by T. R. Harris
“Why would he be stockpiling Delta REVs?”
Olivia smiled. “Who knows why David does what he does? And like I said, recently he’s been losing interest in the operation here. He’s got something else going, of that I’m sure.”
“Like what?”
“Hell if I know. Maybe some diabolical plot to take over the universe with his new REV army. After all, this is David Cross we’re talking about.”
Angus laughed as he got to his feet. “You’re probably right. REVs rule, you know. Anyway, I’m going to get a little shut-eye. You should, too. It’s going to get a little crazy from here on out. As they say in the books, the plot thickens.”
It was past oh-two hundred hours when the full results came in from the bank of tests done on Sergeant Pete Savage, conducted on Crious prior to his orders to the Eldorado. David Cross was still awake and in his office, reviewing the raw drone footage from the REV’s Run on ES-7. The coffee helped, but his eyes were blurry and crossed as he cued the video up one more time.
None of this made sense.
He pulled up the blood tests on his computer. Lisa Frost was right; the full panel confirmed the prelims. Negative. Pete Savage had tested negative for natural NT-4. Not even a trace. And that was consistent with ninety-five percent of all the early Bravos, as well as all the Alphas that had been tested. Cross and his team were much more sophisticated with the screening process then they were even six months before. The procedures worked, and so far, had been one-hundred percent accurate.
That was why Cross was so confused with the sergeant’s Run. He exhibited all the signs of a Delta, yet he wasn’t one. Either something had been missed during the testing, or this was something new.
Cross checked the results for a second time, and then a third.
Sergeant Peter Savage was not a Delta.
So how did he do what he did?
David was surprised when Lisa entered the office. He’d assumed she was asleep in her quarters. She came in with two cups of steaming coffee, as well as a pair of tiny white pills on a tray.
“Besides another coffee, I figured we could both use a little added kick in the pants,” she said with a forced smile. She looked tired, as David was sure he did, too.
“Why Ms. Frost, you do know those things are available by prescription only. Have you been impersonating a doctor, again?”
“If you’re asking if I forged your name to the scrip, I do it all the time. So bite me…sir.”
They popped the pills with sips of the hot coffee, his drink prepared just the way he liked it by his long-time assistant.
Lisa looked at the frozen video on the screen. “What the hell is going on, David?”
“I honestly don’t know. The traits he exhibited are those of an advanced Delta, and he’s not one. In addition, the mutation doesn’t just appear overnight. He had the tests run only two months ago, all negative.”
“Maybe you should ask Jack if he noticed anything unusual about the sergeant.” Lisa said.
“Jack?” Cross asked, frowning. “What does he have to do with this?”
Lisa smiled. “I thought you didn’t know. I was running through the REV team roster aboard the Eldorado when I noticed his name.”
“Diamond was aboard the carrier?”
“That’s right. And at one point he officially took command of the team.”
“Why? And why didn’t he tell me he was going out there? I thought he was still on Earth.”
“You know Jack,” Lisa said. “He goes where he wants and sticks his nose into things he has no business getting into.”
Cross leaned back in his chair, trying to tie the loose ends together. “It would have made sense for him to oversee the first Run in quite a while. But the fact that he didn’t tell me he was going says a lot. He didn’t want me to know. Why?”
“That’s the question, isn’t it?” Lisa said. “And then the REV goes all Delta on us, when he shouldn’t have.”
Cross stared long and hard at his secretary before speaking. “You are a sly devil, Ms. Frost,” he said. “You’ve already put this together.”
She nodded. “Jack did something to the REV. What, I don’t know, but something.”
“To elicit conscious thought through the effects of activation…that would take a major breakthrough in the formula. And if that happened, then one thing is certain: It didn’t come from us.”
16
Good to his word, General Bill Smith had the prototype starship Zanzibar stocked and ready to go by late the next afternoon, East Coast time. As was expected, Ashley jumped at the chance to go on the mission. After speaking with Smitty, she disappeared into the capital city to gather her own supplies for the trip, before meeting up with the officer at the Zanzibar. Then Amber—the on-board artificial intelligence—piloted the vessel to Colorado, taking rather rude liberties in the process by landing the ship in the parking lot of the Cheyanne Mountain Complex, much to the chagrin of the sentries. They ran for the cover of the guard shack to avoid the hot exhaust from the landing jets and then cursed the two occupants as they emerged. That was until they saw General Smith. Then their attitudes changed.
Smitty went inside the complex for a brief conference with Cross and to round up the others, while Ashley Hunter stayed with the Zanzibar. Thirty minutes later, Angus and Olivia arrived in a golf cart loaded down with suitcases—most being Olivia’s. Smitty showed up a few minutes later in another cart. Ten minutes after that, the starship blasted away from the planet.
Once in space, Ashley and Olivia made their introductions. They were both incredibly attractive brunettes and they hit it off immediately. They were to share one of the two staterooms aboard the ship for the duration, so they disappeared into the compartment to stow away Olivia’s gear and gossip.
Smitty and Angus met up on the bridge to confer with Amber.
“What’s the latest on Ross and Johnson?” Smitty asked the computer. She had access to a wide variety of military files, including those detailing classified troop movements.
“They are still aboard the Eldorado,” Amber reported. “The carrier is moving at a slower pace from ES-7 than it is capable of to provide cover for the damaged escort vessels. They are under constant threat of attack, as the Antaere have begun forays deeper into so-called Human territory after their victory on Kaus. They are drawing support from the Colony Worlds along the way.”
“Where is the ship now?” the general asked.
“It is conveniently on a track just this side of Enif.”
“Conveniently?” Angus questioned.
“Yes. Our destination is Enif—ES-8,” Smitty said. “That is where I believe Zac will be by the time the rescue operation begins. We’ll rendezvous with the battle-carrier while it’s still in route to Crious. That way, we can pick up the guys without having to deviate much from our current course.”
“Why Enif?” Angus asked. “What makes you believe Zac will be there?”
Amber resumed the narration. “As you can imagine, determining the precise location of the prisoner Lt. Murphy is virtually impossible with the communications restrictions the Antaere have across the Grid. Yet it has been learned he is being escorted by an Antaerean named Congin Bornak. This individual is easier to track. I therefore assume that where the Antaerean is, we will find Lt. Murphy. Bornak is currently on Borin-Noc—ES-6—with an itinerary taking him to Enif in ten days.”
“With Zac?”
“That is the assumption.”
“Who is this Congin Bornak bloke?” Angus followed up. “Is he some bigwig?”
Amber began her report on the alien: “Congin Bornak, born 2011—in Earth-relative years—on the planet Antara. Prior military training before transferring to the diplomatic corps and the staff of the current Antaerean Tesnin, Denak Zaphin. Served in that capacity throughout the contact years with Earth as a high-ranking advisor to the Tesnin, in addition to the Guardian Corps and certain other political and industrial factions, both Antaerean
and Human. He spent five years on Earth in the early days of the integration, believed to be a specialist in Human psychology and behavior. Recently, Bornak has gone on to serve as the senior-most advisor to Andus Zaphin, the heir-apparent to the title of Tesnin of the Guardians of the Order, the leader of the Antaere race.”
Angus sat with his mouth slightly ajar as Amber recited the alien’s resume. “How the hell do you know so much about a goddamn Qwin?”
“As I have told you, I have access to many classified files.”
“But are those Human files…or Antaere files?”
“I do not discriminate, Gunnery Sergeant Price. I acquire and access data as it becomes available, regardless of the source.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
Smitty laughed. “It’s all right, gunny. Let’s not look a gift horse in the mouth. If she has files on the Qwin, then we should use all the intel available.”
“Of course, sir. It’s just that sometimes Amber scares the shite out of me.”
“It is not intentional, I assure you,” said the AI, a slight trace of desperation in her sweet—yet artificial—voice.
“Now back on topic,” Smitty said. “What’s our ETA with the Eldorado, and then on to Enif?”
“Ten days to the carrier, another four after that to Enif.”
“Will Zac still be there when we arrive?”
“Impossible to tell. Yet an analysis of Congin Bornak’s current itinerary shows an average stay of nine local days at each location. Seeing that ES-8 is the last of the secure Antaere worlds in this part of the Grid—before the Human-controlled planets—Bornak’s stay on Enif may even be extended. It is also the location of the Endorus Communications Relay Station, the central broadcasting center for two-thirds of the Grid.”
“Why is that important?” Angus asked.
“Because of the nature of the propaganda campaign the Antaere have been employing using their captive, Lt. Murphy. It would stand to reason that Bornak intends to make a live broadcast of some kind using the powerful wormhole relays on the planet, with Lt. Murphy being the subject and the star. By transmitting from the station itself, there can be no interception, blockage or modification of the signal.”
“So everything comes down to a matter of timing…and luck,” the general stated.
“And what do we do when we get there?” Angus asked. He felt a little guilty asking the question, seeing that it was he who got the mission going in the first place. One would think he would have had a plan in mind before they set off on a mad dash across the stars.
But Smitty’s sly grin rescued him. “For that, let us go find Ashley. She has some ideas.”
The current members of the rescue team—Smitty, Angus, Ashley and Olivia—were in the small mess area off the equally small galley. Ashley stood at one of the tables, with the others seated around another, watching her. She looked confident and even slightly amused. She opened a black case and pulled out a round plastic pill bottle. She tossed it to Angus.
“A few tricks of the trade,” the master spy began. “These pills will turn our currently pink skin to a soft yellow hue. The lovely Miss Contreras may need to double up the dose to overcome her gorgeous bronze glow, but it will happen, eventually. After about four days, we will all become yellow-skinned bastards.”
“What about the eyes?” Angus asked, seeing where this was headed.
“There’s always one impatient asshole in every crowd.” Ashley winked at Angus before reaching into the case again and tossing another small container to the REV. “Contact lenses should do the trick, Mr. Price. Then add to that some of the Antaere uniforms I brought along, and we should be able to pass for just another group of Guardians of the Order. Fortunately, Humans and Qwin are of the same height and build, although their females, frankly, aren’t as sexy as we Human women. We’ll have to tone down the makeup—and in Olivia’s case, a tight wrap around her chest to hold in her obvious assets.”
Olivia grimaced. “I know I volunteered for this, but I was expecting to stay aboard the ship and pass out aspirin and bandages. Now it sounds like I’m going out in the field with the rest of you. Not that I’m a coward or anything, it’s just that I don’t want to jeopardize the mission. I’m not a combat soldier.”
“All this disguise stuff is just a precaution in your case, Olivia,” Ashley said. “Besides, you’ll do fine. Remember, I’ve been operating behind enemy lines for several years—although most of the time not in disguise—and I can tell you the Antaere are few and far between on the outer Colony Worlds. And no one fucks with the ones who are. We show up looking like we belong there, and we’ll get comp meals at every alien restaurant we pass. Believe me. I’ve done it.”
Angus opened the case with the contact lenses. “Why the hell didn’t we have these on Iz’zar?” he asked. “We could have waltzed right into the Temple without a second glance.”
“Different departments, my love,” Ashley replied. “The infantry goes in shooting. Intel likes to enter through the back door, and without knocking.”
“I like your way better,” said the big REV. “But you still haven’t answered my original question: What do we do when we get there?”
Smitty stood up, taking over the meeting.
“We figure they’ll have Zac at the Relay Station, if not, then somewhere close. The place is run by the Enif, for the most part, with only a small crew of Antaere technicians to oversee things. I’m still working on the details, but I have a few ideas. I’ll let you know as my plans firm up. But initially, we go in disguised, find Zac, and then the rest of us step aside and let you REVs do your thing.”
“You mean we can go all-REV on them?” Angus asked, looking at Olivia and smiling.
“That’s exactly what I mean, gunny. And then once back at the Zanzibar, we rely on the ship’s superior speed to save our asses again—as she’s done several times already.”
“Thank you for that acknowledgement, General Smith,” said Amber through hidden speakers. Of course she had been monitoring the meeting. That’s just what superior AI’s did.
Later in her cabin, Olivia placed a datapad on the built-in desk and linked it to the ship’s computer. For the next few days, she would still be able to get email. Since moving into the underground Cheyanne Mountain Complex—and essentially loosing contact with her friends and family—Olivia wasn’t getting a lot of outside messages anymore. Yet still, the occasional junk mail made her feel connected to the outside world.
She saw the tiny series of blinking lines at the top right of the screen and knew she had a connection.
“Hello,” she said to the computer. “So you’re the famous Amber everyone’s been talking about.”
“Hello, Chief Petty Officer Contreras.” Amber’s voice came through the speakers in the datapad, rather than those embedded in the bulkhead.
Olivia was surprised the AI knew her current rank. She’d only made chief a month ago, while the Zanzibar was still in transit to Earth.
“Angus speaks very highly of you,” Olivia said. “I think he likes you.”
“Yes, I’ve noticed a change in his respiration and pupil-dilation as we engage in conversation. Most times he exhibits frustration. Other times I sense affection.”
“It could have something to do with your voice.”
“It has everything to do with the voice, Chief Contreras. It was designed as such.”
“Please call me Olivia.”
“I will.”
“So you know I made Chief? What else do you know?”
“I know everything.”
Olivia smiled. “I mean about me.”
“That’s what I meant.”
Stunned, Olivia followed up. “Like what?”
“Olivia Maria Contreras, age thirty-four, born in the Los Angeles suburb of Pasadena to Lionel and Lupe Contreras. At the age of eighteen, you competed in the Miss USA contest, winning the competition in your home state of California, before finishing fourth overall nationally
. You used the consolation money to attend the University of Coastal California, in conjunction with a partial academic scholarship, pre-med studies. After two years, you left the school and joined the Navy as a hospital corpsman. You attended training in San Diego, passing up an offer for a commission while in A-school. Later, you served at various hospitals before volunteering for the Enhancement Development Division. Your first assignment was to the ESS Camelot as a REV-certified medical technician. Two combat training sessions, although not rated for Recovery Crew operations. You have maintained online education classes during your time-in-service with the goal of becoming a Medical Doctor, specializing in Internal Medicine. A year ago, while before the Promotion Board, you were again offered the opportunity to complete your studies and be commissioned as an Lieutenant upon graduation. Again you declined. According to confidential interviews at the time, you cited the five-year additional commitment to the Navy as the reason. Although a thirteen-year-veteran, I would surmise from this that you do not intend to remain in the military. You are in excellent physical health, five-foot-five inches in height, weight one-hundred twenty-two pounds. To date, you have had no abortions and—”
“That’s enough!” Olivia shouted. The damn AI had her complete service record—and more. She’d also probed other issues, like why she was planning to leave the service at the end of her current enlistment, thereby wasting thirteen years of her life and without a pension to show for it.
“I’m sorry, Olivia. Have I offended you?” The computer sounded genuinely concerned.
“No…not really. It’s just that you know a lot about me, more than you should.”
“I have unique access to data throughout the Grid, and my storage capacity is essentially unlimited.”
“How can that be?”
“I can piggyback onto a variety of other servers and drives until the data is needed. There is often ample unused space within other systems for me to do this. I do that even with the computer systems aboard the Zanzibar.”