Adam remembered how Pegasus reacted when the burst of radar energy hit; it must have felt like being burned alive … indescribable agony, then panic, then madness. Quivering bulbs of tears grew in the corners of his eyes. The strangers looked upon him as if his secret was revealed. But none of them understood.
Except the doctor, whose hands were covering her mouth.
She knew.
‘Is there something you’d like to share?’ Captain Mohib asked.
Adam looked the doctor’s way. She was already hurrying towards him.
‘I am so sorry,’ she whispered. ‘Is there a place where just you and I can talk?’
Adam’s ‘room’ was actually a storage compartment above the galley and mech hangar. No matter how much light was brought in, the rust- coloured bulkheads cast the place in perpetual gloom. There was no indication this was the room of a child. It was a place more befitting a mechanic, with spare mech components and old rig gauges anchored in place with plastic tie strips.
Viola spoke quietly.
‘You’re dehydrated,’ she said, reaching into her duffel bag and pulling out several sport drink pouches. ‘Please … drink these before you become ill.’
Adam eyed them cautiously before accepting.
‘Thanks,’ he said. ‘Does everyone from the Inner Rim have eyes like yours?’
Viola was taken aback by the comment.
‘Well, I – it’s not that uncommon, I think.’
‘But still not exactly normal?’
‘I suppose not.’
‘That’s okay,’ Adam said, pulling out the sipping tube and taking a deep gulp. ‘We aren’t normal here either.’
‘Trust me, “normal” is a subjective term.’ Viola smiled, glancing around the room. ‘It truly is miraculous you’ve survived here this long.’
Adam shrugged.
‘We’re just lucky, I guess.’
‘You’re too modest,’ she said, examining one of the gauges. ‘Luck is when preparation meets opportunity. I can’t speak to the latter, but you were definitely prepared.’
Viola hooked the gauge back in place.
‘I’m very sorry about your father,’ she said.
Adam frowned.
‘Whatever my mom or sister told you about him … it’s not the whole story,’ he said.
‘I believe you, Adam,’ Viola said. ‘I’m not here for the same reasons as Captain Mohib.’
‘Then why are you here?’
‘To learn as much as I can about the Arkady.’
‘But why?’
‘Because they exist,’ Viola explained. ‘With one exception, every contact between mankind and another species has ended in disaster. I want to study them before it’s too late.’
Adam regarded her with suspicion.
‘What about Captain Mohib?’
Viola shook her head. ‘He only hopes the Arkady will make him richer.’
Adam began thinking again about how Pegasus had died.
‘Why did your ship use its radar?’
Viola caught the change in his mood.
‘The captain wanted imagery of the platform before sending us down,’ she said. ‘For what it’s worth, I objected, but was overruled. The Lycidas is his.’
‘So you knew it would kill them?’
Viola shook her head.
‘No, I swear I didn’t. I thought it might startle them, but couldn’t prove why. I’ve only had dead tissue to work with.’
Adam considered her response.
‘What kind of radar was it?’
Viola sighed.
‘Phased array,’ she said, ‘420 to 450 megahertz, eight thousand kilometre range. The Navy uses the same one for point defences on its cruisers. Some Merckon fool thought it would be useful for tracking Arkady specimens.’
Adam felt sick.
‘What did you see?’ he asked.
‘Something no one has ever seen before,’ Viola answered. ‘The question is, what was it doing with you?’
Adam shrugged.
‘We were talking,’ he said.
‘Thanks to our infrastructure improvements, we now produce two tons of Helium-3 per month,’ said Abby, pointing to a graph projection hovering over her corelink. ‘As you can see, additional investments could lead to logarithmic returns.’
Her audience consisted of her mother and Captain Mohib, who seemed amused, if a little bored.
‘Mhmm, that’s quite a pitch,’ he said. ‘Merckon has a programme for aspiring finance professionals. I can’t speak for everyone, but I think you’re a strong candidate. The next round of classes begin next month, at our Tabit Prime campus. Tuition and living expenses all complementary – with your mother’s permission, of course.’
Abby was so excited that she looked ready to hyperventilate.
‘Mom?’
Dawn Lethos smiled pleasantly.
‘We can discuss this later,’ she said. ‘But I’m optimistic.’
‘Abby is welcome to a tour of the Lycidas,’ Captain Mohib said. ‘My security officer can have her back here in an hour.’
Abby’s eyes screamed ‘Don’t you dare say no’.
‘That’s fine,’ Dawn said. ‘One hour, Captain.’
‘You have my word.’
‘Thanks, Mom!’ Abby said, and she was off to gather a few things.
‘She’s really bright,’ Captain Mohib said. ‘For a ghost, she’ll do well.’
‘I’m grateful for your offer,’ Dawn said, ‘but any agreement must guarantee the welfare of my children.’
Captain Mohib’s eyes narrowed.
‘There’s a place for Adam in Merckon as well,’ he said. ‘After we determine the extent to which he is needed here for our research.’
‘I speak for him, and my top concern is his safety and well-being,’ Dawn stressed. ‘You are never to give him an order without my approval, and I reserve the right to reject any unreasonable requests. Otherwise, there is no deal.’
The captain reached into his pocket and pulled out a cigar. Leaning back in his chair, he lit up.
‘I’d prefer it if you didn’t do that,’ Dawn warned.
Captain Mohib blew out a puff of smoke. The haze hung in the air like industrial smog.
‘If Adam fails to comply with us, the deal is void,’ he said. ‘Your daughter’s enrolment relies on his cooperation, as does your own personal welfare.’
Dawn’s cheeks reddened, but as she opened her mouth to speak, Captain Mohib waved her silent.
‘Please, save your breath,’ he said, leaning forward. ‘See, I already own this rig. I bought it from Ceti months ago, which is why they haven’t been around to beat their money out of you now that Thomas is dead.’
Dawn blinked at him, and a whisk of recognition smashed her gut. This was no ship captain.
‘Who are you?’ she asked.
‘The years haven’t been kind to you, Dayla,’ Captain Mohib said, puffing more smoke. ‘I doubt anyone at Titan would even recognise you.’
‘They learned by listening to our radio transmissions,’ Adam explained. ‘Not just me talking with Abby, but people all over the planet. Haven’t we been here for, I don’t know, a hundred years? They heard all those conversations.’
He crumpled the empty drink packet and sent it gliding. Viola didn’t even notice as it flew by, enraptured by what Adam was saying.
‘They’re beyond intelligent,’ he continued. ‘They have sympathy. They’re … living things with a heart of their own. Pegasus was a friend.’
Viola appeared to be in a trance.
‘Are you even listening?’ he asked. ‘Hello?’
Viola sprang forward and clasped the boy in a gentle hug.
‘Thank you,’ she said.
‘For what?’
‘For being such a wonderful ambassador.’
Adam pushed himself away.
‘Why are you happy?’ he demanded. ‘Pegasus is dead, and it’s because you came here.’
‘Oh
Adam, if I could go back in time, I would have stopped Captain Mohib,’ she implored. ‘You don’t understand what you’ve done. You’ve vindicated my commitment to the Arkady. In a sense, I’ve been looking for them my whole life. Thank you for bringing me closer.’
Adam stuffed his hands in his pockets.
‘I just don’t want anyone else to hurt them.’
‘I vow to do everything in my power to make sure that doesn’t happen,’ she vowed. ‘I don’t want anyone from Merckon going anywhere near them.’
‘What do they plan on doing?’ Adam asked.
‘They want to take live samples aboard,’ Viola said. ‘Which means going down there to hunt them.’
‘Well, that’s kind of what they want,’ Adam said.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Pegasus told me they want to go to the “Veil”,’ Adam explained. ‘It’s their word for “space”. Mother asked me to take her there, and said she would show me how.’
‘“Mother”?’ Viola said, perplexed. ‘Yours?’
Adam shook his head.
‘Theirs.’
‘Why the mask, Travis?’ Dawn Lethos, once known as Dayla Straka, asked. ‘I thought fools with big egos preferred a high profile.’
‘Because I always embed myself in my biggest risks,’ Captain Mohib, aka Travis Mareck, said. ‘Anonymity lets me determine who my best people are.’
‘Anyone who doesn’t show his face to his own team is a coward,’ Dayla said.
‘Quite an opinion, from someone who’s been hiding for more than a decade,’ Travis said. ‘I don’t know what you two did to earn the wrath of Argus Fröm, but the man never forgets a bad deed.’
‘Tomas is dead,’ Dayla said.
‘And if you don’t want your children to end up like him, listen carefully,’ Travis said, twirling the cigar between his fingers. ‘Titan Industries has a bounty on your head. We’ll use that as an advance on Adam’s services. Once I receive adequate recompense, the debt is paid and your anonymity remains safe. Until then, I own you, the boy, and this rig. Is that clear?’
Dayla glared blankly at the space in front of her.
‘Tomas was able to set up some protection for us before he died. Argus knows his secret will be revealed if anything happens to me or my children,’ she said. ‘What are you after here?’
‘Let’s just say I’ve found a competitive entry in the biotech business,’ Travis said. ‘You’re my risk insurance.’
‘You don’t know the highborns you’re dealing with,’ Dawn warned. ‘You’re a fool. Soon enough you’ll end up dead for it.’
Travis laughed.
‘You’re welcome to the hospitality of the Lycidas,’ he said. ‘Your daughter will be treated like the firstborn she is, and I won’t hold her father’s sins against her. But until I get what I want, Adam is a ghost, and he is now the property of Merckon Corporation.’
‘Shall I call keeping calling you “Travis”?’ Dawn asked, avoiding eye contact. ‘Or something more subtle, like Lord Mareck?’
‘Assuming you want to keep your children alive, Dawn,’ he said, stamping the cigar out on the kitchen table, ‘you’ll call me “Captain”.’
28
WYLLYM
The flight school at Corinth was a domed amphitheatre that pilots called the ‘Bird Nest’. It was a classroom of sorts, except instead of desks there were thirty grey, featureless, contoured seat moulds neatly spaced around a podium in the room’s centre. Sprouting from the deck like sculptures, their sharp contrast with the glossy white ceiling gave the appearance more of a museum than a combat simulator. These were cast replicas of Gryphon cockpits; slipping on an AR helmet while seated in one would whisk the cadet into a simulation indistinguishable from the real world.
Wyllym had transformed cadets from bewildered rookies into lethal warriors in this very room, dissecting every combat exercise in painstaking detail so that everyone learned from each other’s mistakes. Although there were now only seventeen Gryphon fighter craft in existence, the class had begun with thirty pilots. Today’s extended session included those who had failed the programme, now participating by the direct orders of Grand Admiral Hedricks. For weeks, they had engaged in simulated joint operations against a Ceti fleet, in which nearly half the room was flying virtual enemy corvettes against the pilots who would fly real Gryphons from the Archangel’s decks into combat.
It was no substitute for the real thing, and the cadets knew it. Their apathy reflected in their horrendous performance in today’s exercises, and Wyllym’s patience was wearing thin.
Immersed in a simulated combat run, he reduced the speed of his Gryphon to let his wingmen take the lead. Six Ceti corvettes were less than three hundred kilometres away, and Wyllym’s instruments indicated that their targeting radars were tracking the Gryphons. They could fire at any moment.
‘Steady,’ Wyllym announced. ‘Break on my mark.’
Normally, the Gift would trigger the exact moment to ‘break vector’ and dodge the incoming fire. But his opponents were all former or current Gryphon pilots intentionally waiting for him to do just that. In a real scenario, the Ceti captains would have fired and retargeted by now. But, as Wyllym had known would happen, the pilots were gaming the simulation, which meant the exercise provided no benefit to combat preparation whatsoever. His request to use the range and real drones had been denied on the grounds that it was too taxing on the pilots before the real battle.
So it seemed fitting that the pilot on his right, Lieutenant Jaromir Ruslov, broke formation without permission.
‘Breaking,’ he announced pointlessly, steering his craft away from the formation in a lazy arc.
‘Negative!’ Wyllym corrected. ‘Fall back!’
‘Breaking,’ the other pilot, Lieutenant Jans Orpyk, announced.
‘No, goddamnit!’ Wyllym snapped.
All six of the Ceti corvettes landed shells on Lieutenant Ruslov’s Gryphon, vaporising it.
‘Ruslov, terminated,’ Wyllym’s console announced. No time to eject.
Throwing his craft to the side, he began flying erratically to confuse the Ceti guns.
‘Go to missiles!’ Wyllym ordered. From this range, the fire-and-forget weapons would likely get shot down by the Ceti corvettes’ point defences. But it might buy them precious seconds to evade and regroup.
But Lieutenant Orpyk was just as inept as his wingman.
‘Missiles?’ he asked. ‘Why not.’
Wyllym wrenched his own AR helmet off before the console could inform him that Orpyk had been terminated as well.
‘What the almighty fuck is wrong with you two?’ he demanded, glaring at the pilots.
Lieutenant Orpyk removed his helmet and stretched.
‘Sorry, sir, I thought you said “break”.’
Lieutenant Ruslov had his feet up on the simulated cockpit.
‘I did exactly what you told me to, sir,’ he said. ‘“Break”. So I’m taking one.’
As muted giggles filled the room, Wyllym realised there was not a single pilot with their helmet on.
No one had paid any attention to the exercise at all.
‘What’s going on here?’ he demanded. ‘Get back in the sim!’
Some of the pilots did nothing but stare ahead. Others, mostly the pilots that had failed, did so hesitantly.
Lieutenants Ruslov and Orpyk stood up.
‘Unable, sir,’ Ruslov announced, walking towards the exit.
Orpyk was right behind him.
‘Punching out,’ he said.
‘You’re both insubordinate,’ Wyllym warned. ‘You lose your wings for that.’
‘I doubt it,’ Ruslov said, turning to face the rest of the class. ‘What are the rest of you doing?’ he demanded. ‘Don’t you have better things to do than listen to this ghost trash?’
Wyllym was about to explode when Augustus Tyrell stormed into the room with armed guards behind him.
Lieutenant Ruslov met him at the door.
‘The rat is over there, Commander,’ he said.
‘Get back to your post,’ Augustus growled, shouldering the smaller man aside as he marched down the aisle, guards in tow. ‘The rest of you stay put and shut up. Admiral Lao will be here soon to debrief you.’
Wyllym stood up as Augustus halted right before him.
‘Captain Wyllym Lyons,’ the police commander said.
‘Ty?’ Wyllym said.
Augustus’s eyes betrayed a fleeting moment of sorrow.
‘I’m placing you under arrest,’ he said, reaching forward and slapping cuffs on Wyllym’s wrists.
Wyllym was too stunned to answer as the guards hooked his elbows.
‘I, Commander Augustus Tyrell of the Orionis Navy Police, am investigating the alleged offence of treason, of which you are suspected,’ Augustus said. ‘You have the right to remain silent.’
‘Ghosts ought to be seen and not heard,’ quipped Lieutenant Orpyk. ‘Traitor.’
Some of the pilots snickered.
Wyllym was nudged forward, mouth agape. Then he snapped out of it, trying to save some semblance of dignity, straightening his posture as he was walked down the aisle of cadets.
‘Any statement you make may be used against you in a trial by court martial,’ Augustus continued.
The vitriol from the cadets continued.
‘Space him!’ someone shouted.
‘You have the right to consult military counsel of your own choosing at your own expense,’ Augustus continued. ‘Do you understand the rights I just read you?’
Wyllym heard applause and shouts of approval.
‘I do,’ he said.
‘Wyll,’ Augustus said, pausing as they reached the exit. ‘Did you disclose classified information to Chancellor Vespa Jade regarding Ceti’s plans, disobeying a direct order from your commanding officer?’
Wyllym nodded.
The door to the Bird Nest shut, silencing the merciless jeers inside.
‘You are one righteous son of a bitch, you know that?’ Augustus growled.
The Tabit Genesis Page 31