by Ron Collins
“There’s nothing wrong with the navigation parameters, is there, Ms. Martinez?” Keyes said.
All eyes turned to her.
“No,” she replied. “There is nothing wrong.”
Thoughts filled her head. Why weren’t the people falling? Shouldn’t she smell something by now? Would the vapor be odorless? Would the room temperature chill down, or was that just silliness? She had taken the antidote with breakfast, and wasn’t sure if that changed her senses at all or not.
She put these questions aside as she looked at Keyes.
“We’re in the Eta Cassiopeia system—exactly where I directed all four spacecraft to go.”
With that, her fingers went to a pocket in her jumpsuit and extracted a small rebreather of her own—this she clamped between her teeth as she adjusted the fit around her head.
“I am taking command of Icarus in the name of Universe Three,” Keyes said.
“This is a very big mistake, Lieutenant Commander,” Boyer said, edging toward Keyes. He put his hand out, palm up. “If you give me your weapon, I’ll do my best to see you’re not discharged at the court-martial.”
Keyes laughed. “Did you hear that, Ms. Martinez, Mr. Tash, and Ms. Nassir? He’ll see that I’m not discharged!”
Engine Specialist Tash and Shipboard Weapons Commander Brooke Nassir both stood forward, withdrawing their own plasma guns and slipping on their rebreathers.
“Tempting, I’m sure,” Tash replied.
Damn it, Katriana thought, did I miss a direction? Should I have come armed, too? No. She wouldn’t have missed that. She was security, though, so her U3 controllers probably didn’t want to risk her being found with an unregulated weapon on board. That made sense, she thought. And it made sense that others were protecting her.
“Oh, my God!” the ensign on the sensor station said.
“What is it?” the captain replied.
“I have an explosion at Sunchaser’s coordinates, sir.” The ensign looked up. “She’s gone.”
“What do you mean?”
“They must not have followed their orders,” Keyes said, a grin crawling over his lips.
The safety commander groaned, then fell over. While a crewmate bent to help him, another dropped.
A surge of joy rolled through Katriana.
This was it. The vapor had made it here. The game was over.
Nearly, anyway.
Now that Sunchaser had been destroyed and the cover on the operation was off, the rules changed. They had to keep the crew from taking control and returning the ship to the Solar System for as long as it took the vapor to do its thing.
“I’m sorry,” Keyes said as he turned to the captain. “Another half minute and this would have been a lot easier.”
Then he shot Boyer from point-blank range.
The captain hit the floor.
Silence hung in the air.
Then the bridge erupted.
Lieutenant Commander Wagner leapt at Keyes.
Keyes squeezed off a shot. The green energy hit Wagner in midflight, and he thudded onto the floor with a cry of pain and the smoldering smell of burnt flesh. Screaming voices echoed through the chamber. Keyes’s weapon flared again and again. Tash and Nassir worked the other side of the room. A hand grabbed Katriana. She punched out to get away, then jumped on the back of a crewmate and yanked his head around by the chin until the neck snapped. The body slumped. She gritted her teeth and shoved it away, noticing it was Orlando Jackson.
Served the asshole right.
Served the whole damned station right—the whole damned Interstellar Command.
The UG had killed her girls, now she was returning the favor.
She stepped back to her command post. A man from the row below reached. She pivoted and kicked him away, and his body crashed with a thick thwump against the edge of the command station below.
The physicality of it all made her glad she didn’t have a weapon, but it was over almost as fast as it began—the crew quickly falling to the vapor that was now fully deployed into the command center.
The four conspirators stood amid smoldering bodies and flashing control panels, breathing heavily. The taste of warm blood in Katriana’s mouth told her she had bit her cheek, but she found she liked it. Its tang made everything clearer.
Keyes’s eyes gleamed with passion.
“Secure all systems,” he said. “Send the message that Icarus is now under U3 command.”
“Aye, sir,” she said.
Katriana closed her eyes for a brief moment as she turned to her command panel, and as she did she imagined the faces of two round-cheeked little girls in the darkness who laughed and played and smiled back at her.
CHAPTER 12
Chicago, Illinois
Local Solar Date: March 13, 2206
Local Solar Time: 1315 Hours
Willim June Pinot was a junior analyst in G-2, the counter espionage department within the United Government Intelligence Office. His primary assignment was to gather data, make assessments, and write reports about Universe Three and other subversive groups. It was interesting work, if a bit mind-numbing at times.
He had graduated from Yale a year prior with a political science major, a minor in journalism, and a second minor in Lunar studies.
Though his waist was already beginning to show the effects of a sedentary lifestyle, he was tall and naturally thin. His hair was dark and usually unkempt. This was because he was a man of his own keeping, and he had more important things to worry about than where every hair on his head might be at any particular moment.
He had turned twenty-eight years old exactly one week before.
For his birthday, the rest of the guys at G-2 took him out to Donahue’s Pub, where they drank microbrew, watched the zero-g X-Factor games, and ate real French fries. It had been fun, a diversion from the usual process of going home, dropping a frozen tub into the micro, and playing Diplomacy on the net.
He was in his supervisor’s office, Paul Kane, that day when a message came in under the red flash tag that meant Kane had to take it regardless of what else he was involved in.
“Kane here.”
Pinot watched his boss’s expression go from jovial, to concerned, to outraged in a matter of ten seconds.
“Are you serious?” Kane finally said. “Yes…I understand…I have one of the analysts in my office now. I’ll call in the rest…Yes…Thanks, I’ll call you back as soon as I know more.”
The communication clicked off.
Pinot had never before seen his boss ruffled.
“What’s wrong?”
“Have you seen anything that says Universe Three was mobilizing?”
“My last report discussed the evac operation on Europa,” Pinot responded. His defensive shields were going up, and the analytical portion of his mind engaged.
Universe Three was a damned scary organization.
Casmir Francis was a charismatic, obstinate, and persistent leader, and unlike most leaders proposing radical changes he was willing to suspend his own chest-beating ethics and do whatever it took to get his way.
Pinot had written report after report about Francis, each of them noting that his superiors should expect trouble.
Of course, nothing had changed.
“Yes,” Kane said. “I remember that. I was looking for something more.”
“That report includes several sections,” Pinot replied. “It suggests the organization had something in process, and tied them all to plans my earlier reports discussed might happen if we press them too far.”
Kane made an expression that was half grimace, half smirk, and ran his hand down his coat lapels.
“What’s happened?” Pinot said with the precise enunciation he took on whenever a problem began to coalesce in front of him.
“Sunchaser has been destroyed. Universe Three has control of Icarus and Einstein.”
“Orion?”
“She’s still ours. Universe Three is already publicly cla
iming responsibility.”
Pinot let the news settle. “Holy shit,” he finally said.
“I need everything you’ve got on U3,” Kane said, “and I need it now. Resource reports, assumptions on special intel activity, recon, dark projects, legal activity, the latest status of their bases on Mars, Europa, and Io, and anything else you think has any bearing on the situation.”
“I understand,” Pinot replied. He would make it a point to include his status reports for the past six months in the package.
He looked at his boss and smelled the metaphorical scent of fresh meat.
Worry lines crossed Kane’s face, and his skin seemed suddenly transparent.
Kane was going down. Pinot saw that. Somebody would hang for this, and his boss was almost certainly going to be the guy.
Kane drew a nasally breath.
“Go,” he said. “We brief the CIO in two hours. I want you back here with a full story in forty-five minutes.”
“I’ll be ready.”
“Thank you.”
Chicago, Illinois
Local Solar Date: March 13, 2206
Local Solar Time: 1545 Hours
Sela Matz, Chief Intelligence Officer of the United Government, sat at a virtual table ringed with fifteen Intelligence executives, each physically located in their own niche of the sector and each with their own flock of analysts seated behind them. Her hair was coifed, and as crisply in place as the material of her dark business suit.
Data flashed on the table monitor, and maps and charts flickered as each member of the staff pored over millions of bytes of data, trying to make sense of the unthinkable. They had lost three Excelsior spacecraft, one killed, two hijacked. Tension was a nearly audible buzz throughout the room. The CIO needed to take a recommendation to the president in fifteen minutes.
Only Willim Pinot sat calmly, knowing it was too late to do anything now beyond taking in the activity and assessing the people in the organization as they reacted to the situation.
“What is your recommendation?” Matz asked, staring at Pinot’s boss.
Kane straightened his collar.
“Universe Three is inflexible,” he said. “They won’t negotiate, as you can see from the fact that it’s been several hours since the attack, and we haven’t received anything from them beyond their publicly broadcast statement, which is nothing more than the basic ‘no dissent, no freedom’ rhetoric they always spout.”
“That means?”
“That means we have to take care of this once and for all. No half-assed attempts to salvage relationships or ease anyone’s minds. I recommend an all-out response. A total blitz. Focused on taking back the two spacecraft they took. We still have Orion, so I think we use her to track down Icarus and Einstein. At the same time, we press a full attack on every base and outpost they have. Pronto. Everything we’ve got. As soon as we can muster it. Make a statement and get rid of the problem in one massive step.”
CIO Matz looked pointedly to Pinot. “Is that how you see it?”
The move surprised him, but really shouldn’t have. Matz had actually read the same reports Kane hadn’t.
He let the moment settle, then replied. “I—”
“Willim is behind me all the way,” Kane said.
“The young man can speak for himself, Paul.”
In that moment, Pinot pondered the situation.
Kane’s proposal was dumb as shit. Universe Three was like a colony of cockroaches—they could scuttle for darkness with the best of them. Sure, a full-out attack would play well to the public and would let a few top government officials blow off some steam. It might even save a job or two. But it couldn’t possibly solve anything.
It was, however, time for a bold response.
He and his boss had tussled over this, and up until now, of course, Kane had won. But it was clear to him that Kane was on the way out, and the Chief Intelligence Officer was asking Willim Pinot what he thought.
“U3 is so dangerous because they play the long game. And if you’ve been following my reports,” he said, pausing pointedly for effect, “you’ll see that while we’ve been able to keep them at bay, they’ve made gains in various key places every year. I agree with Paul’s view that we have to take an immediate action, but while I understand the optics of trying to regain Icarus and Einstein in such a public fashion, I worry about whether we can achieve that right now.”
Kane pressed his lips together.
“Why?” Matz said.
“We don’t know how to trace an Excelsior footprint, so until we figure out how to do that we won’t find either Icarus or Einstein without quite a bit of luck. In addition, I’ve been following U3 for a long time. They didn’t do this with a plan they drew up in the dirt.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying that when we get to their outposts, I suspect we’ll find U3 operatives will either have bugged out, or be mostly defenseless private citizens who were simple dupes. We may want to take down every U3 outpost in the system for the message it sends to the public, but let’s not pretend that it will make much of a difference in the end. And,” he said, “I’m saying it takes a lot of energy to cover everything at once. I’m saying that might not be the best way to win against an opponent who’s playing the long game.”
Matz nodded.
“But,” Pinot continued, “they do have three large, primary bases. We’ve already hit Europa with an operation that was designed to sap their strength. Taking out Io wouldn’t be too hard, but there’s not a lot of power in that step. The real key, I think, is Mars.”
“Because Casmir Francis uses it as their headquarters?” Matz asked.
“Of course.”
“So you’re suggesting we focus on their Mars base?”
“Yes,” Pinot said, noting Kane’s grimace out of the corner of his eye. “I agree with Paul that we should strike, and strike fast. But if we’re going to do maximum damage to the U3 organization, I say we focus everything we have on one place. Reduce their Mars colony to space slag as vengeance against the sabotage, and at the same time send a conciliatory broadcast on public channels that offers a complete cease fire in return for our ships back.”
Matz tapped her fingertip on the tabletop, nodding in silent agreement as she considered the option.
“We’ll have to hurry, though,” Pinot said.
The tapping stopped, and Matz waited for him to continue.
“I have been following Casmir Francis for a very long time. He will have assumed we would counter something like this. He’ll be prepping to bug out. I say we hit him with Orion, and with anything else we have, within the next twenty-four hours.”
The corner of her mouth twitched upward.
“Anyone have anything to add?” she said.
She glanced at the clock embedded in the center of the table. When no one responded, the CIO dismissed the staff and walked briskly out to catch her ride to the president’s office.
Pinot released a breath.
Kane scowled, but said nothing.
There was no doubt in anyone’s mind whose advice the CIO was going to follow.
Bugout
.
CHAPTER 13
Mars: The Hive
Local Solar Date: March 14, 2206
Local Solar Time: 0445 Hours
Two ships! Casmir Francis thought, with a smile. Two!
He and Yvonne strode at a brisk pace down the Hive’s main corridor, escorted by three guards. He was happy for the morning C-Pak regimen and a set of clear lungs as he leaned heavily on his walking stick. Voices called from everywhere around them. Loader bots rumbled up and down the automation lane. The ground crew scurried from bay to bay like they were under a perpetual code blue, which, effectively, they were. A bugout was a serious thing.
This was the last time he would ever see these hallways, but he was pathologically unable to keep down the excitement of the idea that Operation Starburst had succeeded beyond his wildest dreams.
Einstein and Icarus were theirs.
Sunchaser had been destroyed and Orion had escaped, but they had two Excelsior class spacecraft at their command.
The idea was staggering.
The UG wouldn’t let this stand, though.
Universe Three had played cat and mouse with the UG for years, but you can’t attack the fleet’s Excelsior class spacecraft without drawing fire. Operation Starburst meant those days were gone, and it also meant that now much of the public would be behind the United Government. Despite the latest UG message that offered a truce for the return of the ships, Casmir knew the gloves were now officially off.
“I can’t believe you got two ships,” Yvonne said.
“Flattery will get you everywhere, my dear,” he said, raising a lecherous eyebrow.
From an angle, Casmir caught the delightedly sly expression that crossed the face of the guard who was walking ahead of them. Two others followed behind. He wondered how they would tell the story of this conversation when they sat down to pubbing with their cohorts.
“This is it, though,” he finally said. “No going back.”
Yvonne pulled a tight smile. “It will all be fine. Just so long as we get out of here before the Uglies come.”
He grinned at his partner’s use of the derogatory term. It wasn’t a word that often graced her lips, but apparently the idea that the UG might, at any moment, turn their home into a burnt-out trash heap had changed the game a bit for her, too.
“Are the kids ready?” he said.
“Already aboard.”
“That’s good.”
Their footsteps echoed against a metal grate that lay over a broken segment of the corridor.
The last step in Operation Starburst was the immediate and complete evacuation of every major outpost they had, and given the public nature of the Hive and its proximity to other UG outposts, Mars had to happen fast. Timing was critical. Too early and U3 would tip their hand, too late and they would suffer the consequences. Already Casmir’s spotters had reported surveillance drones and electronic scans picking up.