“Yes, sir,” Pike said neutrally, refusing to tilt one way or another until he found out what his boss wanted of him.
“No later than two days local time after you get back to the Platform I want you in your ship and heading out to the Juwel System,” Wellington said.
Shit!
“Of course, sir.” Pike was quite proud of how he kept his emotions out of his voice. He’d just returned from a mission into the Eastern Star Alliance that could only be described as pure hell. Doing a quick turn and flying into the teeth of a hostile alien blockade wasn’t the best idea he’d heard lately.
“I need you on this, Pike,” Wellington said with as much genuine emotion as any lifelong politician could muster. “I can’t argue with Sala’s logic but something feels … off … about all of this. I’d send a Prowler out but I’m not sure how much success they’d have sneaking in and back out. Just pop out there, take a peek around and see if our forces have indeed been wiped out, and then get back here and report to me. In fact, report only to me.”
Pike was fuming as he walked out of the executive residence to the waiting jump shuttle that would take him to the base where he could catch a ride to the Platform. Just pop out there?! Could a man that was the duly elected leader of a star-faring race that had spread across dozens of planets really be so ignorant as to what surveying an entire star system entailed? When trying to observe without being observed it was impossible to simply jump in, sit there and watch, and then leave ... at least not if you wanted to capture anything to make the trip worthwhile.
Even as his anger subsided he was already making plans as to how he could best go about this new assignment. Part of what mollified him a bit was that he suspected the Icarus was also on its way to the Juwel System. Maybe he’d be able to talk to Celesta Wright alone and find out what the hell happened during her attempted diplomatic mission.
“It just got here via com drone!”
The outburst made Dr. Badu jump and he turned to glare at the project assistant that had just burst in.
“What just arrived via com drone, Miss Foss?” he asked acidly.
“The analysis of the organic material we pulled from the debris of the battle in this system,” Foss went on, completely oblivious to Badu’s tone.
“We sent samples to at least fifteen labs across—”
“Yes, yes,” Foss waved him off, the dismissive gesture causing the research scientist’s eyes to bulge. “I’m talking about that weird one. The blind samples we sent to that Fleet group … you know, the—” Foss trailed off as she struggled to think of the name.
“Perhaps they put their name on the packet they sent back?” Badu asked wearily. He was already interrupted so he stood up and took the courier package from Foss, turning it over to look at the printed routing label that had been attached when the transmission had been received and classified by the New Sierra Platform’s com office.
“It’s right here … Sector 17, whatever that is,” Badu frowned. This carries the stench of Fleet Intelligence on it. "I’m not sure I understand; why are you so excited for this particular analysis given the fact none of the others have been able to provide much insight?”
“Because we were given instructions to contact that good-looking aide to the President when this one came in,” Foss beamed. “Aston Lynch.” Badu just stared at her blankly as he turned the packet over in his hand a few times, resisting the urge to roll his eyes at the exuberant project assistant who still clung to the trappings of youth. He despaired of ever making a serious researcher out of her despite her aptitude.
“I’ve already contacted him,” she said, smiling again. “Would you believe the luck that he’s actually on the station? He’s on his way down to this section now.”
“That is strangely fortuitous,” Badu said absently, still wracking his brain to remember what Sector 17 was.
“Ah, Mr. Lynch, wasn’t it?” Dr. Badu said as a well-dressed man who looked to be in his early thirties walked in with an air of dismissive arrogance swirling around him. “It’s good to see you again.”
“We’ve never met, Doctor,” Lynch said flatly. “The Sector 17 analysis came back, I presume?”
“Yes, it has.” Badu took a closer look at Lynch. Unlike most people in his career field, he was very observant of people and had a natural skill reading them. He realized that this Lynch was wearing his entire persona like a costume. The clothes, the sneer, the clipped manner of speaking … it was all an act. Badu saw the hard look in his eyes, his over-muscled physique the tailored suit didn’t fully hide, and the fluid manner in which he moved. In an instant the research scientist put it all together and realized he was looking at someone from either Fleet Intel or CIS, maybe even an actual Agent, if those really even existed.
“If I might ask, what exactly is Sector 17? No harm now that the results are back, is there?”
Lynch gave him an unreadable look for a moment before shrugging almost imperceptibly. “It’s an advanced AI emergence program,” Lynch said. “The project principal has shown itself to be quite adept at finding patterns in things that most humans cannot.”
“Fascinating,” Badu said, tearing open the courier packet and pulling out the single data card held within. He slipped the card into the reader on the table that housed his lab’s main holographic projection display and waited while his credentials were verified. All classified data was tightly controlled and stored only on the servers in the bowels of the Platform; the card that was delivered was simply the first of four verification steps that would allow him to access the specific data he needed.
“There’s a message from Project Manager Danilo Jovanović. Would you like to see that first?”
“Sure,” Lynch shrugged, his mask slipping a bit and his impatience showing.
“This is Danilo Jovanović, Project Manager for Sector 17.” The face of a man who looked far younger than any project manager Badu had ever seen was projected up in front of them. “When I saw that Aston Lynch had requested the Cube run through this analysis I bumped it up as a special favor. I apologize for the delay, but we had to have some specialized equipment delivered in order to properly compare the samples that were sent. The samples were sent blind and there was no context or labels given for each, so when you view results keep in mind that we had nothing to do with any potential mix-up.”
“I wonder what that means,” Lynch said.
“I think I see the issue,” Badu said, frowning as he read. “The summary analysis says it plain as day: The samples were from unique individuals, but belonged to the same species.”
“What?! Impossible! We gave them Ushin and Darshik organic samples, yes?” Lynch asked.
“Yes,” Badu said firmly. “We were extremely careful in how they were handled, packaged, and distributed. The control markers we put on each of the samples is clearly listed here.” He was about to go on to describe their isolation procedures and how it was impossible for there to be cross-contamination but Lynch had already moved on, pacing around on the floor and muttering to himself. His head snapped up suddenly and when he looked at Badu all traces of the polished, urbane Aston Lynch were gone. Whoever the man really was, he was dangerous.
“Dr. Badu, I realize you have a tight schedule and deadlines to meet, but this is more important than you could possible know,” the man said. “I need two compete summaries made of the data that the Cube has sent in this report, one in complete layman’s terms and another with enough pertinent detail to be credible for someone trained in a scientific field … and I need them both by this time tomorrow.”
“I’ll put two of my people on it right away,” Badu said. He’d been ready to argue on principle alone—who the hell was this guy to come in and order him around?—but he remembered that he’d come in earlier fully credentialed as an aide to President Wellington. Whatever his suspicions about the man might be, it was obvious he operated within circles at the highest levels. Giving him too much push back might not be too smart on hi
s part if he wanted to keep his job on the Platform.
“I appreciate that,” Lynch said with a nod, still seeming distracted. He pulled a card with a memory chip embedded in it out of a jacket pocket and handed it to him. “Here are the best ways to reach me. Please send your reports directly to me; they’ll automatically encrypt when you try to connect to any of these addresses. I’ll likely be on the Platform still, but if I’m not I’ll still be within the DeLonges System. Thank you again, Doctor … as I said, it’s critical.”
“We’re happy to do our part, Mr. Lynch,” Badu said and shook the proffered hand.
“Agent Pike, what can I do for you? Or is it Aston Lynch today, judging by the clothes?”
“Thank you for seeing me on such short notice, Admiral,” Pike said respectfully, closing the door behind him. “Admiral Marcum is not so accessible in a pinch.”
“Marcum puts up roadblocks to keep the low-level riffraff out,” Admiral Pitt said. “You have trouble because he doesn’t like you.”
“The feeling is mutual,” Pike sighed. “But that’s not why I’m here.”
“Obviously. So I repeat … what can I do for you?”
Pike looked at him speculatively for a split second before continuing. “You’re aware of what Captain Wolfe was doing after he left Fleet and was—”
“I am,” Pitt smiled slightly. “I was there when that … thing … woke up, for lack of a better word. So yes, Agent, my clearance is high enough to be privy to Project Prometheus in the first place and I’m well aware of what Wolfe was doing on the Pontiac with that Vruahn hardware.”
“That greatly simplifies things,” Pike nodded. “When both Tsuyo Science Division and Fleet R&S were hitting a wall analyzing the organic material we pulled from the wreckage of the Darshik and Ushin ships in this system I took it upon myself to have a sterile set of samples sent to Sector 17—Project Prometheus—and see if the Cube had any insights our scientists were lacking.”
“By sterile you mean—”
“No context given as to where they came from,” Pike clarified. “The people and the Cube in Sector 17 had no idea what the samples were other than organic material of similar size and structure.”
“What did that thing find?” Pitt leaned forward anxiously, actually pushing aside the work he’d had in front of him when Pike had walked in. The agent took another breath before pushing ahead.
“The Ushin and the Darshik are the same species,” he said. “The organic composition of the remains was inconclusive in the labs here on New Sierra, but the Cube was able to discern their genetic structure. Apparently, although carbon-based, the aliens don’t have DNA structured like our own so it wasn’t immediately recognized.”
“But the Cube did recognize it?” Pitt asked.
“Recognized it almost instantly and then was able to break it down to discover there was zero genetic variability between what we thought were two different species,” Pike said. “The Cube stated with a ninety-nine-point-nine-nine-nine percent certainty that they are the same, which is as close as it ever comes to saying there is no other possibility. It was even asked about the probability that the Darshik and Ushin are offshoots of each other, divergent species with a common origin, and the answer was no.”
“Clever bastard, isn’t it,” Pitt shook his head. “And to break down an alien genome that fast.”
“They’ve found that sometimes when presented with new challenges the cube will unlock pockets of dormant knowledge it didn’t know it possessed until trying to solve the problem,” Pike said. “I think this might be one of those times. For all we know the damn thing knows the Ushin/Darshik race intimately and could point out every planet they hold in the span of minutes.”
“Interesting speculation, but why are you bringing this to me?” Pitt asked. “I’m not an idiot but I’m certainly not a xenobiologist nor someone in a position to make policy based on this new information.”
“Two reasons.” Pike held up two fingers. “First, I’m out of my depth here. What I’ve told you is just a snapshot of the scientific data we now have on this species. But there are profound political ramifications now that we know they’re the same people. Why do they identify as separate? Why are the Ushin trying to get us to fight the Darshik, and then betray us within the span of weeks? It just gets muddier from there the more you think about it.”
“And the second reason?”
“I’m shipping out within the next twelve hours,” Pike said. “The President wants me to fly out to Juwel and find out what the hell happened to our latest taskforce. I’m preparing a full brief to send down to the surface, but I wanted to tell someone I trust in person about this before I leave. There’s a decent chance I won’t come back from this trip, and I don’t want something like this being lost in the shuffle of bureaucratic incompetence.”
“Blunt enough,” Pitt nodded his approval. “Okay, Pike … I’ll hand-deliver your brief to both Wellington and Sala as well as make sure Marcum gets a copy. Beyond that”—Pitt splayed his hands open in a gesture of helplessness—“I can’t make any promises. Wellington keeps his own council and Sala is working some sort of angle I can’t see.”
“I noticed he gets very nervous when you talk about moving assets out of the DeLonges System,” Pike nodded. “But I chalk that up to a misguided sense of self-preservation rather than any sort of nefarious design.”
“Interesting way to talk about your boss,” Pitt said with one arched eyebrow.
“I work for the President currently,” Pike sighed. “If I live through the coming months and Wellington steps down as he’s indicated then I’ll likely hand over my Broadhead and sack of false credentials and be on my way.”
“Right into the open arms of Tsuyo Corporation as a security consultant, I’m sure,” Pitt said sourly, standing up and extending his hand across the desk. “Good luck, Pike. You may be a slimy spook, but you’ve always been straight up with me and I appreciate that.”
“Likewise, Admiral.” Pike grasped the outstretched hand. “Don’t let the politics of this place suck out your soul.”
Pike left the office and quickly made his way down to the lifts that would take him to the lower docking complex. He’d already put his bags in the Broadhead and had it warmed up and ready to leave the instant the hatch closed behind him. As the lift car descended away from the upper decks of the station he thought about what it was he might actually find when he got to the Juwel System. Could Wolfe have really been so arrogant as to blindly charge into a trap and get his ship destroyed? He had to amend his last thought with a reminder that Wolfe had actually lost every ship under his command so far; not exactly a stellar record.
When the lift doors opened he stepped out and made his way down to the first of two automated security checkpoints that would require he enter a six-digit code to pass. The Platform was ostensibly secure, but there were layers of protection built into even some non-classified areas just to keep honest people honest. He was almost to the archway that led to the docking complex when he caught sight of a familiar face for the second time even though they were going through great effort to remain hidden.
“I hope you NOVA pukes are better at shooting than sneaking,” he called over his shoulder. “What the hell do you want, Essa?”
“When did you see me?” NOVA Team Commander Amiri Essa stepped out of a doorway and walked up to him, still dressed in casual civilian attire that left little doubt his affiliation. Full service dress would have been less obvious than the ubiquitous cargo pants and collared pull-over operators seemed to prefer when on duty and not in battle dress.
“Since you tried to dive into a hallway when I came out of Pitt’s office,” Pike said, turning around. “How did you know I was heading down here?”
“Dumb luck,” Essa admitted. “Heard a rumor the President was sending someone to scope out the Juwel System. I saw you walk into Pitt’s office and put it together from there.”
“What the hell? That was a private m
eeting with the President! How could—you know what? Never mind,” Pike said disgustedly. “So you snuck down here because you couldn’t stand the thought of not saying goodbye?”
“Funny. No, I was coming to ask if you wanted company,” Essa said.
Pike looked at him for a moment, trying to see if it was a setup for a joke he wasn’t getting. “Why do you want to go to Juwel?” he asked. “Or more specifically, who told you to go to Juwel? Nobody wants to go out there, including me.”
“Okay … General Ortiz wants me to check things out,” Essa admitted.
“Ortiz is a Marine general,” Pike said. “You’re a Fleet puke. Who authorized this?”
“Ortiz pulled some strings and got me put on detached duty to his office, but he has no way to get anyone out to Juwel,” Essa said. “This was two weeks ago and I’ve been wracking my brain trying to figure out how to insert onto a hostile world with no Fleet backup. Imagine my delight when I saw you and realized where you were going.”
“Hence the sneaking around and the backpack that looks like a seventy-two-hour bag from the way it’s bulging out at the sides,” Pike sighed. “Look, Amiri, I’m going to do a quick in and out. I’m not landing on that planet and my ship doesn’t have any drop pods assuming you’re suicidal enough to climb into one.”
“Fair enough,” Essa said. “But I’ll be damn sure closer than I am right now and your ship could get there a lot faster than some civilian transport I scam into taking me. Who knows? Maybe I’ll get lucky and you get shot down over the planet, we have to land there, and then I can complete my mission.”
“The fact that you’re the best and brightest of the NOVA program terrifies me to no end,” Pike said.
Iron & Blood: Book Two of The Expansion Wars Trilogy Page 20