Richard dried his face and rested against the wall. “Like what?”
“Mangled bodies. Limbs with no body left to go with them. Lives shattered. Blood, death. So much death.”
“If you mean how many times have I been forced to stand amidst a massacre like the one tonight…not as many as some, but too often. Set up in a nice office at EASC HQ, it became all too easy to avoid the grim reality, to pretend it isn’t like that. In the First Crux War, though? Before the office? Yes. More than I ever want to remember.”
Will’s gaze remained on the water swirling around the basin. “Is it normal to kind of want to kill whoever did this using my bare hands?”
He huffed a breath and grasped his husband by the shoulders. “Yes. But if you hold onto the sentiment for too long, it’ll eat you alive from the inside. We’ll find them, and they’ll pay. I promise.”
Graham welcomed them in with a weary wave of a hand. “Hell of a night, isn’t it?”
“And early morning.” Richard sat and made an effort to look alert. “You said you needed to talk to us?”
Other than displaying evident tiredness, Graham’s expression was unreadable. “I do. Specifically you, Richard, but having Will here saves you from having to repeat everything to him later, which I know better than to pretend you won’t do.
“Nevertheless, what I’m about to tell you is so classified they don’t have a level for it, and I frankly beg you not to let it go beyond this room. In other words, I definitely should not be telling you this. But because you’re my friend, the tenuous scraps that remain of my conscience demand I do….”
He rolled his eyes at the ceiling. “That’s not entirely true. I’m well acquainted with my conscience yelling at me to no effect. The truth is, in the last year I’ve had too many secrets and lies blow up and bite me in the ass. I’ve lost too many good people to them, and dammit, I don’t want to lose any more.
“If after hearing this you want to resign, return to Earth, I’ll understand. I really will. But it’s not my secret—not my lie. And by telling you now, before it blows up and bites me in the ass, I’m hoping in the end I won’t lose either of you—your work or your friendship.”
Dread gnawed up through Richard’s gut into his chest. Graham was frequently brutally honest, but rarely about himself. Seemed a tough night planned to get worse. “Obviously I don’t care for the sound of this. What is it?”
“I believe in the Federation. I believe in its principles of limited government and individual liberty. I believe it does the right thing more often than the wrong one. But not every time.”
Graham’s chin dropped to his chest. “Back in 2297, Seneca was chafing under Alliance rule, and a growing faction of leaders were ready to be rid of it. But no matter how hard they pushed, the Alliance continued to tighten its grip, narrowing the window in which Seneca would be able to change its circumstances.”
“Graham, I know the history of the First Crux War. I was in the military—I lived it.”
“Of course. I only…so those leaders, of whom Chairman Vranas and Field Marshal Gianno were two, initiated the coup and declared independence. This led to the blockade, which they were counting on. Finally a chance to provoke the Alliance into war.”
“Declaring independence did that well enough.”
“The suggestion of war ought to have been ridiculous, though. The Alliance military dwarfed the few ships we could commandeer. Its forces could have annihilated us in a matter of weeks.”
Richard shook his head. “But it didn’t. The messy details of the first battle paralyzed the Assembly and military leadership, above and beyond the effect the audacity of the Federation had. They were hesitant to respond, and when they did they responded timidly. And you—” he caught himself “—the Federation had built a fleet in secret, one which matched the Alliance on the battlefield soon enough.”
“We did.”
“Again, you’re not telling me anything I don’t already know.”
Graham nodded. “Then I probably should. The ‘messiness’ of the first battle you referred to? It was our doing.”
“I’m not sure I understand. Yes, your seized ships and one brand new one showed up and taunted the Alliance commander into attacking.”
“The civilian transport that was destroyed, allegedly by the EAS Fuzhou…we shot it down, and in such a way as to make it appear as if the Fuzhou did the shooting.”
“We did what?”
Will had asked the question; Richard was at a loss as to how to respond. He sucked in oxygen and let out the breath with great care. “You murdered your own civilians? To make the Alliance look bad?”
“To slow the Alliance down. To win the hearts and minds of other colonies on the fence. To buy time for the secret fleet to grow larger. That’s what the mission file says, anyway. I wasn’t there, I didn’t…I didn’t know. Not then, not when I joined Division and not when I became Director. Not until a few days ago.”
Richard’s mind reeled. The dread turned to acid in his throat.
He was working for the enemy.
The Federation had been the enemy in the First Crux War, an adversary in the decades since, then ultimately an ally. But they had been the enemy back then for a reason, and it turned out the reason wasn’t the desire for freedom.
Will exploded out of his chair. “They were cold-blooded killers!” The fact that he was running on adrenaline, rage and blood lust elicited by the OTS bombing couldn’t be helping his state of mind.
Richard motioned Will down with a whispered please. “Who was responsible?”
Graham swallowed. “Vranas, Gianno and Darien Terzi, the Director of Intelligence on Seneca at the time, planned and authorized the mission. They called it ‘Operation Colpetto.’ They used one of the new ships, a small recon craft. It snuck into the middle of the Alliance blockade fleet and positioned itself beneath the Fuzhou. They equipped it with a weapon designed to mimic Alliance cruiser weapons.”
His throat worked again. “There’s one more thing. The person who fired the shot that destroyed the civilian transport was Stefan Marano.”
Richard frowned, briefly confused as to why it was a relevant detail. His eVi helpfully filled in the necessary information. “Caleb’s father? You have got to be kidding me.”
Graham shook his head. “I considered the man a friend, and I never had the slightest inkling. I’m positive Caleb didn’t—and still doesn’t—know. And maybe it doesn’t matter. Stefan was following orders from Terzi, and he withdrew from field work shortly thereafter to become an investigator. I’d say he didn’t care for having crossed the thin line into murder, but let’s face it, I’d be speculating.”
Will stood to pace around the office. “After the things I saw tonight…our government is no better than OTS.”
“I don’t believe that, but I concede it may look that way from where you’re at. Vranas and the others hoped the action would save lives in the end and prevent a wholesale slaughter of Senecan lives, soldier and civilian. Can’t say if they were right. I doubt anyone can.”
“But at what cost? Their integrity? Their very souls?”
Graham shrugged weakly. “I don’t have any good answers for you, Will. Civilians die in war all the time? Admittedly, not usually at the hands of their own side….”
Richard worked to keep his voice level. “Why now?”
“Why did I find out now?” Graham grimaced. “To be blunt, Lekkas learned of it and is using it as insurance against us trying to apprehend her. Her mother piloted the recon craft, though she wasn’t in on the plan. It’s all a bloody mess, but that’s neither here nor there.”
He snorted. “You think it’s a bloody mess now? If the Alliance finds out, the last shreds of our friendly relations will disintegrate. Then things will get ugly.”
“No doubt. The credibility of our Chairman and the head of our military would be ruined. The entire government might fall, but Vranas and Gianno would almost certainly be replaced. But none o
f those issues should be your concern.”
Richard was quiet for several seconds. Then he stood, offering only a curt rejoinder. “Thank you for telling me. I need some time. We both do.”
Graham nodded quickly, and Richard gestured to Will. “Let’s go home.”
Will was still visibly enraged as he followed Richard out. Even taking into account the night’s trials, it was strange he would react this strongly.
Or maybe Richard had simply become far too jaded. With life, with the evil that good men do.
18
EARTH
San Francisco
* * *
Claire Zabroi licked her lips in anticipation as she strolled with exaggerated nonchalance down Folsom Street toward Rincon Park. The damp air chilled her bare arms.
Warmth.
Her Prevo consort promptly began warming her skin. She smiled. This was fabulous.
The lights and sounds increased as she navigated the next block. Rincon Hill had served as a haven for the tech/ware counterculture for decades, but now it had become the unofficial favorite gathering spot for a new breed of warenut.
The Prevo tech had spread like wildfire since being quietly shared by the former members of Noetica, doubtless as they intended. Information was meant to be free, right?
She’d been fascinated to discover Alex was the first—the originator of the idea, in fact. Her next reaction had been resentment at not having received an invitation to be in the initial wave of people receiving the tech. But then she’d learned Alex was unequivocally ‘elsewhere.’ So it was all good now.
Not everyone who claimed to be a Prevo actually had the balls to go through with it. An ocular implant enhancement which mimicked the glowing irises had been rushed to market. Sales were brisk, and now no one could distinguish human from Prevo on sight. In theory it worked to protect them, but so far the most common users were posers.
The amusing part was the posers apparently didn’t realize how easily true Prevos saw past their charade. Many ways existed to identify them, their absence from the Noesis being the most obvious.
She activated a hit of Surf and drifted amid the Noesis, caressing the consciousness of others in the way one might brush past someone on the sidewalk. Some recognized her presence and reached out in acknowledgment; she returned the gestures but kept moving, much as she did in the real world.
Ahead of her multiple sensory overlays transformed the block into a Prevo-controlled circus. It became impossible to tell what was physical, what was virtual and what represented sidespace. The most skilled and adept of the new Prevos were already transcending the Noesis mindspace to begin to explore the far more cryptic sidespace dimension, and she appreciated their efforts here.
With the chimeral high adding to the mixture, she pretended she floated through a madman’s warped, upside-down performance art fantasy. What a trip….
A concentrated cluster of presences to the left caught her attention. Someone—almost certainly more than one someone, not that it mattered here—was hacking an exceedingly secure network.
She fixated her perception on the cluster, and they opened to her. PanPacific Tech Labs was the target. She gave them a little boost of processing power and a snippet of one of her most clever hacking algorithms then continued on. Embarcadero Taproom was on the next block, and what high couldn’t be made better by the addition of alcohol?
The explosion ahead seemed to be part of the sensory experience at first. A hack gone wrong? Some twat showing off by buggering up the virtual layer?
Then the screams penetrated the shared mindspace—
Can’t breathe
—Claire gasped, the rawness of the terror flooding her mind—
Help, my leg is trapped underneath
—Not her leg? Someone else’s leg. Because she was still walking, wasn’t she?
Hurts I don’t want to
—Another blast, larger, louder, shaking her eardrums, the tangible ones. Few screams followed this one, only presences blinking out of the Noesis like stars going dark.
People ran on the fringes of the explosions, in no direction and all directions. Her hands found something solid, and she pressed against the façade of a building.
Smoke and fire bloomed everywhere, even in the virtual layers. It couldn’t be real there, but instead a manifestation of the mental confusion and panic.
Violent streaks of light crisscrossed…which space? She blinked, trying to draw her consciousness back into herself and block out all the pain flooding the Noesis. It didn’t work.
Was she in pain? She raised a hand to her face and found it soaked in blood. Oh, frag it all…
Congealing skin around the wound and decreasing blood flow to the area. Medical attention is suggested, but you are not in immediate life-threatening danger. Not from the wound.
Really? Because it hurts like a son of a bitch. Narcotics. All the narcotics.
Done. We should vacate this area.
Dizziness from the painkillers made the ground shift and undulate beneath her, but it was so much better than the pain. She blinked and tried to focus.
It looked as though a pressurized cluster bomb had been dropped on Folsom and Spear. Most of the lights had gone out. Or maybe they were obscured by all the smoke.
How the hell was she going to get out of here?
Map overlay activated. Assuming Rincon Plaza is the primary target, go left—
Laser fire burned through the smoke in front of her as she turned. Too close.
Or right. Right would be better.
Vancouver
EASC Headquarters
Miriam scrutinized the data flowing across the secure, encrypted and also hidden comm channel. “This looks good, Christopher.” She glanced up at the holo wearing a grateful smile. “You’re making progress far more rapidly than the schedule we set. Excellent work.”
He scoffed, deflecting the compliment. “With all the construction going on out here, it hasn’t been difficult to divert a few resources here and there.”
“Minimize it if you wish, but I recognize the effort required—”
The alert flashed in her vision at the same time it flashed on the news feed panel embedded in the wall. Footage of buildings crumbling into smoke, people running and generalized chaos followed.
“I need to go. I’ll touch base when I can.” She cut the connection and deactivated the shielding around her office. Subversive scheming would have to wait; it was time to focus on the here and now—to do her job.
In a matter of seconds she had the relevant broad-stroke details. The location was San Francisco, the Rincon Hill neighborhood—a favorite of warenuts and, in recent days, possible Prevos. Three explosions had been confirmed, though whether they resulted from bombs or rockets remained unclear. Widespread small arms fire in the aftermath had also been reported.
Initial casualty reports varied, from a low of seventeen to a high of over a hundred.
She connected to North American Military Headquarters in San Francisco and instructed them to allow civilian emergency and security personnel to take the lead, but authorized provision of any assistance requested, carte blanche.
Next she alerted the OTS task force at Naval Intelligence and advised them to send an officer to the scene, under the reasoned assumption this was likely an OTS attack. The terrorist organization had become increasingly brazen and violent in recent weeks, its members descending from the ranks of opposition protestors to mass murderers. News of the bombing in Cavare had reached her hours earlier.
Two attacks on the two most powerful planets in the galaxy on the same day. OTS was trying to give Olivia Montegreu a run for her money.
Miriam was fully engaged in multiple on-scene reports and a briefing with the San Francisco law enforcement chief when a holocomm from Pamela Winslow invaded it all in a flurry of blinking alerts and priority overrides.
She paused the briefing, paused herself to grit her teeth and allow herself a single silent curse, and sw
itched channels.
“Chairman Winslow, I am in the middle of a crisis at the moment. Unless this is a true emergency, I suggest whatever you wish to discuss wait until the situation has calmed.”
“Admiral Solovy, have you seen the latest from Rio de Janeiro and Shi Shen? This kind of behavior cannot be allowed to continue.”
Vids of young people, their dress marking them as members of the warenut counterculture, defacing government buildings were shoved onto her holocomm. She waved them off the edge of the screen to glare at Winslow.
“How curious. I expected you to be complaining about the rise in terrorist attacks by OTS—such as the one happening this instant in San Francisco.”
“Regrettable to be sure, but OTS is reacting to what it correctly perceives to be a very real threat.”
“Chairman, you cannot be advocating—”
“Overreacting, yes. But I expect the attacks will lessen or even stop if we make a proper effort to crack down on this rampant spread of illegal, hazardous technology. Children are turning themselves into monsters and, quite frankly, it is your fault. You initiated the creation of this technology, then you allowed it to slip through your fingers.”
Miriam’s jaw tightened. “I disagree, but now is the least optimal time imaginable for assigning blame. People are dying, and I will not stand around debating semantics with you while they are.”
“Two hours from now, the Assembly will pass legislation outlawing the ownership, possession or use of Artificials outside of the government, military and Assembly-approved corporations. I expect you to instruct those under your command to assist the police in enforcing this new law throughout Earth Alliance jurisdiction with all due speed.”
“Enforcement of civilian law is not the province of the military.”
“I only mean in a support capacity, of course. I’m not referring to martial law type measures.”
Yet. The fact that the possibility of martial law was sufficiently extant in the woman’s mind for her to drop it in conversation was worrisome, but not surprising.
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