Anyone who arrived and dumped their car then had a wait of nearly two days as the massive throng of people slowly shuffled their way forward toward the haven of the terminal’s main entrance. Niall didn’t know how many people there were between the highway and the entrance; it looked like the entire population to him. They wore expensive semiorganic coats, or draped plastic sheets around their shoulders to protect themselves from the miserable rain of Boongate’s early winter months. There had been plenty of days when Niall turned up and it had been sleeting. Once it snowed for thirty-six hours. It subdued the crowd, made them miserable, made them bad tempered, but nothing had ever made them fall silent before.
Niall was only three hundred meters away from the employees’ gate when he realized the sound was missing; most days you could hear it over a kilometer away. He steered around a big Toyota ten-seater Lison that was parked across a warehouse delivery bay, and braked to a halt. When he pushed his goggles up, he found it had stopped raining. Good news, yes, but not enough to stop that constant growl of barely restrained anger. He looked up. The force field had come on over the city; dark clouds slithered around its shimmering surface. A second force field was covering the station, deflecting the mists that were trapped under the city’s dome. “Oh, hell,” he whispered in fright. He’d never allowed himself to believe that the aliens would return.
His e-butler’s news filter let through an alert telling him that wormholes were being detected in a lot of star systems across the Commonwealth. His instant response was to glance over at the giant terminal building with its long, curved glass roofs. Instinctive self-preservation kicked in, and he started to work out routes in his mind. As an employee, he had access to several restricted zones inside the station complex; there were a number of ways he could reach the platforms without ever having to join that horde outside.
He let go of the brakes, and began pedaling again. Today, there were eight guards outside the employee gate, all dressed in flexarmor and carrying weapons. Normally, there were just two security staff inside their cabin, who always waved him on when he showed his company pass. This time they made Niall put his palm on a sensor pad one of them was carrying to check his biometric pattern.
“You’ve got to be kidding,” the guard snarled from inside his helmet. “A tour company rep?”
“We’re still active,” Niall protested. “It’s genuine. Check my record; I’ve been in every day for weeks. I’ve got groups left on Far Away that are coming back. Somebody’s got to be here for them.”
“I’ve got news for you, sonny, they ain’t going to make it. Look around you.”
“And if they do?”
There was a long pause while the guard referred back to his superior. “Okay,” he said eventually. “You can go through.”
“Thanks.”
The reinforced barrier across the pavement swiveled up. Niall pushed his bicycle through, feeling his skin tingle as he went through the force field. Just as he was mounting up on the other side, the guard said, “Son, if you’ve got any sense at all, you’ll go straight to the platforms and catch a train to Gralmond or one of its neighbors.”
“If my group comes back, I’ll do it.”
Not even the thick armor could mask the man shaking his head.
Niall pedaled as fast as he could to the office. His e-butler was supplying situation updates the whole way. Alien ships were pouring into the Boongate system, out around the third gas-giant orbit. Thousands more were emerging in other systems. Local news told him that the wormhole to Wessex had been temporarily closed by CST. “Hellfire.” There’d be a riot. He knew there would be.
When he got to the office he wheeled his bike in through the reception area and parked it against the counter. There was a bag he kept in the back with some spare clothes. He fetched it out, and looked around the small room. Grand Triad Adventures had a floor safe to keep the petty cash and various travel vouchers. Mr. Spanton, the manager, had granted Niall’s biometric print a temporary access authority when he went “on holiday” right after the first Prime attack. Niall put his hand on the lock pad, and internal malmetal bands pushed the door up. The cash was all piled in different currencies. He didn’t bother with anything from Boongate or the neighboring stars, figuring those Treasuries wouldn’t be able to back the national currency for much longer. Out of the money that came from planets farther from this new attack, he had roughly fifteen thousand Earth dollars’ worth. He stuffed it into his jacket pockets and turned to the office array that had a direct link to the CST ticket and travel information system. Surprisingly, his access authority still got him in; not that there was much information available. Wessex seemed to have closed half of its wormholes to traffic, and there were heavy restrictions on the remainder. There was no indication when they would open again.
Only if the navy fights off this invasion, Niall thought. But if by some miracle it did, he was going to be ready. He used the Grand Triad Adventures account to buy a first-class ticket to Gralmond, just like the guard suggested. It was four hundred fifty light-years away, right across the other side of the Commonwealth, about as far away from Boongate as it was physically possible to go. He held his breath as the CST system processed the application, but after a few seconds it assigned his identity tattoo with the first-class ticket.
Someone knocked on the office door. Niall jumped, mostly from guilt. There was a man standing outside. Tall and quite handsome, with floppy blond hair. The type of guy who played a lot of sports; certainly his square-shouldered build put Niall’s rather more flabby frame to shame. He was talking, jabbing a finger at something in the office.
“Sorry.” Niall tapped his ear, and put his hand on the door’s lock pad. “Couldn’t hear you,” he said as the door opened.
“Thanks for letting me in,” the man said. His voice had a distinctive Earth-American twang.
“We’re not busy.” That was a dumb thing to say. Niall wanted to look at the door leading to the back room; he was pretty sure the man wouldn’t be able to see the open floor safe.
“I need some help. Ah…I don’t know your name.” His grin was the kind that took you straight into his confidence.
“Niall. What kind of help?”
“It’s like this, Niall. Some friends of mine have been stuck on Far Away for a while, but they’ve just sent me a message saying that they’ve managed to get off. They’re on their way back. How’s that for god-awful fucking luck. Coming back into the middle of an alien invasion. Anyway, I need to get out to the platform and meet them. Once we’re all together again then we’ll try to get off Boongate.”
“There aren’t any trains off Boongate right now. I was just checking that.”
“I know, but they’ll start up again as soon as the invasion is over. I’m not worried about that. My problem is my friends; I can’t let them down. Can you take me over to the Half Way wormhole gateway? I’d go by myself, but there are a lot of security systems around it; I’m worried I’ll never be allowed through to meet them what with everyone being so jumpy right now. They’ll get back and be stuck here. That would be serious bad news for all of us. If it helps, I can make it worth your while. Seriously worth your while.”
Niall liked the guy even more; he was obviously a regular dude, and rich, too. Everyone who went to Far Away was rich. And he was right about security: look at what happened at the employee gate this morning. Niall could come out of this very well if he played his cards right, maybe add a couple of grand to his newfound wealth. “Well, yeah, the company Mercedes is authorized to go right out to the Far Away transit area. I can take you through, no sweat.”
The man’s confident grin became even wider. “That’s what I wanted to hear.”
Hoshe had just reached the London office when the Prime attack began. Vast force fields came on over the ancient city, turning the sky a murky gray. Looking out over the Thames he saw the dark shapes of aerobots rising from their silos. They were bigger than any flying machine he’d ever seen
before.
His e-butler told him Inima was calling.
“You okay?” she asked.
“Yeah, I’m at the office. What about you?”
“We’re safe here, aren’t we, Hoshe?”
“Safest place in the Commonwealth, I promise. Shall I come home?”
“No. You stay there. I don’t want you worrying about me.”
“I don’t worry. I love you. I’m leaving now.”
“No, Hoshe. I’ve got the news summary in my virtual vision. The attacks aren’t anywhere near Earth. You stay at work.”
“I want to be with you, in case.” In case of what, he didn’t know. If Earth fell, it would all be over. And not even Paula could get them places on a Dynasty lifeboat.
“Should you travel now?” she asked.
“Of course. If anything gets through that force field it won’t matter where you are. I’ll get a taxi.”
“I don’t want to be trouble.”
“You’re not.”
Hoshe grabbed his coat from the hook on the back of the door. A red priority icon flashed up into his virtual vision; it was Captain Kumancho, who was leading the Senate Security detail following Victor Halgarth. “Damn!” Hoshe touched the icon with his turquoise virtual finger.
“We’ve just arrived on Boongate,” Kumancho said. “Victor went to one of the warehouses out in the station marshaling yard. It belongs to a company called Sunforge, local transport and courier outfit. We’re datamining it now.”
“Okay. Are you emplaced?”
“As best we can. Hoshe, it’s chaos here. There’s half the planet’s population camped outside the station. CST has just closed the wormhole. We must have been on the last train in. My people are worried we won’t be able to get back.”
“Shit. Right, leave it with me. Is the Halgarth team with you?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, that’s good. I’ll get in touch with Warren Halgarth; we’ll coordinate our approach and put a process in place to extract you as soon as CST reopens the wormhole. I’ll try and get information on that as well.”
“Thanks, Hoshe.”
“Do you know what’s in the Sunforge warehouse?”
“Not yet. We’re going to start running an infiltration operation once we’re properly established.”
“Do you need help from the locals? I can run the request from this office. It’ll carry more clout.”
“I think we’re on our own, Hoshe. Government here has just about collapsed. CST’s station security teams and the city police force are still hanging together, almost, but they’re not going to be assed about a bunch of spooks asking for cooperation. Don’t worry, we can handle Victor and the warehouse.”
“Okay, keep me updated on an hourly basis. I’ll be in the office.” Hoshe stood perfectly still for a moment as he cursed every god he knew about, then hung his coat back on the hook. His turquoise finger touched Inima’s icon. “Darling, I’m sorry. Something’s come up.”
***
“Don’t worry,” Anna said. Her small mouth tightened into a smile as she straightened the shoulders on Wilson’s dress uniform, brushing away creases. “You know and I know that you did everything you could. There were no alternatives, no smartass answers. You told it to them as it was, and they gave you the budget they wanted to.”
Several people were looking at them as they stood nose to nose outside the Senate Hall’s underground chamber, aides to the other War Cabinet members who were in session, and had been for thirty minutes. It was as if Wilson and Anna were radioactive; nobody said hello, nobody swapped idle chat, not even Daniel Alster and Patricia Kantil. For Wilson not to be in a War Cabinet meeting was a clear indication of what was being discussed inside. There wasn’t any informed, measured debate going on in there; it was an open power struggle.
“Damn Nigel for not telling us what he’d got,” Wilson muttered. His voice carried just far enough to provoke some glances from the nearest aides. “Damn him for not sharing.”
“They only just got their ship operational in time,” Anna said, patting his arm.
“So he claims,” he hissed. “Hell, listen to me. Nobody trusts anyone else anymore.”
“How can we?” Anna looked around, and pulled him farther away from the immaculately dressed, polite, obedient aides. “We don’t know who is working for the Starflyer.”
“This isn’t just because of the Starflyer. Look at them all.” He tilted his head at the aides. “All the Dynasties and Grand Families see here is an opportunity to put one over on the rest. They’re concentrating on internal politics while the human race is faced with extinction.”
“That’s not quite fair.”
“Yeah yeah.” Tension and dismay were giving him the shakes. Being made to wait outside like a schoolkid hauled up before the principal; it’s not right. I did a good job. “Damn, I feel sorry for myself.” His virtual vision was showing a tactical display from Pentagon II, where the navy was keeping watch for any further sign of Prime activity. It was only seven hours since the wormholes into Commonwealth space had shut down. He didn’t have time for this bullshit. They had to organize the navy’s response immediately. That’s if he was going to be organizing it.
“Hey, stop it.” She nuzzled his face. “They’re probably just deciding which medal to give you.”
He gave her a tired look. “Thanks.”
“You know I’ll stay with you, don’t you?”
He kissed her. “Couldn’t have got this far without you.”
“It’ll be nice to have a real life together. I’ve never had a rich husband before. I still haven’t seen your home on York5.”
“You’ll love it. We’ve got an area the size of Oregon which I’ve been shaping and planting. And the Château needs refurbishing.”
“Sounds good. Me, an unlimited credit tattoo, and every interior designer on that side of the Commonwealth.”
He held her tight. “It will be good. It will.”
The doors to the conference room opened. Rafael Columbia strode out. He was also wearing his full dress uniform; immaculately tailored, it made him the perfect authority figure. Even the aides straightened up as he appeared.
Wilson hadn’t known Rafael was in the War Cabinet. It could only mean one thing. “Shit.” At least he didn’t have to wait anymore; he knew for sure now. I don’t even have to go through with this humiliation, not really.
“Wilson.” Rafael put on a suitably sober expression of greeting. He extended his hand.
I could just tell him to shove it.
Anna made a small sound at the back of her throat.
Wilson shook hands. Like a proper officer would, with dignity. They’d be proud of me back at the academy—if it still existed.
“I’m sorry,” Rafael said. “They called me in after they asked for you.”
“It’s okay.” As Caesar said to Brutus. “I don’t think either of us is in an enviable position.”
Rafael nodded sympathetically. “They’re ready for you.”
“Sure.”
Anna squeezed his hand. He walked with Rafael into the conference room to face the War Cabinet. Surprisingly, it was only President Doi who met his eye as he stood at the head of the table. Heather Antonia Halgarth simply looked bored, while Nigel Sheldon had a thunderous expression on his face. It was a hugely telling sight, that the man whose family warship and private weapons project had just saved the entire Commonwealth could suffer a political defeat directly afterward.
Rafael came to stand just behind Wilson.
“Admiral,” President Doi said, “we have reviewed the performance of the navy and yourself before and during this latest disastrous invasion. To say that we find it lacking would be the understatement of this century. In view of the catastrophic loss of life, we require your immediate resignation.”
Argue. Tell her to fuck off. Nobody could have done better. “As you wish,” he said coolly.
Rafael came up to him. “Admiral, your navy
authorization codes have now been revoked. You will be placed on our inactive list, effective immediately.”
Wilson clenched his teeth. “Right.”
“Thank you for what you did, Wilson. The navy staff appreciate it,” Rafael said with emphasis.
Wilson turned to face the navy’s new chief admiral-in-waiting. “I want you and everyone else in here to know something.”
“If you have anything to say, please place it in your debrief report,” Doi said formally.
He smiled at her, enjoying the way she wanted him out of the room with a minimum of fuss. She didn’t yet have the confidence to try to snap an order at him. “The Starflyer is real.” He made sure he was looking directly at Rafael, seeing the small start of surprise in the man’s otherwise composed features. “It’s been manipulating us for a long while.”
“Enough! Mr. Kime,” Doi said.
“Its agents were on board the Second Chance. They switched off the barrier generator.”
Rafael was looking embarrassed now. Wilson glanced around the table. The only person who held his attention was Justine Burnelli. She appeared guilty rather than surprised. Interesting.
He shrugged at the War Cabinet, as if he wasn’t bothered anymore. “Check it out,” he told Rafael as he turned to leave.
Nigel watched Wilson’s back as he left the committee room. The man’s outburst was fascinating. He was amused by the reaction of the others around the table. Doi, predictably, was mortified at Wilson’s claim. Heather seemed bemused, Rafael concerned, while Justine was doing the same as him, checking around. He met her gaze and gave her a smile. She deliberately returned a blank expression.
He could hardly forget Campbell’s urgent call less than twenty-four hours ago, asking on her behalf what the Dynasty policy was toward Myo. After the Prime attack, Campbell had also told him the Senator and the Investigator were requesting an urgent personal meeting. He wasn’t sure what it was about, but given what Nelson’s observation team had told him about Mellanie’s activities on Illuminatus, it wasn’t a request he was about to refuse. Only now was he starting to wonder what sort of connections Justine had with Wilson. One thing was for sure, that meeting was going to be a lot more interesting than this one.
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