by Piers Platt
Rath told him.
On the man’s screen, Rath watched as the landing ramp lifted up. A tank, in the process of driving down the ramp, spun on its tracks, and then slid backwards, crashing into an armored jeep waiting in line behind it. Then the ramp shut, locking into place.
Rath eyed the technician.
<… because you’ll come back here and kill me if I open it?>
Less than a minute later, Rath stepped out onto an elevated gantry running along the length of the cargo bay. He crouched down, cradling his auto-rifle across his knees. Below him, hundreds of soldiers sat in assorted armored vehicles trapped inside the flagship, waiting impatiently for the landing ramp ahead of them to descend once again. He spotted Ikeda in the hatch of a tank, speaking animatedly into a boom microphone on his helmet. Toward the back of the bay, he saw a pair of field ambulances. He zoomed in with his eye implants, inspecting the drivers and passengers sitting in the cabs of the ambulances.
There she is.
Rath jogged back along the gantry, and then found a ladder that descended to the deck level. He slung his rifle over one shoulder and slid down the ladder, landing heavily next to an armored jeep. The passenger in the jeep leaned out the window.
Rath shook his head.
He walked back along the row of vehicles until he reached the ambulance. Jaymy sat in the passenger seat, looking thoroughly out of place in a fresh Jokuan uniform and helmet. She had stopped crying, Rath saw; her jaw was set in angry determination. She spotted Rath as he approached. He pulled open the door, and she recoiled slightly in fear.
Rath told the driver.
Jaymy stepped down reluctantly, shouldering a bulky medical kit. Rath took her by the arm and marched her past the final few vehicles, out of the bay.
“Where are we going?” she protested.
Rath glanced back toward the bay, ensuring they were out of sight. Then he shifted his face and hair back to their natural states.
“We’re getting out of here,” he told her.
“Rath!” she gasped, and flung her arms around him. “Oh, thank god! I thought Ikeda killed you.”
“He tried,” Rath said.
“How did you—”
“Later,” he promised her. “First, we get off this ship.” In his mind’s eye, he pictured the ship’s schematic. “There’s an exterior hatch two bulkheads back. Follow me.”
They ran along the corridor, one side of which was taken up by a large, cylindrical tank that ran the length of the hallway. The tank was taller than Rath, and decorated every few yards with bright red lettering in the Jokuan language. Rath’s heads-up display posted a translation for him: Starboard Auxiliary Fuel Tank. Caution! Highly Flammable. Rath stopped in his tracks.
“What?” Jaymy asked.
“I just got an idea,” Rath told her.
5
The operations center techs finished assembling the display boards in an arc below the main viewscreen at the front of the Rampart Guardian’s bridge. Yo-Tsai, his hands clasped behind his back, waited while they activated the boards, and digital readouts showing his troop dispositions appeared a moment later, superimposed on maps of Tarkis. On the main viewscreen above, the view cycled between various ships of his fleet and the Guardian’s forward-facing camera. Many of the ships were returning to space, rejoining the Guardian in orbit over Tarkis having landed their forces. Other ships were just touching down on the outskirts of Tarkis’ cities, armored units rolling down landing ramps and deploying into tactical formations.
“Sir?” a battle captain caught Yo-Tsai’s attention from one of the ship’s control stations. “Your unit commanders are conferenced in.”
Yo-Tsai grunted, and faced the viewscreen. The combat livestream disappeared, replaced with the faces of his senior officers. He scanned them, taking a silent roll call in his mind.
“Where’s Ikeda?” Yo-Tsai asked.
“He hasn’t reported in yet, sir,” the battle captain told him. “His ship was one of the last to touch down.”
The general’s habitual frown deepened. “Get him on the radio as soon as you can.”
“Yes, sir.”
Yo-Tsai turned back to the viewscreen. “Report,” he ordered.
The general on his left spoke first. “Sir, the Third Division is fully deployed and on the move toward our objectives in the industrial sector,” he said.
“Resistance?” Yo-Tsai asked.
“Very light, sir. A few isolated instances of individual policemen intervening, but nothing coordinated. And the civilian populace has been largely docile.”
A colonel to his right spoke up. “My signals intelligence team intercepted an emergency broadcast when we landed,” he said. “The local government ordered everyone inside for their own safety.”
“And they’re complying?” Yo-Tsai asked.
“They seem to be, sir.”
Yo-Tsai pointed at another general. “Second Division?”
“Our initial landing zone was unsuitable, sir,” he said. “We had some vehicles mired in a swampy area, and we had to relocate several kilometers west of our intended start point. As a result, our timetable is slightly delayed.”
“Catch up, General,” Yo-Tsai barked.
“Yes, sir.”
“Fourth Division?” Yo-Tsai continued.
“On schedule, sir, and we’ve captured our first objective already – an automated vehicle factory. The locals did not attempt to stop us.”
“What about the Interstellar Police?” Yo-Tsai asked. “Any sign of them?”
“Not in my sector, sir.”
“Good,” Yo-Tsai observed. “The drone weapon system is keeping them in check, as intended.”
A new face joined the others onscreen – a colonel, sweating slightly from recent exertion.
“Sir, my reconnaissance squadron has reached the main spaceport. My troops are moving to secure it as we speak.”
“Excellent, Colonel Zhu,” Yo-Tsai said, nodding. “Shut down all inbound and outbound flights. Remember: if they try to counter-attack, it will be via the transfer station and the spaceport,” Yo-Tsai said. “The fleet will defend the transfer station, but even should it fall, holding the spaceport would prevent them from landing any additional troops. That spaceport is our main line of defense.”
“Yes, sir,” Zhu said. “We’ll hold it.”
6
Dasi watched as Hawken raised his hands for silence, and the arguments that had broken out around the conference room slowly died down.
“This is all speculation until we have confirmation,” he admonished the rest of the emergency meeting attendees. “And as a rule, I hate speculation. General Childers, what have you got?”
The general covered the microphone on his holophone with one hand, keeping it pressed to his ear with the other. “It’s confirmed. I have multiple station commanders on Tarkis repor
ting military vehicles moving into urban areas.”
We are at war, Dasi thought. It’s gotta be related to the attack here.
“And this army is from …?” Hawken asked.
“Jokuan,” Childers said. “Looks like the TV news got that part right. The soldiers all have the Jokuan flag on their uniforms.”
Jokuan?
>>>It is a planet in the Territories that recently suppressed a long and rather brutal revolution.
Six, can you find a link between Ricken and Jokuan?
>>>I will look into it.
See if there’s a link with Foss, too. It’s a pretty big coincidence that he disappeared right before the attack.
“My commanders are requesting instructions, sir,” General Childers was saying to Hawken.
“Instructions?” Hawken wiped at his mouth and swore feelingly. “If they fought back, would they be able to stop the invaders?”
“No, sir,” Childers said, immediately. “They’re out-manned and out-gunned. And my men are law enforcement officers, not soldiers. They’re not trained for war.”
“The Fleet Reaction Force is,” a woman down the table put in.
Hawken nodded. “We’ll get to that in a moment. General, I’m assuming your officers aren’t interfering at all right now?”
“Correct,” Childers replied. “They’re trained to de-escalate situations, not make them worse. So they’re keeping their heads down, and no one’s shooting right now.”
“Well, let’s keep it that way,” Hawken said. “Orders are to stay put, and keep us informed.”
“Yes, sir,” Childers agreed. He turned back to the phone to relay those instructions.
“Okay, let’s talk Fleet Reaction Force,” Hawken said. “Does anyone here know anything about how that works?”
Dasi saw a notification pop up in her eye implants.
>>>I have been studying footage taken from media spacecraft orbiting this installation.
What’ve you got, Six? she asked.
>>>I believe I have an explanation for why the defense systems activated prior to the explosion.
A still image from a video appeared on Dasi’s heads-up display.
>>>This image shows the blast damage incurred by the battle cruiser. Note that the superstructure curves inward around the edges of the blast area.
Okay …, Dasi replied. Then she frowned. Wait. If it blew up from the inside, the explosion would have pushed the hull upward.
>>>Precisely. I am searching through exterior security footage prior to the blast for confirmation, but I believe this installation was attacked from an external source.
Movement caught Dasi’s eye – a short, balding man had pushed the conference room door open, entering with three women in tow.
“I need a moment of your time,” he told the committee.
“Martin!” Dasi cried. She stood and ran to him, wrapping him in a hug.
“Dasi?” He hugged her and then stood back, getting a better look at her. “What a surprise. I heard you graduated – congratulations.”
“Thanks,” she told him. Then she realized the room was staring at them. “Sorry,” she said. “We, uh … we just go way back.”
She sat down, red-faced, but still smiling.
Hawken stood and held out his hand. “Detective, it’s an honor to meet you. I’m Jace Hawken. They’ve asked me to call the shots around here for the time being.”
“Nice to meet you, sir,” Beauceron said, shaking Hawken’s hand. He gestured to Atalia and the two other women. “This is Detective il-Singh, my partner, and two of our … colleagues.”
The tallest of the three women caught sight of the viewscreen at the front of the room, which had been muted, but which showed images of tanks rolling down a city street. The banner at the bottom read: Tarkis Attacked By Jokuan Fleet.
“Is this live?” she asked.
“Yes it is,” General Childers replied.
“Fuck!” she swore.
“You don’t seem surprised,” Childers observed.
“That’s because I’m not,” the woman replied. She turned to Beauceron. “Martin, start at the beginning.”
He nodded, then frowned. “Well, I’m not sure where to start, frankly. I’ll begin with this, though. Ricken was threatening the Senate with a high energy device that was hidden on a ship here at Anchorpoint.”
“It appears he triggered that device, Detective,” a woman at the end of the table pointed out, sarcastically.
“No, that’s impossible,” the taller woman said.
“Why?” Hawken asked.
“Because we located and disabled the device several seconds before the blast went off,” Beauceron said. “But he may have had a backup device that we weren’t aware of.”
“There was no backup device, Martin,” the taller woman said.
“We can’t be sure,” he replied.
“If you disabled the device, then what caused the explosion?” General Childers asked, interrupting their argument.
“Precision kinetic darts,” Dasi said.
“What?” Hawken asked.
Everyone in the room turned to face her, and her cheeks flushed even darker. But she stood and walked to the viewscreen. “I’ve got an internal computer – an implant. I’ve been using it to review footage of the blast damage.” Dasi tapped the screen, and an image of the battle cruiser appeared on it.
“Look at the way the ship’s hull curves down and in, toward the center of the blast area. That indicates something exploded on the hull first, penetrating the cruiser, and then a secondary explosion blew up the Senate Chamber.”
General Childers frowned. “Are you an explosives expert?” he asked.
“No, sir,” Dasi said. “But remember that Anders Ricken claimed to have installed this weapon on a number of orbital drones, armed with these darts. Those drones are supposedly in orbit over every planet in the Federacy. It stands to reason he may have had one here, too.”
Childers shook his head. “I’m not convinced.”
Dasi pointed to the screen again. “I also found this video of the ship, just before the explosion. Watch.”
On the screen, a large anti-aircraft battery sat idle for a second, and then abruptly jumped into action, lifting its barrel and rotating in its housing. The gun fired a sustained burst out into space. Dasi froze the video in place, and zoomed it in.
“This cannon is firing at the darts in a last-ditch effort to detonate them. You can just barely make out the darts against the background stars,” she said. “Look, in this frame this star is covered up, but in the next, you can see it again.”
Childers grunted. “Send that footage to the investigation team.”
“Yes, sir.”
Hawken winked at Dasi. “Nice detective work, officer.”
“Thank you, sir,” she replied.
“I still don’t get why Ricken used the darts, though,” Hawken continued, turning back to the conference table.
Beauceron rubbed his chin. “Perhaps he didn’t ….”
“Of course he didn’t,” the tall woman interjected. “You honestly think Ricken’s plan was to come to Anchorpoint, put on a big show at the Senate for a half hour or so, and then kill himself and everyone inside, without any warning?”
Beauceron met her gaze. “No,” he agreed. “The Jokuans?”
“Yes, the fucking Jokuans!” she said. “General Yo-Tsai planned this – all of this. He was playing Ricken from the start.”
“I’m sorry,” Hawken told her. “I didn’t get your name. Are you part of Detective Beauceron’s investigative team?”
The taller woman glanced at her younger colleague, and Dasi noticed that the younger woman had her hand resting casually on the butt of an auto-pistol in a holster on her belt. The taller woman bit her lip, and then sighed.
“I lead a team known as ‘Project Arclight.’ Arclight was an experimental unit that reported directly into the Senate Intelligence committee. We were tasked with ident
ifying and monitoring military threats to the Federacy. We’ve been gathering intelligence on the Jokuans for several weeks now. I came here to warn the Intelligence Committee that the Jokuans had deployed their fleet, and were preparing to attack.”
“It looks like you were too late,” the fire department head noted.
“I did my best,” the woman replied, shooting him an icy glare. “I wanted to disable the fleet before they could even take off, but the senators wouldn’t approve it.”
I feel like there’s something familiar about her, Dasi thought.
“I’ve never heard of this ‘Arclight,’ ” General Childers commented.
“Well, that’s how black operations work,” the woman replied. “If you’d heard of us, we wouldn’t be very good at our jobs, would we?”
Childers scowled at her. “And you said this team was made up of Interstellar Police officers?”
The woman shook her head. “I did not say that.”
“You’re wearing an Interstellar Police ID badge,” Childers pointed out.
“Yes, I am.”
An uncomfortable silence settled over the room. Dasi found herself suddenly conscious of the heft of her service weapon in its holster.
Six, can you find anything on this Arclight thing?
>>>I found no relevant public search results.
Finally, Beauceron cleared his throat. “I can vouch for her,” he said. “I’ve worked with her before, and she was instrumental in locating Ricken’s ship.”
“We’re all on the same team here,” the woman agreed. “I want to do everything I can to help you fight the Jokuans, believe me.”
Hawken sighed. “I’m sorry, but you have to understand, with all that’s just happened … it’s hard to trust anyone that’s clearly hiding something from us.”
“Trust goes both ways. Someone here at Anchorpoint recently betrayed me and my team to the Jokuans,” the woman shot back. “So I’m not really in a sharing mood.”
Hawken cocked his head to one side. “What if I promised you that anything you tell us stays in this room?”
“I’d say that’s not a promise you can keep,” the woman replied.