The Kasari Nexus (Rho Agenda Assimilation Book 1)

by Richard Phillips

  Jack picked up the dead man’s weapon and lay down, using the body as a rest for the rifle as he aimed it along the guerilla line and waited for what he knew was coming, a series of muzzle flashes. Another lone gunshot split the night. One of the soldiers rolled out of the woods onto the edge of the road as his comrades opened up all along their line.

  When he squeezed the trigger, Jack sent a series of three-round bursts into the firing guerillas. Only after the first half dozen had fallen did they realize that the gunfire was coming from the end of their own line. Their response was entirely predictable. The nearest rose to swing his weapon toward Jack, only to be cut down by the panicked firing of his fellows as they all turned their weapons toward where Jack was cutting them to pieces.

  Right on cue, a rapid volley of fire from three separate firing positions chopped them down. The remaining three men bolted, rewarded with bullets in the back of the head that dropped them face forward. Jack raised two fingers to his lips and sent out a piercing whistle that echoed through the night, letting his team know he was moving.

  Leaving the AK-47 lying beside its dead owner, Jack placed his H&K in his left hand and the Gerber Guardian combat dagger in his right. Then he moved silently from body to body. Nano-healing being what it was, he put an extra bullet into the head of each soldier. In less than a minute he cleared the objective and confirmed the kills. Seventeen guerillas, six of them women, all dead. And parked in a small clearing adjacent to the ambush location were five four-wheel-drive pickup trucks.

  A different whistle gave the all clear and three shadows moved rapidly through the woods toward the spot where he waited. Heather was the first to arrive, followed closely by Mark and Janet, all with their weapons at the ready. Despite his all clear, they took nothing for granted.

  “Search the bodies,” Jack said. “We want radios, cell phones, papers, car keys, and anything else that looks useful, but make it quick. Then grab your go bags and throw them in a couple of these trucks. I want to be out of here in the next five minutes.”

  Nobody bothered to acknowledge his orders. This finely tuned engine of death slipped silently as one into the predawn darkness.

  “Those idiots! If they weren’t already dead, I’d kill them myself.”

  Daniil Alkaev’s temples throbbed so hard they threatened to burst. As he moved among the bodies with Galina Anikin at his side on this hot January morning, he looked for something positive to take from what was otherwise an unmitigated disaster. All these fools had to do was locate The Ripper and call it in. Instead, after one of their agents spotted the Smythe party at a government checkpoint, the Shining Path had decided to plant an improvised explosive device along the road, looking to take credit for killing the Smythes and their bodyguards.

  Kneeling down beside the commander of the guerilla group, Daniil grabbed a handful of the man’s black hair and lifted his head to examine the wound. A single slash had severed both carotid arteries. The spray pattern of the blood confirmed what his eyes had already told him.

  The Ripper had spotted the ambush in time to avoid the kill zone and flank the hapless guerillas. Then he and his companions had killed every single one of their attackers, going so far as shooting several other guerillas in the back as they tried to flee. Afterward The Ripper had walked the line, shooting each of the downed guerillas in the head. Cold. Merciless. Exactly as Daniil would have done it.

  But something bothered him. Daniil walked the line of bodies strewn along the roadside and then made his way back to the bodies of those killed as they had approached the wrecked Subaru. He’d assumed that The Ripper and Janet Price were the heavy hitters, protecting the spoiled Smythe billionaires. But this combat scene told a different story.

  The quartet had reacted to the ambush like a well-rehearsed team of seasoned professionals, flawlessly reversing the situation. Three of them had left the car and conducted a fake counterattack, allowing The Ripper to flank the guerillas, before setting up a mini-ambush of their own. They’d expected the guerillas to send a kill squad toward the car and had slaughtered them when they came. Then, when The Ripper opened up on the left flank of the remaining line, this group had attacked.

  Daniil straightened, knowing that he had found that opening he’d been looking for. In light of what he had seen here, he would need to seriously reassess the Smythes. Otherwise, the false assumption he’d previously held might just get him killed.

  Major Kamkin didn’t like being forced to accept last-minute additions to his Spetsnaz commandos. But the chain of command had left him no options. So he would be babysitting these new arrivals from the Federation Security Service.

  Despite his irritation, he had to admit that Daniil Alkaev and Galina Anikin had the hard look of professional killers. If they had been placed under his command, they might even be useful. Unfortunately, Alkaev would be the one issuing the orders, the way of things in this new world structure. The motherland had been supplanted by a higher power. All hail the UFNS.

  Turning his thoughts to other matters, the major moved among his thirty-five commandos, watching closely as they prepared their weapons and equipment for the upcoming raid. The American terrorists would meet the same fate that had greeted all of Major Kamkin’s previous targets.

  CHAPTER 23

  Raul brought the Rho Ship out of subspace just behind the third and largest of Scion’s moons, one very similar in size and appearance to Earth’s moon. Engaging the gravity distortion engines, he set the ship down as gently as possible and cloaked it. For two full minutes he waited, monitoring the sensors to see if any Kasari attack vessels had left Scion’s atmosphere. Seeing no signs of movement, he breathed a huge sigh of relief.

  “Wow,” VJ said. “You got us here without getting us both killed. Good job.”

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

  “Hey. This is me being supportive.”

  Raul leaned back in his invisible stasis field command chair and shook his head. He was definitely going to have to improve the VJ simulation if he didn’t want to start beating his head against the wall. Luckily, he was the captain and could still order her around.

  “Start a full worm-fiber scan of Scion. Let’s find the real Jennifer.”

  “You know that the way you said that is hurtful, right?”

  “Just do it.”

  “Yes, your lordship.”

  “Do I have to do it myself?”

  “I’m on it. Just sit back and relax.”

  Jesus. Now VJ was slowing him down, not to mention irritating the hell out of him. He turned his thoughts to the Kasari down on the planet. They would certainly detect the worm-fiber search, just as they’d done before. But they couldn’t tell where it originated. Unlike before, they wouldn’t be able to send out a master override code that took control of this ship. They would know he was somewhere in the Scion system but that was about it.

  Another thought occurred to him. If Jennifer attempted to connect with the Rho Ship’s neural net through her SRT headset, he would detect it. But for now, as VJ had suggested, he could afford to sit back, stretch his new legs, and relax.

  After all, he had an eel dinner to look forward to.

  The assassin came at Jennifer as she lay, little knowing that she almost never slept. The Koranthian warrior was big, standing seven and a half feet tall and holding a scythe-shaped sword that should have swept her head from her shoulders. But her side kick knocked the weapon from his hands and sent it spinning to embed itself in the headboard of her bed.

  Then Jennifer was on his back, her arms locked around his neck in a grip that would have killed a human foe. But this was no human. The massive Koranthian rolled forward, slinging Jennifer across the room. She rolled to her feet to face him.

  He sneered at her. “Time to die, outlander.”

  She grinned right back, baring her teeth. “Yes, it is.”

  The assassin moved much faster than she expected, launching himself at her in a wrestler’s takedown that Jenn
ifer met with a judo throw, using his five hundred pounds against him. As he flew over her shoulder, he caught her arm in a powerful hand, pulling Jennifer down atop him. Her foe’s shoulder and head hit the chest of drawers with such force that the furniture splintered. But he maintained his hold on her arm.

  Contorting her body, she drove her right knee into the assassin’s throat with the full force of her downward momentum. The cartilage in his throat collapsed with a sick crunch. As his hand lost its grip on her arm, she saw the Koranthian’s dark eyes widen in shock. Jennifer pushed herself up off of him and dropped onto his throat again. Leaning over his face, she thrust her thumbs deep into his eyes as her fingers clawed into the thick skin on the side of his head.

  His flailing right arm knocked her across the room and Jennifer felt a blinding flash of pain. The impact with the wall broke her left wrist and opened a head wound that spilled blood down her face and into her left eye, partially blinding her.

  The door banged open. General Dgarra and two of his personal guards burst into the room. With a guttural growl, Dgarra pulled the sword from the headboard, took two long strides, and cut the gurgling assassin’s head from his shoulders, drenching himself in dark blood.

  He turned to his guards, eyes blazing. “Take this garbage from my house and stake his head outside the entrance to General Magtal’s estate. And get me the names of the two guards who were supposed to be on duty here.”

  Bowing, both guards spun on their heels and wordlessly departed.

  By the time Dgarra turned his attention to her, Jennifer could feel the healing beginning to stanch the blood flow on her forehead. The nanites that remained in her bloodstream were now so slow that their repairs could no longer be directly observed. She estimated that her broken wrist would take more than a full day to heal. Dgarra was aware of the change. She could feel the concern in his mind.

  “Come with me. My doctor will see to your injuries.”

  “I’m not sure your doctor will know anything about my anatomy. I’ll be fine.”

  Dgarra paused to consider this. “Maybe so. But accompany me while my people clean up this mess. I will see that you get a bath and a fresh set of clothes. Then we shall talk. There are many things that I wish to discuss before we depart.”

  Jennifer felt her pulse spike. “Depart?”

  “Even though the winter has driven our enemies from these mountains, I would return to my command in the north. There is much preparation to be done before the monsoon winds reverse. I would see for myself whether the tales that have sprung from your lips have any basis in reality or whether I have made as large a fool of myself as my uncle believes.”

  Without waiting for her response, Dgarra turned and walked out of the room. And as Jennifer followed him, she felt a great wave of relief wash over her. To be leaving this seething den of vipers and returning to the northern front suddenly seemed like a vacation on the French Riviera.

  CHAPTER 24

  “Finally.”

  Prokorov smiled as he finished the request to initiate the airstrike that would eliminate the Smythe problem. Although Daniil hadn’t been happy about it, the Shining Path’s screw-up had turned out to be the break the FSS needed. The action had been picked up by two separate satellites and one of those had been able to track the trucks the Smythes had taken into the San Cristóbal slum in eastern Lima.

  Even though the intelligence community hadn’t managed to track the group to a specific house, they were certain of the neighborhood. The American B-1 bomber was part of a squadron that had been kept on station just for this opportunity and in a little over fifteen minutes it would deliver its payload of two-thousand-pound bombs on target. Hitting a densely populated area was unfortunate, but with a properly coordinated media blitz the aftermath could be managed.

  This action would produce far fewer casualties than if he’d been forced to invoke his backup plan. Even the U.S. president had agreed with that. The bombing was a small price to pay to eliminate a major threat to the island of stability the UFNS represented in this chaotic age.

  President Ted Benton walked into the White House Situation Room to find the key members of his national security staff already assembled. After cursory greetings, he took his seat at the head of the table, studying the serious faces of those who stared back at him.

  “As you already know, I’ve just ordered a B-1 strike on a densely populated section of Lima. Yesterday, you all made your cases for or against this course of action. While we waited for definitive information about where the Smythe terrorist group is hiding, I’ve given those opinions careful consideration. After close consultation with our UFNS allies, we have agreed that this course of action is the best of several bad choices now available to us.”

  Barbara Dansby, his secretary of state, shook her head. “Mr. President, I have a very hard time believing that killing hundreds or even thousands of innocent civilians is our best choice. This could trigger renewed warfare with the countries of Central and South America, not to mention the trouble it could cause us with the tribal nations of the NPA within our own country. And A Safe Earth will use this as a significant rallying cry. I wish to register my deepest opposition to this plan.”

  The president forced a calmness into his reply that masked his irritation. “The UFNS council has thoroughly discussed the possible repercussions. More importantly, I have made my decision. What I now expect from my staff is a coordinated effort to implement it and to prepare for whatever public blowback it triggers. Barbara, can you do that for me?”

  For several moments, he watched as the woman’s steely gaze locked with his. When she finally nodded, President Benton felt himself relax.

  Turning his attention to the situational display on the far wall, he motioned toward his national security advisor. “Okay, Don, bring us up to date.”

  Despite Robby knowing that it was crucially important to remain in the safe house in order to avoid being spotted, the isolation was beginning to wear on him. And he was getting tired of constantly wearing the SRT headset. No matter how much he tried to tell himself that he was an augmented and highly trained weapon, he couldn’t deny that he missed his mom and dad. He even missed Yachay’s cajoling.

  Eos’s alert brought him out of the depressing thoughts.

  “The American government has just ordered an airstrike at a set of coordinates in southeastern Lima. A B-1 bomber that was holding on station just off the Pacific coast is inbound. Estimated time on target . . . 1802.”

  “You’re telling me they’re going to start dropping bombs in eleven minutes?”

  “Ten minutes thirty-seven seconds.”

  “Show me.”

  A satellite map formed in Robby’s mind, a red square marking the targeted area. He breathed a sigh of relief.

  “That’s nowhere close to our location.”

  “The Americans believe it is where Jack, Janet, Mark, and Heather are located.”

  Robby felt his breath catch in his chest. “Are they there?”

  After a short pause, a new satellite image formed in his mind. The display zoomed in on a busy street. Eos highlighted two battered pickups making their way through an intersection.

  “This image was captured forty-two minutes ago. I found nothing more recent.”

  Robby’s heart tried to climb up into his throat. “Damn it.”

  His mind raced. “Can you take control of the bomber?”

  “Checking.”

  With his stress rising with each second that dragged by, more than a full minute passed before Eos responded.

  “The aircraft has shut down all external communications in an effort to prevent any onboard systems from being remotely hacked. It is not responding to override commands I have placed on those uplink channels.”

  “Jesus. What about antiaircraft systems around Lima?”

  There was another pause as the seconds ticked off in Robby’s head. If he didn’t do something, his folks had eight minutes and eleven seconds left to li
ve.

  Heather looked across the slum that had been built into the side of San Cristóbal Hill. The area was crowded, polluted, and dangerous, but it was also bright and colorful, its crumbling buildings painted in a wide variety of neon hues and decorated with graffiti. The locale was one of the best places in the world for a person to disappear.

  Since every action she took generated a cascade of changing probabilities, if Heather got this wrong they all might disappear here for good.

  They’d parked the two Shining Path pickups beside a partially collapsed tenement building, grabbed their bags, and then, pulling wide-brimmed hats low, merged with the crowds that filled the narrow streets, keeping just enough separation from each other that they wouldn’t be identified as a group. Unfortunately, she and Mark had been forced to remove their SRT headsets until they could reach the safe house that Tall Bear had arranged for them.

  They’d survived the ambush but it had advertised their presence. The odds that an intelligence service had managed to track them from that location to where they’d ditched the trucks were too high to be ignored. Thus they were focused on clearing the area before special operations types showed up and tried to kill them.

  Six minutes thirty seconds to go and still nothing.

  “Come on, Eos. Give me something.”

  “I am sorry, but the Peruvian armed forces do not have any antiaircraft systems capable of intercepting a B-1 bomber.”

  It was precisely what he didn’t want to hear.

  “Connect me to Heather’s SRT headset.”

  “Neither she nor Mark is currently connected through their headsets.”

  “Crap.”

  Think, Robby. Think!

  “What about a direct subspace hack into the B-1’s computers?”

  “That requires a precise set of coordinates. The jet is moving and it is not sending out telemetry that I can intercept to calculate its position in real time.”