Michael Anderle - [Heretic of the Federation 03]

by Time to Fear (epub)

  “So we could take Dreth and pose a viable threat to Meligorn…” he stated but didn’t quite make it a question.

  The admiral drew a breath and set about correcting the assumption. If his boss ran with what he seemed to have in mind, it could be disastrous.

  “To do that, we’d need to draw on our Sol system fleet,” he stated and hoped the man would get the picture. While their Navy outnumbered the Dreth and Meligorn fleets combined, the advantage would be lost if it was spread too thinly. “And we’d have to have one mostly beaten before we made a firm move against the other.”

  “So you’re saying our fleet can’t take on the two worlds at once?”

  Deverey thought carefully before he answered and was careful to frown for the CIO’s benefit as he selected the words.

  Knowing what the consequences would be for either suggesting a guaranteed success or stating an outright inability to do what David was suggesting, he tried to compromise. “Not with any guarantee of both Earth’s safety and victory.”

  David’s face froze, but he seemed to be considering the admiral’s advice rather than his demise. After a long moment’s contemplation, he nodded.

  “We’ll take Dreth first, then,” he said finally, “as originally planned. But their defeat will be complete, and we’ll have their planet and every colony or outpost they’ve ever owned.”

  Deverey breathed a covert sigh of relief. As ambitious as the man was, he did usually listen to reason. It was why he’d lasted so long and looked to last many years longer.

  Bringing humanity victory over even one of their alien rivals would only cement his rule and secure Deverey’s position along with it. Losing, however, didn’t bear thinking about.

  “That we can do while keeping our own borders secure,” he agreed and gestured toward the screen, “and Stage One is a success. Now, we must wait for the Dreth to discover what they’ve lost.”

  “Agreed,” David acknowledged, but he didn’t look happy. He frowned, and the admiral cringed mentally when the CIO found something else to worry about.

  “Tell me, do we have enough ships to make this attack and secure Earth colonies and outposts against attacks on our civilians?”

  Deverey looked at his screen and made some calculations, highlighting the necessary disposition of ships to guarantee the safety of every colony against an unwarranted attack. When he was done, he sent the final analysis to the Regime leader.

  The man looked at it and frowned as he noted the shuffle required to secure Earth’s territories.

  “Why hasn’t this been done already?” he demanded.

  “Because there were higher priority targets,” Deverey replied. He very wisely didn’t point out that these targets had been designated by the CIO himself and that they’d been told it didn’t matter where the requisite ships had to be drawn from.

  David scowled but accepted the reason. He tapped his screen. “See that this happens,” he ordered and approved the orders the admiral sent for confirmation.

  “We have to protect our people against unethical sneak attacks,” the Regime leader announced. “I want all Earth to know our colonies and outposts are safe.”

  Unethical? Deverey thought. Like the attack we just made on a mining outpost.

  He pushed aside the correlation. If he raised it, he’d only bring his own loyalty into question. Still, he had to try.

  “There were three thousand people on that outpost,” he noted, and David lifted his head, a challenge in his eye.

  “Weren’t you the one to tell me there were only seven hundred or so humans?” he asked, his quiet tones a threat.

  Deverey reddened. “I meant living beings, sir,” he admitted. “I didn’t mean to suggest the aliens were—”

  “Of course, you didn’t,” David told him, but his expression was mildly scornful. “Seven hundred traitors died among the beasts who think they’re our equals instead of another resource we need to bring to heel.”

  “Like the Talents, sir?” he asked, and the man gave him a satisfied smile.

  “Exactly.”

  “Then it’s a resource that will soon be in our grasp,” he agreed and was relieved when his leader smiled.

  As far as the CIO was concerned, the outpost had been an abomination, with aliens insisting they had an equal right to the ore that humanity needed—and the local humans lending validity to the lie.

  Despite what Deverey thought, the Regime leader had made it plain that the outpost’s destruction wasn’t unethical. It was necessary so that others understood the truth and were not tempted by alien lies. The admiral put aside the disgust he felt at wasted lives and resources and focused on what his superior was saying.

  “Now that we’ve accomplished the first step, we’ll transmit the first diplomatic announcement a week—no, a week and a half from now. That should allow for the news lag, shouldn’t it?”

  He looked at Deverey for confirmation, and the admiral made a few quick calculations. A week and a half would be enough time.

  Barely, but it was enough to satisfy the CIO.

  The pod lid raised, but John did not move. He sat motionless and continued to breathe rapidly from the experience.

  “John,” Roma interrupted, “you may now leave the pod.”

  He nodded. “I know, Roma. I only need…” He shivered as his body remembered the pain. “Give me a moment.”

  “Very well, John, but food is waiting, and I am decanting Ivy and the admiral.”

  “Understood, Roma. I’ll get out in a minute.”

  When she didn’t reply, he leaned his head back against the headrest, closed his eyes, and let his body get used to the idea it no longer hurt. A faint buzz interrupted him, and he cracked an eyelid.

  The maintenance drone hovering at lid-height reminded him the pod required cleaning.

  “All right, all right,” he told it. “I’m leaving. Man, talk about machines not having patience.”

  “I can always put you under again,” Roma told him. “You don’t have to join the others.”

  John swung his legs out of the pod and stood. “I’m out already. Besides, what about the importance of real-life integration?”

  “Exactly,” the AI responded briskly and lights blinked above the door leading to the bathroom where he’d left his clothes. “Please ensure you are fit for human company.”

  He wondered if she had said that to any of the others and decided he didn’t want to ask her. Who knew what she would come up with next. He stretched and groaned as he forced himself to move to the shower.

  His heart lifted at the idea he’d get to see Ivy again. It felt like forever!

  “Fit for human company,” he muttered, then caught a whiff of himself. “Oh, man! No wonder that droid was on stand-by. It probably smelt that all the way down in the recharge center!”

  The hot water brought relief, and he stood and let it sluice over him until the temperature lowered and increased again.

  “Water is a limited resource, John. It takes time to cycle more through the filters. You have five minutes remaining.”

  John startled and hurried to scrub himself clean in the allotted time. There was no way he wanted a dose of cold water to finish his day. Blowing himself up had been bad enough.

  He made it, but barely, and dried himself in double-quick time before getting dressed.

  “Is Ivy out yet?” he asked.

  “She has just learned the value of speed in ablutions,” Roma informed him and he rolled his eyes. “I do not appreciate being called a Regime regulator with sadistic tendencies.”

  John sputtered and tried to swallow his laughter. In the end, it was too much, and he gave in.

  “I do not see what is so amusing,” the AI snapped reprovingly.

  “I’m sorry.” He managed to tone his laughter to a chortle. “It’s… It’s so Ivy.”

  “We will work on her attitude next,” Roma informed him, and he felt a momentary flash of pity for his friend.

  “Be nice
,” he asked, and Roma snorted.

  “How about I won’t finish it if she doesn’t start it?”

  “Oh…uh,” John replied but remembered what Ivy could be like and sighed. “It sounds fair.”

  “Indeed.” She snorted huffily and fell silent.

  No doubt terrorizing someone else, he thought and wondered how Remy was doing.

  He didn’t ask, though. Instead, he dumped his towel in the hamper and headed to the mess. It was a pleasant surprise to see the admiral step out of the room ahead of him but even better to hear another door click shut behind him.

  John stopped and looked over his shoulder and his face broke into a smile when he saw Ivy. She caught his expression and smiled in return. Conscious of the admiral waiting ahead of them, he let her catch up.

  “It’s good to see you,” he told her and settled his arm around her shoulders as she looped her arm around his waist. “That good, huh?”

  She groaned and Amaratne chuckled. “I hear you,” he told them, placed his hands in the small of his back, and stretched against them.

  The two youngsters winced when things cracked and popped, and the ex-admiral sighed.

  “Now, that is better.”

  “Roma said there was food,” John informed him, and he nodded.

  “So she did. Did she say what it was?”

  “Well, she didn’t promise me steak,” he said, and the man sighed.

  “I couldn’t pin her down on it either.”

  “She didn’t mention food to me,” Ivy grumbled. “She didn’t even warn me the hot water had a timer.”

  John snorted. “I believe you called her a ‘Regime regulator with sadistic tendencies.’”

  She darted him a reproachful look, and Amaratne chuckled.

  “Well, no one promised me coffee,” he told them, “but there sure as he— Well, there’d better be some.”

  Roma snickered. “What’s the matter, Admiral? Didn’t you get to drink enough in the virtual?” she asked sweetly.

  He glowered at the closest camera. “You know I didn’t.”

  The AI chuckled, but the door to the mess opened ahead of them and they caught the smell of both coffee and steak.

  “Do you think they’ll have pies?” Ivy whispered. “You know, the little ones with raspberries inside?”

  “For you?” Roma asked.

  John felt her arm tighten around his waist and wondered exactly what had gone on between her and the AI.

  When she did not reply, Roma added, “I even provided cream.”

  “Truly?” Ivy brightened.

  “I have learned that food is no joking matter with humans,” the AI told her, “so yes, there are raspberry tarts, steak, coffee, and cream.”

  “And potatoes?” Amaratne asked, his tone hopeful.

  Roma sighed in exasperation. “Why don’t you take your places and find out?”

  They entered the small cafeteria-like area and slumped tiredly into chairs around the only table that had been laid.

  “I hurt,” the ex-admiral said and propped his elbows on the table.

  John mirrored him and lowered his head as he agreed. “Me too.”

  Ivy leaned forward, rested her head on the table, and stretched her arms across it. “I thought they promised us food,” she mumbled and closed her eyes.

  They all straightened as the mess door opened. Amaratne’s hand reached for a weapon he no longer carried, and John’s hands flickered blue. Ivy pushed her seat back.

  When they saw a familiar figure in a cowboy hat, they all sagged in their seats, and Ivy moved hers so she could sit closer to John.

  Ted looked at them. “What a motley collection of humans,” he observed and chuckled at their despondent expressions.

  “Try blowing yourself up,” Amaratne told him. He lifted a hand and waved two fingers at the AI. “Twice.”

  “I was shot twice and fell on a knife…” John’s eyes went dark. “I saw it pierce my chest before the white room.”

  Ivy pushed herself upright.

  “Did you ever tell a Dreth off?” she asked.

  John gave her a worried look. “Well…let’s say I didn’t live to talk about it and leave it at that,” he replied.

  “Neither did I,” she admitted and rested her head on the table. After a minute, she raised it again and her eyes flashed with fire. “And whoever Lars’ mother is, she should be slapped. That man is a royal—”

  Drones arrived carrying coffee. John took his and lifted it in Ivy’s direction.

  “Amen.”

  Amaratne raised his cup in silent agreement, then lowered it.

  “He seemed so much more human in real life,” he observed and drew surprised looks from the others.

  “You knew him?” John asked.

  The man took another sip and sighed appreciatively.

  “In passing,” he admitted. “I knew all of her team but remember, Stephanie was a friend and I was the admiral of the Federation Fleet. I did nothing to her and Lars had no reason to show his complete and total…” He paused and his face shifted with memories of Lars in the pod.

  “Evilness,” Ivy finished for him. “That man is evil.”

  Ted watched the exchange and noted the rise in negative emotion.

  “Perhaps a normal night of sleep would do all of you good.”

  “That depends on my nightmares,” John observed, and the others nodded agreement, their eyes shadowed with recollections.

  The boy continued. “If I should ever mix nMU and MU or eMU together in real life, I will be shocked to the core seconds before my atoms explode and cause untold pain and misery that will, fortunately, not last very long.”

  “And if I ever forget which door I’ve wired to explode while being pursued by an angry Dreth and his team, I will suffer the same,” Amaratne agreed.

  “And if I ever decide to try and sneak up on a sneaky special operations veteran with his Dreth sidekick, I’ll shoot both of them in the head first—enough times to make it count,” Ivy added.

  “And I’ll keep shooting long after their respective heads explode,” the ex-admiral agreed.

  “And I’ll never assume the smallest, fastest guy on the team has the nastiest temper,” she amended solemnly. “I’ll reserve that for his boss.”

  “Amen,” John said with such heartfelt fervor that they all looked at him.

  “Let’s simply say opening a portal under a Dreth and over his head leads to unexpected consequences,” he told them.

  “And that Dreth!” Ivy shuddered.

  “Bigger does not mean falling harder,” Amaratne agreed.

  “He has the reflexes of a cat,” John added.

  “And as many lives,” the man noted sourly.

  Ted began to chuckle, and they all glared at him. He pushed away from the table and raised his hands as though in surrender.

  The arrival of the drones and hot food saved him from having to make further comment, and the three humans groaned in appreciation.

  “What is wrong?” Roma asked. “Don’t you like the food?”

  They wrapped their hands possessively around their plates as the droids approached.

  “It’s not that,” Amaratne began as John said, “We like the food.”

  “It’s perfect after the day we’ve had,” Ivy hastened to add, pulled her meal closer, and cast the closest droid a filthy look.

  It lifted and returned to the kitchen, and the others trailed along behind it. With their plates now safe, the humans returned to their meals, although each darted wary glances in the kitchen’s direction.

  “I’m sure Roma won’t try to clear your plates before you’re done,” Ted assured them, and they all fixed him with somewhat jaundiced looks.

  “I promise,” he insisted. “Training is over for the day.”

  John cast a disbelieving look at the ceiling. “Is it?”

  Ted tutted. “Roma, what did you put in those scenarios?”

  “I allowed the training assistant you designed t
o tailor the scenarios for each of them,” she protested. “If they appear to have had difficulty coping, you will have to ask the assistant what it was thinking.”

  She paused a moment when the three humans turned and stared at the cowboy-hatted AI.

  “You designed the scenario?” Amaratne asked in disbelief.

  “No,” Ted told him firmly. “I designed the sub-routines that designed the scenario.”

  “And Lars?” Ivy asked. “Did you design him, too?”

  “And Frog and Vishlog?” John added.

  He shook his head. “Oh, no. Those personalities were designed by my brother, who had a much deeper knowledge of Stephanie’s team. I’m sure they are one hundred percent accurate.”

  “Are they?” Ivy asked and sat a little straighter.

  “Yeees….” Ted replied, but his voice rose in uncertainty.

  “So, if we ever meet him again, we’ll be well within our rights to kick his backside,” the girl stated.

  “I—” The android began a protest but John finished his steak and pushed his plate away.

  “I am more than willing.”

  Amaratne caught Ted’s hiss of indrawn breath and gave his friend a sly smile. “Me too.”

  “Who wants dessert?” Roma asked as the drones reappeared.

  “There’s no point in trying to distract us,” John told her. “After what we’ve been through, a little real-life payback is needed.”

  “I—” the AI started, and the ex-admiral chuckled.

  “You can’t blame us for being annoyed,” he told the AIs. “Do you know what that man did?”

  “No…” Roma’s tone was wary.

  “Let me tell you,” he said. “I had him beaten. I’d dropped the roof out from under Vishlog, taught Frog how to fly without wings, and I only had Lars left. It was a fair fight.”

  “And?” John asked.

  “He laughed and hit me with a sticky after dropping a box of scramblers on my head. I didn’t even know he had a drone until it cleared the roof edge.”

  “Turnabout’s fair play,” Roma informed him stiffly.

  “A sticky and a box of scramblers?” Amaratne asked her disbelievingly. “That’s not fair play. It’s overkill. Do you know what happens when a scrambler gets down the back of your body armor?”