Fearful Symmetry (The Robert Fenaday and Shasti Rainhell Chronicle Book 2)

by Edward McKeown

  “Affirmative,” Telisan said. Cobalt returned to its characterless self, leaving without a further word and trailed by one crab. The other gray crab robot roused itself and began to follow him. Reassured by the robot’s tank-like power, he moved cautiously but rapidly. Sharla and her team should be at the computer center by now.

  Low and squat, the Denshi computer building had the look of a bunker. Part of a skybridge had collapsed on it. Shattered glass and bodies lay everywhere around the building. Some were enemy soldiers, but more looked to be office workers cut down in flight. Their burned and twisted bodies lay in heaps, as if they had clustered together for some illusion of protection in the last seconds. The waste of it all tightened his sensitive mouth. Yet he was part of this and bore responsibility for it.

  He arrived at the computer center ahead of Sharla’s team. The demi-female showed up five precious minutes later, with two of Sidhe’s Landing Force for escort. She gave him a quick smile, and he touched her face, relieved to see her. They entered the building and found the main computer room. He sent the LFs outside with the crab robot to secure the area. After they left, Sharla seized his arm in a fierce grip. He turned, surprised at the fear in the demi-female’s golden, cat-irised eyes.

  “I ran into Karass and Dobera,” Sharla said, “and helped them get it unseen into the Duna. Telisan,” she hissed, “a new alien race! What does this mean? Another war? Are these like the Conchirri?”

  “We do not know what this means,” he cautioned. “Remember the humans were once an unknown alien species. Much is now clear as to why Mandela sent both Rainhell and us to this world. These Denshi must have a relationship with these new aliens. This is what Mandela actually sent us for.”

  Sharla still seemed shaken. “If they know where our worlds are, they could strike anywhere. In any force. We would have no way of counter-attacking.”

  “Yes,” he replied in a grim tone. “Sharla, I need you to invade these computer banks and find everything you can on these people. Weapons, capabilities, bases, everything. We are in great trouble here; information may save us.”

  Sharla nodded, stepping over an Olympian corpse and pulling back a chair in front of a flat-screen terminal that looked intact. Her long, delicate fingers played over the controls. Screens lit and flashed around her.

  A tremendous bang sounded out in the distance. The building shook slightly. Sharla ignored it. Telisan looked around. “Mmok’s work,” he muttered. “I hope.”

  He switched his pocket comp to its communication function but got only static. Switching channels, he finally found one that carried through to Mmok. “Gold, come in.”

  “Gold here,” Mmok answered.

  “Situation report.”

  “We have fallen back on the shuttles. I have the Intruder cruising over the complex, blasting anything that moves outside our sectors.”

  “Restrict that immediately,” Telisan snapped. “Stormcloud has no IFF.”

  “Relax, Blue,” Mmok replied. “This isn’t my first action. Stormcloud’s profile and characteristics are in all weapons and machines. I have my airbot searching for Stormcloud and Scarlet.”

  “Apologies,” Telisan waved a hand, though Mmok could not see it. “I should not have worried about that.”

  “Forget it,” Mmok said. “I understand. No sign of them now. I am expanding the search radius. We’ll check back in with you when we have something. Meanwhile, we are holding the Denshi in check. It won’t last forever. Unless you want me to throw my live troops back in.”

  “Negative,” he replied, “the Army is coming. I don’t trust them. I would have most of our forces gone by the time they arrive.”

  “Understood, Gold out.”

  Sharla worked furiously through their conversation, continuing her labors on the computer for another ten minutes. “Ah,” she finally exclaimed in satisfaction, “the tech who died here was converting a message from code. Someone killed him in the middle of the work. I can use this to break the security cipher.”

  “What does the last message say?” he asked, eager for clues.

  “It refers to a Project Overman, advising the complex is under assault. It orders someone named Raque to liquidate the aliens and to broadcast a message to satellites at the systems edge. A courier from the alien’s homeworld—they are named the Voit-Veru—is due in Olympian space in the next eight weeks. The message to them was, ‘Eliminate the crew of the Blackbird.’”

  Telisan’s leathery skin paled in shock. “Repeat that,” he snapped.

  Sharla looked at him curiously. “Eliminate the crew of the Blackbird,” she repeated.

  “Great Mother,” he said faintly.

  “What is it?” Sharla demanded.

  “Robert Fenaday’s wife, Lisa, captained a scoutship of that name.”

  “The female he searched for?” she said in amazement.

  “Just so,” he replied grimly. “She who was finally given up for lost. Can it be the same?”

  Sharla checked further. “I find reference to a sneakship of that name, crew of four, and a Confed identification number. No other details.”

  “It must be the same,” Telisan said, his bronze mane rising in agitation. “Obtain every piece of data on the aliens and the Blackbird, then delete all references. Information is power. We will need every advantage we can seize in the days to follow.”

  The demi-female looked at him pensively, as if she might argue, then nodded and hooked up a backpack comp to the mainframe. Downloading took only a few seconds. Telisan knew paper files existed somewhere, but he had no luxury to search them out. This would have to do.

  “Blue,” Mmok called on the headset, his voice sharp with tension. “I’ve located Stormcloud, Scarlet and target Alpha.”

  “Where?” the Denlenn demanded.

  “They are down at the bridge. Shit, you must have flown over them and not seen them in the smoke. Alpha is at the bottom of the gorge. He is real dead. Blue,” there was a slight hesitation, “Scarlet and Stormcloud do not look good.”

  Telisan’s hearts went out of synch; he felt cold suddenly. Sharla looked at him anxiously, placing a hand on his arm. “Are they dead?” he managed.

  “Can’t tell, Blue. They did not show up on the airbot’s infrared. They are cold. Blue, it’s not good. I have an HCR en route and a mule with medics. Airbot is armed; we used it to whack the guards down there in the first place. It will cover them till help arrives. We are warming up Pooka for extraction.”

  “Affirmative,” he snapped. “Have the mule pick me up since it must come this way. I am sending Sharla and her section back. Withdraw aboard the Intruder and Pooka. Bring the ships to the bridge. It is time to leave.”

  Grabbing Sharla by the arm, he sped outside, waving the startled guards to follow them into the street. They ran out into the fine rain and gusting wind. The mule ATV rounded the corner barely a minute later with two medics and an ASAT aboard.

  “Aside,” Telisan ordered. The driver, a young human female, jumped into the back. Rain drove into Telisan’s face as he floored the accelerator, cursing the fact he had left his goggles somewhere. The ASAT, realizing where her best interest lay, pulled out a soft-brimmed Sidhe hat from her flak jacket, widened the headband and waved it frantically in front of him. He snatched it from her hand in the middle of a turn and put it on, only his fighter pilot reflexes keeping the vehicle upright. The Denlenn demanded every KPH the small machine had. From the gasps and whispered prayers of the humans, it seemed they lacked confidence in his skills. The mule’s engine growled as they sped down the track that Fenaday had jogged hours earlier. Rain pelted the racing mule, its windscreen and canvas top offering little protection. They went airborne briefly over the last hill. Telisan spotted the airbot hovering over the other side of the still burning guard post. He cut across the lawn and whipped around the building corner, slinging gravel and mud as he stood on the brakes, stopping just shy of the paved road. Leaping over the vehicle’s short hood the instant i
t stopped, Telisan raced toward the huddled figures, followed by the pale and shaken medics.

  Telisan stopped short of the two bodies, dropping to his knees with a loud cry. The medics pushed past him, opening their instruments and gently disentangling the bodies.

  Telisan knelt, arms loose at his side, eyes unfocused. “So far,” he murmured, “to fail.” Despair welled in his Denlenn soul. To fail in one’s duty to house or service was a disgrace, made the more bitter by friendship he shared with the humans.

  One of the medics turned to him. “It’s bad, sir, real bad. How soon will the shuttles be here? We need Dr. Mourner.”

  It hammered into his consciousness. “What, what?” he stammered, then realized he was speaking Denleni.

  “Snap out of it, sir,” ordered the medic. “They’re in trauma-tab coma. I need real life-support equipment.”

  Purpose and energy surged back into the Denlenn; there was still a chance.

  “Gold,” he called on his mike, distantly surprised by how calm his voice was, “this is Blue. Are you extracted? I need Dr. Mourner. They are still alive, but very badly injured.”

  “Blue, we are just now getting airborne with the robots holding the line. We’ll pick them up down by you. ETA is two minutes, I’m going to put the airbot and Cobalt on top of the ridge to cover the approach till we get there.”

  Ten meters above them, the saucer-like machine suddenly shifted into motion, heading toward the hill behind the wrecked guard post.

  “Hurry,” Telisan pled, looking at the humans’ pale, waxy faces. Both their bodies lay under self-heating blankets, Fenaday face down. The medics hung IVs and waved field regenerators over their wounds. They lasered off Rainhell’s long, lustrous hair, her one vanity, as they worked on her head injuries. Wind gusts carried off the sickening smell of burned hair. Veteran that he was, Telisan felt queasy, watching the calm methodical working of the medics. Strange, he thought, to feel so after so many years of war.

  The young ASAT driver rummaged through the back of the mule. She came up with armfuls of fabric. Telisan joined her in holding shelter halves over the wounded to keep the rain off. He looked up into the gray tapering drizzle. The wind kicked up stronger now. Hurry, he again wished to the shuttles, hurry.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Strong ocean breezes began to disperse the miasma of smoke and ash hanging over Denshi’s Marathon office. Shooting had tapered over the last twenty minutes, since the last reckless charge of Neos and Bremardi left the ground covered with bodies. Vaughn and Tanaka could only feel lucky that no regular troops had been present. The Neos and Bremardi fought fiercely, but the Denshi, better led and under cover, still held the building. Corpses littered the area, some Denshi, mostly Neos and their allies.

  Tanaka, her face soiled with smoke and bruises, pointed to the corner of the office tower opposite them. Dozens of figures advanced, darting professionally into cover. A heavy tank clattered up to the corner opposite the running troops and trained its barrel at Vaughn’s position.

  “I see them,” he replied grimly, “Army Special Forces. Why the Neos pulled away I have no idea.”

  “Sir,” called the Navy attaché. The young lieutenant commander held a field radio and a heavy laser. “I have a communication from the approaching Army troops; they are General Dominici’s personal guards. She wants to talk.”

  “Any communication from Navy troops or other Denshi troops?” he asked.

  “Got a fragment from a tacnet down by the port,” the attaché replied. “Sounded like our people are shooting it out with Army around the docks. That’s all. As for your people, Oldark’s fighting with Armored Cavalry and losing. The troops you have with Hagen are holding the building, but they haven’t been pressed by more than snipers. Nobody else is on the air, at least unjammed anyway.”

  Tanaka put down her field radio and looked at him. “Our lookout says we’re being surrounded in battalion strength, with heavy armor backing up the infantry. We can’t hold them if they attack.”

  “Well,” Vaughn said, “she wants to talk. They shot the works at us today. The longer we last, the more chance the Navy and other forces can reach us. Signal Dominici that we agree.”

  “Affirmative,” he said. “Army says move out under a white flag. They’ll meet us in the middle. You and Tanaka, she and three of her aides.”

  “Damn,” Vaughn said. “They even know you’re here.”

  “Hey, I’m important,” she said.

  He blinked at her in confusion. Leaning forward he spoke in a low voice, “Sorry, Tanaka, but you really aren’t—”

  “Joke, sir,” she replied. “Foxhole humor.”

  “Ah,” he nodded, embarrassed.

  He turned to the aide. “Have our people hold fire. Keep them under control.”

  Ten minutes later, Vaughn and Tanaka strode out into the suddenly cool morning. It looked like the storm had come off the mountains between them and the main complex. Vaughn wondered what had happened there and if Pard still lived.

  From behind a large armored hovercar, flanked by three guards, Dominici, wearing full battle armor, walked out almost casually. Vaughn, like most Denshi, admired sang-froid.

  They all stepped over bodies to reach the middle of the broad avenue. A few paces apart, they stopped. Dominici took a pace forward, as did Vaughn.

  Dominici looked around. “Long night, with no morning for some.”

  “The dying is not over yet,” Vaughn observed.

  “That’s why we’re talking,” the older woman said. “Your complex in the high desert has fallen. My people are moving in to hold it now. What will we find there, Mr. Vaughn?”

  “Nothing that will profit you,” Vaughn crossed his arms. “You must know the Navy is rallying to us. Our position will improve with time. You’ve shot your bolt.”

  “Project Overman,” she replied.

  Vaughn’s guts clenched. Only twelve people on Olympia knew that name. He’d killed one yesterday in Pard’s conference room. He shrugged. “A name.”

  “For a conspiracy to ally an Engineered, Denshi-dominated Olympia with a new alien race,” Dominici continued. “A pocket Empire headed by the Engineered. It’s ending, Vaughn. The story is going public as we speak. Even the president has suddenly developed some backbone. Every house will be against Denshi.”

  “So why are we talking,” Vaughn asked, “if your hand is so strong?”

  “It’s time to bend with the new wind, Vaughn,” she replied. “A new, hot wind is going to blow in from the Confederacy and it may blow away much of what we both value in our world. Pard’s dream is over. It may be that Dr. Allessandro’s is as well. If we don’t unite as Olympians, the Confederacy will own us.”

  “What are you saying?” he demanded. “I won’t betray Pard.”

  “Pard’s dead,” she said, “or as good as. Even if the labs are closed, the Engineered and their descendants will be with us for generations. Someone must speak for the Engineered. Olympia doesn’t need thousands of supermen and superwomen wandering about leaderless.”

  “When I could be their leader,” he said, “on the end of your leash.”

  “You lost,” Dominici said flatly. “These are better terms than Pard had in mind for me.”

  True enough, he thought. “So what now?”

  “Come with me to the Complex. Help me control the damage from this nightmare alliance. I need you to talk to the Navy and the rest of Denshi and stop a civil war before it goes beyond today. You will lead the Engineered and Denshi under Army authority.”

  Vaughn smiled at her audacity. “Keep your friends close and your enemies closer? Is that it, General?”

  “Wise up, young man. Everything is changing. I’ll give you a piece of information your friends in the Navy, even the Confed ambassador does not know. A Confed courier was at the system’s edge, waiting word of the attack on Pard. It jumped into hyperspace when it received my signal. It’s not going far and it’s coming back with a task force. If you
want to salvage anything of Denshi, boy, you get on my side now. The train is leaving.”

  “I will go with you to the complex,” Vaughn said slowly. “We will see if Pard lives or if any evidence of what you claim is in your hands. That will determine the rest.”

  “Fair enough,” she said. “Tell your people to maintain their positions and not to try anything funny. We’ll keep the Bremardi away.”

  Vaughn nodded. He and Tanaka backed away, cautiously heading for the Denshi complex.

  Dominici’s guards formed a wall in front of her as she turned to walk back. A young captain stood next to her. His name badge also said Dominici. “Well played, mother,” he said. “Of course, if we don’t find something damning today, that task force will shoot by our world without even firing a salute for our funeral.”

  “Not to worry, Guytano,” she said. “Age and treachery will overcome youth and strength.” I hope, she thought, I do so fervently hope.

  Chapter Twenty

  Telisan and Sharla waited by the bridge. The Intruder lay grounded behind them, its guns scant protection against what surged up the roadway. Army vehicles filled the road and the air over it. Helos, transports and hovers roared over the canyon, heading for the Denshi complex. The heavy armor stopped at the far end of the bridge, except for a tan, armored staff car, which rolled forward toward the two Denlenn. About ten meters away, it stopped, ramps dropping. Huge troopers surged out, taking positions on the flanks. Dominici followed them. To Telisan’s surprise, Mikhail Vaughn and a black-haired human female wearing Denshi livery accompanied her. Two particularly powerful troopers stood behind the assassin, their weapons trained on Vaughn. Dominici spoke to an officer with her who halted the Denshi. She walked forward alone.

  “Where’s Fenaday?” Dominici asked.

  Telisan’s face was a grim alien mask. “Near death, as is Rainhell. I sent them and the bulk of our forces to our ship. From there our casualties will be transported to your base hospital. Your facilities are prepared for casualties, I hope.”