Aurora Renegades

by G. S. Jennsen

  Commander Lekkas: Security alerted. Lockdown in progress.

  Colonel Jenner: Noted.

  Captain Paredes: Disrupter active.

  She opened fire the same time he did. He briefly forgot the barrel of his gun was visible beyond the cloaking, and was promptly reminded when direct fire sizzled over his defensive shield.

  He drew his arm in and scrambled sideways.

  4 seconds

  He’d hit her, but she wasn’t down. Her shield may be disrupted, but the signal only decreased its effectiveness, not eliminated it. The timer ticked down in the corner of his vision.

  3 seconds

  She was moving, running for the still-open door while spraying the room in laser fire—

  —she stumbled and crashed into the wall. Had Paredes tripped her?

  2 seconds

  He was on her in an instant to brace her against the wall. She kicked and clawed at her unseen attacker, skin and irises ablaze in caustic gold.

  She fired anew, and the point-blank shot broke through his defenses, grazing his hip. He ignored the harsh sting to bring his Daemon up between them.

  1 second

  He wedged the barrel under her chin and pressed the trigger.

  Blood and brain matter hit the wall behind her with enough force to rebound, coating him in it. Blood traced an outline of his form in thin air for half a second, then vanished as the shield incorporated the new material into its cloaking routine.

  He stepped away and let her body fall to the floor. Her eyes stared up at nothing, now dulled to a lifeless green.

  Mia: Damn…okay, all lifts are shut down as part of the security protocol. We’re working on how to get you out of there.

  He crouched beside the body and flipped it over, revealing a gaping hole in the back of her skull.

  Colonel Jenner: Mia, you don’t need to watch this. No one needs to watch this. He didn’t want to watch this, much less do this. But it needed to be done.

  He activated his blade and drove it into the base of her neck to slice a half-circle pattern. Next he pulled the flap of skin up and reached in, feeling for her data store. There was a chance it contained crucial intel on Zelones operations across the galaxy.

  He recoiled at the sensation of the wet, slippery tissue sucking at his hand…then it slipped past a solid object. He closed his fingers around it and yanked, hard.

  More blood sprayed his face; he nearly gagged. He breathed through his nose as he retrieved a wrapper from his pack, secured it around the data store and deposited both in another container then into the pack.

  Colonel Jenner: Paredes, you good?

  Captain Paredes: Yes, sir. He sounded as if he was trying not to vomit. Malcolm couldn’t blame the man when he was struggling with the same.

  He forced down the acid in his throat and went to the cabinet behind the desk, where he attached a micro-bomb. He didn’t know if she kept information here in the office, but it wouldn’t hurt to destroy any hardware.

  Mia: You’ve got incoming security forces. They’ll be there in twelve seconds. The door opposite her office leads to her private hangar. Hack the door.

  Several environment suits are stored in the closet on the left. Get in them. The force field is locked down, but we’re going to blast you a hole and pick you up.

  She had said to expect anything.

  Paredes didn’t wait for an order to start working on the hangar door.

  Malcolm checked the lift as it began to ascend—packed full of mercs, as reported. He dropped a grenade down the shaft and rushed back. The explosion rocked the floor just as Paredes got the door open.

  He went straight for the cabinet.

  Colonel Jenner: Any chance you can close the door behind us in case we have more incoming?

  Mia: Nope. And you do have more incoming.

  He held out one of the environment suits and waited for invisible Paredes to grab it, then quickly stepped into the one he’d chosen, remembering at the last instant to shut off his invisibility shield. They would need to be seen to be rescued.

  Ominous sounds grew from down the hallway. Seals check. Helmets secure.

  Colonel Jenner: We’re ready.

  Mia: Hold onto the closet frame and hug the wall behind you.

  Colonel Jenner: Done.

  Silver laser fire burned through the opposite wall. Artificial gravity vanished in favor of the weightlessness of space.

  In such an enclosed area the laser, though originating from a small recon craft, tore through everything—the ship occupying the hangar, the front wall and much of the floor.

  When the fire ceased, he grabbed Paredes’ hand. Together they launched themselves off the closet and out the gaping hole into space.

  Colonel Jenner: Gambier, now you’re the one who’s invisible. I need a target.

  Berg came on the comm. And if we deactivate the cloaking shield, the station will shoot at us and probably hit you. We’re eighty meters above you and descending slowly. You’ll be able to see us when we’re three meters away.

  Colonel Jenner: Got it.

  Major Berg: There might be a love tap involved.

  More like a bum rush, as the hull became visible a split-second before slamming into them. “Ugh!” He forcefully expelled a breath.

  Colonel Jenner: We need to have a discussion about your repressed violence issues, Berg.

  Major Berg: Yes, sir. The outer hatch is to your right and is open, if you’d like to come aboard.

  He grasped the outer edge of the opening and pulled himself over to it, then motioned Paredes in first. The outer hatch closed behind them, the air hissed and the inner hatch opened. “Get us out of here, Major.”

  “Gladly, sir. Commander Lekkas, we are retreating to the rendezvous point.”

  Commander Lekkas: On your tail. All bombs have been placed.

  Malcolm collapsed his helmet and stripped out of the environment suit as they banked up and away from the station.

  Mia stood from the copilot’s seat—and let out a gasp as a hand covered her mouth.

  “What? Oh, right. I’m covered in blood and gore, aren’t I?”

  She shuddered. “Rather a lot of it.”

  “A small portion of it is even mine. Someone want to grab me a medwrap? Never mind, everyone else is on the supply ship—are they clear?”

  Berg nodded. “Yes, sir. We had to blast them out, too, but they’re in one piece.”

  He exhaled in relief. “I’ll get my own medwrap.”

  He went to one of the cabinets in the rear of the cabin and opened up the med kit, then removed his tactical vest and lifted his undershirt to inspect the wound. It wasn’t bad—little more than a nick—but the skin was torn and seeping blood.

  “Here, let me.” Mia reached over and slid the med kit down the counter to her. She retrieved the antiseptic, bio-bonding gel and a Size 3 medwrap.

  He held his shirt out of the way, then jerked slightly on the application of the chilled antiseptic.

  “You did it. Killed perhaps the most powerful and definitely the most dangerous person in the galaxy.”

  “I had significant help. Thank you. And—” he peered down at his side as she pressed firmly on the medwrap to secure it “—thank you.”

  “I’m glad we were able to help.”

  “Can I ask…when you say ‘we,’ do you mean you and your Artificial or…?”

  She pursed her lips as she let go of the medwrap and took a half-step back. “It depends. This time I was referring to Morgan and I, and Harper, and I suppose the IDCC in general. Sometimes, though, when I say ‘we’ I am referring to both myself and Meno. As to whether we’re truly separate, individual beings now…I’m sorry, do you really want to hear all this?”

  “Yes.” He meant it.

  A curious glint flared in her luminescent eyes. “Okay. I believe we continue to be distinct, because we each have our own sense of self and identity. But I would have difficulty pointing to the place where I end and Meno begins. H
e might do a better job…” she chuckled softly “…he says he could not. So there you go. I doubt all that rambling helps you understand it any better. Sorry.”

  “No, it does help, a bit. Are you still…do you still require the connection to be open in order to remain conscious?”

  She propped against the counter. “Yes and no. Yes, but should his hardware become damaged in the future, it won’t incapacitate me. Enough of his consciousness resides in my brain cells now, as he’s effectively filled in the gaps with himself. So I guess the real answer is, the connection can’t be cut now—it’s no longer an option.”

  “But your eyes, they’re…well, they’re still white. Lekkas’ are sort of purple, and I’d heard that meant something.”

  “It does.” She grinned with unexpected playfulness. “Want to see something neat?”

  Berg interjected from the cockpit. “Sir, we’ll be in position to meet up with the mercenary supply ship in twenty seconds.”

  “Understood, Major.” He lowered his voice to a murmur. “I absolutely do.”

  She blinked deliberately—and her irises glowed a brilliant lavender. Before he had a chance to react, she blinked again, revealing an arctic blue hue. Again, and they were a rich jade. Once more, back to white.

  A second or two passed, and she started fidgeting awkwardly. “You’re staring at me very strangely now. Did I freak you out? I feel like I’m always freaking you out.”

  “Uh…no. No. It was…” sublime “…interesting. And surprising. And I won’t ask you to try to explain this one to me.”

  “We’re ready to dock, sir.”

  “Commence docking procedures.” He cleared his throat and finally remembered to tuck his shirt back in his pants. “Thanks for the first aid.”

  “My pleasure.” She tilted her head toward the cockpit. “Should we get ready to blow this place?”

  “We should.”

  Everyone came on board to wrap matters up, including the shell-shocked but slightly giddy merc captain—who was beginning to act like he was part of the crew, laughing and joking with Grenier as they settled in.

  Malcolm confirmed everything was in order, then gestured to Morgan Lekkas. “Activate the charges.”

  Outside the viewport, multiple explosions erupted across the station. He cocked an eyebrow. “You simply ‘thought’ it, didn’t you?”

  Lekkas shrugged. “Not technically. I sent a command to my ship, and it sent the command to the charges.”

  “Sir, are we planning to stick around and try to rescue people?”

  “No. We’re not equipped for it, and the Gambier can’t hold more than a few additional people. We gave them a chance, which is more than they deserve.”

  He went over to Harper and stuck out a hand. “It was a privilege working with you again, even if in only the smallest way.”

  Rather than take his proffered hand, she brought her own hand to her brow and saluted. “Thank you, sir. I would’ve preferred to get to shoot something, but it was nonetheless an honor.”

  He huffed a kind laugh. “You’re doing good work. I wish it was for me, but it’s still good work. I sincerely hope the politicians don’t mess everything up and turn us into enemies. We should be allies.”

  “I hope so, too.” She glanced over her shoulder at Lekkas. “We ought to get out of here before God and everyone shows up to pick through the station’s carcass.”

  Lekkas nodded. “I wholeheartedly agree.”

  Mia sighed. “I need to catch a ride with you two. It’s time I let Colonel Jenner and his team get back to their duties.”

  He started to protest…but she was right. Eliminating Montegreu had been a huge boon, but it heralded a mountain of work awaiting him. Also, he was having a harder and harder time being a military commander when Mia was on board. He mouthed an apology.

  “It’s going to be hideously cramped.”

  Mia scowled at Lekkas. “And also brief. Don’t worry, you two will have plenty of time for a more private celebration once we get to Romane.”

  Harper actually blushed. Lekkas glared deadpan at Mia before cringing in Harper’s direction.

  What…oh. So far beyond any of his business, so he merely smiled and pretended he hadn’t noticed anything. “Thank you all. Amazing job today, everyone.”

  Then as Mia moved to follow Harper and Lekkas through the hatch, he sidled up behind her and placed a hand on her arm.

  She stilled, and he leaned in to whisper at her ear. “For the record, I prefer the jade.”

  She didn’t turn around, but he saw the corner of her lips curl upward. “I’ll…keep that in mind.”

  39

  EARTH

  London

  * * *

  Jude Winslow held his breath as the door to his mother’s home office closed and a faint hiss betrayed the lock engaging.

  He forced his posture to relax, then strolled through the hallway and down the stairs. Into the kitchen, where he grabbed a fruit scone out of the basket on the counter, then across the foyer and up a different stairway to his suite.

  Only once his own door closed did he exhale for real. He sank onto the edge of his bed. It had been eighteen years since he’d tried to break into his mother’s office. The punishment on being caught trying to do so when he was nine had been a month of home confinement with no non-school exanet access.

  It had been the first time, though certainly not the last, that he’d entertained feelings of hatred toward his mother.

  The files and systems in her office had always been too tightly locked down, with too many associated risks, to try to break into since she’d been a member of the Assembly. As the new Prime Minister, they had become unbreakable.

  Or all but.

  He’d needed to divert fairly significant funds—funds which were earmarked for OTS—via the labyrinthine laundering process he’d long ago put in place, simply to buy the necessary ware and to silence the seller. He’d spent his own personal funds on the additional equipment required, chalking them up as tools of the trade. Even then it took a bit of luck and a healthy dose of inside knowledge.

  But in the end he’d gotten it done, because if his life’s work was to mean anything he needed the information his mother possessed.

  Now he sat on his bed skimming through the wealth of data he’d collected. There were so many potentially valuable data points in the files, but today he desired a single, specific one: the name of the monster who had dared stand up to him on Pandora, thumbed his nose at everything Jude believed in and forced him to walk away.

  The abomination had made him look weak in front of one of his most important lieutenants. Worse, had made him feel weak. He needed that name.

  Until recently he hadn’t known the code words the government used to reference its Faustian creations, and without them it would have taken hours to find the thread that ultimately led to the treasure. But as the technology started to spread among criminal hackers and rejects, words began bubbling up to the surface. Words like ‘Prevo’ and ‘Noetica.’

  They were all it took. He opened a file…and chuckled to himself. Of course, two names would do as well.

  The other ranking members of OTS were mere dots of light, the barest pseudo-physical representations of their presence in the group commspace.

  Anonymity was important in the organization. Half a dozen knew him personally, another dozen by his coded designation, Linjal—and anyone else wasn’t here. But strict adherence to safeguards and rules would save them from successful infiltration.

  He smiled, and the act expressed in the space as a subtle flare of warm colors. “Fellow comrades and compatriots, well done on Demeter and in Rio this last week. We have a number of upcoming initiatives, and I trust you are already pursuing them with your full efforts.

  “But I’m here today to share some very good news. We now have the opportunity to cut the roots from the tree, to sever Medusa’s head from her snakes.”

  He paused for dramatic effect, well aw
are of the importance of projecting a confident, larger-than-life persona. “We have two new targets, and they trump all other objectives. Kill them, and we win. Though the battle may rage on for some months or even years, if we take out these two individuals, in the end, we win.

  “Their names are Devon Reynolds and Abigail Canivon.”

  PART VI:

  THROUGH A GLASS, DARKLY

  “Shut your eyes and see.”

  — James Joyce

  Portal: C-17

  System Designation:

  Cibatus

  40

  SIYANE

  Lobby Space

  * * *

  Saviors. Killers.

  Protectors. Deceivers.

  Creators. Destroyers.

  Could the Metigens truly be all these things, or did one behavior merely exist as a front to mask another? If so, which were the fronts, which the truths?

  Learning the Taenarin history had pitched a curve ball into Caleb’s estimation of the Metigens, and not solely from a theoretical perspective. The memory of the Iona-Cead who’d led their exodus had been a moving experience, and far more impactful than being told the believed facts.

  He had suffered the fear, wrangled with the suspicion and ultimately welcomed the trust Ahearne granted Lakhes. It was proving difficult to separate those emotions from his reality.

  Alex sat fiddling with one of the scopes at the workbench while they tried to noodle out what to take away from the shared memory. “I want to be able to call the story false—an origin myth, a legend. We have the technology to create experiences that vivid, so it’s safe to say the Metigens do as well. But the Taenarin? We saw no evidence they have capabilities approaching that level of sophistication. Did the Metigens plant it all?”

  “Beshai said new memory orbs were being created even now. She claimed to receive some form of language memory from Jaisc, and I think she had to be telling the truth. How else would she have instantly understood us? How the memory capture and transfer works isn’t remotely clear, but it sure seems to be native to the Taenarin.”