“You don’t?” Titus said, unable to hide the surprise in his voice.
Magnus shook his head. “Don’t have to. While Cyril wasn’t able to slice into CENTCOM’s database, he was able to access a far less encrypted intel source.”
“Which is?” Titus asked.
“General McCormick’s personal calendar.” Magnus could see all the gladias turn to look at him. “Turns out the General is an early riser and should be coming out one of these two elevators in approximately”—Magnus glanced at the mission clock in his HUD—“three minutes.”
“You want us to pin him in the elevator and interrogate him there?” Titus asked.
“Could we not have done this while he was en route from his residence?” Abimbola asked.
“Negative.” Magnus rolled his head to keep his neck and shoulders from getting too tense. “He’s under personal escort throughout his day.” Magnus waited a moment while everyone processed the information.
“Except when he takes the elevator down to CENTCOM,” Titus finally said.
“Correct,” Magnus replied. “It’s the handoff between security details. Logic assumes no one is going to try and approach him between the ground floor of Proconsul Tower and the highly secured vestibule of CENTCOM.”
“But we are,” said Abimbola.
Magnus grinned. “Damn straight. I want all eyes on those doors. When you see the general, we push him back in, load up both pods, and peg it to the top floor, overriding any other floor requests. We’ll have the whole ride for me to convince him of what I can.”
“What if that’s not enough time?” Awen said.
“It’s gotta be.”
“But what if it’s not?”
Magnus worked his jaw. “Then we’ll think of another way to raise the PDS ourselves.”
“Which is what?”
Mystics, she just doesn’t know when to quit. “Which is—”
“Heads up,” Titus said, raising his weapon to one of the elevator’s opening doors. “And a problem.”
General McCormick was in the elevator—as was a second individual dressed in a senator’s suit.
“Two for the price of one,” Magnus said. “Here we go.”
If either of the two Marines on security detail had looked at the elevators, they would have seen the general and the senator disappear as the gladias filled the pod. Only small hiccups in the telecolos rendering system would have betrayed the two men’s presence. The same disappearing act went for anyone monitoring the cameras inside the elevator itself. But rather than take any chances, Magnus and the rest of Alpha Team repositioned the two men in the camera’s blind spot as Awen pressed the button for the top floor. Then she keyed in the standard override code to ensure the trip was uninterrupted. Likewise, Dutch activated a local jammer on her forearm that took care of any attempts for the two men to call out—which they were doing.
“Security, this is Senator Blackman,” the other man yelled into his lapel. “Elevator SB2, we have a—”
Rohoar batted the senator on the side of the head, stunning him. “Focus, human,” Rohoar said over externals. “Your comms don’t work. Pay attention.”
The man sputtered, trying to focus on whoever it was that spoke to him. He was stocky with well-groomed grey hair and thick shoulders.
As for the general, the years behind the desk hadn’t been kind to him—or maybe they had been, depending on your interpretation. The balloon in his gut and the extra chin on his neck told Magnus all he needed to know about the man’s eating habits. But McCormick still wore his red hair tight on the sides and flat on top—a holdover from his years under a helmet. If only he’d held on to PT the same way, Magnus thought. Let’s hope he can think fast under pressure.
“General Issac S. McCormick?” Magnus asked, still cloaked.
The general squinted at the mention of his name. “Who’s there? What is the meaning of this?”
“My name is Adonis Olin Magnus, former lieutenant with—”
“Lieutenant Magnus?” the senator said, eyes still searching the empty pod. “But-but, you’re charged with treason and—”
Rohoar slapped the man again. “Not focused.”
“The 79th Reconnaissance Battalion,” McCormick said, answering the rest of Magnus’s opening statement. “Your company was assigned to Oorajee”
“Yes, General.” Magnus felt uneasy that both men knew him by name. “At great risk to myself and my team, I’ve come to inform you that all three Republic Fleets have fallen into enemy hands and are currently headed toward Capriana with the intent of attacking the planet.”
Whatever Magnus hoped would happen next, it didn’t.
“You’ve got some nerve, Lieutenant,” McCormick said.
“Former,” Blackman added. Rohoar hit him again, and the man let out a yelp.
The general looked at his friend and then back in Magnus’s direction. “Invading the capital, abducting a members of CENTCOM—”
“I know how it looks, General. I do. But the fate of the city rests in what you decide to do in these next few seconds.”
“Correction,” McCormick said. “Whatever you choose to do in the next few seconds is going to be irrelevant when we reach the”—he looked at the touch screen—“top floor. Right now, my security detail is realizing that I failed to check in with my secretary. They’ve already deduced that I’m still in this pod, and they’re tracking it to the top floor. When those doors open, you and whoever else is with you will be dead. So, on the contrary, Lieutenant Magnus, I think your fate rests in what happens over the next few seconds.”
“Can we kill them both now?” Rohoar asked.
“No,” Magnus replied.
“But they irritate me.”
Magnus squared his shoulders. “General, you well know that Fleet Admiral Wendell Kane was tasked with commanding Third Fleet.”
“Spare me the lesson, son.”
“And you also know that you’ve lost all communication with him as well as First and Second Fleets.”
McCormick’s lips parted, but no words came out.
Finally, Magnus thought. A foothold. “Also, you probably know by now that Kane has taken control of all three fleets and has laid waste to the Jujari resistance. What you don’t know is that he’s headed here next for the sole purpose of wiping out the capital and a group he calls the Circle of Nine.”
McCormick’s back straightened. “How do I know what you’re telling me is true, son?”
Magnus produced a small data card and slipped it into McCormick’s breast pocket. The general jerked back when it touched him. “Easy, sir. I’m not going to hurt you. The data card in your pocket has tracking information indicating Kane’s fleet movement, as well the subspace jump signature for their destination coordinates.”
“Which is here above Capriana Prime, you say?”
“Yes, general.”
McCormick pulled the data card from his pocket and examined it skeptically. “And you expect me to do what with this, Lieutenant?”
“I expect you to take it seriously and raise the planetary defense shield.”
“The planetary defense shield?” McCormick raised an eyebrow. “Just like that?”
“Yes, general.”
McCormick started to laugh. “I’ve got to hand it to you, son. Your grandfather had big stones. Big stones. But you, my boy? Damn. You’re hung like a Pavroothian quarter stallion. And you’re just as nearsighted too.”
Now it was Magnus’s turn to squint. “Sir?”
“Kane isn’t coming back to attack Capriana, son,” McCormick replied. “He’s coming home.” The general snapped the data drive in two and let the pieces fall to the floor.
Senator Blackman smiled.
Magnus felt like the rug had been pulled out from under him. Whatever secret organization had lost control of Kane, McCormick wasn’t in on it. Or if he was, he was bluffing. Either way, this plan was falling apart fast. Still, Magnus had to keep trying. After all, this wasn
’t about rescuing a teammate or protecting the Gladio Umbra—this was about saving billions of people.
“General, we have a witness who spoke with Kane and knows about his plans.”
“Do you? And where is this witness?” McCormick looked around. “Surely not cloaked here in the elevator pod with you, about to be arrested or shot.”
“She’s not here, no. However, her testimony was on the data drive you just compromised.”
“And who is this woman?”
Silence filled the cramped pod.
When Magnus failed to answer, McCormick said, “I’ve heard enough.”
“It’s a child, sir. Daughter of Senator Stone. And Colonel William S. Caldwell will vouch for her statements.”
Both officials’ eyes widened. “Caldwell?” the senator said. “How would Caldwell know anything about this?”
“Because he’s with us, attempting to stop Kane.”
“Son,” McCormick said. “I can assure you that Colonel Caldwell was killed during the raid on Worru. We lost a lot of good men in that conflict. So now I know you’re here under pretenses. What those are, I do not know. But”—the general looked at the floor numbers again—“I don’t have time to find out, and you’ve run out of time to manipulate me.”
“General, sir. Please.” Magnus put a hand on the man’s chest. “You’ve got to raise the PDS.”
McCormick grabbed Magnus’s forearm with a surprising amount of strength. “Son, I don’t have to do a damn thing. And just so you know, you’re about to be in a heap of trouble.”
“Is that all you have to say, buckethead?” Abimbola asked over comms, nodding toward the floor count. “Because we are slowing down.”
“This was not an excellent plan,” Rohoar said. “Rohoar deems we kill them.”
“Everyone relax,” Magnus ordered, sorting through what to do next. “We’re not killing them.” Clearly, the general wasn’t on board. Then again, Caldwell had told Magnus not to expect much. This part of the op was a long shot. But there were other ways to get the PDS up—this was just the least messy. And it had to be tried first, before the others, or Magnus knew he’d regret it.
“I recommend you surrender now,” the senator said. “With or without Kane’s assault, you’ve got nowhere to run.”
“May Rohoar do a deed?” Rohoar asked Magnus.
“Just don’t kill him,” Magnus replied.
In the blink of an eye, Rohoar hit Blackman on the side of the head, and the man dropped to the carpeted floor. “This has pleased Rohoar very much.”
“I’m happy to hear that,” Magnus replied.
“Who are you people anyway?” McCormick asked, still unable to focus on anyone in the pod.
“No disrespect, General,” Magnus said over externals. “But if you didn’t believe me about the senator’s daughter and the colonel, you’d never believe me when I tell you who was in this elevator with you. On that note, I’m sorry we have to do this, but you leave me no choice.” Magnus gestured to Rohoar, and the Jujari dropped the general just like the senator. Then Magnus raised his NOV1 and pointed it toward the elevator’s transparent exterior shell. “Titus, blow your elevator’s glass. We’re punching out. Everyone ready?”
“You’ve got to be kidding me right now,” Awen said.
“Why? You and I have a thing about jumping off skyscrapers together.”
“We did it once,” Awen protested with her hands on her hips. “And I was unconscious.”
“Still counts,” Magnus said, feeling the elevator come to a stop. “So, it’s a thing.”
“It’s not a thing.”
“Then it will be after this,” Magnus said, and then squeezed the trigger.
6
Both elevator’s windowplex exteriors exploded like a shower of glittering jewels thrown into a moonlit sky.
“Everyone out,” Magnus yelled. “Fly west. I’ll drop an LZ marker when I have one.” He looked across at the second elevator. “Titus, you coming?”
“We’re on your heels, LT,” Titus replied.
Abimbola, Rohoar, Awen, Silk, and Doc leaped from the opening and deployed their carbon fiber fabric wings. Magnus nodded at Titus. Bravo Team’s leader pushed Czyz, Nídira, Dutch, and Haze out before following himself.
The elevator doors opened behind Magnus, and someone shouted at him to stand still. Magnus spun, lunged backward into the night air, and watched as his feet cleared the elevator. Gravity took hold of his body, and a second later he was clear of the enemy threat, diving toward the campus. He maglocked his NOV1 to his back, deployed his wings, and rolled over. With a prompt in his HUD for adequate speed, Magnus flared into a nose-up position and banked left.
“You copy, ’Six?” Magnus asked.
“I see you and both fire teams heading westbound, sir,” replied the bot.
“We need an LZ, ASAP.”
“Understood. I’m sending one to you now. It will take you to the main island’s western shore.”
“Populate it.”
A small icon appeared in Magnus’s HUD. “Done,” TO-96 said. “From there, you will be able to secure transport to Azelon’s exfil coordinates.”
“Negative, ’Six. We still have a mission to complete.”
“But, sir—”
“I need a plan B.”
TO-96 hesitated. “Plan B, sir? But I assumed you’d make entry into CENTCOM and activate the PDS yourselves if you weren’t successful in convincing the officials.”
“So did I, but it’s locked down tight. Quantum encryption, impregnable blast doors, point defense guns, and redundant sensor security. We’re talking splick that makes the Black Labyrinth look like child’s play. So we’re making this next bit up as we go.”
“Improvising then, sir?”
“That’s the word.” Magnus adjusted course to follow the augmented reality flightpath in his HUD. He watched the other gladias lineup, preparing to fly through a long corridor of skyscrapers. “I need other ways to raise the shield besides doing it from inside CENTCOM. I need you to think like a badass.”
“A badass, sir?”
“Hell, yeah. Break the rules. Think outside the box. Splick—hold on.”
“Hold on?”
Magnus adjusted for a sudden crosswind. The gust tried to push him into the first oncoming building on his right. He banked left against the blast of wind, then corrected to fall back in line with the flight path.
“Okay, badass. Whaddya got?”
“Hypothetically speaking, it appears you could activate the PDS manually from inside the main generator station.”
“See? Now you’re talking like a badass.”
“Thank you, sir. But I fail to ascertain how that makes me a badass.”
“Just roll with it. Where’s the station?” Magnus watched the line of gladias as they sailed between buildings along an ever-descending route above the capital’s streets. Lights blurred in his vision while the sound of the rushing wind whooshed around his helmet.
“On the main island of the Elusian atoll,” TO-96 replied.
Magnus grinned. “Now you’re rolling. You feel that, buddy?”
“No, sir. I feel nothing.”
“But you’re thinking outside the box.”
“No, I’m providing you a logical secondary option derived from an analysis of the PDS’s infrastructure, utterly devoid of what you might call sexy peel.”
“You mean sex appeal.”
“Of course.”
“Whatever works for you.” Magnus grinned. “Just stay loose and keep the intel coming.”
“According to the schematic I have, the core’s main command console has a manual override function.”
“Then that’s where we’re headed.”
TO-96 nodded in his holo window. “You’ll be able to initiate the start-up sequence with only minimal instruction from me.”
“Nice. Thanks, bot.”
“Because I’m a badass?”
Magnus chuckled. “Hell, y
eah.”
“I only wish I was with you to help take out the resistance you’ll encounter.”
“The what?” Without warning, another crosswind threw Magnus sideways. He was quick to compensate and avoided smacking into a mirror-finished building on his left.
“The resistance. The generator station is inside a military installation.”
“And this is easier than breaking into CENTCOM?” Magnus said.
TO-96 tilted his head in Magnus’s HUD. “Quantifiably, sir. You have a 0.0023% chance of getting through CENTCOM’s front doors, not to mention certain entrapment and summary execution. So, yes, this plan B, as you say, has a much higher probability of success. Just guys with guns, as I overheard you saying once. But that is your specialty. You are going to break in there and kill everything that moves, sir.”
“What?”
“No living soul shall survive. Your enemies will cower in abject fear. Future generations will marvel at the legend of your exploits.”
Magnus chuckled as he increased his angle of attack, exchanging altitude for speed. “Relax, pal.”
“Too much badass, sir?”
“A little.”
“My apologies, sir. I will let you fly in peace.”
Magnus thanked the bot, signed off, and then opened up the squad channel. “LZ’s a wide stretch of beach. Avoid any civilians.” Confirmation icons ran down his chat window, and Magnus flew the remaining distance with only the sound of the wind to keep him company.
The limited traffic below ran to where the streetlights met a hard intersection on the city’s western edge. Beyond the city limits lay a dimly lit boardwalk and a dark strand that slid under the surf. And it couldn’t be soon enough—Magnus was about to run out of altitude. The rest of the squad had room to spare, but Magnus was coming in under the projected flight path. A traffic control truss crossed the street about seven meters off the pavement ahead of him. Magnus decided not to attempt flying over it, so he dove, barely missing the structure, and emerged two meters above a hover skiff.
Magnus pulled up, trying to gain a little more altitude, and successfully flew over the cross traffic at the end of the street. He banked right to avoid a cluster of palms along the boardwalk, and then flared over the first open patch of sand. But Magnus came in too hot and was forced to roll out of his landing. Sand shot into the air as he spiraled forward, raining on his helmet once he’d taken a knee.
Ruins of the Galaxy Box Set: Books 1-6 Page 171