Aurora Renegades
Page 37
Shock replaced horror as the dominant expression animating her face when she discovered Stefan’s gun pointed at her chest.
“Your psych profile indicates you respond to extreme stress with enhanced reaction speeds and sharper focus. So get us out of here in one piece, would you?”
Her mouth snapped into a thin, hard line as her pupils contracted. “Yes, sir.”
She seized the controls once more, and he re-holstered his gun. The floor pitched beneath his feet as they too accelerated, albeit away from the cruiser, and banked hard. He stumbled away from the dash and grabbed the top of her chair to prevent being thrown to the floor.
A fighter shot past their bow as they dove away, and in the next blink they were dodging two additional fighters and skimming the hull of a frigate. His stomach lurched, and if it hadn’t been many hours since he’d eaten, he would’ve vomited its contents.
The viewport briefly cleared—then another frigate was bearing down on their location. It didn’t know they were there, but it was moving far too fast to divert in any event.
“Shit!” Lekkas yanked the ship vertical, sending him thudding to the floor and skidding into the main cabin. His head slammed into the leg of a workstation as they finally leveled off.
“Okay back there?”
He massaged the back of his head and struggled to his feet. “That wasn’t funny.”
“You should’ve strapped in to the jump seat.”
“Given your certification scores, I expected it to be a smoother ride.”
“Must have been the extreme stress affecting my skills.”
When he reached the cockpit, he was relieved to see the surrounding space beginning to thin in a more permanent fashion. They had soared above the bulk of the fighting and were now racing away. Their job here was done, and the campaign would be won or lost without their participation.
“Are you going to point a gun at me again?”
“No. I simply needed to short-circuit your tirade and refocus you on the task at hand.”
She swung her chair around and crossed her arms tightly over her chest. “Asshole. How could you miss? Do you know how many innocent civilians you killed?”
“Seventeen.”
“Are you kidding? That transport could hold four hundred people. Even if it wasn’t full to capacity—”
“There were seventeen people on the ship. A skeleton crew. And I didn’t miss. It was my target.”
She stared at him in disbelief. “Why?”
He thought about Frannie, believing her husband was off at an engineering symposium planning a spaceport expansion and new levtram routes. He’d scheduled a series of messages to her to be delivered once the coup began so she didn’t worry. What would she think of him if she knew what he had just done, what he did for a living?
He met Lekkas’s furious stare with an equally cool one. “Because that was my mission.”
“Your mission? No. Your mission was to simulate an attack by the Alliance cruiser on our new warship, instigating the Thermopylae to open fire.”
“No, that was your mission. My mission was to hit the civilian vessel. It was specifically chosen since it would be all but empty, thus minimizing casualties, and Brigadier Gianno made certain the Thermopylae crossed its path at the pivotal moment.
“See, nobody will care how many people actually died. They’ll only care that the Alliance opened fire on a defenseless merchant vessel. Public opinion will be on our side, which means more colonies will offer support or even join the Federation. Money will flow to our cause so we can pay for the ships that are essential if we expect to prevail.”
Outside the viewport an amber burst flared. The sun was now behind them, and the eruption created a stark contrast to the space beyond it. Another ship destroyed, on and by one side or the other.
She shook her head as if to tangibly deny his point. “So that’s the real reason I wasn’t trusted to handle the shooting—and rightfully so. It wasn’t required. A shot at the Thermopylae would have been enough.”
“Possibly. Not my call to make, but I can’t disagree with the logic. We need every advantage we can create in these early hours and days if we’re to stand a snowball’s chance in Hell at winning this war. The Alliance military has nearly six thousand warships, and that’s before you start counting the fighters and support craft. We need them arguing over how to proceed instead of sending their entire damn fleet to Seneca. We need them doing what they do best: debating, prevaricating and creating a dozen committees to draw up rules of engagement. We need time.”
“Why lie to me?”
“I didn’t lie. I implied, you inferred.”
“Don’t play semantics with me. I’m not one of your marks. So….” She tossed her arms weakly in the air. “What now?”
“Now we follow the plan. We go home and go our separate ways. We keep our secret, no matter what happens—kidnapping, torture or a billion-credit bribe be damned, we keep our secret. Lastly, you stop having a nervous breakdown. You didn’t kill those people. I did. You sleep well at night because their blood isn’t on your hands, and I sleep well at night because it was…necessary.”
“Necessary. I refuse to believe that.”
Stefan shrugged. “Believe what you want. I believe their sacrifice will save far more lives in the long run—and that is our goal. If it helps, which I doubt it does, their families will be well taken care of. Our leaders will set a precedent by demonstrating the Senecan Federation honors its fallen war heroes.”
The burden of having started a war in which tens of thousands and perhaps tens of millions would die was a heavy one, but one he’d been prepared to bear. The burden of starting the war by murdering civilians…well, it wasn’t as if he hadn’t known it would be heavier.
He wasn’t a soldier, and dammit but he didn’t want to have been here.
The justifications stumbled over one another in a ragged loop in his mind. Lives would ultimately be saved as a result. War meant the spilling of blood. It meant death, and he’d be blindingly naïve to assert otherwise. But war also brought the prospect of a new world, a better world. He had to believe it was worth it.
Lekkas patched in to the Thermopylae’s internal comms so they could monitor the opening salvos of the clash. The chatter provided a welcome distraction from the troubled ruminations of his conscience.
Brigadier Gianno (SFS Thermopylae): “Elathan Seventh Regiment, your sole mission is to take out the Fuzhou. Cut the head off the snake, and do it now. Krysk Fourth Regiment, run interference and occupy the frigates protecting the Fuzhou.”
As they swung around on nearing the Lunar SSR Center, the full expanse of the battle spread out before them. The smaller, all-but-defenseless merchant vessels had vacated the area, leaving the military warships and armed civilian craft free to wreak havoc without fear of collateral damage. Most of the warships were outwardly identical, which made it difficult to judge the ebb and flow of the conflict. But it hardly mattered in an arena littered with debris and illuminated by incessant fire and explosions.
Once, humanity’s warriors had killed using swords and spears. Now they did so using weapons whose power approached the fury of a sun.
Brigadier Gianno (SFS Thermopylae): “Let’s show them exactly what this ship can do. Don’t hold anything back for the next battle, or there may not be a next battle. I see an Alliance cruiser and frigate lingering too close to one another W 43° −6° Z. Also, they’re harassing Auxiliary Group Three. Make them regret it.”
The Thermopylae cut through the fog of war, aggressively engaging an Alliance cruiser as it maneuvered with remarkable agility through the chaos. Attacks from multiple fighters and a damaged frigate splashed off its defense shields like rain off a pitched roof.
It was a beautiful ship, quick and powerful. A ship worthy of a new federation.
Stefan hoped the people building that federation proved themselves worthy of it.
Dissonance
Aurora Renegades Boo
k Two
* * *
BACK COVER BLURB
“Know this: you need not be afraid. They own the fear. They fear us because they believe we are powerful, and they are correct to do so.”
The technology behind Project Noetica is on the loose. Prevos—individuals and AIs sharing a single body—are spreading across the galaxy. Now two opposing but inexorably related forces, the Order of the True Sentients and the Zelones cartel, led by Olivia Montegreu, threaten to plunge the galaxy into chaos.
OTS believes Prevos are monsters who endanger humanity, and it intends to destroy them by any means necessary. Underworld despot Olivia Montegreu, now a radically enhanced Prevo, is its doomsday warnings made flesh.
As society splinters from within and the Earth Alliance falls to reactionaries, a formidable new player emerges on the galactic stage, one not afraid to do whatever it takes to protect all sentient life—human, Artificial and Prevo.
The Metigen surged forward to engulf her in light. I see you, Alexis Solovy.
A galactic playground where the Metigens harness the elemental forces of space to destroy entire star systems. An alien species those same Metigens shelter from a terrifying enemy. Alex and Caleb’s exploration of the portal network reveals profound mysteries, but each one leads to more questions.
Killers and saviors. Deceivers and protectors. Destroyers and creators. Could the Metigens truly be all these things? The search for answers leads Alex and Caleb to the most shocking revelation of all—the true face of the enemy.
CONTENTS
Part I
Liminality
Part II
Empty Places
Part III
Heroes & Villains
Part IV
What Lies Beneath
Part V
Hack the Galaxy
Part VI
Through A Glass, Darkly
Part VII
Puppet Masters
PART I:
LIMINALITY
“Those who make peaceful revolution impossible,
make violent revolution inevitable.”
— John Fitzgerald Kennedy
Portal: Aurora
(Milky Way)
1
ANDROMEDA
Independent Colony
* * *
Galactic domination wasn’t so difficult.
Olivia Montegreu’s transport landed on the roof of the Andromeda Government Administration Center. It met with no aerial resistance, as the building’s meager defenses had been disabled by her people on the ground an hour earlier.
Target 100% secured. Local defense force eliminated. All personnel accounted for. Casualties: 27%.
She exited the small ship and, instead of entering the building via the service access, strode to the low wall running the length of the rooftop.
An aquamarine ocean stretched to the horizon, and a salty breeze sent wisps of her hair dancing across her face. Andromeda. The colony had been aptly named: like the mythological princess, all it did was stand around being beautiful.
Worth little from a direct financial perspective, it nevertheless held substantial strategic value. Now that the pesky Metis Nebula problem was out of the way, many interests were looking to explore and expand into the Norma Arm of the Milky Way and beyond, toward the Galactic Core. From here, she’d be well positioned to assist in those ventures. The fact it also gave her yet another colony crowding in on the Federation’s border? A nice perk.
Front-line recruitment of mercenaries and enforcers up 203% in the last three weeks.
Increase acquisition of Daemons, grenades and micro-bombs accordingly. Allocate additional cargo transports to deliver weapons as required. An unarmed mercenary is a useless mercenary.
She’d crushed the domineering personality of her Artificial in a matter of days. It now bent to her will, obeyed her commands and provided her a continuous stream of status updates without so much as a snide retort. She had no need of its opinion; she only needed its power.
She sensed the access door open at the other end of the roof, and it prompted her to peer over the edge. The street below was rather a disaster, what with the blood and bodies and barricades piled high. Galactic domination may not be difficult, but it did on occasion create a bit of a mess.
At the sound of multiple feet coming to a stop behind her, she finally turned to greet her guests.
A sweaty, bruised, beaten shell of a man sagged between the two men who held him upright and in their control. An open cut across his forehead dribbled blood into his left eye, causing him to blink repeatedly in a futile effort to clear it. The crumpled shirt beneath his jacket hung in tatters. Such a brave man, to have fought so valiantly.
“Good evening, Governor Karas. Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Olivia Montegreu, and you work for me now.”
His eyes widened in horror—a common enough reaction to even hearing her name these days—causing the stream of blood to divert down his nose. He jerked backward and tried to wrench away.
One of the guards produced a baton. A swift strike dislocated a knee, eliciting a howl of pain from the governor.
“Charming. Do as I say, and I’ll allow you to live. Attempt to cause further trouble, and you’ll join the rest of your administration.”
He struggled to stand tall and proud, but collapsed when his now useless leg gave way. “I won’t take orders from thugs.”
“Suit yourself.” She slid the hilt of her gamma blade down her palm, activated it and with a single flick of her wrist sliced his throat open.
“Throw him over the side. Let the news cams see him. Let the galaxy see him.”
A darker-than-black void stared back at Olivia from outside the viewport. She spent far less of her time at her primary headquarters on New Babel these days. Able to execute all but the most particular elements of her strategy with a simple intentional thought, she could be anywhere at any time and control what she wished.
So she did.
Twenty-four crates of Skies+ shipping out from Argo Navis per day.
Four initial distribution center destinations: New Babel, Atlantis, Pandora, Requi, diverging to thirty-six final destinations.
Divert 17.6% of production to Lab 2B at Dolos Station.
She had moved first against the independent colonies scattered along the northern border of the Senecan Federation, because they were quick and easy, providing maximum return for minimal investment. Small, with skeleton governments and barely token defenses. Zelones had long maintained a strong presence on each of the colonies—Cosenti, Argo Navis and Andromeda—and it was a trifling manner to topple their leadership and install her own.
The greater efficiencies and economies of scale she’d uncovered and implemented throughout her organization since joining with her Artificial were translating into money, and a lot of it. She was spending the windfall in equally large sums. On increased defenses for New Babel, so there would not be a repeat incursion by military forces. On new ships, new weapons, new worlds.
Forty-two crates of Daemon mode-locking mods and laser fiber upgrades shipping from New Babel and Cosenti every week. Increase of 42.3% in the previous two weeks. Projected 127% increase by the end of the month.
Upgrade assembly line 4C at New Babel plant and line 2A at Cosenti plant using prototype nanobot fabricator units: projected throughput increase of 12.3%.
Her next move, in truth already well underway, was to create chokepoints between the southern border of the Federation and the rest of settled space, including virtually all Earth Alliance worlds. This wouldn’t be done through outright colony control. As powerful as she was, she was not yet powerful enough to topple the leadership of Pandora, Romane, Atlantis or Pyxis, though some of the smaller, more distant worlds were on the list.
But through effective domination of the black market, on the ground and in the trading lanes, she would not merely be the ferryman to whom the toll must be paid. She would be the only arbiter left standing.
Expand Dolos Station manufacturing space by two new modules. Funds allocated. Materials ordered. Job assigned.
Acquire suitable existing manufacturing facility on Argo Navis and repurpose for cybernetic mod production. Estimated time until first run: 6 days.
Pandora had long fought her attempts to grow beyond her allotted share of its market, but there was nothing the colony’s handlers could do to stop her if her competition no longer existed. Those competitors were now collapsing under the force of increased manpower, weapons, goods and credits. As well as the occasional targeted assassination.
Romane posed a more formidable challenge. But its citizens and government were nothing if not practical, and when the time came they would do what they must in order to survive. And the time was coming very soon.
She’d already bought ownership of the entire black and gray markets and criminal trade on Atlantis, even if no one, not even the law enforcement there, knew it. The magnitude of the proceeds which flowed from the wealthy spending their credits on illicit sins impressed her. The investment would pay for itself in—
5.2 weeks.
She glanced down at her arm, admiring the way the fine quantum circuitry glowed and pulsed. The web extending throughout her body had been painful to grow, but once it was done she enjoyed unprecedented access to all her quantum processes, plus a few valuable tricks. She hid her skin only when necessary, for in most encounters it served as a useful unspoken threat.
People feared what they did not understand, and they without a doubt did not understand her. Those who believed they did least of all.