"I shall answer that by paraphrasing the words of the wisest man to man the walls of Carthage on the day Scipio sailed his quinqueremes into its harbour," Sparrow's sinking face betrayed the sheer precariousness of her situation. "We are fucked."
Kane said nothing.
"Director-General," one of the men in black spoke to Sparrow in a deep, almost machined intone. "The Enigma will be arriving at Proserpina Station in the next hour. Shall I inform Director Winchester?"
"Tell him to make his way to the OCCS precinct," Sparrow ordered. "We'll use the situation room to devise a plan of action."
The agent nodded and stepped aside to make the necessary contacts.
"I see the Homunculus Project has begun to produce decent results," Kane remarked, looking at the faceless soldiers before him.
"Two companies have been produced, with another three battalions ready to fight by the middle of the decade," Sparrow remarked with a hint of pride. "Mendoza has had his work cut out for him. I've even been able to use my FIA connections to put a handful of disgruntled DARPA employees to use. I trust you were able to persuade your colleagues in the boardroom to secure the metals I need."
"Unfortunately, the board seems less than inclined to cooperate," Kane stated. "Their collaboration in the Ark Project has already set them back six billion dollars' worth of materials, and even that was a rare gesture of goodwill from the company, never mind you planting Bridger onto the board."
"Then I will have to dangle a bigger carrot," said Sparrow. "Bridger was merely one of several assets I have here, and although it is unfortunate that she has been lost to the Hound, he has not taken every trump card on my deck yet. If all goes according to plan, the Hound will no longer be of any relevance to our overarching mission."
"For the time being, we have a very different matter to attend to, in the form of his father," Kane informed the spymistress.
"That we do," Sparrow confirmed.
One and a half hours later...
Even those officers in the OCCS who knew nothing of Captain Frost on any personal level were perfectly aware of his brash mannerisms and brutal, no-nonsense attitude to his work. Thus it only took but a brief glance for them to move aside whenever he traversed the hallways of the building on whatever mission it was he had embarked upon next. Those lower on the hierarchical rungs, the rank and file of the security units, had heard of his general disdain for dilettantes in the various conversations he had with the few elite operatives who worked alongside him, knew about him and his motivations on a much more intimate basis than they could hope to manage. Hence they too often gave the captain a wide berth, having no intention of being the hapless fools who stood in his way. Now that Frost had marched into the precinct past the reception desk and was proceeding down the halls with the jovial friendliness of a cerulean-eyed thundercloud, all those in his warpath were inclined to fall from his sight at double speed.
He barged through the synthwood door to the situation room with White, Morgenstern and Wilkins in tow. The core of OCCS operations was a dark, twenty-by-twenty metre circular chamber, accessed through a single door at the end of the room and possessing a two-by-two metre octagonal table at its dead centre. Within the table was a large holoprojector and the operating computer, beaming whatever image was desired onto the surface, high and bright enough for all who were gathered to observe. Presently, the projection was a high-resolution detailed map of Port Royal and its assorted districts. Pinned onto the walls and mounted onto stands were assortments of cork-boards, where physical notations such as recently acquired non-digital intelligence would be placed for analysis.
"Captain Frost, it is a pleasure to meet you again," Sparrow greeted him as he entered.
He replied to Sparrow's pleasantries by pushing his way past Kane and gripping her by the throat, holding her aloft and slamming her into one of the cork-boards with a burning inferno in his eyes.
"Why didn't you tell me the Hound was my son?!" he roared at her, leaving her face pocked with spittle. "WHERE IS HE, YOU BITCH?!"
So consumed he was by his rage that he failed to notice the homunculus soldiers training their immense rifles upon him. The weapons powered up with an audible whine, their barrels beginning to glow with magenta energy.
"Because ... I wouldn't be very good ... at my job ... if I didn't..." Sparrow wheezed a response through her crushed windpipe.
Noticing Kane nod at him, Frost calmed down and let the spymistress go. After a succession of deep breaths to regain her composure, Sparrow brushed herself down and straightened her tie as if nothing had happened. Her guards stood with their arms presented, before standing down at her motion.
"What part of your job involves keeping me in the dark about my boy becoming a thrall to Strasser's fuckdoll?!" he continued to growl.
"The part where we can use him to corner Strasser's fuckdoll, as you so term her, once and for all," Sparrow dutifully answered.
"So that's it – you let my son be abused by this company's fucked prison system and turned into a monster so you can use him to play your stupid games with the Martians?!" Frost remained decisively unconvinced, making sure to shoot a death glare at Kane as well. "After everything I've done for you, every life I've taken for you?!"
"If I had any other choice, I would have taken it!" Sparrow herself snapped, her patience hanging by an audible thread. "If there was any other option to make damn sure that Sokolova, her Knights and the Martian government that backs her crusades never again pose a threat to the people of Earth, I would take it! You know that better than anyone."
"What makes you think I give a rat's arse about those self-righteous coreworlders?" Frost grumbled. "Why do you think I came to Ceres in the first place?!"
"Because you know as well as I do that there's nobody better suited than yourself to secure the safety of our cradle!" Sparrow began to rant. "The Belt corporations would never bother their asses if they couldn't make a profit from it! Not even my own father would, if it meant preserving this shallow peace we've been cursed with! You were born into our world just as it was rising from the ashes, and you wanted to do something about it, so you joined the Royal Marines and then your country's special forces! You earned a George Cross for stopping insane sons of bitches like Strasser from laying waste to Earth at their whim!"
Frost's eyes widened as Sparrow shrieked at him, her own eyes turning a desperate shade of lime green as she flew into a bitter ramble.
"You saw it rise from the ash, but you were too young to watch it burn!" she spoke in horrible reminiscence. "I wish every day for that same blessing! I saw the Water Wars, I saw the riots, the hurricanes, the firestorms! I watched helplessly as the Middle East went up in nuclear fire! I saw the piles upon piles of dead men, women and children who had starved to death because their broken planet couldn't feed ten billion people! I saw it all! I saw with my own two eyes what fucking happens when the richest stand by and do nothing, when they ignore the warnings just so they can preserve their own material wealth!"
Sparrow's wild rant came to a halt as she stopped and sucked in a token few deep breaths to calm herself down.
"I know you can help us because you're not the kind of man who stands around and does nothing while innocent people suffer," she snapped. "Neither for that matter, are your soldiers. When we bring Sokolova back to Earth in chains, that will be when we get justice – not just for all the peoples of our planet, but for your son as well."
"Oh, how fucking original!" Frost continued to bellow, albeit he stood visibly dumbstruck by Sparrow's furious tirade. "Is that how you planned on recruiting me into your stupid power game? By pandering to my sensibilities with a heartfelt plea for justice? Honestly, I expected something more creative from the most powerful woman on Earth."
"Happy to have been a disappointment, Frost," Sparrow bit back. "But don't you believe for a moment I'm not being serious."
"And don't you think I haven't heard it all before, Sparrow," Frost remarked. "But know that m
y first and only priority right now is to get Ryan back. And if you or ... whatever the fuck they are, even think about getting in my way, YOU will be the first to know my displeasure!"
"Fair enough," Sparrow was now as calm as she had been prior to Frost's assault. "See, it wasn't that hard to resolve things in a civilised manner, was it?"
"So what's your plan?" Frost's next question was thus.
"Considering the circumstances surrounding Ryan's rise to prominence, it wouldn't be too much of a stretch to suggest he might already be on his way here to resolve the unfinished business he has with you, Captain," Sparrow's face darkened. "With an army."
"Statistically speaking, he has the advantage," Kane spoke up. "The Occator Conglomerate Corporate Security Division can muster twenty thousand fighting men. The Iron Knights have two thousand anointed knights, plus a hundred and fifty thousand levied militiamen sourced from Mars itself, its colonies and raided neutral colonies around the Belt. Our saving grace is that the Hound can only bring so many with him to fight. If he launches a ground assault first, we have the advantage. But therein lies the problem of if."
"Thanks to Strasser, Sokolova's knights have command of an entire war fleet, including an Apocalypse-class dreadnought," Sparrow stated, the computer on her wrist projecting the chiropteran shape of Sokolova's space fortress. "It's unlikely that Sokolova would hand command of the Bellator over to her Hound, but it is entirely possible that he could bring a battleship or two. Even a single ship carrying that much firepower could reduce Port Royal to plate glass without any chance of retaliation whatsoever."
"You mean to say that Port Royal doesn't have any orbital defences whatsoever?" Morgenstern asked with a horrified look on her face.
"It does, otherwise pirates could ravage the city with impunity, but nothing designed to take out a dedicated warship," Kane answered her.
"Then our first priority is to set up an action plan to get the civilians out of the line of fire," Frost asserted, beginning to motion across the holomap. "Set up evacuation points in the service tunnels and sewers, and make sure they can be sealed off in the event the domes are breached by an orbital bombardment. There's a decent chance that Ryan will break open one of the districts so he can land troops right in the city. Set up MANPADS in the buildings and have them intercept his dropships as they come in to land. In the event they do manage to get soldiers on the ground, identify optimal landing zones and set up perimeters around them. Mine off the LZ itself, set up protocols to defuse the mines once combat has ceased. What few orbital defences we do have, train them on their smaller support ships. For their larger vessels, we'll need ships of our own to strike out."
"I recall that the US Navy's Carrier Strike Group Fifteen is stationed at Pallas," Kane began to suggest. "It might be wise to establish contact with them and recruit their assistance."
"Pallas is on the other side of the solar system, and too far away for the carrier group to reach Ceres in time for the battle," Sparrow informed.
"Not to mention, involving INTO could be a risky move politically," Winchester added.
"I might be able to help," White stepped into the discussion. "But I'll need to borrow the fastest ship there is on this planetoid."
"What do you mean?" asked Winchester.
"It's been a while since we've seen each other, but if I could contact the Ghoul and recruit his assistance, he could bring a fleet here from Makemake in five weeks," White asserted.
"Five weeks we may not have, especially if the Hound is already on the move," said Winchester.
"You're talking about bringing pirates to Ceres," Kane spoke with a scowl, glaring at White. "I won't have it."
"Right now we don't exactly have any other option," White stared him down.
"Not to mention, you might not need a ship," Sparrow announced. "A Sparrow Corp communications research satellite in Wild Space was pillaged last December, by none other than the Ghoul's band. We've been tracking the prototype quantum entanglement console that was aboard the satellite, and it just so happens to be situated at Makemake. My own ship has an onboard QEC, and the code necessary to establish a functional link – and ergo direct, instantaneous communications with the Ghoul himself."
"The pirates could board Ryan's command ship and capture him alive," Frost insisted. "They don't even need to be deployed planetside."
"I don't know," Kane still seemed uneasy. "And how do we know the pirates won't screw us over and run off with him once they get him?"
"I know the Ghoul well enough that he won't try it if I'm asking him," White enunciated.
"And whatever ransom price they might ask for the Hound, I will double it," Sparrow added. "In the meantime I will instruct our deep space buoys to keep close tabs on any Martian fleet movements, and be the first to inform you when the Hound's fleet makes its move. My estimation is that we have a month to prepare before his war host sets out."
"Alright," Kane now seemed much more content by the plan. "If nobody else has anything to add, then we shall take our leave for now. We will meet as often as possible to discuss progress and any possible alterations to our plan."
"Very well," Sparrow concluded. "I trust you to inform the board of our plans, Kane. I also want you to attend to that business we discussed earlier."
"Of course," Kane acknowledged her. "I assume you'll show up once you've attended to your business with the Ghoul."
"You assume rightly."
~
After the meeting met its conclusion, Sparrow and Winchester brought White, Morgenstern and her gene-augmented guard detail back through the city to the spaceport where she had landed. Awaiting the trio was a dropship, placed under heavy guard by several additional homunculi. Inside the dropship awaited a huge machine, similar in appearance to an ancient video arcade machine, with two circular pads next to it for people to step on. Exposed wires led straight to the familiar camera lens-like shape of a holoprojector pointing down at the leftmost circular pad, while a scanning machine hung above the other.
"Miss White," Sparrow spoke to one of Frost's protégés. "Are you certain that you can talk to the Ghoul on amicable terms, considering the circumstances surrounding your departure from his outfit?"
"We'll have to see," White stated.
"I ask because judging from the scant conversation I've had with him, he seems ... rather less than inclined to negotiate at times," Sparrow's brow sank with her unpleasant recollection of her last conversation with the pirate king.
"Oh, don't worry about that," laughed White. "I've talked down way worse than him."
"So how the hell does this ... 'quantum entanglement' thing work?" asked Morgenstern. "Does it even work?"
"If we were to tell you that, miss Morgenstern, we wouldn't be particularly good at our job," said Winchester. "Suffice it to say that this particular machine is fully operational, and quite effective at what it does."
"Wait a minute." Now White was the one to ask. "If it's quantum stuff, which usually means the particles are all in the 'same state' or whatever, how can it be used for communications?"
"Every machine is built in batches to operate on the same frequency in the same factory," Sparrow answered her. "The quantum particles alter their own shape based on a scanner built into that pad, which then transmit a hologram to every active scanner on each machine in the same batch. It does likewise with the speakers, which all vibrate at exactly the same time to produce the same sounds as what is spoken into it by one."
"Hey, how come White gets to know, but I don't?!" Morgenstern protested.
"Because she is the one who will be using the machine," said Sparrow, turning to Winchester after. "And since I can trust these two to remain discreet, I do feel as though we should inform them of the machine's operation."
As the hologram transmitter spun to life, a tirade of garbled, indeterminate bellowing rattled through the speaker. The projector materialised a humanoid shape stepping onto the platform, the figure starting as a blob of dusty quant
um particles. Then the mass warped and shifted itself into a bellicose mountain of a man, a colossal bristled white duster draped over a tarnished grey power-armoured torso pocked with dents and divots. An indeterminate quantity of golden necklaces dangled from his neck, the skull-shaped mask covering his wizened trench-covered face itself embedded with unpolished gemstones across the forehead. Beyond the mask, a grand tangled mass of platinum-blonde hair erupted from all parts of his scalp, twin dead-looking azure eyes peering from within the snow-gold thicket like gunsights.
"For fuck's sake, how many times have I got to fucking tell you-"
The Ghoul's coarse growling, endowed with a ripping metallic ring, was brought to a halt as he caught sight of White's figure on the platform. His eyes betrayed a look of surprise on his hidden face.
"Elena...?" was all he could manage to utter.
"Hey, Dad," White introduced herself in a straight, quasi-solemn tone. "It's been a while, hasn't it?"
"Ohohohoho, you've got some nerve to come crawling back to me after what you've done to me!" the Ghoul unleashed a menacing laugh, his cyborg eyes brightening as he gazed upon his daughter.
"Then it's a good thing I'm not crawling back to you," White snapped, "Or else I wouldn't bother trying to ring you on this stupid piece of junk."
"Well then what in the fuck do you want from me, girl?!" barked the Ghoul. "Go on, tell me that corporate buttboy Sparrow's gotten his daughter to try to ransom mine to me for his little toy back. That'd really make my day..."
"I want ships," White bluntly announced. "And men. I need them for-"
"Whoa whoa whoa," interrupted the Ghoul. "Your little parting gift to me all those years ago was a message saying that you don't need my life to be successful. Now all of a sudden you need me to come and bail your arse out?! What am I, your bitch?!"
"Yes to the first question, my answer to the second depends on whether or not you plan to cooperate!" White announced with casual bluntness. "Occator's about to get skullfucked by the Hound of Sokolova and his cronies. What do you think that means?"
Ardent Red Page 14