Strolling down the dirt road, the only means in and out of the hole lined with eighty-meter high sheer cliffs, Trent stopped at the final security checkpoint controlling access to the path. “Sergeant Moreau,” he said to the duty commander, “have the prisoners given you any trouble?”
“Not a hint of it, sir,” the attractive Frenchwoman replied. Somehow she managed to keep her face and jet black hair clean and neat in a combat zone. “Very tame creatures. They do as they’re told and don’t put up any fight.”
“Sergeant Roth, at the first security checkpoint, said the same. I guess herding cats isn’t as hard as they say.”
A flirtatious giggle escaped Moreau’s lips. She reached out to softly touch his forearm. Surprised, he stared at the touch, not withdrawing his arm instantly. He had to admit that her touch sent a jolt up his spine. Moreau realized her breach of protocol and jerked her hand back as if she’d placed it on a hot shove.
“Oh. Sorry, sir.” She turned bright red.
“It’s alright, Sergeant.” He cleared his throat and straightened his pose, trying to regain a professional demeanor. “Can you point me to their leader? I was told he wished to speak with me.”
“Yes...of course, sir. He’s right over there.”
Trent nodded and walked away from her.
“I saw that,” Amanda thought-spoke to him.
“Saw what?” he replied, deciding to play stupid, figuring that just because such a tactic has never proved successful in the entire history of male-female relationships was no reason to not try it now.
“Yeah, suuure you don’t. Just keep your hands to yourself, Romeo.”
“Talk later, I have work to do, babe. Love ya.”
He closed the channel before she could send another message, hoping that would be the end of it, but knowing it wouldn’t.
“I’m General Maxwell of the Earth Legion,” Trent announced his presence to a group of Kitright. “One of you wanted to see me?”
A Kitright measuring about one and a half meters tall stepped forward. The walking house cat with gray and white fur spoke with a calm, even tone. “I am Artsic, the elected leader of this community. I request to know why you and the Bearcats have attacked our community. Our peoples have been friends for many years. This is an intolerable act of aggression.”
It disturbed Trent he spoke with no emotion. He would understand if he yelled, or at least sounded angry. He talked as if they discussed the weather.
“Our friendship was a lie.” His tone didn’t lack emotion. “Your people lied to both my people and the Bearcats in order to start a war between us while the Kitright watched. Now, humans and Bearcats have uncovered the truth and have united against you.”
“My people are at peace,” Artsic said, his tail flipping side to side. “We do not wish war on anyone.”
Trent crossed his arms. “I don’t expect you to be aware of all the dealings and schemes your government engages in. Nor will I entertain a debate of the facts here and now.”
“Very well.” His tail fell limp. “What are your intentions toward my community?”
Trent waved an arm across the sky. “Your community is now behind enemy lines and I don’t trust you for a second. As far as I’m concerned, you’re a security threat.”
“We shall not resist your rule.” Artsic said in his creepy monotone voice.
“Good, now tell me about your defenses. What exactly are those tripod devices?”
“It is not our place to say.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“I know nothing of the devices you speak of. We did not build them.”
Trent tightened his eyes. “As in ‘this community didn’t build them,’ or as in ‘the Kitright as a species didn’t build them?’”
“It is not our place to say.”
He sighed. “You know, for someone who won’t resist, it certainly feels like you are.”
“I cannot answer questions I do not know the answer to. I assure you, we will not resist your rule.”
“That’s right, you won’t.” Trent stepped forward, hovering over the cat. “Cause when we break orbit in the morning, I plan to drop a nuclear warhead on this place to ensure you never will.”
Artsic’s eyes grew large, then quickly retreated as he regained control almost immediately. “Do as you must. We will not resist.”
Good God, people. What the hell is wrong with you?
“Fine,” Trent said, “make peace with your Gods to prepare yourselves.”
“We are already at peace.”
Rolling his eyes, Trent turned to walk away, only to find Amanda had been standing not far behind him. She kept pace.
“You’re not really going to nuke them...are you?”
“No,” he said, shaking his head. “I just wanted to see what he would say.”
“What’s going to happen to them, then?” She glanced back at the camp.
“The Bearcats have already deployed a battle group to secure this system. The ore here seems to be pretty important to them. The Kitright will be their labor force to extract the ore.”
“Slave labor?”
He stopped and looked Amanda directly in the eye. “Not slave labor. They’re civilians and will be treated as such. And, as in many of the wars in our past, they will be used as forced labor to aid our efforts. Once the war is over, they will be set free.”
“Heck.” He tossed his hands in the air. “My own family farm had German prisoners of war, back during World War II, working the land, producing food for the war effort. Once Germany surrendered, they went home.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it,” She stared at the ground.
He glanced up at her checkpoint. “What are you doing down here anyway?”
“I didn’t like you down here without support. I thought I...”
“Are you sure that’s why?” He said in a softer tone.
She smiled. “I don’t like that French slut, Moreau. She has a thing for you. I’ve heard her say things.”
Trent chuckled. “You’re jealous.”
“Ok, maybe a little. I just hate that we have to pretend we’re not together. You’re mine, damn it and I want everyone to know you’re off the market.”
“If I could hug and kiss you right now, I would.”
“Do it.” She smirked. “That way, everyone would know.”
“Yeah, and then you’d be reassigned to another unit once we got back. Besides, enough people already know. As long as we don’t throw it in people’s faces, we can stay together.”
“I know.” She kicked at the dirt like an upset child. “But it doesn’t mean I have to like it.”
“No, you don’t.” He looked right, then left. “Let’s go for a patrol in the hills.”
She wrinkled her face. “Why?”
“So we can be alone,” he said through tight lips.
“Oh...Oooh.” Her eyes widened. “I’d like that.”
As they passed the lower security station, Sergeant Moreau flashed Trent a bright smile. Amanda, following a couple strides back, shot the Frenchwoman a death look that could’ve melted the eyeliner off a pole dancer.
***
“Move it, Corporal,” Sergeant Bunning shouted from the shuttle ramp. “This is the last shuttle off this miserable rock and God help you if you aren’t on it.”
The baby-faced corporal hurried up the ramp, arms full of captured gear. Out of breath he huffed, “Sorry, Sarge. I, I...had to make one last run.”
“Cutting it close, aren’t you, son? Sure you got everything?”
“Yes.” He glanced out the open ramp, “Wait...what’s that building?” He pointed at a small box structure beside the landing pad.
“For Christ’s sake! Go check it out and hurry up!”
The corporal didn’t bother to open the door to what used to be the Labor Supervisor’s office. Instead, it violently flew open with a swift running kick, bouncing off the wall.
Throwing his he
ad to the right and left, he found what he was looking for. He darted to the corner and squatted to access the computer’s hard drive. He’d become an expert at removing Kitright hard drives over the last couple of days and finished this last project in record time.
“Let’s move it!” the sergeant called from the door.
“All done. Let’s get out of here!”
Chapter Seventeen
Home Base
Frost worked his tech team hard, damn near to their breaking point, in fact. He needed the data locked inside the Center’s body, and a few burnt-out lab rats were a small price to pay. Months of continuous effort finally yielded the results he required.
He could now communicate with the pale man. That didn’t guarantee ultimate success, though. The supercomputer full of information was seamlessly woven into a sentient human who held the key. Frost knew how to tease information out of humans, but this one was different. His subject was damaged, or maybe emotionally and socially retarded was a better description. Either way, he couldn’t play this as just another interrogation.
With his neural nanos tuned to the proper frequency and programmed with the encryption codes, he readied himself for the silent discussion. The two stared at one another from across a sleek black table, sitting near motionless. The Center’s dead eyes burned into Frost as he thought-spoke, “I hope we’ve been meeting your needs? I’m sorry if we haven’t. I’m afraid our lack of communication has made determining your exact requirements difficult.”
He blinked once, as he did every twenty-six seconds. “I have had sufficient nourishment to maintain proper operating function.”
“Beyond food and water, is there anything you require, want?”
“Cease jamming the signals. I require the signals to fulfill my function.”
“I’m sorry, but that is not an option. Allowing the signals to continue would endanger this facility and everyone in it, including you.”
“I’m lost without the signals. I only hear my own without it.” His eyes lowered, just a fraction of a millimeter, but it betrayed a genuine feeling as clear as day.
Was that emotion? A sliver of humanity that slipped through?
“Are you lonely?” Frost softly asked.
“I do not understand.”
“Do you miss the signals you used to receive?”
“I am functionless without them.”
“Are you functionless now? You are receiving my signal.”
A long second dripped by before he answered. “No. You are giving me purpose. My function is to facilitate communication, and we are communicating.”
The smallest of smiles cracked across Frost’s face. “Then I will communicate with you regularly. Can you tell me who you work for?”
“I work for the ones who made me. Who gave me purpose.”
“Yes.” He leaned forward. “Who made you, who gave you purpose?”
“My masters.”
“Who are your masters?”
“The ones who made me. Who used to give me purpose.”
Frost worked his fingertips into his temples. The circular conversation was triggering a migraine. He exhaled. “Let’s approach this from a different angle. Where do you come from?”
“I do not understand.”
“Where were you born? Where did you grow up?”
“What is born and grow up?” The pale man blinked out of sequence, at twenty seconds instead of twenty-six.
What does that mean, I wonder? Did I stumble upon something?
Frost didn’t know how to answer the question. “Born... you know, where did your mother give birth to you? Where did you start to exist outside the womb? As for grow up... umm, where did you get larger after you were born?”
He blinked twice in rapid concession. “I have no knowledge of a mother. My existence began five years, two months, one day, ten hours, fifteen minutes, and thirty-six seconds ago at facility designated as F-121A. I was the same size than I am now.”
Frost’s jaw went slack. Either this man was a clone grown to fill a specific function, or any memory of a past life had been wiped clean by his masters. He found both options disturbing. He decided to start from the beginning again. “Do you have a name?”
“My designation is C-1.”
C must stand for communications. “May I call you Com?”
“You may refer to me as you wish.”
“Thank you. Com, my name is Roger. What do you do for fun?”
“I do not understand, what is fun?”
He leaned forward again. “Com, are you capable of learning new concepts?”
Com’s answer would play a significant role in Frost’s approach. If he replied yes, that meant Com could think beyond his programming, which undoubtedly commanded him not to divulge information his masters deemed sensitive. Giving him the ability to think past his programming would’ve increased Com’s utility. He could exercise greater flexibility and a level of creativity no other computer, regardless of its processing power, could match. However, here lay the weakness of employing a sentient tool: its ‘mind’ could be changed. If Com said no, Frost didn’t see any other option than a risky hack.
“I am capable of processing large quantities of data to formulate conclusions not originally considered.”
Frost titled his head. “I’ll take that as a yes. Com, your masters have been holding out on you. We are going to become good friends. It’s time you had a little fun.”
Com blinked twice.
Frost leaned back and smiled, quite pleased with himself.
***
Alpha Base looked almost as good as new from Blind Fury’s observation deck. The few scars remaining from the last battle of the Second Contact War served as a reminder of the needless pain each side had caused one another. All that was now in the past. Humans and Bearcats had shed blood together upon the same ground, fighting side by side against a common foe, baptizing the alliance in blood and consummating it under fire.
Only Legion soldiers and Hido returned from the mission. The Bearcat warriors remained behind under the capable command of Low Commander Oodon to await reinforcements and a fleet of cargo ships to continue the flow of uin into their shipyards.
No grateful public met Trent this time, as the mission and new alliance remained a state secret of the highest level. A military camera crew did record the triumphant return so the PR folks would have something to show the public when the time was right.
Hido starred in many of the clips, finding the concept of public relations a foreign oddity. Trent envied his ignorance.
With the dog and pony show over, Trent could leave for his quarters but lingered around, pretending to supervise the unloading of the spoils of victory. In fact, he was hoping to catch a glimpse of Amanda. He finally spied her bending over a crate.
“Hey, sexy.” He thought-spoke to her upon sight.
She perked up upon hearing his voice in her head. She spun around to look for Trent.
She popped her hip out, resting a hand on it. “Hey, soldier, you free today?” Her playful grin was intoxicating.
“Sorry, mission debrief and strategy session. Tomorrow night I am all yours. Level twelve, section C at 2000 hours?”
“Can’t wait.”
***
Trent and Hido entered Forward Deployed Supreme Commander Admiral Chen’s office to discuss the mission and next steps.
The admiral rose from a comfortable leather couch to greet the pair. He had been entertaining the meeting’s other participants.
“General, High Commander, great to have you both back aboard in one piece.”
“It’s nice to be back, sir,” Trent answered, looking over the admiral’s shoulder at the other officers.
Some of them were Bearcats. Despite everything, it still felt a little odd to have Bearcats sitting in the FDSC’s office.
Chen turned toward the others. “Let me introduce you to those who will be joining us.”
“This is General McBride, our chi
ef Legion commander.”
“Pleasure to meet you in person, sir.” Trent shook the older looking man’s hand. His hair was almost taken over by gray.
“Actually, General, we’ve met before,” McBride said. “Don’t worry, it was a long time ago, so I won’t hold it against you if you don’t remember me.”
Trent examine the weathered face closely. He snapped his fingers when it hit him. “McBride – Lieutenant McBride. You were that baby-faced kid who wouldn’t leave me alone on the Yorktown after Big Red.”
McBride laughed and ran a hand through his hair. “Not baby-faced anymore.”
“I’m impressed. You’ve certainly come a long ways from that young lieutenant who just about wet himself from the excitement of meeting a Red Baron. No offense, sir.”
“None taken, General. You’re right, anyway. Some of that kid still lives on. I must admit, I’m excited to finally have the opportunity to work with a childhood hero.”
Chen cleared his throat. “This is Admiral Sennet, Chief of Fleet Operations. Our Bearcat representatives include Grand Armada Leader Bonoti and Grand High Commander Fonto.”
“I’m pleased to see we’ve expanded our force integration,” Hido commented.
“Yes. Your mission was scheduled to take longer than six months,” Chen said. “We thought it best to start preparing for the next stage immediately. Please, let’s relocate to the conference table.”
Trent appreciated Chen’s taste for real wood and leather furniture. It was a nice break from the usual boring carbon-fiber products. The group settled around the dark stained table.
Chen sat at the head. “First, let me congratulate you two on a successful mission.”
“That might be premature, sir,” Trent said. “We didn’t capture either the ship’s or post’s data mainframes. We’ve not had time to work through all of the other minor hard drives we took. There is a fair chance we failed to get the information we need to find the Kitrights’ major assets.”
“Don’t be so hard on yourself, General,” McBride said. “For one, you flushed out their defensive forces. We now know how they’ll fight us when we do hit them hard. It’s only a matter of time before we find where we can really hurt them.”
The Last Revenge (The Last Hero Trilogy Book 2) Page 15