H continued, “You’ll have the authority to requisition any off-planet transport necessary to move refugees. And the power to enter into negotiations with LUNa City to take them. We’ll be transferring two companies of combat engineers under your command to assist in setting up additional lunar colonies.”
“But, sir,” Graves said. “The UN is already on the verge of declaring war against us. Why would they help us with LUNa City?”
“I’ll handle that part,” Teller said with a politician’s smile. “ We’re sharing our intel on the New Earth Order with our closest allies. They’ve seen the attacks on our bases around the world and they’re as worried about the Neos as we are. We can use that fear.”
But Graves wasn’t done yet. “You mentioned Mars before. Anthony Taulke is in jail, Mr. President. You put him there. Why would his company help us?”
The president grinned again, wider this time, and nodded to H.
“Taulke has been on Mars for the past month,” she said. “Working on a way to reverse the weather problem. We have intelligence suggesting the Neos are the ones controlling the weather. I think you’ll find Anthony Taulke receptive to helping with our refugee issue—as long as you are willing to share some intel about the Neos. We both want the same thing.”
Graves took a deep, slow breath.
“Are you with me, General?” Teller asked, standing up and extending his hand.
Graves snapped the box shut and shook the president’s hand firmly.
“Absolutely, sir. You can depend on me.”
“I’m counting on it, General.”
Graves followed H out of the Oval. For the first time in a very long time, Graves felt a sense of growing confidence. He had the resources. He had the authority. He had the mission to save the maximum number of human lives.
More than that, he had unlimited ability to launch anything he wanted in the continental United States. Without even knowing the true nature of the Havens, Teller just made his job a whole lot easier.
Chapter 10
Remy Cade • Walter Reed Military Medical Center, Washington, DC
Remy felt the sledgehammer blow of the bullet against his Dragonskin armor, smashing him back against the wall. He gasped, his mouth gaping like a fish in the sunshine. His strength leaked away, his joints turned to water, and he slid to floor.
Need … air . He told himself to stay calm, but the air was not coming back. His reptilian brain screamed in panic. Breathe now! Breathe now!
A seal broke inside him, and his gasping yielded a creaking trickle of air, then like a bellows expanding, he sucked in a complete lungful of atmosphere. Remy’s reptilian brain reversed polarity, shrieking with joy.
But there was a new noise, a sucking gurgle that matched the tempo of his labored breath. It took great effort to swivel his head to the right and down. A neat hole in his armor, ringed with red. When Remy exhaled, the hole turned into a tiny bubbling spring of rich crimson. His brain took painful seconds to connect the dots .
Armor-piercing bullets… I’ve been shot in the chest with an armor-piercing bullet. Another burble of bright red. It filled the grooves in the armor and tracked away from the wound, drawn by gravity.
I’m going to die.
As if summoned, Rico’s face floated into view. “You’re not gonna die, buddy.” He released Remy’s armored vest, drew a tube from his pocket, and tore the wrapping away with his teeth. Rico positioned the tube over the hole in Remy’s chest and squeezed with both hands.
A finger of ice shot through Remy’s torso, even more painful than the initial wound. He tried to scream but his breath was gone again.
Rico rolled him halfway over to make sure the injected first-aid gel had gone all the way through his chest. That would stabilize and sterilize wound, stop the internal bleeding. His breath was hot and fetid, like a panting animal hovering over him. Remy started to close his eyes, but Rico slapped his cheek.
Elise. Her face came to him unbidden, mixing with the images around him. Starlight flared over her shoulder.
“I just need you to do this one last thing for me,” Elise said.
But it was Rico’s voice.
Remy blinked. Elise was gone.
“Elise,” he whispered.
“I just need you to do this one last thing.” Rico’s voice, strained. His pupils had expanded to consume all the color in his eyes. “Are you with me?” he said.
Remy dipped his chin. It was too hard to speak.
“Good. We need to finish this. Make it look good. Can you do that? ”
Rico took his hand, wrapping Remy’s fingers around the butt of his Glock. He slid the weapon between them until the muzzle rested under Rico’s chin.
Rico’s face, his breath, his all-black eyes consumed the space in front of Remy.
“I want you to pull the trigger, Remy.” Rico’s cheek twitched, and he forced the words through clenched teeth. “Pull. The. Trigger.”
Remy tried to shake his head, but the other man forced Remy’s index finger through the trigger guard.
“Pull. The—”
The resulting explosion turned Remy’s world bright red.
• • •
He woke up with a whimper, his breath catching in his throat as if he was still back in the bunker, fighting for his breath, fighting for his very life.
His fingers found the neatly sewn hole in his chest, the wound now puckered and pink, the stitches long removed. The military doctors had done a good job. He swung his feet to the cold floor and walked to the window.
Late afternoon sunlight cast long shadows on the architectural hodgepodge that was Walter Reed Medical Center. The complex was a dog’s breakfast of the latest in prefabricated structures mashed into ancient brick and limestone facades, a testament to the rise and fall of military budgets.
He was in one of the newer wings, a high-security compound for dangerous criminals, important people, and whatever they considered Remy. He swiped the smartglass dark to protect against the afternoon heat .
In the bathroom, he splashed water on his face. The mirror showed how little he’d slept. The nightmare was there every time he closed his eyes, but it always left him with the same question: had he pulled the trigger? He dried his face with a towel and avoided his own gaze in the mirror.
A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts.
“Come in,” he called out. It was time again for the intel weenies to check his story. They came every day, always with the same list of questions about his time with the New Earth Order. And every day, Remy answered them the same way: I want to speak with Colonel William Graves.
He sighed. So far, nothing had changed.
The young woman who lounged in the armchair in his hospital room did not strike Remy as military intelligence. She was slim, with dark hair and a surly smile, and wore men’s trousers. When she turned her head, Remy noticed sharp ear tips poking through her short hair.
“Are those elf ears?” he asked.
The woman flipped her hair out of the way and angled her head so he could inspect them more closely. “You like? Got them done a few years ago after I saw the remake of Lord of the Rings .”
Remy sat down on the edge of his bed. “I’m a big fan.” It had been weeks since he’d had an actual conversation with another human being who wasn’t a doctor or an intel professional. And LOTR was his all-time favorite. A wave of nostalgia threatened to overwhelm him. He’d seen the holo-show with Elise, one of their first dates after she’d gotten her new legs.
Maybe that was their plan. Throw him off his game by bringing in some sassy chick instead of Dumb and Dumber from the intel shop.
He stood back up and strode to the window. Half the building facing him was in shadow now. “If you’re here to question me, I’ve got nothing to say. Not until I see Colonel Graves.”
“Well, that’s gonna be a problem, soldier boy.”
Remy turned, surprised that she was disagreeing with him. The textbook move was to
say yes, build rapport. “Why’s that?”
“Because Colonel Graves is now General Graves and he doesn’t waste his time with traitors.” The woman got to her feet. “Me, on the other hand, I’m used to the underbelly of humanity. In fact, you could say I prefer it.” She put her hands on her hips. “Well, are you ready to go?”
Another surprise. “You’re just going to take me out of here? Just you?”
The woman winked at him. “Jailbreaks are my specialty.”
• • •
After a half hour in the aircar, the woman finally told him her name was “H, just capital H.”
“How’d you get me out?” Remy asked her. With the sun almost down, the horizon had taken on a blood-red hue.
“Not my doing,” H answered. “This one is all Graves. You’re his problem now.”
A long silence passed, scored by the white-noise hum of the aircar’s engines. “Where are we going?” Remy asked.
H shook her head. “You answer my questions, I’ll consider answering yours.” She drove manually, which Remy found unusual, and judging by the color scheme and personal touches to the cab, the car seemed to be her personal vehicle.
“Why do you want to see Graves?” H asked.
Remy squinted at the horizon. “He’s the only one I trust. If I’m coming in from the cold, it’s gonna be to him.”
“You’ve kinda put the cart before the horse, haven’t you?” H said. “You came in from the cold not knowing if he’d want to see you or not.”
Remy snorted. “And yet you’re taking me to him.”
H flashed him her perfect teeth. “Touché.”
“My turn,” Remy said. “Where are we going?”
H made a tiny course correction. “Know what a Haven is?”
Remy’s heart skipped a beat. He kept his eyes focused on the night sky. “The survival domes? I’ve heard of them.” He maintained a nonchalance to his tone. Elise wanted him to find out about Haven and here he was being taken right to one of them. This was beyond good luck.
“They’ve been activated and Graves is in charge.” He could feel H watching him in the dimness. “Lots of people who matter think the Neos are behind the weather wars. Your little stunt attacking our air bases was an attempt to make the president do something stupid and strike the host nations—that’s the prevailing theory. And then you show up. Convenient, huh?”
“Stop classifying me with those nuts,” Remy answered, plugging into his old disdain for the New Earther movement. “I was the one who took a bullet in the chest, remember?”
“Yeah,” she said. Her voice was flat, unreadable.
The lights of Haven 6 appeared in the distance. The last of the dying sun glinted off the arc of the dome, making the object look like a bubble pushing out the landscape. He tried not to gape. “Jesus, it’s big.”
“That’s what all the boys say.”
As H busied herself with clearance permissions, he watched as the dome grew larger in the windshield. In the dusk below, there was a blank circle around the perimeter, then thousands of lights scattered in random groups. He squinted as the ship dropped lower. The lights were from people and vehicles.
“Refugees,” H said. “Everybody wants into the dome. Very few get cleared.”
“Cleared?”
A pair of military drones flanked her vehicle and H lifted her hands from the wheel, allowing the flight control computer to take over. Remy could tell by the sour look on her face she much preferred controlling her own destiny.
“There’s room for a few thousand in each dome and each person is selected on a needs basis. Genetic history, ethnic makeup, skill sets, fertility—there’s hundreds of categories. If we’re preserving the best of mankind, we need to be selective.”
“Do you really think it’ll come to that?” Remy said. “You think this bio-seeding will wipe out humanity?”
“You’ve spent time with the Neos. You tell me, Remy.”
The aircar passed through the upper airlock and was guided to a preassigned landing spot. Inside the dome, it was bright as day and the port was bustling with activity. The drones peeled off.
A young black woman with a shaved head and dressed in an army uniform with captain’s bars waited for them. H popped the aircar doors open and stepped out. “He’s all yours, Jansen. Tell the general I hope he knows what he’s doing.”
The young officer glared at Remy with intense brown eyes. “Follow me, Mr. Cade.” She spun on her heel and strode away. Remy trailed after her to a passenger door manned by an armed MP. She stepped aside to let Remy enter first.
Inside, the room was bare save a sturdy worktable crowded with electronics, a chair with restraints, and another young woman with long, dark hair. She started when the door opened and fussed with the equipment as Remy entered.
The captain closed the door behind her and Remy heard the bolt lock.
“Strip,” the captain said.
“Excuse me?” Remy said.
“Stri-i-i-ip,” she said again, drawing out the word in a mocking tone.
Slowly, Remy stepped out of his boots, unbuckled his belt, and dropped his pants. Then he tugged the shirt over his head. He heard the nervous young woman draw a sharp breath when he uncovered the fresh exit wound scar on his back.
“Boxers, too,” the captain said.
Remy shrugged and stepped out of his underwear.
“Take a seat,” she said when he was completely naked.
Remy surveyed the chair, ignoring the furtive looks from the red-faced technician. “How do I know it’s sanitary?” he asked, more to stall for time than out of any real concern. He eyed the machine on the table. What was that thing? A torture device, a mind probe? He licked his lips.
“Oh, it’s clean, don’t worry,” the captain said with an edge of malice in her voice. “You’re our very first patient. ”
Remy hesitated, and the captain said, “I can always arrange to do this the hard way, you know.”
He nodded. If they had been planning on using some sort of brain-scrambling device, why bring him all the way out here to do it? When he sat down, the cold steel of the chair chilled his naked buttocks.
The captain strapped his arms and legs in place. The tech busied herself attaching two leads to his temples, then held a plastic mouthpiece in front of his lips. “Bite down on this.”
Remy felt his pulse spike. “Why? What are you going to do?”
She looked at the captain, who shook her head slightly. “Please, bite down on this,” she said again in an apologetic tone.
Remy opened his mouth and accepted the mouth guard. His mouth was so dry his tongue rasped against the plastic, making him gag. The woman’s fingers ran across the back of his neck, applying some sort of gel, then a hard metal clamp touched his skin. He jumped when the clamp tightened suddenly.
“You’re going to feel some slight discomfort, sir,” the tech said in a timid voice.
A high-pitched whine started, then leveled out. The sound drilled into his brain in waves of color, brilliant tones that washed into his vision and made him gag. Reds, neon yellows, flaming orange. He tried to scream, but the plastic in his mouth reduced the sound to a strangled yelp.
The sensory overload ended abruptly, the clamp on his neck fell away, and he heard the tech say to the captain: “He’s clean, Hannah. No implant.”
“You’re sure?” the captain said.
The young woman appeared out of the corner of his vision, nodding, and extended an open palm under his chin. Remy spit out the mouth guard.
The captain, her arms folded, studied Remy’s face. Finally, she leaned down and whispered in his ear. “Listen to me, Cade. I don’t know what your game is. If you screw over Graves, I will make it my life’s work to end you.” She unbuckled his restraints and let him stand up. “We’re done here. You can get dressed.”
As Remy pulled on his clothes, he said to the officer, “Why did I have to strip? You only looked at the back of my neck.”
/> The captain opened the door. “I just wanted to see what kind of man I was dealing with.” She offered a thin, mocking smile. “Now I know.”
As he followed the captain across the flight deck to an elevator, Remy tried again. “So your name’s Hannah? I’m Remy.”
She ignored his outstretched hand. “You can call me Captain Jansen. I work for the general. And I don’t trust you as far as I can throw you.”
“Anytime you want to try that,” Remy said, buckling his belt, “you just let me know.”
They walked down a Spartan hallway to an elevator. Once inside, Jansen pushed the button labeled 10 . Remy noted the floors went from G to 36. He tried to do the mental math about the overall height of the structure and gave up.
Jansen was on the move again as soon as the elevator opened. She strode down the wide passageway, nodding to people they passed. Remy noted an even mix of civilian and military. She paused at a set of double doors and tapped a keypad.
“Come.” The doors slid open .
Graves sat behind a desk with a glass top that served as a massive touchscreen. He swiped the contents away, and Graves stood, his eyes going first to Jansen. Whatever signal passed between them, Remy couldn’t read its meaning.
He was thinner than Remy remembered, and grayer, his silver hair matching the stars on his collar. There was an uncomfortable moment as the iron gaze of his former company commander raked over the soldier-turned-traitor in front of him.
“Congratulations on the promotion, General.”
Graves acknowledged Remy by pursing his lips. “Leave us alone, would you, Captain?”
Jansen hesitated. “Sir, I would prefer to remain—”
“I’d prefer you didn’t,” Graves said. His words sounded harsh, but Remy saw his expression was anything but. Graves and Jansen were close. Another fact to squirrel away.
“Very well, sir,” Jansen said. “I’ll be just outside.”
The doors closed behind her, and Graves motioned to a chair. “Sit, Corporal.”
Remy took the chair, and Graves resumed his own seat. The distance of the smartglass desktop stretched between them.
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