It had come out in a torrent of bitter recrimination, and she hurriedly fought to reign the flaring emotions in. She was comfortable speaking truthfully to him, but she still had manners.
“Don’t you think you’re putting a little too much of the blame on yourself?”
“That’s what being in charge means, Richard.”
“I get it, I do. On an institutional level, yes, you have to bear the responsibility of every loss. I mean personally. The only thing that happened was you met a formidable enemy on the field of battle and, as has been reported to happen in war, you took a blow.”
“We certainly did.” She sighed, shedding another layer of the rigid formality she’d held in place for the meeting with Gagnon. “This is horribly callous of me…I should be thinking about how I just lost a friend who has always had my back. And I am. But mostly what I’m thinking about is the cold, ruthless calculus of the damn war, and the calculus tells me I just lost my best battlefield commander and tactician, as well as my best adviser.
“And since I’m in charge, I don’t get to mourn, personally or logistically. I have to move forward, adapt and find a way to win without him—not tomorrow or next week, but now.”
“You can take a day, Miriam.”
“No, I can’t. I made this trip because it was my obligation to deliver the news to the Prime Minister in person, but more so because only he has the authority to transfer operational control of the Alliance forces in Amaranthe to me. Cold, ruthless calculus. Rychen dies and I get more power, because I must. Now I need to hurry back to Amaranthe and see to finding a way to win. Without my best battlefield commander.”
She exhaled. It was possible there was some value in letting pent-up frustrations out. “But first…do you mind if I vent a bit more?”
“Not in the slightest. I’ll help if I can, but if I can’t, I’m happy to listen.” His smile was kind and honest, carrying only the faintest hint of amusement at her unseemly display of emotion.
“How do I fill the gaping hole that’s been created? I have several excellent officers serving under me—Jenner, Escarra, Ashonye and Belosca immediately spring to mind. But of them, only Jenner’s shown real potential to become truly exceptional. He’s quite good, and one day soon he might be superb. But he’s not ready to apply his talents to an entire fleet, to engagements of the size and scope we’ve been facing. And I’m worried if I push him too hard too fast, a lack of experience-won confidence will cause him to lose the very ingenuity he’s thus far displayed.
“On the other hand, I may not have time to let him grow into the role. So what are my other options? Bastian is….”
“An excellent leader of his troops. But the battle isn’t in his blood.”
She huffed a breath. “Thank you for saying so. I was worried I was letting my bias cloud my assessment of him.”
“What bias is that?”
“He isn’t Eleni. Whatever differences existed between us, she and I spoke the same language. Working with her was…easy. Merely saying ‘good morning’ to Bastian inevitably morphs into a challenge of wits and will.”
Richard laughed. “And you’re understating the matter.”
“Aren’t I? But personality conflicts aside, I think you nailed it. He’s a model soldier and an exemplary leader of people who aren’t me. But he’s shown no indication of being able to make the kind of on-the-spot, inspired decisions that can turn the tide of a battle. He’s intelligent and knowledgeable but he’s…well, he’s a little Machim in his approach, I’m sorry to say.”
“I won’t mention to him you said that next time I see him.”
“Thank you. So I return to the question of how to fill the Rychen-sized hole in my fleet.”
Richard drummed his fingers on the table. “Maybe you don’t need to fill it. Setting the AEGIS Prevos loose to be unpredictable, even chaotic, was all about removing the heavy hand of commanders, correct? Admittedly, I’m not there, but my understanding is the strategy has been working well. You focus on the overarching strategic goals, but when it comes to combat engagements, give them an objective and the necessary constraints, and let them do their thing. Maybe it will be enough to not only win the day but give you what you need to win the war.”
“It’ll have to be, won’t it?” She sank deeper into the chair. “This helps. Thank you. Would you be interested in coming to Amaranthe with me?”
“There’s nothing for me to do there.”
“You could be my adviser, clearly. And we’re finally starting to make some headway with the anarchs, so one day soon there should be intelligence data to analyze.”
“I appreciate the vote of confidence, but you don’t need me to be your adviser. You’ve got this in hand. At such time as there is legitimate, complex intelligence requiring analysis rather than simply action, we’ll talk. But right now I’m needed here.”
She smiled in acceptance—then frowned instead. “Is something going on? Is there trouble here?”
He reached over and laid a hand atop hers. “No. Merely the usual supply of bad actors and crafty criminals. More crafty than ever now that they’re all hooked up to Artificials, but we’re trying to keep up. The world is changing rapidly out there, but it seems to be equal opportunity change so far. The criminals are smarter and have better tools, but so are the good guys. So I think things will be okay here for a while in your absence.”
“Which is not the same thing as saying you’re not busy.”
“No, it is not.” He arched an eyebrow. “Feel better?”
“I do. You’re a finer friend than I deserve.”
“I’ll defer to your judgment on the matter. Now, I can see it in your expression. You’re anxious to get moving.”
“I’m afraid I am.”
“Do you want to visit the firing range before you leave? Knock out a few hundred practice rounds?”
“Actually, yes. It would be most cathartic. Unfortunate that there’s no time for it—oh, I almost forgot.” She dug into her bag and produced a small disk case. “A message from Alex. The portal barrier is really throwing a kink in communications, isn’t it?”
He took the case from her. “What’s it about?”
“I do not know. I was tangled so deeply in my own head when I left Amaranthe, I didn’t think to ask. If you need or want to respond, I’ll be on the Presidio for another hour or so. There are many reassurances to give and orders to reinforce before I depart for the portal.”
ALL THE SECURITY CLASSIFICATIONS, WHATEVER THEY ARE.
IF YOU ARE NOT RICHARD NAVICK, DO NOT READ ANY FURTHER UNDER PENALTY OF BAD THINGS HAPPENING TO YOU.
SCARY BAD THINGS.
Richard,
I have a question to ask you. Yet even as I compose this message, I’m still not sure exactly how to ask it. So prepare for a streak of rambling.
I was a child when my father died; I knew him only through an adoring daughter’s eyes, all misty and a firm rose in color. I readily admit it, but memory is what memory is, and I can’t go back now and see him through different eyes. You knew him better than anyone, save possibly my mother, and I can’t ask her this question, for oh so many reasons.
Here goes: in a hypothetical world, one where magic and miracles are possible, if the David you knew were offered a second chance at life—a chance to live again in every sense of the word, and without undoing the past or changing what happened to him—would he take it?
From one perspective, it sounds like a ridiculous question. Who wouldn’t jump at such a chance? But I remember my father had a very unique, even eccentric relationship with spirituality, the universe and notions of fate or destiny. And I find I just don’t know. And I kind of need to know.
I’m sorry I can’t say more. One day I’ll tell you the whole story. Best to you and Will. Try to keep the galaxy glued together while we’re gone.
—Alex
“Oh, Alex, what are you scheming at?” Richard eased back in his desk chair and brought a hand to his jaw.
/>
The warning header was just Alex being Alex. He hadn’t missed the hidden encryption on the message file itself to guarantee no one but him would be able to open it—Caleb’s handiwork, no doubt. A good thing, then, that Miriam hadn’t tried to open it, failed, and provoked yet another Solovy Family Incident.
While he wondered what the others were, one reason Alex couldn’t ask Miriam the question was obvious. Her response would be irreparably biased. Of course Miriam would say ‘yes,’ because she would want David back. Hell, Richard’s answer was apt to reflect the same bias, if to a lesser degree.
He blinked, hard. He was thinking about the message and its contents as if they were somehow normal. They were not. Even when one took into account this was coming from Alex, she who routinely conjured the impossible into reality seemingly through sheer force of will, the topic she’d raised should in no way whatsoever be considered ‘normal.’ And the softening language it was couched in notwithstanding, no way was this a hypothetical, thought-experiment question.
So what was it?
She was up to something. In all probability, it was something equal parts audacious and dangerous. Yet though the idea terrified him, in his heart of hearts he found himself rooting for her.
But for now he owed her an honest answer, and the clock was ticking.
It took him several minutes to find the right words, but he put together the truest response he could compose. Then he encoded it to her alone and sent it, along with a couple of other messages and reports waiting for transfer, for delivery to the transport Miriam was taking to Amaranthe.
Two debriefs and three filed reports after the mission was over, Richard finally made it to Medical on the EAS Trafalgar.
The controlled chaos of emergency triage had died down by then, but a degree of urgency remained in the activity around several of the treatment cubicles.
Thankfully, David’s cubicle wasn’t one of them, and Richard made his way past several bots and distracted medics to stand beside his friend’s cot.
A bulky medwrap covered most of David’s torso; a smaller one spanned the right side of his neck, and dark bruises surrounded his right eye beneath the sheen of a thick coat of healing ointment.
Richard’s squad had been tasked with perimeter surveillance of the mission target area. They’d done their job and alerted David’s squad when enemy reinforcements appeared on long-range sensors headed for their location. The squad would’ve had time to retreat cleanly if they’d moved fast. But the objective wasn’t complete, and Captain Solovy had refused to retreat until the stranded Marines—injured in a prior mission gone bad and pinned down by the enemy—were extracted.
Minutes after Richard’s warning, the scene through the surveillance cams had lit up in weapons fire, grenade explosions and trip mine detonations. Minutes after that, David had reported the all-clear and requested a medical evac team. His voice had sounded strained on the comms, but Richard had been ignorant of the extent of the man’s injuries until he was back on board the Trafalgar.
David’s left eye opened a crack to peer up at Richard. “Give it to me straight. Am I in good shape for the scrimmage tonight?”
Richard cringed. He lived in a constant state of incredulity at David’s persistent devil-may-care attitude. “You look like Hell—literally, you look like you took a scenic tour of Hell on the way back to the Trafalgar. You’ll be lucky if they let you on a syncrosse court next month.”
“Well, gavno. I was looking forward to kicking Delta’s ass. How’s my squad? Bershon? Zhu? My eVi’s stuck in a medical override routine and I can’t access the system.”
“Lieutenant Bershon will be released from Medical by the end of the day. Lieutenant Zhu’s worse off, but the captain on duty says he’ll make it.”
“And the others? What about—?”
“Everyone survived, including everyone you went in to rescue. I don’t know how in God’s name you managed it, but the great David Solovy saved everyone. Mind you, it nearly cost you your life.”
“Pah.” David struggled up to more of a sitting position and started to reach for the water on the table beside him, but stopped halfway with a wince.
Richard handed the water to him and waited while he took a sip, coughed, took another, and handed it back. “You were saying?”
“No way was I going to die today.”
“Everyone dies, David.”
His friend cracked a cocky smile like he wasn’t swathed head-to-toe in medwraps. “Do they?”
“So far, yeah. They do.”
David rolled his eyes, then winced again and reached up to gingerly feel at the bruised, swollen skin around his right eye socket. “I’ll grant you the possibility that one day Death will catch up to me and have its due, but it wasn’t going to be today. I’m not done yet. The finish line’s far over the horizon, and I’ve hardly gotten properly started.”
Richard was so lost in thought he didn’t realize Will had walked into his office until his husband leaned against the desk beside his chair and nudged his shoulder with an elbow.
“Oh!” He shook the reverie off and gave Will a sheepish grimace. “Sorry.”
“Some intelligence agent you are. I could have been an assassin.”
“Assassins don’t come in the front door.”
“What if the best ones do?” Will chuckled. “What has you so preoccupied?”
“Miriam dropped by.”
“I saw her report. They’re having a tough time, I gather.”
Richard nodded vaguely. “I want to elevate Jackson and Togusa’s access to Level IV and start including them in the morning briefings.”
Will gazed at him shrewdly. “Miriam asked you to come to Amaranthe.”
“What are you, a spy?”
Will blinked at him repeatedly until Richard chuckled. “And I said no, for now. But events could lead to us needing to make the trip sooner rather than later. I want to see to it SENTRI will be left in good hands if we do need to go, so let’s get Jackson and Togusa up to speed and ready to step in.”
“Understood. I’ll talk to them this afternoon. What about Director Delavasi? If we’re unreachable and something big happens….”
“Graham’s viewed as too partisan to take on an official leadership role. You and I recognize when things go to hell he’ll work for the good of everyone, but he is Senecan to his core. But let Jackson and Togusa know they can call on him for unofficial guidance.”
“I’ll let him know that, too. Out of curiosity, what did Miriam say to make you think we’ll need to travel there soon?”
“About what you’d expect—intel to analyze, factions to understand, war games to play. And she may be correct. But honestly, it’s not so much what Miriam said…it’s what Alex said.”
ROMANE
IDCC COLONY
Devon Reynolds sensed it when Mia returned through the portal. The presence of a Noetica Prevo still cast a disproportionate influence upon the Noesis, as if granting it added consequence.
Curious that she’d returned already. Either everything had worked out splendidly, or it was a shitshow beyond her capacity to fix, and he found he wanted to know which.
How’s the big, bad, ‘real’ universe? I’m surprised you’ve come home so soon.
Only briefly. I’ll tell you more when I see you, which will be in a few hours. We need to talk.
I’m not going over there.
Just listen to what I have to say.
Talk all you want. I’m not going.
I’ll see you soon.
Emily walked into the living room then to stare at him suspiciously. “What’s wrong?”
“Not a thing. Mia wants to drop by this evening, so how about we order in Chinasian?”
“I don’t know how to make a wormhole out of sidespace, Mia.”
“Not yet, but you could hold the key to understanding how to do it. We need to brainstorm with Alex and try to figure it out.”
Devon shook his head, firmly for added
emphasis. “Look, I’ll give you everything we’ve worked out when it comes to affecting the physical world from sidespace. Annie can infodump you, and you can take all the information with you. If you have any questions later, you can drop back in and ask them.”
“I’m not a ferry service, Devon. Every time we portal into or out of Amaranthe, we risk discovery, followed soon thereafter by destruction of our entire universe. This is your one and only chance to weigh in.”
“That’s fine with me. Like I told you, I’ll give you everything. But I can’t—”
Emily grabbed his arm and tugged him toward the kitchen. “Excuse us for a second, Mia. Please, help yourself to some dinner. We’ll be right back.”
He sighed and allowed himself to be dragged into the kitchen. Emily closed the door behind them then spun on him, hands planted defiantly on her hips. Uh-oh.
“You and Annie need to help them. We should go.”
“What? No. I’m not going. I’ll tell them what I’ve learned about my nifty trick, absolutely. But we’re happy here, and I’m not flipping our lives upside down again.” Devon crossed his arms over his chest in a display of certitude designed to match hers.
Emily regarded him for a moment, her expression unusually guarded. Then she drew close and coaxed his hands out from his pose to cradle them in hers. “Devon.”
“Don’t even start—”
“I will too start if I want to start. You’ve been fabulous to me since I got out of the hospital—and while I was in the hospital, and before I was in the hospital—and I love you for it. But your life is bigger than this apartment, bigger than picking at ware routines and taking me out to shows. You’re bigger than any of this, and so is Annie. She’s a military Artificial, and she and you together are meant for grander things. And you know what? I’d like to see some of that. I missed out on you being Mr. Prevo Badass during the Metigen War and again during the OTS unrest, or at most I only got to watch it from afar. I want to see the real pageantry.”
He shook his head fervently. “I won’t put you in that sort of danger. Certainly not the danger of a war with evil, bloodthirsty aliens.”
Rubicon: Aurora Resonant Book Two (Aurora Rhapsody 8) Page 14