been learned that it was a simple program change—and not a removal of hardware—that precipitated the disconnect. It should be possible to re-establish the communications link and send the proper signal for detonation. I have been provided with a detailed map of the Andorium, along with the general location of the control facility, even though the exact location is unknown. As to how we will get to Antara and the Andorium: We will arrive in the Zanzibar, a vessel of which you are quite familiar, and with the proper transponder codes and clearances to the planet. Once on the surface, we will be escorted to the Court as part of a respect celebration—”
“Wait,” Zac said. “You said escorted? I don’t understand.”
“As with Mr. Price, patience has never been a virtue you’ve mastered, Mr. Murphy. Please allow me to continue. Once on Antara, we will be attending the Coronation of the new Tesnin.”
“The new Tesnin?” Zac said. “That’s right! That old fucker Denak had a heart attack or something.”
“It was a bloody stroke,” Angus corrected. “Turned him into a vegetable.” Angus grinned. “Probably a result of what happened to his fleet recently.”
“If I may,” Amber said. “After the untimely—and suspicious—death of the prior Rowin, Denak’s third-born son, Kallen Zaphin, was named his replacement. Kallen is now assuming the position of Tesnin during a large ceremony taking place within the Andorium. We are invited.”
“We are? And what do you mean, we?” Angus asked.
“I will be going along, concealed in a garment worn by Sergeant Hollis. The four Humans will go in posing as members of Antaerean society from Simblaus—heirs to an industrial conglomerate on the planet. Once at Court, we will attempt to pinpoint the location of the control facility and then perform the necessary repairs to the uplink.”
“And how are we supposed to do that?” Angus asked.
“That will be my job; mine and Amber’s,” Joanie said. “Before becoming a REV Controller, I was an Air Force electronic communications specialist.”
Zac shook his head. “Even so, I see a major weakness in the plan: Only Ashley speaks Antaerean. As soon as the rest of us open our mouths, the Qwin will see our words are out of sync and shut us down.”
“That is why General Cross is here,” Amber said. “General.”
Cross had sat silent and tight-lipped throughout the briefing. Usually, he was the one running things.
“Again, I protest,” he said to the admiral.
“I get it, David. Now tell them.”
He let out a deep sigh.
“As naturals, your REV abilities also affect your brains. Until now, we haven’t explored this aspect of the mutation since REVs aren’t asked to think much while doing their jobs. With recent discoveries about the learning abilities of REVs, we’re moving more into that area now. But as a result, I’ve come up with a subliminal learning method that works with your natural Rev stimulated minds. Theoretically, you will be fluent in Antaerean before you reach the planet, both with speech and reading. I’m here to initiate the protocols before you leave.”
Zac was still confused. “Okay, that will work for Angus and me, but what about Joanie? She’s not a REV.”
David Cross looked to the admiral. “Go ahead, tell him,” she prompted.
Cross sighed. “Well, major, as you recall our conversation at Groom Lake, I said I was working with certain females with regards to mild doses of AC-3. As it turns out, Sergeant Hollis was one of them.”
Zac shot a hard look at Joanie. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Joanie pursed her lips, looking angrily at Cross. “Because I didn’t know. The general was messing around with my body chemistry, giving me little doses of Rev and then checking my response. He said he was working on a new stimulant for the Controllers, you know, something to keep us wired during a Run. Boy, he was right about that.”
“You’re a REV?” Zac couldn’t believe what he was saying.
“She’s not a REV,” Cross answered emphatically. “At least not in the conventional sense. As I told you, females are more susceptible to AC-3 than males; however, it affects their systems differently. Even so, I’ve been able to make it so that her body now produces a tiny amount of natural Rev continually. Sergeant Hollis can cascade—to a degree—and as she does, certain abilities are enhanced, such as senses and a mild increa
se in strength. The drug also opens her mind to the process I’ve developed for the rapid learning program.”
Zac glared at the scientist, feeling his body begin to cascade. “I, I don’t know what to say. And you did this without her knowledge, you rotten bastard.”
“Belay that, Mr. Murphy!” said Admiral Armitage.
“She’s aware of it now, major,” Cross continued. “And we’ve been working together for a month since she found out. Progress is being made—or it was—until she was drafted for this mission.”
“You really are insane, aren’t you? You’ll do anything to create your master race.”
“Mr. Murphy!” the admiral scolded.
“I’m sorry, admiral, but do you condone this? The man thinks he’s Dr. Frankenstein.”
“It’s not my call, major. Dr. Cross’s work has been instrumental in the development of fighting units and operational strategies since the beginning of the war. You may not approve of his methods, but you’re a product of his genius.”
“I was an accident.”
Cross went to say something but held his tongue.
“And now you’ve done your experiments on Joanie. You could have killed her.”
“That couldn’t happen,” said Cross.
“How could you be so sure?”
“Because I had a protocol to follow from a prior test.” He looked to Ashley Hunter.
It was Angus’s turn to lose it. “He experimented on you, too?”
Ashley nodded. “I’ve been part of the program for over a year since we got back from Enif after rescuing Zac,” she explained. “But don’t be mad; I volunteered. And I have no regrets; I like being a REV.”
“You’re a REV?”
She nodded. “But you have to realize that means something different for women. We don’t become hulking wrecking balls of rage like the men. Our bodies react differently to the drug, mildly enhancing certain abilities rather than blowing them all out of proportion. Also, we tend to start producing natural Rev in almost every case, at least with the formula the doctor uses on us now.”