by Nick Webb
“Say no more.”
Zivic cut the transmission, and on his scope Granger watched the fighter shoot back out of the exit in the roof and race away back toward the government building.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Sol Sector
Earth, New York City
United Earth Executive Offices Tower
“Can you still hear them?
Liu held a finger to her lips. “Shh!” She pressed her ear back up against the wall. The room was nothing more than a storage closet, but it had the benefit of sharing a wall with the temporary office of Director Talus. He mostly stayed aboard his Findiri flagship, but today he was a constant presence at the UE executive office tower.
“It’s not good. They’re about to run out of prisoners from the East Coast Correctional Institute. Cooper is suggesting using prisoners from some place in Eastern Europe, but Talus is pressing ahead with his idea of using friends and family of renegade IDF officers.”
Danny shook his head in disbelief. It was all so surreal—an enemy army occupying Earth, and rounding up innocents to murder publicly in broad daylight. It was like something out of the horror stories of the wars of the early millennium. Vietnam. China. Soviet Union. Iraq. Alpha Centauri. That it could happen here? In the modern day? Earth had suffered millions of deaths in Swarm War Two, but this—seeing the deaths one by bloody one on a live broadcast—was something else entirely.
It was barbaric.
He pressed his own ear up to the wall and tried to listen again. Liu’s hearing was simply better than his. Jack, can you help me out here?
OF COURSE I CAN.
Well? Why haven’t you?
YOU NEVER ASKED.
I’m asking now, dammit.
FINE. NO NEED TO SWEAR AT ME, JUST TRYING TO GIVE YOU A SENSE OF PRIVACY WITH YOUR THOUGHTS.
A sense? That’s an odd choice of words. Am I ever alone in my thoughts with you around?
NO.
Yeah, that’s what I thought. Now help me out, please.
He leaned into the wall again, and this time his hearing was augmented by his Valarisi companion Jack. Not so much the hearing ability itself, but rather Liu would listen through the wall, Diane would instantly hear it too, and pass that along to Jack, who passed it along to Danny, essentially filling in words that he couldn’t make out.
“—told you before, that’s going to cause a popular uprising, Director Talus,” said President Cooper. “Killing prisoners? Fine. People don’t like it, but no one’s doing anything about it. Killing random innocent civilians? Kids? Good god, you’ll have a planet-wide rebellion overnight.”
“What of it? Let them rebel,” replied Talus, with a hint of derision in his voice. “That will help us sort out the loyal from the disloyal.”
“Eminent Director,” began another voice. This one Danny recognized as Varus, whom he’d seen at the private shuttle pad, the Findiri that acted somewhat like Talus’s right-hand-man. Or, right-hand-Findiri. “With respect. This is a waste of time. Our genetic blueprints in the Corporeal Chambers are still stable for now, and will be for many more months at least, so—
“Ha! Your soldiers die by the dozens every day! Their genetic codes are so corrupted that they keel over and die without warning. In a few years, every soldier that pops out of the Corporeal Chambers will be dead upon arrival.”
Varus continued where he was interrupted. “—Granger can wait. On the other hand, an actual Swarm ship is out there, right now. We should be hunting it. That is our purpose and destiny.”
“A purpose Granger gave to us! You forget all too easily!”
“And?” continued Varus. “Whether he gave it to us or not changes nothing. Every Findiri feels it in his bones. And even if we didn’t, consider this: the Swarm is just as much an imminent threat to us as it is to any human planet. As it is to Earth. Earth is ours now, and so a Swarm threat to it is a threat to us.”
“And with Granger captured, and the Corporeal Chambers restored to their original function with his DNA, then the Findiri will be restored as well, and will be far more effective in hunting and destroying the Swarm ship. My decision stands, adjutant.” A pause. “Know your place,” he added, more slowly.
“You are not even Findiri.”
Another pause. When Talus responded, his tone was dangerous. “What did you say?”
“You’re Quiassi. You are not even Findiri. The fate of the Findiri should be up to the Findiri, and not to a rogue Quiassi.”
“It is what I was created for. What all Quiassi were created for. To lead the Findiri, to temper your more base instincts, and to provide you with what you lack. Vision. Leadership. Intelligence.”
“So now who is concerned about what Granger created them for?” Varus’s voice had a hint of mockery in it.
“Silence, you fool, or you will be replaced. There is no shortage of adjutants who can serve in your capacity.”
Another tense pause.
“Gentlemen,” began Cooper. “Perhaps a compromise? Send out half the Findiri fleet, aided by as many IDF ships as you require, and hunt down the Swarm ship. The other half of the fleet is more than up to the task of tracking down Granger. Eventually, seeing so much death on his account, he will cave.”
“A wise compromise, Madam President,” said Varus.
“No. You’re both fools. You, human, for thinking you can dictate anything to the Hegemon of the Findiri Empire, and you, Varus, for siding with her. A human. And a woman at that.”
“You don’t have women among you?” said Cooper, innocently, probably straining in an attempt to not show even a hint of offense or anger.
Both Varus and Talus actually laughed. “There are no women Findiri,” said Talus. “There are barely even male Findiri! Tell me, human, have you ever seen a Findiri’s manhood?”
“Can’t say that I have,” said Cooper, “or that I ever will.”
“Trust me, you won’t,” said Talus.
“That is factually incorrect,” said Varus.
“But they’re rather useless, wouldn’t you say? You wouldn’t need the Corporeal Chambers otherwise.”
“As we were designed,” said Varus, “and which has no bearing on our abilities as warriors.”
“Go ahead and think that, adjutant. Now, both of you, go do your jobs. Adjutant, that line of sacrifices outside will continue moving, one prisoner per minute, and by tomorrow morning it changes to two at a time instead of one. See to it. And you, human, assist the adjutant in tracking down the friends and family of renegade IDF officers to populate that line. Leave, both of you.”
He heard some shuffling, indicating that the meeting was over, and Danny glanced at Liu. “Cooper’s in charge of tracking down innocent civilians to go kill? Question is, how gleefully is she going to do it?”
Liu shook her head. “We’re not going to give her time to be gleeful. We need to confront her.”
“You know,” Danny continued, shaking his head, “she’s taken to shoveling Talus’s shit so much that I think I’m going to start calling her Scooper.”
“Danny,” she said, indicating the closet door with a tilt of her head. “You only start making stupid jokes when you’re nervous.” She rested a hand on the doorknob, but stopped when her handheld chimed with an incoming message. “That’s Conner.”
“Who?”
“My friend at IDF Intel. Conner Davenport.” She reached down into her pocket and fished the handheld out.
“Why does that name sound familiar?”
“Because anyone who’s ever had a high school history class has heard the name. Was Vice President Isaacson’s body man during Swarm War Two, and he became President Avery’s after the war. Kept him close for thirty years. Still worked for her right up until she died at Britannia.”
“If she died.”
“Anyway, IDF Intel recruited him in the waning years of the last Avery administration. He was one of my mentors in the field.” She read through the message. “Well. How about that.�
��
“Yeah?”
“Curiel’s DNA lab work came back. It’s Curiel. The DNA matches exactly. Well, almost exactly.”
“Almost?”
“Under normal circumstances it’d be a match, like ninety-nine percent equivalence, but I asked him to go deeper. And sure enough, there are some . . . weird things going on. Some discrepancies.”
“Such as?”
Liu shrugged. “His words, not mine. They’re not big enough to indicate it’s a different person, but it’s like some of Curiel’s DNA is just . . . off by a bit. But here’s another kicker. Cooper’s DNA was mixed up in there too, since the sample came off of her fingernail. Conner took the liberty of running hers as well.”
“Don’t tell me. Same discrepancy?”
She nodded. “It looks like Rice’s theory is looking more and more likely. And that it’s not just Cooper, but Curiel. Over half of humanity is now governed by one of three Quiassi. Talus, President Cooper, and Speaker Curiel.”
“Maybe we should be checking the RC, CIDR, and Caliphate leaders too,” he mused.
“Good luck with that. I don’t think you can just strut into their offices and ask for a DNA sample. But you’re right, at this point it wouldn’t surprise me if at least one of them were Quiassi as well.”
Danny flashed a lopsided smile. “Let me guess. By the end of this thing it’ll turn out that we’re all Quiassi.”
She rolled her eyes and cracked the door open, pausing to listen for anyone in the hallway. “There you go again. You make stupid jokes when you’re nervous.”
“Aren’t you?”
She listened for movement in the hallway a few more moments. “I am. A lot of innocent people are going to die—it seems like no matter what we do.”
“Well then, let’s go save the ones we can.”
They slipped out into the hallway, took a short ride up the lift, and came out into the main atrium that served as the gateway into the offices of all the executive branch members. Cooper was there, chatting with Varus in low tones. When she saw them she said a few last words before Varus glanced in their direction, nodded once, and left.
“Mr. Cooper. Liu. A word?” She beckoned them forward into a hallway leading off from the atrium, and then into the executive office itself. “We have a problem.” She repeated back to them Talus’s latest assignment.
“And . . . you’re reluctant to do it?” said Danny.
She looked at him sharply. “I beg your pardon?”
“Honestly, ma’am? You look pretty chummy with Talus’s right-hand-man. And after a day of effort you seem no closer to stopping that line. Instead you’re off getting tours of secret research facilities. What the hell is in that briefcase anyway?”
“Careful, Mr. Proctor. Your aunt may be a celebrity, but you’ll find that you’re easily replaceable if you don’t cool your attitude,” she said, ice in her voice.
“And if you don’t show us what’s in the briefcase, we’re going to tell Admiral Proctor what’s going on,” said Liu.
“And what is going on, Ms. Liu?” Cooper folded her arms.
“Did some asking around. That weapons research facility? We know that they were involved in Swarm matter research. Which is banned. I can’t see Proctor or Granger approving of its use in any circumstance.”
Cooper laughed. “God save us from idealistic and earnest kids trying to fight a war by the rules. You have no idea the lengths either of them would go to save humanity.” She closed the office door and then retreated to her desk, opening a drawer and reaching inside. “But in this case, you’re absolutely wrong.” She pulled out the briefcase she’d brought back from the research station, laid it on the desk, and opened it. “Go on. Take a look.”
They both stepped forward and looked inside—nothing more than a data pad, and a small high-tech-looking gadget. “What— what is it?” said Danny.
Cooper waved them forward. “Look for yourself. On the pad.”
Danny waved it on and accessed the only data file. It was marked Momentum Transfer. He opened it and saw the names on the subfiles. White paper, IDF Research Proposal ISR-11099, Theory, Experimental Results, Prototype Engineering, and so forth. “Shovik-Orion was researching the Findiri’s momentum transfer shield?”
“They were researching momentum transfer in general. Have been for years. But after the Findiri attack, well, the scientists at the Institute sprung into high gear. Getting to see the technology in action and seeing some of the sensor data on it from our ships helped them make some pretty significant breakthroughs in just a few days. This is the result. A small desktop prototype. Not the final solution, but it’s something.” She closed the briefcase and set it back into the open drawer. “I thought it might be beneficial to get this information to Proctor and any IDF scientists and engineers that are still on our side. Unless you think that might run afoul of the rules of war? Any ethical quandaries I’m not thinking through here?” She couldn’t hide the mocking tone of her voice.
Are we sure she’s not on our side? thought Liu to Danny.
I mean, are there good Quiassi?
Given that we still know next to nothing about them . . . sure?
“I take from your sudden shyness that I’ve made my point,” said Cooper. “Now. Let’s get to work. I’ve got to go find a few hundred friends and family of traitorous officers. Shouldn’t take my staff a few hours.”
“You’re still going through with it?” said Danny.
“Do I have any other options, Mr. Proctor?”
He had no response.
“But in those few hours, you’ll be doing something for me. Arrange for transport of these people. I’ll have them gathered at the spaceport in Baltimore. From there it’s just a short ride up to New York. I need you to find a transport, with a captain we can trust, and when the time comes for them to head on up to New York to be slaughtered, they’re going to blast off and, as soon as they clear the atmosphere, q-jump the hell out of here. Got it?”
Danny was still speechless.
“Mr. Proctor?”
“You’re not really Cooper, are you.” He said it as a statement.
Cooper said nothing, only showing the barest smile.
“Who are you?”
“Mr. Proctor. Do you want to win this war, or not?”
“I do.”
“Then does it really matter who I am?”
“I suppose not.”
The small smile spread to a devious one. “Then find me a fucking pilot. You have two hours.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Veracruz Sector
Chantana III
Interior
Commander Ethan Zivic watched the ISS Volz soar through the air of the interior space under the planet’s crust, knowing he had to balance three things.
First, his own life—dozens of Findiri fighters were swarming the space in between him and his target.
Second, the mission—Granger had ordered him to safeguard the Volz as it tried to extract the Itharan leader from the dangerous situation below.
Third—I’m going to avenge you, my sweetheart. He watched the ship with a mixture of emotions. He needed to protect it, and he needed to kill someone aboard.
It was just a matter of finding out who.
He had a fairly decent idea of who it was. The only member of the Volz’s crew that had it in for her. Who else could it be?
“Commander Zivic, we’re going to need some assistance as our shuttle departs,” said Shin-Wentworth. His voice grated. Somehow, he just knew. It was the voice of a killer.
“Copy that,” he said, in as neutral a tone as possible. “Make a beeline for that landing pad, and I’ll mop up behind you.”
“Understood.”
The shuttle shot out of the Volz’s bay like nothing he’d ever seen—he certainly hoped the pilot knew what he was doing. He pushed his fighter in after it, swinging around it to pick off a pair of Findiri fighters that had come too close.
“Okay
, path’s clear!” he yelled. Land, get the job done, and let’s get the hell out of here!”
Out of the corner of his eye he watched the shuttle power down toward the landing pad and screech to a near-stop just above the surface, but his main focus was on the squadron of fighters that was bearing down on him. “This oughta be fun,” he murmured.
Before they could overtake him, he reversed thrust, flipped the nose around, and powered the bird straight at the oncoming fighters. Maybe they’ll think I’m crazy and just back off? It had certainly worked before.
The squadron opened fire, and he answered it with his own, dodging and weaving randomly in the hopes of avoiding most of the fire.
He was mostly successful. Except for the half dozen or so rounds that punctured the cockpit in several places, and blew a wing clean off. “Didn’t need that thing anyway,” he mumbled, and flipped on the extra z-thrust he’d need to stay aloft in the artificial gravity.
His adrenaline surged. His vision narrowed to just the bird ahead of him, which exploded in a puff of fire while he moved on to the next one, and the next.
This was his element. This was where he thrived. What the hell had he been thinking trying to captain a ship? Proctor had lost her mind putting him in charge. He was a fighter jock, and only a fighter jock.
No fewer than five Findiri fighters zeroed in on him, all from different directions, and each of those was backed up by two more. He had a split second to decide which way to go.
The split second passed in an instant, and, having made his decision, he gunned the engine to well past five g’s. He struggled to keep his arms in front of him for the second or two that he maintained the thrust, and when he released it, he saw the dozens of rounds just miss his bird. He flipped around and picked off four of the pursuers.
But they were replaced by a dozen more.
“Shit,” he said. “That Trit better be worth it.”
Several of the newcomer fighters exploded in massive fireballs. Half his brain took note of how large the fireballs were now that they were in an atmosphere, and the other half wondered why in the world they’d exploded in the first place.