A Memory in the Black (The New Aeneid Cycle)

by Michael G. Munz

  "Aye, ma'am. We're not giving up yet."

  Dr. Grünbaum's suit mic caught his muttering. "I should hope not."

  She turned to Levy. "Remain on your guard, Officer."

  "Aye, Chief."

  With a quick inspection of the four other guards and two scientists in the chamber, she made her way past the elevated turrets to the wide portal that was the chamber's exit. Suited as she was, she nevertheless took a deep involuntary breath as she moved seamlessly through the membrane of black material that sealed the chamber from the hard vacuum on the other side. Marette shook her head at her own foolishness; remarkable as the membrane was, she should have been used to it.

  She turned down the curve of the hastily erected canvas tunnel, following it to Omicron. "Omicron, this is Clarion. I am in the tunnel en route to the complex. Is the airlock clear?"

  Silence.

  "Omicron Complex, do you read?"

  Again, silence.

  "CPO Levy, please respond."

  Levy's voice came back clear. "Chief?"

  "Are you able to contact the complex via radio?"

  "Stand by. . . No, ma'am, they don't respond."

  "Boost transmitter power and keep trying. And I may lose radio contact with you momentarily."

  "Aye, ma'am."

  Marette continued toward the complex to test her hypothesis and tried again to contact them. It didn't take more than a few meters.

  "—respond please. Field Chief Clarion, this is Omicron Complex, do you receive?"

  "This is Clarion. Report status, Omicron. Is the communications bubble returned?"

  "That's an affirmative, ma'am. We just lost radio contact with you and the team in the chamber."

  "Is it related to your control attempt on the dome?"

  "I don't think so, Chief. We were running the same diagnostics as before when it returned. But we don't know the original cause, so we can't be positive it wasn't us."

  "Understood. CPO Levy is attempting to break through with a boost to signal power."

  A pause. "There's no evidence that increased signal strength would have any effect. We did try that the first time."

  "Halt the diagnostics to be sure. Find if that has an effect. We cannot be sure this is the same phenomenon. Boost your own power as well; I do not wish to lose contact."

  There was a sigh from the Omicron controller. "Yes, ma'am. We can try. Though it looks like we've a small receiver malfunction on this end. Might be related."

  "Locate the cause and fix it, Omicron control. I am returning to the chamber."

  Omicron acknowledged as Marette turned back toward the chamber. Though she doubted much could have happened in so short a time span, she saw no reason not to check on them. Following that, she could pass messages on foot through the bubble if need be. She tried the comms after she passed where she estimated the bubble to be. "Levy, this is Clarion, do you read?"

  "Affirmative, Chief." The response was immediate, but calm.

  "Omicron may have a receiver malfunction. Can you confirm any interference on your end?"

  "No, ma'am. Though I don't see as that should affect our suit radios."

  Marette turned the tunnel corner to find the chamber just as she'd left it. "It may be another effect rather than a cause." She stepped through the membrane and down into the chamber. "Shut down the terminal diagnostics for the present."

  Levy worked at the terminal as she crossed the chamber. She was passing one of the sensor pylons when she heard the Omicron controller's voice break through. "—can read me, you'll——transmitter at their end."

  "Omicron, I am reading you. Repeat your last transmission."

  "We read you here also. We need you to get a message to the chamber team to deactivate the data transmitter on their end."

  "It would appear that is no longer necessary, Omicron. I am receiving you from within the chamber." She glanced questioningly at Levy.

  "Confirming that," Levy added. "I read you loud and clear, Omicron."

  "Understood, Officer, but all the same, we've just picked up evidence of a latent signal that's been within the datastream for the last ninety minutes. We're starting to get some unusual indicators here—"

  "Ninety minutes?"

  Movement from the far end of the chamber caught Marette's eye. Two sections of black material on the balcony wall were receding to uncover opening doorways that hadn't shown on their map.

  "— and we can't break the connection from our side."

  "Stand by, Omicron, something is happening here. Levy—" she cut short her order to confirm the disconnect at the sight of a security drone framed in each doorway. "Take cover!"

  Marette dove behind the central gem device as the drones opened fire. "Omicron, we are under attack, at least two drones!" She scrambled into a crouched position as a jolt of energy stabbed into one of the guards where he'd stood returning fire. He crumpled instantly. "Take cover!"

  The turrets fired in halting bursts while the remaining guards did the same from behind what cover they could find. Marette peeked through the gaps in the frame of the gem device to see the drones themselves taking cover in the doorways, making themselves targets only long enough to fire a few bursts before ducking back in. Bullets and EMP danced along the doorways. Pulverized black material fell from the walls where Geiger cannon shots had missed their target. They couldn't target the drones fast enough.

  "Omicron, we need support!"

  "We're———a squad, but——need to disconnect—"

  "Omicron, repeat last transmission!"

  A burst of energy lanced into the area near the terminal and dome connection where Levy was crouched, sending him diving away to open floor space. The turrets opened fire again, narrowly missing the drone as it withdrew once more.

  Then the second drone was out and firing, cutting off Levy's path back to the cover of the dome. He scrambled to the gem device next to Marette as frantically as his suit would allow.

  "They're using cover!" he shouted despite the clear comms-link. "They've never done that before!"

  He was right. In the past the drones had simply floated to the center of a room and fired a burst of energy that hit every target in the area. But that took time. "Omicron! Do you read?"

  A burst of multiple voices came across the channel from Omicron. Each shouted over the other so that Marette had to strain to make anyone out. "What do you mean——not us? No——back, get it back!"

  "Omicron, respond!"

  "Chief!" Levy pointed to the floor by the dome. A hole no larger than her helmet had opened, out of which scuttled a squat, robotic quadruped.

  "——losing control of base systems! ——attempting to isolate! You——shut down——transmitter——"

  Marette cursed as three more of the quad robots scuttled after the first.

  "It's just a datastream!" Levy protested. "They said it couldn't do that!"

  Marette cursed their own arrogance. It traveled there from God-knows-where with God-knows-what level of technology. Who knew what it could do? She called to the remaining guards, "Does anyone have a clear shot at the terminal?"

  No one did. But if she could get to the connection port. . .

  "We are going for the port! Cover us, now!" Before she'd even finished the order, the quads had swarmed the port and begun manipulating the connector with miniscule fingers that snaked from their bodies.

  The guards acknowledged. Levy gave a ready sign. When the latest barrage of drone fire ceased, they rushed forward together toward the dome as blue light flared from under the quads.

  "They're trying to fuse the connection!" Levy shouted.

  Undaunted, she reached forward to knock them away, but they clung like ticks to the dome and the link.

  "Chief!"

  Marette looked up barely in time to see the drone pulling out to fire. She ducked behind the dome. Levy went with her as the guards and turrets fired at it again. Marette had no chance to see if they hit; one of the quads sprang at her. M
etal legs pierced her suit and tore at her forearms beneath. She jumped back in reflex to get away and in so doing pushed herself out from behind the cover of the dome.

  As she did, the quad released her and immediately turned to slash Levy's leg. He cried out. Both drones emerged simultaneously to fire. They had little time, and not enough cover.

  "Run!" she screamed and scrambled for safety.

  A swath of energy from one of the drones fired across their path to the gem device. She spun in a new direction, taking Levy with her and racing instead for a different dome as one of the drones took a blast of concentrated fire from four directions.

  She ducked behind the safety of a new dome close to a turret. She spotted Levy right behind her before everything happened at once: The drone that was hit flashed and fell to the deck above, but its twin continued to attack. Energy struck out in a solid beam and caught Levy's ankle in mid-dive before he landed beside her, but the beam continued on. It swept across the base of the turret and destroyed its support tower as it fired at the fallen drone. The turret toppled backwards like a felled tree, still firing its Geiger cannon. The cannon's radiation bolts pulverized the black material on the ceiling and cut a path of falling black goo that led straight to the chamber portal. There was no time for Marette to even shout a warning. The cannon punctured the membrane over the portal and atmosphere burst out the hole.

  Marette pressed herself to the ground against the torrent of escaping air. The puncture was not sealing itself. There was nothing to take hold of besides Levy, half-crouched and clutching at his ankle in pain. Wind screamed across her closed helmet as the smaller bits of equipment flew across the chamber and out into vacuum. A dropped rifle whirled through the air and smashed into the sensor pylon next to them, sending the pylon's already wobbling bulk toppling their way.

  Straight for Levy.

  Marette launched herself into him and shoved him out of its path a moment before the pylon slammed her down. Her helmet smacked against the floor like a hammer to her skull. Her vision swam with lights.

  There were words coming over the comms from Omicron—frantic, urgent. Pinned to the floor beneath the pylon she strained to listen through the chaos and pain but could hear only three words clearly: "—lost turret control!"

  Then someone was shouting an order, and it was a moment before Marette knew it was her. "Omicron Control, quarantine the complex! Repeat, quarantine. . ."

  Her voice gave out. The final thing she saw before the blackness took her was the last turret taking aim at where one of the guards had taken cover.

  CHAPTER 28

  "Talk."

  "Talk? Just a while ago you told me to shut up and hung up on me. Should I infer that you don't wish to withdraw from our little venture after all?"

  "I was busy. And you vanished on me last week."

  "My dear Diomedes, I was doing some checking on you. When one's partner chooses to assassinate someone vital to that very partnership—"

  "That was supposed to be a straight merc job. First I heard he was yours was when you told me just now. News said he was ESA."

  "He was not mine, but we needed him. There was vital information in those brains you splattered across the pavement."

  "Shot him in the chest. You never said a word about that guy. How the hell could I know who he was?"

  "Still, one wonders at the coincidence of your eliminating the one man we need?"

  "It was a set-up. I'm taking care of the problem."

  "A set-up by whom?"

  "I said I'm taking care of it."

  "By whom?"

  "Screw you. You keep your secrets, I keep mine. Don't forget what I've got on you."

  A chuckle. "Well now, it would seem we both have a bit of leverage on each other, wouldn't you say? I'd have very little trouble locating someone who'd like to know how to find you, should it come to that."

  "Keep your end of the bargain and we don't have any trouble. I didn't know who the guy was."

  "Oh, if I didn't believe that, we wouldn't still be speaking. Yet the fact remains that we now have something of a problem."

  "How much of a problem?"

  "We have the lunar coordinates. I've finessed slipping you into a black ops niche that will get you up there for me—"

  "You did that faster, we'd be done with this by now."

  "Ah yes, because pulling together a black op using company resources without their actually knowing about it is just such a simple thing."

  "Your problem, not mine."

  "My problems are your problems, my dear Diomedes. Or, ah, do you prefer 'Malcolm?'"

  "You don't use that name for me. Ever."

  "As you like. But as I said, my problems are your problems, assuming you still want this to turn out well. And profitably."

  There was no response.

  "Silence speaks volumes, my dear Diomedes. As I was saying, I've arranged to get you there so you might fulfill your part of the bargain. What we now lack, thanks to you, is intelligence regarding the systems up there."

  "I'll take care of that when you get me there."

  "Oh, you'll take care of that, will you? You'll be planting a leech transmitter into their network. It has to be configured so they don't find it the second you get it in place. You can't beat that sort of information out of someone, you know."

  "There's a way."

  "Oh, I see. And when the person with the information is behind a security airlock and you're sitting outside without an entry code? Surely even you can see our difficulty."

  "Plans are your department. Solve it. And get the heat off my back."

  "Oh, the heat is your own doing. Even if I could fix that, why would I discard such a means to influence you? As for the rest. . . I shall find some way to get around the mess you've made of things."

  "Shit happens, Fagles."

  "Oh, most certainly it does. You will be hearing from me."

  The conversation ended. Marc shut off the playback.

  Leaning against the wall of Marc's apartment, Michael watched the image of Abigail Brittan on the conference screen where she'd been listening.

  "And how long ago was this recorded?" she asked.

  Michael spoke first. "It was just after he'd ditched us on the roadside, so, what, a little over two hours ago?"

  "Eight twenty-seven p.m.," Marc confirmed. "We'd have had it to you sooner, but we needed to get back to the city and tweak the audio enough to make out the guy on the other end."

  "Nonetheless, good work," she told them. "This Fagles, do we have any indication of who he is?"

  Fagles's image jumped to the forefront of Michael's mind in the same long overcoat, suit, and ponytail he'd worn that night in the 'Pyre. "He's with RavenTech. Six months ago he worked under Ken Wallace, which probably explains what Diomedes says he's got on him."

  "The thefts against their own company?"

  Michael nodded. "Diomedes and I both met him during all that. I'm not sure of his first name or if he's still with RavenTech."

  "That's plenty for us to pinpoint him. By the sound of it, he's not operating under the direction of his company in this matter."

  "Did you notice how Diomedes corrected him on where he shot Curwen?" Marc put in.

  "I did. It near confirms what we suspected, though it doesn't give us any answers."

  "Diomedes might have been lying about that part, though," Michael said. "He was talking about losing what Curwen knew, maybe he just didn't want to take the blame for the problem."

  Abigail nodded. "I'll pass this along to the Council. I'm sure they or I will be contacting you again soon. Is there anything else?"

  Before Michael could make up his mind about mentioning what Felix told them about Diomedes attacking a Gideon look-alike, Abigail held up her hand and tapped the AoA chip in her palm. "I'm getting something. We'll have to cut this short. Gentlemen."

  She ended the call.

  Michael's own palm was normal. He showed it to Marc. "How's yours?"


  "Nothing. I'm sure we'll find out soon enough if it's important."

  "Yeah." He resigned his curiosity to check the view outside the window. By all accounts, Marc's A.I. had surveillance covered, but keeping watch himself made him feel better. Watching was at least a simple enough task. Satisfied that nothing in view seemed threatening, he dropped the flap of the blinds back into place and returned to where Marc was rearranging his workstation. The rumble of a truck passing outside briefly filled the silence, and then faded.

  They hadn't talked much on the way back into town. The cab they'd called gave no privacy for AoA matters, and Michael had been absorbed in his own thoughts about their confrontation with Diomedes. He wondered now if there would be a second such confrontation, and if they would escape quite so unscathed. Though Jer and his sister had been a more violent threat, the car ride with Diomedes felt like a tightrope walk over disaster despite the fact that his old mentor had very likely saved them in the parking lot.

  The idea left a bitter taste in his mouth.

  He turned to Marc. "Why didn't you run when you had the chance?"

  Marc looked startled by the question. "Back at the parking lot?" He shrugged meekly and turned his focus back to his workstation. "It's not like I could've just left you there."

  "It wasn't me they were after. I would've been okay."

  "But I didn't know that then, did I?"

  The reply came defensively enough that Michael waited a few moments before speaking again. He made another check at the window.

  "I'm supposed to be the one protecting you," he said. "You have to let me do my job, you know." He tried to add a grin to make it a joke, yet hoped it still sounded earnest.

  Marc ran a spare bug over a scanner. "So I'm the President and you're the Secret Service now, eh? We need you too, you know. Diomedes wouldn't have even listened to me."

  "I could have held my own." He stopped short of telling a man at least five years his senior to do as he was told. "You should've run."

  "Look, I did what I did. It's too late to second-guess it now."

  "Yeah, well, it's not too late for next time. If I'm expecting you to do one thing and you do another— Well, you saw what happened."