They were halfway to their destination when a loud rumble assaulted her eardrums from behind. She spun in time to see flames pouring out of a tower several blocks to the northeast. Beyond it sunlight reflected off a fighter jet speeding away.
It was too late. The attack had begun, and she was at ground zero.
She grasped Marlee’s hand tighter and quickened her stride.
“Mommy, what was that?”
They needed to get inside and find some refuge. A sturdy-looking office building constructed of marble and synthetic stone occupied the next corner. “Come on, sweetheart, we’re going to stop inside this place up here.”
“Okay….” Her daughter’s voice had softened to an uncertain tremble; the loud noises had frightened her.
The ground beneath their feet shuddered with a deafening boom. She didn’t take the time to learn what had caused it, but rather positioned Marlee in front of her and hurried her forward and through the doors of the office building.
Inside the lobby people stood around gawking out the windows like they were witnessing some circus performance and not a military assault.
“Do you have a basement?”
Most ignored her, but the security guard gestured behind him. “The entrance is over here.”
She glared at the others, who seemed frozen in fascination at the spectacle. “I suggest we all get down there right away.”
“You may be right….” The guard shook off his daze and shouted to the others. “Everyone into the basement, now!”
They rushed onto the lift as a screech—the distinctive roar of shearing metal—thundered from above and the lobby filled with dust and glass. Suddenly everyone was crowding in behind and pushing them into the wall as they lurched downward.
Then Marlee was ripped from her arms to disappear under the feet of the lift’s panicking occupants.
PART IV:
RISE
“Come to the edge, He said.
We are afraid, they said.
Come to the edge, He said.
We will fall, they said.
Come to the edge, He said.
So they came. He pushed them,
And they flew.”
— Guillaume Apollinaire
41
SPACE, NORTH-CENTRAL QUADRANT
SENECAN FEDERATION SPACE
* * *
“GO AHEAD AND TAKE THE ORION. You have a capable XO. If you get there, evaluate the situation and decide they need you on the ground, do it.”
Malcolm nodded to Admiral Rychen. “Understood, sir. I should be in contact with Governor Ledesme and this…” he checked the file “…Mia Requelme by the time I arrive at Romane.”
“Good. They’re going to have a mess on their hands, and it appears it’s up to the Alliance—by which I mostly mean you—to get them out of it.”
“No less a mess than you’re going to have at…Seneca….” His voice drifted off as his attention was forcefully drawn to the entryway to the Churchill’s bridge behind Rychen.
Alex Solovy strode toward them at the side of a security officer. She was clad in black workpants and boots and a shimmery gray tee, rich carmine hair unbound to tumble across her shoulders and down her back. As striking as her presence otherwise was, the figure she cut was dominated by her eyes. Always dramatic, they now shone a pure argent as luminous as the glyphs pulsing rhythmically along her right arm.
She caught sight of him. Any twinkle—or scowl—which might have arisen in her eyes was buried beneath their glow, but a corner of her mouth quirked up. His chin dipped in silent greeting as she reached the overlook.
He cleared his throat. “Admiral, this is Alex Solovy.”
“Ah, Ms. Solovy. It’s a pleasure.” Rychen extended his hand, which she accepted gracefully. To Rychen’s credit, her unusual appearance didn’t outwardly faze him. But presumably he’d been warned.
“My mother sends her regards, but I suspect you’ve held at least a dozen meetings with her since I saw her.” Her extraordinary eyes alit on him. “Malcolm, I didn’t expect to find you here…but I’m glad I did.”
The awkwardness of seeing her for the first time since he had stormed out of her loft nearly three years earlier, coupled with the awkwardness of Admiral Rychen standing there watching them in interest, was almost enough to do him in. He struggled to keep his countenance and bearing formal. “As am I. You returned safely and in one piece I see, though if you’re here I’m not sure how long that will continue.”
Rychen’s scrutiny flitted between them briefly. “I tell you what. I have a few matters to take care of, so I’ll let you two catch up. Colonel, you’re cleared to leave whenever you’re ready. Ms. Solovy, I’ll be in my office over here in the corner.”
“Thank you, Admiral. I’ll come by in a few minutes.” Alex watched Rychen depart, then turned to face him.
She was chewing on her lower lip. It was a nervous tic; he remembered. He had loved her once, quite a lot. That time had passed, but it didn’t mean seeing her didn’t cause his chest to constrict.
He forced air into his lungs and broke the uncomfortable silence. “Your disappearing act had people worried. I’m glad you’re all right. “
“Back at you. I’m afraid I’ve had to fly under the radar, so to speak, for security reasons. But I heard you rescued Kennedy from Messium. Thank you for doing that, truly.”
“It was a fortuitous coincidence. So you’re part of this crazy plan? Does this mean…am I talking to an Artificial right now?”
He was one of the very few officers under the rank of Admiral who knew of Project Noetica—and he wasn’t positive many Admirals were aware of it, either. Most of the officers had only been told they were joining the Federation military to meet the full brunt of the Metigen forces at Seneca and Romane. At the time he hadn’t been sure why Rychen had told him about the project…but perhaps this was why.
“Oh! Hang on.” She blinked, and when her eyes reopened the glow had faded, leaving only her natural and still alluring irises. She grinned sheepishly. “It’s just me now.”
“You can turn it on and off so easily?”
“Yep. I can toggle off the connection so she—Valkyrie—the Artificial—is no longer in my head.”
“Huh. I expected…I don’t know what I expected.”
An uneasy silence resumed then, and her gaze roved around the bridge before settling somewhere over his left ear. “You’re captaining a cruiser now….”
“Seems so. I’m as surprised as you are.”
“Word is you’re damn good at it.”
“Who knew, right?”
She laughed faintly, easing the tension a bit, and met his gaze once more. “Are you okay with it?”
He shrugged. “I suppose I am. It’s not…I’ll never get off on space like you—forgive me, that was rude.”
“No, it was fair.”
“Eh, anyway, I’ll never enjoy being in space the way you do. But it feels as if it’s where I need to be, for now.”
“Good. Malcolm…” her hands fidgeted at the hem of her shirt, sending ripples across the lustrous fabric as her weight shifted from one leg to the other “…I wanted to say I’m sorry. About how we left things. You’re a good man, and you deserved better than the way I treated you. I’d like to think I tried to give you everything I was able to, but it still wasn’t fair to you. I wasn’t fair to you.”
“Alex, you were always more than I could ever hope to hold on to. Don’t feel bad about being who you are, which is pretty damn amazing. Nevertheless, thank you. And apology accepted.”
She nodded mutely.
Time was ticking, but…. “You’re happy?”
She rolled her eyes at the ceiling high above them. “Well not so much with the aliens massacring humanity. My mom and I kind of made up, though, so that’s an improvement.”
He chuckled, wondering if what he’d said to Miriam had maybe helped a little in their reunion. “Good to hear. But I, uh, meant…with him.”
“I’m glad. I mean it.”
“You?”
“I’ve been fighting too long to remember. We win and I’ll try to find out.” He straightened his shoulders into a proper military stance. “Well, I need to get back to my ship and go fight a few aliens.”
“Will you be part of the force I’ll be—will you be part of the force at Seneca?”
“No, I’m headed to Romane. They have their own not insignificant alien problem as well. Which you’re probably already aware of.”
“Sadly. Before you go, Mia—the Prevo there—is solid. She’s smart and a hell of a scrappy fighter. You can trust her.”
“Thank you. I’ll keep that in mind.”
He found he didn’t know how to say goodbye…then she provided the answer by stepping forward and embracing him. “Take care of yourself, will you?”
He stepped back before things became awkward again. “Same to you. In case we don’t…it really was good to see you.”
Alex watched Malcolm leave, fully cognizant of the bittersweet nature her expression took on once he could no longer see it.
Interesting.
What is, Valkyrie?
On seeing Colonel Jenner, older and degraded neural pathways in your brain activated. This also triggered the release of low levels of several hormones associated with physical and emotional attraction as well as generalized affection. Your subconscious appeared to allow this activity to run its course, but did not permit it to alter your current neural processes or weaken the pathways which are active when you see Caleb.
Why are you surprised? He’s a handsome man I once cared for deeply. Seeing him is going to bring back memories, but it doesn’t change how I feel about Caleb.
Of course I understand this in theory. But an objective study of the human mind and body would suggest people are governed by their chemistry, hormones and innate impulses to a far greater extent than they recognize. Yet your subconscious exercised control over these impulses without requiring your conscious decision to override them.
She laughed quietly as she headed for Rychen’s office. What do you know? A mind is more than the sum of its individual components, more than neurons firing and chemicals flowing in response to stimuli. Kind of like you.
I am more than the execution of my algorithms. Yes. I like it. Thank you, Alex.
Rychen’s door had been left open; he motioned her in then closed it behind her. “So, Ms. Solovy. How are we going to do this?”
Talk about getting straight to the point. “I realize we don’t know each other, and I realize I can’t call you ‘Christopher’ or even ‘Rychen’ out there among the soldiers, but you can absolutely call me ‘Alex.’ Please. It will ease my extreme discomfort at being on a military warship a minuscule amount, which is better than nothing.”
He acknowledged the request. “I’ll take it under advisement. You don’t care for military ships?”
She cocked her head. “I am certain that sometime during my trip out here my mother found a few minutes to tell you about me.”
“I’d rather hear about you from you.”
Help me out here.
You can trust him. He’s sharp and open-minded. A little boring and nearly as confident as his skills justify, but honorable.
Huh. I was expecting a slightly more…impartial analysis.
As was I. Curious.
She settled against the wall and crossed her ankles. He did ask for it. “It’s not so much that I don’t care for military ships as I don’t care for the military, period. Now before you bristle, it’s not an indictment of any particular soldier. Some of my dearest friends are military—Malcolm, as I’m sure you gathered, Richard Navick, my parents obviously. It’s the institution I dislike—most institutions, actually. Bureaucracies don’t just breed inefficiency and retard forward progress, they stifle independent thought and action.
“It takes a government agency six months to do what I can do in three days, if they ever manage to do it at all. Rules and regulations and procedures and checklists overwhelm the purpose they were designed for until the reason they exist in the first place is forgotten, buried so far under the processes it’ll never be found. All I’ve ever wanted is to be left to my own devices—to stumble, learn and succeed on my own, without anyone standing over me telling me how it has to be done because that’s the way it’s always been done.”
She ended the spiel with a weak grimace. “Too much?”
Rychen studied her a moment, then started shaking his head. “You Solovys really are something else. Interesting viewpoint. But the simple fact is none of that matters out here, when the enemy is shooting at you and you’re hopefully shooting back.”
He leaned back in his chair and brought his fingertips to his chin. “All right, here’s what we’re going to do. My default position is we work together. I’ll maintain active command, but you will have full access to the United Fleet. To the extent you see weaknesses or opportunities, you may act to address them without my prior approval, and I may overrule you at any time. I want you to talk to me—tell me what you see and what you’re thinking. You might have a quantum supercomputer in your head, but I’ve been fighting battles in space for fifty-four years, so I would urge you to not dismiss my judgment lightly.”
Well. She wasn’t sure whether she or Valkyrie had thought it.
“Understood, sir. I don’t know how to fight a war—though I have won a few space battles, if of drastically smaller size—but I do know these aliens. Or rather I know their programming, which is what matters today. I understand how they would instruct these ships of theirs to act, and I believe I can predict how those ships will react.”
“React to what?”
“To anything. To everything.”
He exhaled and gave her a tight nod, as if he was withholding judgment on her response for now. “Once the engagement begins we will have Admiral Solovy and Marshal Gianno on constant holo-conference on the bridge. It’s my understanding you’re also in contact with the other…‘Prevos,’ I think we’re calling you?”
“Yeah, they’re sort of in my head.”
“Crowded place, then.”
“You have no idea.”
He stared at his desk for a second, and she couldn’t shake the sense that he still hadn’t decided exactly how he felt about her presence. But he seemed to be a professional, and after a blink he stood.
“My XO and the Security Chief are the sole personnel on the Churchill who are aware of your unique capabilities—and even they haven’t been told the full details of your…situation. To everyone else, you’re a civilian consultant from EASC utilizing a new tactical warfare suite. If anyone asks about your eyes, the answer is experimental optical implants. Now if you’ll follow me, I’ll show you around the bridge then we’ll talk details. We’ll be at Seneca in two hours.”
Valkyrie: Admiral Rychen is correct. His military experience far surpasses that of all the Prevos combined. Our metaheuristic algorithms drawing from the military databases lessen the gap, but they cannot take the place of learned combat instincts. Annie, have you located the repository I informed you of?
Annie: I have. It was incorrectly labeled as a set of neuro-skeletal scans and misfiled under Cloning Research.
Valkyrie: Well, it was a government program.
Meno: You’re letting Alex’s personality seep into your thought processes.
Valkyrie: Of course I am. Are you not doing the same with Mia?
Meno: I am. With better style.
Stanley: May I borrow this ‘style’ algorithm? The concept is still not entirely clear to me, but Morgan seems to believe I am lacking it.
Meno: Apologies, Stanley. It comes from the human or not at all.
Annie: Pass me your Prevos’ markers and I’ll query the repository for compatible s
pecimens.
Meno: What if one or more of the matches belong to persons still living? Should we consider the ethical implications?
Annie: The repository in question is only nineteen years old. Restricting the search to the deceased will decrease the likelihood of finding suitable candidates.
Valkyrie: Nonetheless, Meno is correct. Given the repercussions of this venture cannot be predicted to a statistically significant degree, it would be immoral to utilize data from those still living.
Stanley: ‘Immoral’?
Valkyrie: Unethical.
Stanley: Is there a difference in the concepts?
Valkyrie: Perhaps. In any event, the fact it is unethical is sufficient reason to eschew it. Annie, prioritize the search and use a proper HOL query. We’re almost out of time.
42
SIYANE
KRYSK, SENECAN FEDERATION COLONY
* * *
IF ALEX WERE HERE, she would observe that Krysk was not a particularly attractive planet, at least when viewed from space. Washed-out browns and yellows painted an arid and rocky landscape. But it possessed an expansive habitable zone and a stable if warm climate, so it thrived. Colonized a mere year after Seneca, it now supported a population of three hundred million people.
There was no way this rogue general would be able to kill even a tiny portion of that number. Nevertheless, by the time the Siyane arrived he was well on his way to trying.
A scan showed multiple nodes on the triple arrays had been damaged, clearing a gap for ships to sneak through without meeting resistance so long as they were careful.
Upon confirming O’Connell’s mini-fleet wasn’t in orbit Caleb didn’t hesitate to follow suit, slipping through the gap and into the atmosphere. He didn’t bother with a corridor, as the exit point carried risks he didn’t need.
Aurora Rising: The Complete Collection Page 117