by P. R. Adams
“This is Lieutenant Rimes.” His words were a mumble. He felt logy. A workout, a hot shower—that’s what he needed.
“Lieutenant, this is the XO. Please report to the pilot’s briefing room ASAP.”
An excuse to get out and wander the passageways. “Understood, Sir.”
Rimes rubbed at his face. It felt rubbery. He never thought there’d come a time where he’d complain about too much sleep, but he was bored and frustrated and anxious.
He dropped to the floor, confirmed Durban wasn’t in his bunk, then brought the lights up. After a quick stretch, Rimes shaved and washed his face before stripping off his undershirt and rinsing himself. He brushed his teeth, then pulled on fresh underwear and his uniform before letting himself out.
The passageways were still dimly lit and were remarkably silent. They were running on Eastern time, and Rimes’s earpiece showed just after three in the morning.
He made his way to the stairs and descended, exiting just aft of the Broussard’s hangar bay. He got his bearings and headed for the briefing room, absently wondering where Durban had gotten off to.
Rimes stopped at the briefing room hatch. His concerns about Durban instantly faded away.
A short, thick woman—an armed marine—stood just beyond the hatchway, blocking entry.
Upon seeing Rimes, the marine stepped forward and to the side. Rimes stepped past her and turned to watch her exit. She closed the hatch behind her; Rimes barely heard it seal.
“Well, look at you now.”
Dana Kleigshoen made her way around the opposite side of the table that ran the width of the room, hand extended. They shook, and she waved forward a young, pale, slender woman who’d been sitting at the far end.
Not the head of the table, Dana?
“Jack, I’d like you to meet Special Agent Sheila Fontana.”
Rimes breathed in Kleigshoen’s aroma, strong in the briefing room’s confined space. Even after what must have been several hours of travel, she somehow managed to smell clean and fresh. It was a welcome change from the Broussard.
He took Fontana’s hand into his own. Where Kleigshoen’s hands were long, dry, and strong, Fontana’s were small, damp, and frail. She was generally unremarkable, not the type to dominate a room, especially with Kleigshoen around. Worse, she gave off the vibe of a child on her first trip away from home.
“Lieutenant Rimes, so good to meet you.” Fontana’s breath smelled of coffee. “Agent Kleigshoen has told me quite a bit about you, but hearing about someone is never the same as meeting them.” She smiled, and her thin lips stretched tight, sealing her mouth and taking on a pale, waxy gleam. Her face was a mask, as if smiling was an alien, forced response she could simulate but not understand.
Too young to be Dana’s superior. Too insecure and deferential to be a peer. She’s some sort of rookie. Why the charade, then?
“I…“ Rimes was momentarily confused and surprisingly uncomfortable with Kleigshoen’s presence, despite long familiarity. He focused. “It’s nice to meet you as well, Agent Fontana.”
“Could you join us at the table?” Fontana turned awkwardly, and raised a hand to cover her mouth. She bowed her head toward a chair on the near side of the conference table, opposite Kleigshoen’s seat.
“Dana…?”
“I’m sorry, Jack.” Kleigshoen crossed to the table, adjusting her blouse before sitting. “Please, be seated.”
Rimes settled into the indicated chair. Kleigshoen avoided his eyes, focusing on a display he couldn’t see.
She looked as confident as ever, but her hair was now pinned back, her clothing slightly looser, the jewelry she wore more apparent. Rimes took in her stark blue jacket and matching blouse with a quick glance. Her features had softened slightly.
Did you get your promotion? Are you content with life now? Did you find the happiness you never could before?
Rimes turned his attention to Fontana, and she squirmed slightly. Her focus shifted from her private display to his face, then back. She never met his eyes. She sniffled and absently rubbed at her eyes, then her pale, hooked nose, smearing her clumsily-applied makeup. Something about her eyes and brow seemed alien, leaving Rimes ill-at-ease.
After a moment, Fontana coughed—fake, forced. She and Kleigshoen exchanged a glance that seemed to carry some significance. Kleigshoen flashed an irritated look—eyes narrowed, head tilted slightly; Fontana bit her lip and returned her attention to the display she’d been half-heartedly examining.
Fontana coughed again, this time authentic and quiet. She closed her eyes for a moment and breathed in deep. A quiet exhale and she skimmed the display in silence for a moment before exchanging another glance with Kleigshoen.
“Are you going to tell me what this is about?” Rimes’s left hand was balled into a fist. He relaxed it. Kwon, he’s even more irritated by this nonsense than I am.
Fontana shook her head quickly. It was just one quick shake, but it was enough for Rimes to notice it.
Kleigshoen looked from Fontana to Rimes and smiled sympathetically, but it was a half-hearted affectation. “How long have you been away from Molly and your sons, Jack?”
What’s your game this time? It’s not like you to give up control like this. “A few days. Why?”
“I thought you left the Commandos in part to keep from being away from family so much.”
After staring at him for a moment, Fontana looked away. He felt like a laboratory rat under observation. They probably have some sort of biometric sensors monitoring me. “Does this have to do with this supposed coup?”
Fontana’s eyes went wide, and her lips parted. She looked at Kleigshoen and was met with a withering glance.
Fontana looked back at Rimes. “Why do you say supposed, Lieutenant? There are hundreds of bodies in morgues planet-side right now, probably thousands before this is truly over. Isn’t that real enough for you?”
Rimes focused on Fontana, now mildly annoyed. “I didn’t say anything about people not dying, Agent Fontana. I said supposed coup.”
Fontana blinked and coughed, but when she spoke, her voice was still uncertain. “Would you mind—could you clarify your thinking, then? I’m at a loss how you could go from dismissing the coup to—”
Out of the corner of his eye, Rimes could see Kleigshoen staring in his direction, but her eyes looked unfocused. Caught up in the data. Typical spook, living the analysis instead of living the moment. “The coup is a smokescreen. I’m not an idiot, and I’m not oblivious to how things work. The fact that you’re here now, talking to me, confirms my suspicions.”
Fontana clasped her frail hands in front of her. “Maybe you could share those suspicions?”
Kleigshoen blinked, then focused on him.
Now she’s interested. In my thoughts, or in my reactions? It’s an evaluation, that’s for sure, but is she just evaluating me, or is this all about Fontana?
He raised his eyebrows and opened his hands, as if he were explaining a basic concept to someone Jared’s age. “If you think about it, a military coup with what has so far been described as ‘squads of soldiers’ makes no sense. Why an assault on government institutions? If you’re going to pull something like this off, you do it with snipers, explosives, and a few trusted Commandos. That, or you pull off a real military coup and roll into the capital with armor and air support and take the key leadership prisoner. There’s no value in killing them. You need a show of restraint, maybe a trial for their crimes…something to placate the civilians.”
“Crimes?” Fontana leaned forward. “Were you contacted at some point to be a part of this?”
“Crimes in the hypothetical sense. Do your sensors indicate any sort of stress, Agent Fontana? Do I seem the least bit worried you’ve discovered my role in a conspiracy?”
Fontana glanced toward Kleigshoen before looking back at Rimes. “You could be an extraordinary liar.”
“You certainly aren’t. I don’t understand the need for the charade. If you really s
uspected my involvement, I would have been arrested. At the very least, you would’ve kept that marine in here.
“So why don’t we get down to the heart of it? Things are about to get very messy, you’re picking your team, and you want me on that team.”
Fontana shifted in her chair and brought up the private display she’d been examining before. Even defocused, her eyes moved rapidly, and her lips quivered. She focused on Rimes again, holding a hand in front of her mouth as she spoke. “I—he’s either dangerously confident in his abilities or extremely clever.”
“I’d say he’s both. And more.” Kleigshoen flashed a predatory smile. “You’ve grown a good deal, Jack.”
“We both have.” Rimes regretted the words the moment he saw the hit register. Kleigshoen’s smile withered and she adjusted her blouse self-consciously. She still had her vanity, and he’d attacked it hurtfully. He tried to soften the blow. “You got your promotion, from the look of it.”
Kleigshoen winced, then brushed at an imaginary stray strand of hair and smiled mechanically. “So who do you think is behind this? You didn’t bother to say.”
“The genies. No one else stands to gain from what we’ve heard so far. We haven’t received any intelligence on what other countries or colonies were attacked, but a coordinated attack across more than one continent wouldn’t fit with a military coup.” Rimes was surprised by his own confidence and calm.
“Genies?” Kleigshoen cocked an eyebrow at Fontana.
Fontana’s face was frozen, her eyes locked on Rimes.
“Eliminate the superpower theory, and who else could pull something of that scale off? Metacorporations? The bank cartel? Neither makes sense. I could see the metacorporations under the right scenario, but there’s no profit for them in this, not short-term, not long-term. And the risks of something like this far outweigh the rewards.”
Fontana leaned forward, squinting until her eyes were barely visible. Her voice had a strength it hadn’t before. “Why genies? What do they gain?”
“Disruption.” Obviously.
Fontana froze, proceeding only once Kleigshoen gave a subtle nod. “Can you expound?”
Rimes ticked off points on his upheld left hand. “It buys them time through distraction. It weakens international and even interplanetary alliances. More importantly, it dries up funding. They must be desperate. They haven’t found their little nirvana to hide away yet, and we’ve gotten close to them.”
Fontana flushed, and she leaned in closer to Rimes, her pale eyes giving off a macabre twinkle. “You have.”
“Sheila’s a genie, Jack.” Kleigshoen placed a firm hand over Fontana’s.
Rimes blinked. “A…genie?”
“The Bureau is forward-looking.” Kleigshoen’s voice was cool and calm. “I’ve told you that before. We can’t afford to live by labels and thought processes that would hinder our efforts. Sheila’s not the only genie the Bureau had created, but she’s very special.”
Fontana lowered her head, possibly stung by Kleigshoen’s choice of words.
“You’re just going to ignore everything that’s transpired between us and them?”
“I’m willing to get past it.” Fontana’s voice was weak as she leaned back in her seat.
“She’s a telepath.”
Rimes nearly leapt from his chair. No! Keep it together. “A telepath?”
Kleigshoen leaned back, cocking her head slightly, as if she enjoyed the tension. “She’s no more a threat than you, Jack. Her abilities are different from Perditori. Just enough to get a sense of emotions and snippets of core thoughts. Her greatest strength is that she’s able to sense the presence of other telepaths and to block them.”
Rimes snorted. “You don’t think that’s dangerous enough?”
“She can’t push you into doing something you don’t want, and she doesn’t have any exotic hard abilities.”
“Hard abilities?” Rimes was used to classifying genies as hard and soft based on the genetic tailoring they’d undergone at creation—hard for physical specimens such as Kwon had been, soft for telepaths like Perditori. Mixing the two was a terrifying concept.
“Kinetics.” Kleigshoen patted Fontana’s hand. “Moving things, crushing them, setting them on fire, that sort of thing. It’s all theoretical, but we believe it has been done at some point. Sheila is smart; she can sense emotions—she’s empathic, aware—and she can shut other telepaths down, nothing more. I—we wanted to test her out, see how she handled what was likely to be a difficult interview.”
“You like playing with fire.” Rimes shook his head quickly. “This coup attempt was a genie machination, right?”
Kleigshoen nodded. “We’re confident of that, yes.”
“They manipulated people into acting? ‘Pushed’ was your terminology, right?”
“It’s more subtle than that.” Kleigshoen closed her eyes. “They…the people who acted were already inclined toward the sorts of actions they were convinced to take.”
“So what is pushing, exactly?” Rimes looked from Kleigshoen to Sheila, squinting when the genie recoiled. “Is it convincing someone to do what they want to do, or is it forcing them to operate against their will?” What is Kwon doing to me? Is that what pushing is like? Or am I already inclined to that sort of violence?
“Both. Maybe.” Kleigshoen bit her lip, and for a moment, her confidence seemed to fade. “We don’t know if the genies can actually force someone to do something they don’t already want to do.”
Memories hit Rimes: Dimon's actions at the Harper estate, the way Perditori had just…shut her off. Rimes jabbed a finger at Fontana. “Dana, I’m hearing a lot of we don’t know and very little to tell me you have confidence in…her.”
Kleigshoen’s cheeks colored slightly. “We’re confident this was the genies.”
“How?”
Kleigshoen looked at Fontana. “Their influence leaves a very clear trace in their targets’ minds. Sheila can sense it. We’re learning to detect it through interrogation. Trust me, we’re very confident. And you’re right, we think they’re trying to buy time. Maybe they’re ready to make a final push. Maybe they had a discovery fall through. We don’t know why they’ve been so active and now suddenly so bold. But it’s pretty clear they’re trying to slow us down and set us against each other.”
Rimes leaned forward. “And me? You came to me for…?”
Fontana seemed to wilt.
Kleigshoen pulled her hand back. “We need you out there, Jack. When we find them, we won’t have the time to launch from Earth. We’re going to have to forward deploy and hope we guess right about their moves. People like you, people with experience fighting them, you’ll give us our best chance of success.”
Rimes sighed. He’d known it was coming, but knowing didn’t truly prepare him for the moment. He’d promised Molly he’d be there for the boys. He’d promised himself he’d be there for the boys. They were demanding, they needed his influence. Molly needed him. “When?”
“The Special Security Council has approved several measures already. Negotiations are moving forward with key powers. Japan, Indonesia, Germany, England, France—more than a dozen nations have signed on. China is in on the talks. And we’re arranging funding from the bank cartels and metacorporations. They’ve been affected by this just as much as we have.”
“When, Dana?”
Kleigshoen tensed. “Two weeks. A month at the outside.”
“And the tour? How long do you expect this hunt to take, or how long before it’s called off?”
“We can’t call it off.” Kleigshoen searched his eyes as if seeking understanding there. “If they escape, they’ll come back to finish us off one day. We can’t risk that. They—” She looked at Fontana, who seemed to be looking at something in the distance, beyond the room’s walls. “They’ve made clear how they see us. You said so yourself.”
Rimes closed his eyes. A lifetime of war, living in space, constantly hunting and being hunted.
He had another twenty years to go if he hoped to collect any retirement for service. Another twenty years with only a few days here and there for Molly and the boys. It wasn’t what he wanted, but it was the only choice he realistically had. In creating the genies and treating them as it had, mankind had engineered its own end. He couldn’t ignore that and simply surrender.
“I’ll want my own team,” Rimes said. “My own tactics and training.”
Kleigshoen relaxed. “Of course. You’ve been under observation for the last three years for exactly that purpose. The Bureau is well aware of your Elite Response Force proposal. And I’m sure you’re well aware of all the goings on with Delta and the Commandos. We think the ERF is the future.”
What else have you plotted out so far in advance? “I’ll need access. No more operating on the periphery. I want direct access to IB data.”
Kleigshoen hesitated. “All right.”
“And we can’t expect people to be separated from families forever.” Rimes watched Kleigshoen for any hint of deception. She had her own signals he’d learned over their time together—the brushed back hair, the deep breath combined with a lean in, the forced eye contact. “We’ll need forward bases in the colonies. Not ten years out. Not five years out. Whoever’s running the show needs to get agreements now. Work out the details later, but start getting our folks out there. Give them connections with their families and the colonists.”
Kleigshoen exhaled and settled deeper into her chair. “Jack, that’s unreasonable. We’re already pushing the limits mobilizing so much so fast. People can still visit loved ones. We’ll figure this out. The farthest colony isn’t even a full month trip anymore. People have longer deployments than that today.”
They haven’t thought this through.
“It’s not just about separation and inconvenience, Dana, it’s about building communities. We need to step forward and mend our relations with the colonies. Get folks—our deployed military, government representatives, the Bureau—to see the colonies as home. Get everyone to accept we’re all one group struggling together to survive. Even the colonies. Especially the colonies. If we don’t have that, we won’t succeed.”