“Sarah King,” I finished.
“Take a look at this.” Smithson keyed in commands on his desk and a holographic image appeared above him. Numerous shapes materialized, some larger than others. I recognized them, especially the three battle cruisers in the middle. The Destiny, Triumph, and Echelon—the three most powerful and influential starships in the Earth Star Alliance fleet. Surrounding the flagships were hundreds of smaller cruisers and attack fighters. Smithson pressed another key and a variety of red and white dots glowed within the ships. The Echelon was nearly all red, while Destiny was half-red and white, and Triumph was mostly white. Over half of the smaller ships glowed red.
“What you’re seeing here is the progress Infinity has been making within the ESA.”
Stars above. The image looked like a virus, spreading out over a large area.
“How? How do you know all this?” My voice broke and I swallowed hard.
“I still have a few friends in the fleet, not enough to prove King’s a traitor, but they still provide me with information, star charts, mission logs, things like that. It’s taken me over a year to collect and piece all this together.”
“What the hell does this Infinity group want? Why are they doing this?”
“You know the answer to that already,” Smithson said. I looked at him, confused. I didn’t know what King’s endgame was. She wanted the Echelon, she wanted Al, and a year ago she tried to take the empyreus energy for her own gain, but beyond that, I didn’t have a clue.
My lack of an answer alerted Smithson to my confusion and he pressed another key. A small holographic box appeared in front of all the ships and a wavelength bar rose and fell with a familiar voice recording.
My voice.
Erebos himself used fear to persuade me to take on this mission, threatening my life and my ship in the process. Sarah King was the cause of countless disturbing and horrible nightmares and images that plagued my mind for the last five years. Never did it occur to me that these two powerful people were controlled by fear themselves, fear of the unknown. It all came down to being the dominant race in the galaxy. When you hold all the power, what else is there to fear but losing it? Then something Cessa had recently said about an empire popped into my head, and everything made sense.
“That’s what this is all about . . . going back five years to the mutiny . . . the Echelon, the artificial intelligence . . . you are building your own fleet, using one of the flagships of the ESA to jumpstart your ascension and ordering additional sleeper agents to infiltrate other starships.”
“My log . . . you heard my log?”
I recorded the log of Dawn while Al and I returned back to human space, shortly after I left the planet. I promised myself and the Dawnians that one day I would share my log with the right kind of people who would be equals and allies. I never knew that my log had already been transmitted off my ship.
“I have access to every log you record, Daniel,” he said. “When I installed Al onto your ship, you didn’t think I would just let you fly off without any kind of insurance, did you? I needed to know you were safe and kept the artificial intelligence secure.”
I couldn’t decide which emotion was going to dominate me. Maybe all of them? I felt naked, as if held under a microscope, and confused about Infinity and the log transmissions. Building its way to the top, though, was anger. In the last five years, Smithson always knew where I was and what I was doing.
“Like you said,” he continued, as if his reveal was no big issue. “King wants power. She wants control, especially over any alien races. Fear drives people like her and Raymond Erebos to act. Her search for Dawn was relentless. After you sent her back to human space with her star charts scrambled, she went on a rampage, attacking any alien planet she encountered. All attempts at ESA interference were voided, though. She made convincing arguments that the aliens attacked first and were therefore treated as hostile.”
“So what do Terra and Gaia have to do with this? What does their war do to benefit her cause?” My voice sounded distant and hollow. I kept asking questions because I wanted answers, but deep down, the fire inside me burned hotter. The man who sat in front of me was my idol, someone I aspired to be when I ascended through the ranks of the Earth Star Alliance. But my friends, Ashley and Benjamin, died while Jason Hobbes became a mutated cyborg, and all of them were a sacrifice to save this man. But instead of the great captain I wanted to be like, all I saw was a man who let his family die rather than protect them, a man who would spy on the officer who saved him.
“Because of you, King didn’t get her empyreus. She didn’t get her planet to build her fleet and empire. So she looked for ways to expand in the known galaxies.”
“General Ambrose . . . he is one of her cyborgs.”
“Did you know General Ambrose was one of the founders of the peace council? Paul Ambrose, Damon Derringer, the council, and myself all aspired for peace.”
“You?”
“Yes. Together we started to plan for the new era of Terra and Gaia. The council would become the leaders of the planets. While Ambrose would remain in charge of ground security and military, I was to become an admiral for the new joint fleet. Then a year ago, Ambrose went missing.”
I thought again about the moment the cyborgs emerged from the empyreus lake, bonded flawlessly with machinery and bionic implants. Jason tried to kill me. He would have succeeded if I didn’t use my rifle to overload its EMP field. The blast knocked out all the cyborgs temporarily and, for a moment, brought the real Jason back to me.
“So King ordered Ambrose to come back to add fuel to the fire,” I said. Smithson nodded, a small grin playing at the corners of his mouth.
“In fact, she sent all her cyborgs on various missions. So far, they’ve been too elusive for me to keep tabs on, but I’ve monitored Ambrose since he returned from Dawn. Daniel . . . King wants Terra and Gaia to destroy each other and remove all obstacles so she can come in and clean up.”
An entire solar system, two human planets ripe for control; one with a plethora of organic plants and animal life, and another filled with technological marvels. To control this area of space, Sarah King could begin to build her power.
I rubbed my face with my hands and massaged my temples. By defeating her on Dawn, I thought she would return to human space and regroup, maybe even lose control of her command. Instead, she had contingency plans. They wouldn’t be as easy or as powerful as harnessing unlimited energy, but they would cement her rule in the galaxy.
“That’s how Damon Derringer found me,” I said. “You knew where I was the whole time. So when I traveled to Karth, you sent him to track me down. You sent him to his death.”
“He was willing to take the risk. He knew how important the mission was to get you here.”
“And now that I’m here, what exactly is your plan?”
Smithson’s shoulders dropped and his eyebrows lifted in a sympathetic expression. “Daniel. You aren’t the one I wanted. Damon’s job was to get you here, but you were merely the means to acquiring what I really needed—the artificial intelligence program.”
Nineteen
“What do you want with Al?” I asked. My heart pounded against my chest like it wanted to break free. After all I’d witnessed and experienced in space and on Terra, I couldn’t believe that my visit to Terra and Gaia was solely for the purpose of reuniting Al and Smithson.
“I’m worried about you, Daniel. I admit that I was hesitant to let you fly off in that hunk of junk you call a ship with the A.I., but I felt it necessary that we split up to protect ourselves. Now I regret that decision. You’ve lived through so much, had so many terrible experiences. Your mind is damaged. Listen to how you talk about it, as if it’s a person.”
“My . . . mind? What the flux are you talking about? Have you even talked to Al since you repaired him? He’s been my companion for the last five years. He was there in times of need. He’s more than just a program.”
“It’s an ev
olving computer, yes, but his primary goal was never to be “buddies,” or your artificial guidance counselor.”
“At least he’s been there for me,” I said, the anger rising into my voice. “Do you know how many Starcade jobs I lost because I couldn’t kill someone? Do you know I almost got captured twice by the Echelon since our escape? Do you know anything about the friends I’ve lost? At least Al’s guided me, helped me realize all the good I’ve done. He’s kept me from opening a hatch and getting sucked into space. What the hell have you done? Sit here peacefully and listen to my fluxing logs?”
Smithson raised his hands in surrender. “Okay. I understand you’re still tired and hurting from the last couple of days. Why don’t you take a walk and try to calm down? When you’re ready, we’ll continue.”
I stormed out of the house and returned to my ship. My head swam with images of shooting the rogue Sentinel at Damon’s house, watching council members die in front of me as they carried me to safety. All of it meant nothing, according to Smithson. All he needed was Al. I was the chauffeur and now what would happen if I reunited them? Did Smithson still have administrative access to Al’s mainframe? And what was his plan? As much as I wanted to ask, I didn’t want my anger clouding the issues at hand.
Sarah King was behind the council murders, that much had been confirmed by Smithson. Once the planets took each other out, the figurative road would be paved for her to take over. What did Autumn tell me? Any day now, the war would begin. Did we still have time to stop it?
I found myself walking past the crew quarters and stepping onto the bridge. Tress was there, still familiarizing himself with the controls of each station. He moved from one to the other, writing notes on a small pad.
“Could I have a moment alone, please?” I asked him. He nodded and left the bridge.
“Al?”
“I’m here, Captain.”
“It’s really good to hear your voice, old friend.”
“Sir, I would not constitute my program as old in any feasible manner.”
I laughed out loud. Yes, Al was a computer, and for the most part, he talked like one, too. But his voice, the evolved form of intonations and improvisations, made me believe he was more than just a program. When Smithson first installed him, Al spoke in a monotone, answered only specific questions, and never carried on a conversation. Five years later, he uses sarcasm and attempts to tell jokes.
“Damon Derringer’s mission was to find you, Al, not me. I was just the middle man.”
“Yes, a wise course of action, sir.”
“Wise?”
“Gregory Smithson believes that I can be of use to him.”
“In what way?”
“I’m sorry Captain, that information is classified.”
“It’s . . . classified? Al, I’m the captain of this ship, and I order you to tell me!”
“Smithson’s command codes are prioritized over yours, sir.”
“Are you joking? What if I ordered you to close the bay door and take off into orbit?”
“Gregory Smithson has grounded the ship. His orders are to remain on Gaia until further notice.”
I almost pulled my hair out. In less than a day, Smithson swooped into my life and took control of my ship and Al. I felt trapped, something I’ve experienced before and hated. In the past, it meant the risk of danger or death. Here I was safe, but that didn’t make me feel any better.
For the second time that day I stormed away, off my ship and into the dying field of grass. Ever since I accepted this mission, I felt like I was slowly losing control of everything. All these events—Granak, the council, and the war—happened with me just riding their exhaust streams. I sat down on the dead grass and felt just as trapped as ever.
The crunch of footsteps sounded behind me. I looked over my shoulder with narrowed eyes and a hard scowl.
“What do you want?” My irritated voice startled Autumn. Quickly, my anger turned into embarrassment.
“Is that any way to talk to your blood donor?”
“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t know . . .”
“Relax. You’ve been through a lot.”
She sat next to me and wrapped her arms around her knees. For a while, we stared at the decayed landscape. I expected to hear something in our silence—a breeze or birds chirping—but I heard nothing. Soon, two planets would go to war, Terra with its people murdered, and Gaia with its crops and plants reduced to ash.
“She’s beautiful,” Autumn said, breaking me from my depressing thoughts.
“Huh?”
“Your ship . . . the Kestrel Belle? Did I pronounce that correctly?”
I nodded.
“How did you come up with the name, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“The kestrel is a type of falcon back on Earth. When they were designing space cruisers, many models were designed to look like birds. The Belle . . .” I trailed off. Autumn stared at me, her expression somber while she waited for me to speak. “Someone I cared about . . . she enjoyed Earth history, specifically the old west in Old America. One of her favorite historical figures was Belle Starr, who was known as a notorious outlaw of the times. Ashley always liked those stories . . .”
Autumn didn’t pursue the information, much to my relief. Over the last year, I grew more accustomed to the memories, but they still hurt. And I couldn’t help but realize that both interactions I had with Gregory Smithson followed tragedy.
I felt unable to plot my next course. What should I do? What needed to be done?
The council still lives, I thought. As long as they are alive, peace is possible.
I sighed in exasperation and fell back to the ground. The grass crunched under my body and dust rose around me.
“How can we stop this war?” I asked.
“From what I understand, each planet has to make the declaration. There’s no doubt that Ambrose convinced the Terran government to do so. Then they’ll launch their entire arsenal. The battles and skirmishes we’ve seen so far are nothing compared to the full might of both militaries.
“But what about Gaia? What if they don’t declare and launch?”
“Then the Terrans will probably continue to attack and find ways to force Gaia into declaring. I mean, look at this wasted planet . . . how could they not declare war?”
But if there was a chance, any chance at all . . . . I stood too quickly and it felt like everything in my head crashed from side to side. My arms and legs complained in throbbing discomfort. Autumn must have noticed my unsteadiness. She stood and grabbed my arm to keep me balanced. Goosebumps spread over my skin as our eyes met.
“We need to warn them, or help them, or stop them if necessary,” I said. “We can’t do anything about the Terrans, but we need to do something while we’re here.”
“Daniel, stop,” Autumn said, pulling on my arm and holding me back as I tried to walk toward the house. “You’re still injured. You need to rest.”
“Sure, sounds great. I’ll rest while billions of people kill each other.” I pulled harder at my arm and Autumn let go.
Inside, Smithson was making some kind of alterations to the computer console in his office.
“We need to talk to the Gaian government,” I said, “or whoever is in control here. We can’t let them declare war.”
“Daniel,” he said, calm and controlled, “this is a lot bigger than war.”
“Yeah, I know that already. Sarah King is going to bring her military into the system and take control.”
“You don’t get the big picture here, do you, Daniel? Is that why you were never promoted to Tier One Security? Because of your narrow vision?”
His words, dripping with anger and anxiety, were like a smack to my face. He talked more like a bully would to a weaker child than a superior would to his officer. Then again, Smithson wasn’t a captain anymore.
“The war isn’t going to decimate both militaries,” Smithson said. “There will be casualties and losses on both sides. But even if she i
nvaded, there would still be people to resist her.”
“So? It’s not like she can destroy all military forces on both sides.”
Smithson stared at me, one of his eyebrows elevated higher than the other.
“Can she?” I asked.
“The weather device above us is not compatible with Terran technology,” he answered. “And I’m sure you’ve seen the weapons. The blue energy rifles didn’t come from Terra or Gaia.”
I thought back to the attacks in the docking tower’s stairwell and Damon Derringer’s house. Those rifles were unbelievably powerful. One blast melted an entire wall and almost burned off a man’s arm. Considering the gunmen carried a Starcade contract with them, it didn’t surprise me that the weapons were being imported.
“So there is an external weapon supplier,” I said.
“More than just a supplier,” Smithson said. “I believe there is a weapons manufacturing facility somewhere in this solar system, not only supplying Gaia and Terra with advanced weapons, but preparing for their own attack.”
“A facility? Which planet is it on? Have you been able to locate it?”
“I don’t think it’s on either planet. Something like that would give off enormous power signatures, and as far as I can tell, neither planet has a structure like that.”
A weapons facility made perfect sense. But in order to create the appearance that a third party didn’t exist, thereby fueling both planets toward war, the factory would have to be close enough to make supply runs and drop-offs without suspicion. Could there have been a space station somewhere close? If there was, I should have detected it when I entered the system, not to mention both planets would have detected it as well.
I tried to put myself in General Ambrose and Sarah King’s minds. I wanted these planets to destroy each other, and to do so, I was going to use weapons and technology against them in an attempt to blame each other and launch into war. I needed a facility to manufacture weapons and technology to succeed. But to keep it secret and secure, I would need to put it somewhere Terran and Gaian forces wouldn’t look, somewhere isolated, somewhere . . .
Antagonize (From the Logs of Daniel Quinn Book 2) Page 17