by Jamie Sawyer
It was a thing of beauty.
Riggs saw my reaction, and gave me a grin of approval. “You like, huh?”
“Hard not to, Corporal,” I said, circling the armour. “If it comes to it, I’ve got dibs on this suit.”
“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” Feng said.
Novak grunted. “Do not need armour to kill shit.”
“While I agree, Private,” I said, “trust me when I say it’ll be a whole lot easier wearing one of these…”
“It was loaded just before you people came aboard,” Yukio said, with a shrug, as though she really couldn’t understand what all the fuss was about. She hooked a thumb towards the back of the hold. “Those are for you as well.”
Several suits of dull grey armour sat behind the HURT, each hooked to a charging cradle. In comparison to the HURT suit, these armoured suits looked almost harmless, although I knew that was far from the truth.
“Those are full combat-suits,” Zero said. “Looks like whatever happened on Daktar, someone still believes in us.”
Riggs bolted across to the armour, touching the camo-coated exterior. The Mark VI combat-suit was synonymous with Army Sim Ops—standard issue for approved veteran teams.
“We finally get to play with the big toys!” Riggs said.
“Not without full training, you don’t,” I countered.
“Now all we need is a mission,” said Feng.
Yukio smiled. “I guess that you’ll get that soon enough.”
“We’re certainly equipped for it,” Lopez said. Even she sounded a little excited by the prospect of using the armour.
There was a chime over the Santa Fe’s address system. Yukio cocked her head, waiting for the announcement.
“Mission briefing commencing in five minutes,” the ship’s AI said in an androgynous voice. “The following personnel are to attend the briefing room…”
CHAPTER NINE
RESURRECTED
By the time we arrived, the briefing room was already filling up. Captain Carmine had taken up a post at the head of the auditorium, a tri-D tactical display on the table beside her, and I counted all ten of the Santa Fe’s senior staff in attendance as well. Along with the Jackals, that made the chamber pretty packed.
“Simmer down,” I said to the Jackals generally. Remembering that the squad hadn’t attended many briefings before, I added, “No one speaks without my permission, all right? Let me handle it.”
“Solid copy,” Riggs said. “You’ve got this.”
“I know Military Intelligence better than most,” I said, trying to sound more confident than I felt.
The truth was that Sim Ops and Military Intelligence rarely mixed, and Mili-Intel’s involvement in this operation almost certainly meant that there was more to it than we had been led to believe.
“Do not be so anxious,” Novak said.
“I’m not.”
“You look it,” Novak replied. “Is obvious on face. Just stay calm.”
I was almost embarrassed by Novak’s surveillance drone, which hovered at his shoulder. It was like a brand: emphasising that Novak was a lifer, not a proper soldier.
“I give the orders around here,” I said.
Novak gave such a small nod of his head that I barely saw it. “Yes, ma’am.”
The briefing room lights dimmed and another figure appeared beside Carmine. That ability—to materialise out of the dark, without warning—seemed to be something that all Military Intelligence agents had, a skill that they learnt as recruits.
But as the shadow took up the briefing podium, face dipping into the light of the holo-display, my unease went into overdrive.
“Am I seeing things?” Feng asked. “Is that…?”
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Zero suggested. “Are you all right?”
“Maybe I have,” Feng said.
“To those who do not know me,” the Mili-Intel man said, “my name is Major Vadim Sergkov.”
He looked the same as he had on the briefing packet at Daktar Outpost: an exact replica of the man I’d seen kidnapped by the Black Spiral. Lean-faced, Slavic-featured. Middle-aged, by Earth standard years; grey shaved hair barely covering the scars that sculpted his scalp. I saw now that he was tall and muscled as well.
“What I am about to say…” Sergkov began.
I couldn’t help myself. I stood from my seat.
“I’m sorry,” I said, with an idiot frown plastered across my face, “but how are you…?”
Alive, I wanted to say, but the word wouldn’t come.
Sergkov glanced in my direction. “Lieutenant Jenkins, I take it?”
“Affirmative, sir,” I said. “And if you know who I am, then you’ll also know that my squad and I just died in an effort to retrieve you from Daktar Outpost.”
“Of course,” Sergkov said. He paused, but offered no more explanation, as though what had just happened on Daktar was entirely natural, as though the operation had gone exactly as he had expected.
Temporarily disarmed by Sergkov’s response, I went on, “Then I hate to ask, but how the hell are you here? You were in Black Spiral custody the last I saw…”
Sergkov’s lips settled in an amused smile. By way of answer, he rolled up the sleeve of his khakis. His uniform was very meticulously arranged, with an especial emphasis on the medals and rank insignia on his broad chest, but my eyes were drawn to his forearm. Data-port. The major had standard Sim Ops plugs installed in his arms. He was operational, capable of using a simulant.
“I was resurrected,” he said, simply.
“You were using a simulant on Daktar?”
The answer to my question suddenly seemed very obvious.
“That’s right. Don’t look so surprised, Lieutenant. You’re a Sim Ops long-termer. You’ve been skinning up since before some of your team joined the military. You’re aware that Military Intelligence uses simulants…”
“I am aware,” I said, “but it would’ve been nice to know that the officer we were tasked with saving on Daktar Outpost was actually a simulant.”
There were simulant divisions—able to trace their parentage back to the Army Sim Ops Programme—embedded in most Alliance military agencies. Simulant pilots, Navy crews, even law enforcement. But using simulants in the way that Sergkov had on Daktar: that was new to me.
“All of the officers were simulants,” Sergkov said, his tone frustratingly nonchalant. “We were using next-generation skins. Virtually indistinguishable from a standard human template. That was an essential requirement of our mission. Military Intelligence has been tracking the Black Spiral for some time.”
“So Daktar was a set-up?”
Sergkov evaluated me for a moment, eyes up and down my body. Not in a sexual way, but like he was trying to take the measure of me: a workman examining a tool, deciding whether it was fit for purpose.
“That’s right,” he said. “It was a set-up.”
“The whole thing?” Feng chipped in.
I was so angry that I couldn’t bring myself to rebuke Feng for speaking up. Did Draven know about this? I wondered. Had this been another part of the wider plan?
“Not quite,” Sergkov said. “But my removal from the outpost was deliberate, if that’s what you mean. I self-extracted shortly after leaving the station. The mission priority was to capture Warlord, but we failed to achieve that objective. The rest—the loss of Daktar Outpost and the scientific team stationed there—was, ah, unintended.”
I could recall Major Sergkov’s facial expression, as he was being hustled into the Spiral’s starship, very clearly. At the time, that look of unerring calm had struck me as brave, as courageous, but now it made a lot more sense.
“Bastard…” Riggs said, under his breath so that only I could hear.
“Are we finished with the preliminaries?” Sergkov asked. “I’d like to get on with this briefing.”
I was literally too dumbstruck to speak out, and Sergkov took that as assent to proceed. What
more was there that I could say?
“As of now,” he said, “all personnel aboard this ship are under the command of Military Intelligence. According to the Combined Military Charter, you are hereby seconded to my command.”
Sergkov’s bright blue eyes scanned the room, flinty in the low light.
“Consider this briefing classified,” Sergkov continued, “with an alpha security classification.”
“That’s maximum security,” Zero hissed to the Jackals.
Sergkov began tapping something on his wrist-comp. The electronic eye of Novak’s drone dimmed and a blue light flashed on its hull. I’d never seen that happen before.
“Huh!” Novak said. “Drone has stopped recording.”
“If this is so classified,” Riggs said, “why are they letting you and Feng stay in for the briefing?”
“Quiet Riggs,” I said. “We’re all Jackals here.”
Sergkov ignored us and proceeded. “Sensitivities surrounding the Daktar incident prevented me from properly briefing you before we left Unity Base.”
The holo-display sprang to life, showing a highly detailed view of the Maelstrom. Jump points, shipping lanes in and around the Former Quarantine Zone, and the disposition of Krell space forces, all appeared.
“The Santa Fe’s destination is inside the Maelstrom,” said Sergkov. “Into an area of space known as ‘the Gyre,’ located in the Rion-Declar Spur.”
While it wasn’t exactly commonplace, going into the Maelstrom had become routine enough. Science Division had acquired star-data from many sources now, had mapped the periphery of the Krell Empire. But the Gyre? This was something else. The Gyre was a well of stars on the far side of the Maelstrom, deep within Krell territory. Warning markers whirled about, indicating black holes, stellar rifts, unexplored tranches of wild space.
“This is imagery of the Gyre six months ago,” Sergkov said. He jabbed a finger at a control. “This is the Gyre now. When we first began examining this sector, it contained almost two hundred stellar bodies. Within six months, that has reduced to sixteen.”
The well of stars had become denser, with more stellar matter clinging to the heart of the spiral. So much seemed to have disappeared. Planets, stars: everything. The Gyre was collapsing in on itself, and pulling all nearby planetary bodies into its dark core.
“It isn’t just stellar bodies that are being affected. Several Krell space assets have also gone missing. Prior to this event, this region of space was heavily populated by Krell forces. We’ve been monitoring their traffic. In some cases, these disappearances suggest the loss of sizeable war-fleets. Mostly from the Red Fin Collective, but also the Silver Gill and Blue Talon.”
“We’re spying on our allies?” Feng asked.
“There’s nothing new about that,” Riggs countered. “And when the good guys look like that, wouldn’t you?”
I recognised those names Sergkov had mentioned. The Krell didn’t refer to themselves by those titles, but Science Division and other Alliance military agencies had tagged the Collectives. There were dozens upon dozens of different Krell Collectives, varying in size, threat and attitude to the Alliance. Names ranged from the vaguely threatening to the overtly comedic. But as the display indicated the location of the missing fleets, no one was laughing.
Not everyone was so familiar with this sort of knowledge.
“Red Fin?” Feng muttered.
Zero couldn’t help answering. “The Red Fin Collective is the largest known Krell assembly,” she said. “Prior to the Krell War, they held in excess of three hundred worlds.”
Riggs sighed. “Trust you to know that.”
Zero shrugged. “It’s not expert knowledge, Riggs. You can read up on it on the ship’s mainframe.”
I knew that there was more to it than that, and resisted the urge to reach over and take Zero’s hand in mine. She’s a big girl now, Jenk, and she has to stand up for herself…
Instead, I simply said, “Maybe that’s what Riggs should do. Maybe that’s what we should all do.”
Sergkov continued. “Since the end of the war, the Red Fin have been most vocal in their communications with the Alliance. They were instrumental in brokering the current treaty. We believe, although we cannot be sure, that they were also responsible for persuading some of the other Collectives to agree to the settlement.”
Captain Carmine rapped her walking stick on the deck. “In short, the universe would be a far less pleasant place without the Red Fin.”
“As ever,” Sergkov said, “the captain speaks sense.”
Zero prickled at that, but held her tongue.
“Can’t we just ask the Krell what’s happening?” Lopez suggested.
“That was what we attempted to do. When the stellar anomaly in the Gyre was initially detected, the Alliance Navy dispatched an expedition with the express objectives of investigating the Gyre and making contact with the Red Fin Collective. That ship was called the Hannover.”
The display showed an image of a starship, as captured by a remote camera-feed. The ship looked like a typical Navy battlecruiser—a lot bigger than the Santa Fe, but also slower. I estimated that she carried a couple of thousand crewmen.
“She’s a European Confederation vessel,” Sergkov said. “Equipped with a full offensive and defensive weapons package.”
“Nice,” Riggs said.
“What happened to her?” Carmine chimed in. Her face looked especially drawn in the light of the holo, and I knew what she would be thinking: she didn’t want her ship ending up like the Hannover…
“That’s what we’re going to find out,” Sergkov said. “We know that she reached her destination, in the Gyre, but shortly thereafter she went dark.”
“No communications, no nothing?” Lopez said.
Sergkov shook his head. “No nothing, Private.”
“Fishes cannot be trusted,” Novak piped up. “I tell you this for long time.”
I was surprised when Sergkov gave the lifer a response. “Perhaps, comrade. But if knowledge of the Hannover’s disappearance becomes public, it could destabilise an already precarious peace.”
Both Novak and Sergkov were Russian Federation, but whereas Novak’s accent was rough and jagged, Sergkov’s was smooth and cultured. Despite their shared country and planet of origin, they seemed very different.
The occupants of the briefing room stirred, began to talk among themselves in confusion and concern. Carmine hushed the chamber, although I could see that the disclosure was causing her no less anxiety.
“What do you think happened to the Hannover, Major?” I asked, rousing from my seat. I noted that he had strategically avoided answering Carmine’s question.
“There are a number of possible risk factors associated with an expedition into the Maelstrom,” Sergkov said. “Engineering failure, erratic quantum tides, a dissident Krell faction … Even an internal influence.”
“Ah, the Black Spiral…” Carmine said. “A group with which we are all familiar.”
Sergkov nodded. “Perhaps. The Spiral has been running interference operations along the Former Quarantine Zone for some time.”
More indicators glowed on the map: Daktar was just one of several locations that had been hit by the Spiral. There had also been attacks on Novo Selo, Decais Bay, and a mining station on Yibres.
“I recognise some of those locations,” Zero said, frowning at the display, “but not others.”
“There’s good reason for that,” Sergkov said, in answer to Zero. “Reporting of many of these incidents has been suppressed. The Black Spiral have been most prolific in the last few months, conducting raids on several sites of interest to Science Division.” He raised an eyebrow. “Many of those attacks have involved gaining access to Shard Gates. We’re not yet sure why that is the case.”
“So what’s our flight plan, Major?” Carmine said, focusing on what her role in this mission would be.
“We will depart immediately to North Star Station,” Sergkov explai
ned, the map beside him updating.
There were some sighs around the room. Located in the Drift, North Star was one of the most remote stations in the Alliance. That was a quadrant that bordered the FQZ—densely packed with asteroids, part of the Great Barrier that encircled the Maelstrom. The computer graphics only hinted at how dangerous this sector could be to passing ships: in the Drift debris ebbed and flowed like a living thing, as though the sector’s tides were controlled by some unknown galactic force. But although there were great risks to anyone exploring the quadrant, there were also great rewards. By way of example, a stable Shard Gate sat in the midst of the asteroid belt.
“On North Star we will acquire personnel essential to this mission,” Sergkov explained. “We will then use the Shard Gate at North Star to jump further into the Maelstrom. That’ll place us within quantum-jump range of the Hannover’s last known location.
“Lieutenant Jenkins will be responsible for mission security. Our objectives will be to conduct recon, gather intelligence, then withdraw and report to Alliance High Command.”
“Sounds too easy,” Novak said. “Is not good.”
“Don’t worry, Novak,” Riggs said, with a grin. “I’m sure there will be some stuff to stab along the way.”
Novak pulled a face. “Can only hope.”
The briefing went to break, but Sergkov held up a hand for quiet.
“When we reach North Star, Lieutenant Jenkins and Sergeant Campbell will accompany me onto the outpost. I thereafter have two options: either allow you some downtime on-station, or confine you to your quarters until my business is concluded.”