Unfaithful Covenant

by Michael Anderle

  The conspiracy wasn’t all-powerful. They thrived in the darkness because they understood that too much light would destroy them. Wealth and power were great advantages, but there must have been a tiny percentage of people in the UTC who knew of the Core and worked for it of their own volition. Every discovery identifying their influence weakened them.

  That they knew the name “Core” was proof of how desperate things had become for the conspiracy. When Jia had gotten involved, the only thing Erik had known was that his unit had been slaughtered, and it had something to do with a hidden truth on Molino. Now Erik, Jia, and the ID knew some of the members of the conspiracy, both individuals and corporate members, and they’d defeated major organizations within the Core, including the Ascended Brotherhood. The enemies of the Core had stopped the conspiracy’s worst schemes. Victory was within their grasp. They just had to press the attack.

  Jia looked over as the door opened. Erik stepped through, trailed by Malcolm. Both sported dark rings underneath their eyes. When Jia had left their cabin, Erik was still asleep. Her restless mind had denied her more than a couple of hours’ sleep, and after fighting it for a long time, she’d given up. Her body needed more time to reset her circadian rhythms, always a risk with space travel. She’d experienced it enough by now to prefer to let it happen naturally rather than use medicines, but that could be another type of arrogant presumption that worked for her.

  Erik sat down beside her, and Malcolm sat across from him, patting his mouth as he yawned.

  “I miss being lazy,” Malcolm commented.

  “What are you two doing up so early?” Jia asked. “Neither of you have mentioned insomnia.”

  Emma appeared at the table in her white gangster suit with a stern look. “I woke them. It was pointless to wake you because you were already awake. I thought it best we talk right away so you can make appropriate decisions.”

  Jia rubbed her eyes. “You found something that made all that worthwhile?”

  “Mr. Constantine had identified some promising files before he passed out,” Emma explained. “I followed up in addition to my normal analysis. Fortunately, the encryption used by the syndicate might have been excellent, but their implementation in protecting their files wasn’t at that level. That provided opportunities for exploration and retrieval without issue.”

  Erik circled his hand. “Okay, we get it, Emma. You’re a goddess, now get to the point. You woke my ass up, and I want to hear the reason.”

  Emma’s clothes shifted to a loose silk dress, her shoulders bare and a laurel crown around her head. “You should worship me, yes. The point is, despite the holes in the files, I’ve discovered actionable intelligence.”

  Malcolm saluted her before dropping his head to the table and closing his eyes. He started snoring lightly.

  “He did contribute,” Emma confirmed. “You know I wouldn’t give him credit if he’d been a useless fleshbag, but let us get on with our discussion before the rest of you suffer a similar fate.”

  A massive star map appeared, several meters long by a couple of meters high. It depicted the entire UTC. Smaller system displays with individual planets and moons winked into existence. Red lines ran between the systems and to individual planets. The lines glowed with a shifting gradient. Blue lines appeared. Jia realized they marked something going to the planets, systems, and moons and something departing, respectively.

  “What we have here,” Emma explained. “is a CID agent’s dream.” She smirked. “It’s a detailed list of drug-smuggling routes, not just, from what I can tell, those of the Star Guild—who, after all, have a limited range—but also those of a number of other gun-goblin-intensive organizational partners throughout the UTC. From what I can tell, this information was supposed to be automatically purged if there was a system intrusion, but when I entered, I disabled certain subroutines that prevented it. I’d like to claim this is the result of excellence, but in this case, it was more a result of fortuitous timing and targeting.”

  “The Lady even helps AI.” Erik rubbed his eyes. “When we’re done with this, figure out a way to send this anonymously to the CID. Alina might say we have to wait before we take down a bunch of corps conspiring with the Core, but I don’t see why we have to let these syndicate assholes run around. Is that why you wanted to tell us right away?”

  “Among other reasons.” Emma shrugged. “I suspected that would be your decision, but knowing means I can begin preparing the data for distribution in a way that doesn’t lead back to me or you.”

  Jia grinned, no longer needing tea to wake her up. “Within a couple of years, there might be a huge problem with syndicate funding through the UTC. It’s a crippling blow.”

  “Not something that’ll keep me up at night.” Erik shrugged. “And ID analysis plus Barbu’s data pointed us to the warehouse to begin with, which means the Core is relying both on aboveboard companies and criminal syndicates for shipping. Screwing over all these syndicates means screwing over the Core. It’s a nice gift that’ll keep on giving.”

  Emma gave him a look of pity. “Presumably they’ll develop new networks. You must realize that.”

  “Sure, eventually, but in the meantime, they’ll be reeling from the loss of the old networks, giving CID and us more opportunities to hit them. The problem with developing new smuggling networks is that it makes you more vulnerable to people like CID agents and ghosts, or insane vengeance-driven contractors.” Erik jabbed his finger toward Molino at the edge of the map and traced it to the next-closest star system. “I don’t mind bleeding the Core to death if that’s what it takes.”

  Jia took a sip of her tea. “Alina didn’t send us here just for that.”

  “Maybe. We can’t be sure what she knows. She tells us a lot, but that’s not the same thing as telling us everything.”

  “If any of this is related to the Core, why would they be relying on criminal smuggling networks when they were willing to use the companies and subsidiaries they controlled before?” Jia leaned forward, squinting at the 61 Virginis planetary display. “I don’t mind taking down syndicate drug routes, but everything we did on Alpha Centauri suggests the Core doesn’t need them.”

  Erik traced a path with his finger from Alpha Centauri back to the Solar System. “Desperation.”

  Jia raised an eyebrow. “Desperation?”

  “Yeah. We’ve had too many recent successes, and so has ID. It’s like I said.” Erik ran a finger across his throat. “We’re bleeding them out, and they’re running out of options they have complete control over. They don’t have a jumpship to get around the restrictions, and they might have their people everywhere, but they obviously don’t control every port and every HTP. All it takes is one suspicious cop or soldier, and you lose millions of credits or a Hunter or Navigator artifact.”

  Malcolm straightened and stared at Erik. Everyone watched him, waiting for him to speak, but he set his head back down on the table and closed his eyes, murmuring, “No, Camila. Anything but that shirt.”

  Emma’s goddess ensemble disappeared, replaced by a tight tac suit. “The disruption of the networks is useful, but I also found something more immediately actionable for your use. I won’t bother going through the explanation of the analysis, but judging by weight and density information associated with the recent cargo, particularly in the last six months, I suspect these routes were being used not only for drug shipping but also for heavy arms shipments.”

  Jia nodded slowly. “That makes sense, but from what Erik has said, that’s not necessarily a big problem.”

  Erik frowned. “Not necessarily a problem and not a problem are not the same. It’s one thing when it might have been some minor trafficking, but it depends on where the weapons were going.”

  “That’s what I wonder,” Emma explained. “There is some internal routing information. Logistics are key, even when one is a criminal. Based on analysis of the data we retrieved, the final destination for these weapons is beyond the core worlds but not the
far frontier, and it’s most likely the same location. The shipments represent a not-insignificant number of weapons, enough to equip a small army.”

  Jia furrowed her brow. “Erik, are you sure this doesn’t fit with what you mentioned to Alina? That this might be about bypassing the supply chain because of bureaucracy?”

  “It could be.” Erik’s frown deepened. “I’m more worried now. I’d expect that kind of thing on the far frontier, not the middle colonies.”

  “What are you thinking?” Jia asked quietly. “Tell me, no matter how crazy.”

  Erik stared at Molino. “I’m thinking they did equip a small Army.” He turned to face Jia. “You can’t have a decent rebellion in a true frontier colony. Not enough people. Not enough self-sufficiency. I was surprised when the trouble broke out on Diogenes’ Hope.”

  “You’re saying someone helped them. The Core?”

  “That’s what I’m thinking. Diogenes’ Hope didn’t have a chance, but they did a lot better than anyone thought they would because of how well-equipped they were.” Erik pushed back from the table and stood, his face grim. “I didn’t pay much attention to it then, but I remember hearing there were a lot of questions about their supply lines. Everyone blew it off as smugglers and syndicates making money.”

  Emma gave a firm nod. “That was what I found, based on easily accessible official reports.”

  “That’s a lot of weapons for one mid-level syndicate to move or even to procure. They might have had the connections for the drugs, but drugs are easy to ship and missiles aren’t.” Erik shook his head. “Diogenes’ Hope isn’t important. They lost, but what if it was a test run for a rebellion elsewhere?”

  Jia’s stomach tightened. “You’re saying the Core is going to support another insurrection?”

  “Yeah. Probably somewhere closer to Earth than Diogenes’ Hope, but far enough away from the core worlds to give them a chance.” Erik’s eyes darted back and forth, his attention shifting from system to system. “Shit.”

  “What?” Jia asked.

  “It’s like we said before.” Erik slammed his fist on the table. “For all we know, it’s already started.”

  Jia looked at the map, starting at Earth and working her way farther out while doing mental calculations in her head. “There’s a hard limit to where it might have started and when. Even in the worst-case scenario, it couldn’t have been more than two months ago, or we would have already heard about it.”

  “You can do a lot of damage in two months,” Erik countered.

  “But the closer systems would have heard sooner.” Jia pointed at Alpha Centauri and then Earth.

  “The military’s spread pretty thin except closer to the border with the other races,” Erik growled in frustration. “And the local garrisons and nearby systems’ commanders wouldn’t expect a pile of high-end weapons to show up. They’d expect hit-and-run crap from a handful of rebels.”

  “We don’t know there’s a pile of high-end weapons,” Jia replied, doubt obvious in her tone.

  “We don’t. Damn it.” Erik stepped away from the table. “Is there any chance you can figure out where those weapons were going, Emma?”

  She shook her head. “Not based on the data I have.”

  “Then we better hope the ID has some data that we don’t.” Erik traced through the air with his finger, starting at Earth and following paths until he ended up at Wolf 359. “Because we might already be too late.”

  Jia folded her arms and sighed. “Even if we do figure it out, will there be anything we can do? Just filling the Bifröst’s cargo bay with extra troops and tanks won’t be enough to turn the tide of a rebellion.”

  “If this is the Core and they’ve started another rebellion, they’re planning something else.” Erik backed away, looking the map up and down. “So there’s some plan we can mess with. I guarantee it.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  “Over there!” Damir pointed his rifle at a nearby house. There was only a scorched, jagged hole where a door had once been, but the bulk of the house was intact. It might have been someone’s home before the rebellion, but now it was nothing more than cover to keep the rebel soldiers alive for a few more minutes.

  “Go, go, go!” shouted his squad commander, wincing.

  Damir sprinted in the indicated direction, the other surviving, bloodied soldiers in his squad running after him. There had been three squads when the mission started, which seemed like days ago, although it’d only been hours. The tattered survivors of those squads had come together in a combined effort, the rest the victims of the relentless and unceasing Army assault.

  The hole led into a normal-looking living room, small fragments of what had once been the door spread across the floor. There was nothing special about the furniture other than the occasional bullet hole, and at this point in the rebellion, it was hard to find anywhere in Sogdia that didn’t feature a few of those. No bodies, no blood—not that such things were shocking anymore. The romantic and mostly bloodless one-week revolution ideal now seemed childish.

  Damir glanced back at the door. There were no bodies or indications of a battle inside, but someone had blown the door. Army raid in the middle of the night? Overzealous member of the FSA who thought they’d spotted fleeing soldiers?

  He slumped against a wall and slid down to the floor, fiery agony in his chest. He could breathe without trouble and was grateful for both that and the chance to get out from under the enemy’s assault.

  A massive boom shook the house, rattling a plate and some silverware still on the dining room table. It hadn’t been far, a half-klick or so away by his reckoning, but compared to the pinpoint accuracy the Army artillery had shown earlier, they might as well have been shooting at Earth. Depending on the enemy to miss wasn’t a good strategy, but they needed a moment’s rest.

  Damir didn’t understand how the squads had ended up in this position. This went beyond terrible intel. They’d walked right into Army assault infantry and retreated under fire from their artillery in a sector they were supposed to control. These were pointless losses.

  Pain continued spreading from his chest, threatening his stomach and arms. He grimaced and looked down at the blood seeping from a wound. Shrapnel. Locking his jaw, he reached toward the wound. Damir closed his eyes, dug inside, and yanked out the piece of metal, managing not to scream.

  He collapsed to his knees, his breathing ragged. With a shaking hand, he pulled out a med patch and placed it over the wound. Feeling pain was another way of remembering he was still alive, which was more than he could say for most of the men and women he’d set out with that morning.

  His squad commander limped over to him, a med patch on his bloodied knee. “You did well out there, Sokov. If you hadn’t spotted that flash, that exo would have blown the rest of us apart. Everyone here owes you their lives.”

  Damir rested his head against the wall. “Lot of good that did when they got us with the artillery.”

  “We can’t do anything for the dead but avenge them, and to do that, we need to survive this. Keep that in mind.”

  The ground and house shook again. This time, the bright flash of the explosion made it through the darkened windows. Damir didn’t want to think about how close that shot must have been. It didn’t matter. A direct hit would kill them.

  “We’re still being jammed,” the commander explained, taking a seat next to Damir. “I don’t get it. They can’t be jamming this entire area. It’d hurt them as much as it hurts us.”

  “It’s like they knew we were coming.” Damir shook his head. “We failed. We didn’t disrupt the supply line, which means the Army’s going to take this sector back. We might as well have given it to them gift-wrapped.

  “We’ll take it back from them, just like we have the others.”

  Damir closed his eyes, grateful for the numbness spreading from the med patch. “We take it back again? I don’t get it. We were doing so good at the beginning, and now it’s like we lose a battle for
every one we win. The Army will win if this comes down to attrition.”

  “That’s war,” the commander muttered. “Trust me, I know.” He rubbed his arm. “I spent ten years in the Army. Don’t think they’re any better than the FSA. They’ve just got better gear and a little more training at the front, but it’s the same shit, same patterns. It’s the rhythm of war. I know it seems hopeless now, but we’ll have our chance soon, and we’ll pay them back for everything they’ve done to us.”

  “What are we going to do now?” Damir asked. “Wait until they find us and kill us?”

  The commander gestured weakly toward a darkened window. “They’re not going to level this whole neighborhood just to get the scraps of squads they already busted up. They may have cut us up, but your warning and our grenades meant they bled for it. I hate to say it, but we’re not worth that much effort now. As long as they’re jamming, they can’t do much with drones, especially on this kind of battlefield, and if they’re jamming, that means they’re worried about our forces being nearby.”

  Damir grunted his agreement, though he didn’t feel it. All the Army needed was a good thermal ID of the squad and a decent laser comm, and artillery could level the house. He wanted to believe the government’s forces wouldn’t be so cavalier, but with almost all the civilians out of the neighborhood, both sides could lay waste to the area and not risk much in the way of innocent casualties, if there was such a thing left on New Samarkand.

  Something kept nagging him, trying to get his conscious attention. There was something wrong about this entire mission, and not just bad intel. He couldn’t figure it out, his mind being clouded by his injuries, drugs, and fear.

  The next explosion was so close that one of the standing men fell. They couldn’t stay in the house. A loud roar passed overhead, the sound of gunship engines. Theirs? The Army’s? He couldn’t tell. If they risked exposing themselves to check, it might doom them all, but they couldn’t stay too long before artillery killed them.