by TR Cameron
The table itself could have seated sixteen in comfort but was currently set for eight, three on one side and four on the other, plus the end chair nearest the fireplace. He nodded to the others. “You got here early. Hoping to snag the best snacks before the rest of us arrived? I mean, I can totally see that sort of behavior from you, Cia, but honestly, I thought Ethan was made of better stuff.”
She flipped him off, and they laughed together. Nikolai Maarsen entered at that moment and asked, “What’s so funny?”
Cia replied, “Jackson. Really, everything about him, but you can start with that ridiculous chin and work your way from there.”
The Professor raised an eyebrow at him, and Jax shrugged. “You admitted her to the Academy. You deal with her.”
A few minutes later the rest of the group arrived, including Anika Stephenson. Jax shook hands with his superior officer, who he was always sincerely happy to see. They sat around the table, with the Professor at the head, Jax and his boss in the chairs closest to him, and the others fitting in where they liked. Maarsen said, “Food will be along momentarily. In the meantime, I’d like to welcome Major Stephenson, who was a student here for a time and continues to work with us on a wide variety of things. Please introduce yourselves and let her know a little about you.”
They went around the table very much like students on the first day of class. The expressions his colleagues wore suggested they also found the requirement amusing, but everyone complied without complaint, to a greater or lesser degree. Verrand proved the most reticent—heh—and Kenton Marshall the most verbose. Kind of figures, given his abundant self-confidence. When they finished, Stephenson nodded and said, “I’m a major in UCCA Special Forces. Jackson is one of my captains. It’s my fault he’s here, so I apologize for that.”
A momentary pause hung before the table burst out in laughter. Jax sighed and shook his head with a smile. Maarsen took over the conversation again as uniformed servers bustled into the room with bowls of soup and set them in front of each person. “So, rather than having individual conversations with you all, since we’re suddenly in the middle of an operation instead of at the end of one, I figured it would be more productive to have this discussion as a group. Plus, you deserve a good meal for what you’ve been through.” He was looking at Marshall as he said it but smoothly swept his gaze across the rest of them as he continued to speak. “So, go ahead, try the soup.”
Jax breathed in the steam coming off the dish and smelled onion, and the sight of tofu chunks in the broth confirmed that it was one of his favorite Academy offerings, miso soup. He was suddenly famished, and wanted to lift the whole bowl to his mouth and drink it down in a gulp, but restrained himself to proper etiquette. The Professor sampled his, then set his spoon down. “All the information we had, speaking for the major here as well, showed the data we needed was all in one specific location. However, those in possession of it apparently decided to split it up so neither of the partners could use it without the other.”
Verrand nodded. “A smart move. We’ve done similar things at my company when it comes to intellectual property agreements with others. Sure, the courts could decide any issues, but having the pieces only work when both parties are involved is a much more dependable solution.”
Stephenson added, “And since we’re talking about governments here, they’re even less likely to trust one another than corporations.”
Sirenno shook his head. “You haven’t worked with the right corporations, Major. Mine is far more suspicious than any government I’ve ever seen.” Kimmel, Verrand, Marshall, and Cia all nodded their agreement.
His superior laughed. “I stand corrected. Anyway, I spoke out of turn. Sorry, Professor.”
Maarsen smiled. “No problem at all.” He paused while the soup bowls were exchanged for salads heavy on beets and bleu cheese. “This leaves us in a bit of a pickle. Now that we have one half of the equation, those in control of the other half will expect us to make a play for it. Unfortunately, time is of the essence, or we could simply wait for it all to die down.”
Jax frowned. “Does this have anything to do with the whole fight thing on Accides?”
Stephenson shook her head. “Only indirectly. Vardebron knew that the Dhelear had the item we were after.” Cia growled a curse, and the Major nodded with a low chuckle. “Yes, he had you retrieve the very thing you were after and returned it to you in a different form. But somehow, he also tweaked to the fact that Jackson was part of the group that gave the aliens a bloody nose a while back. So he made a side deal to give the captain up to them. You messed with the plan by not following the path he’d set out for you. Might have inadvertently protected the rest of the crew by doing it, too.”
Cia’s fingers were turning white around the knife she held. “That worm is going to get his, count on it.”
Jax nodded. “I want in on that action.”
She offered a thin smile, probably all she could force through her anger. “Done and done.”
Maarsen spread his arms and put his palms flat on the table. “All of that is a side issue. What matters now is how to obtain the rest of the code that we need. The Artificial Intelligence that one of the alien species is building with the Confederacy must not remain a secret from us.”
Marshall asked, “Us the Academy, or us the UCCA?”
The Professor shrugged. “Both, really. That’s why the major is here. Our interests are very much aligned on this project.”
Conversation stopped as the main course arrived, a thick hunk of steak accompanied by mashed potatoes and asparagus. Jax’s mouth watered at the sight of it, and he had to hold back a moan of pleasure as he cut into the meat and saw that it was cooked perfectly, right in the middle of rare and medium. The table was silent except for the sound of chewing for a few minutes. Then small talk broke out until the dinner plates were taken away and large mugs of coffee and bowls of berries with whipped cream were placed in front of them.
Maarsen sampled the dessert and the strong coffee before leaning back in his chair. “Now it’s time to figure out the best path forward. Since you will likely be the ones to travel it, Major Stephenson and I wanted you to be part of the planning.”
Jax asked, “Where’s the other half?”
His boss sighed. “According to Vardebron, it’s on the Confederacy homeworld.”
Cia’s response wasn’t quite a snarl, but it was most of the way there. “And do we really think that scumbag is telling us the truth this time?”
Stephenson nodded. “We’ll check it out, of course. But our quiet SF investigation has provided corroborating information. So it’s likely you’ll need to go there to get it.”
Then there’s only one approach. Jax said, “It’ll have to be an undercover op. Like at the resort. New identities, disguised ship, advance team, backup in place.”
The Professor replied, “Agreed. It’s the only option I can see, as well.”
It was strange to hear Kenton Marshall being the voice of reason. “Wait a minute. You’re talking about sneaking into the actual seat of the Confederacy, stealing something incredibly valuable to them, and tiptoeing out again with no one the wiser?”
Jax exchanged looks with Stephenson, then they both nodded at the same time. He said, “Yeah, that’s about right.”
“That’s insane.”
Cia laughed. “Welcome to the club, Kenton. We’re all crazy here.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Nikolai Maarsen waved Major Anika Stephenson into a chair on the visitor’s side of his desk. The call he was about to make was an integral part of what he thought of as the “AI Situation,” and since she was already on site, he didn’t see a reason to resist including her in real-time, rather than providing a report afterward. He busied himself with ice and whiskey, preparing a tumbler for each of them and sliding hers across the wooden surface.
She sipped it and smiled as he took his seat. “You always have the best stuff. Refreshing after that amazing meal.�
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“And sufficiently bracing for what lies ahead, I hope.” He unlocked the secure drawer in his desk and retrieved a smooth silver cylinder, about three inches in diameter and a third of that high.
Stephenson nodded. “Yeah, me too. Am I far enough away?”
“Yes. The device has a very specific pickup pattern, and it’s one direction. Stay quiet, and there’s no way the recipient of the call will detect you.”
“You’re sure? He provided this, right?”
Maarsen laughed. “He provided something, yes. I had some students crack it and replicate it from scratch, keeping only the data that allows the connection to work. He’s probably realized that by now. Hell, he likely planned for it from the beginning.” In many ways, Zavian Arlox was his dark twin. The man’s intellect was off the scales. Unfortunately, so was his obsession with drawing power and authority to himself, ostensibly in service of the UCCA. And, to be fair, much of what he accomplishes does benefit the Alliance, often significantly. But they’re fools if they believe that’s all he’s interested in.
Major Anika Stephenson was far from a fool. She’d detected the spider at the center of the web without knowing who it was, as had he. They’d worked together to put a name to the strand-puller, and had agreed to clandestinely oppose him whenever possible. He held no doubt in his mind, not even a hint of one, that Arlox had designs on whatever the Confederacy and the alien species, either alone or on behalf of the Coalition, were creating. Zavian probably isn’t behind it directly, but there’s no way he’s unaware. And that means he’ll want it, too.
Which was another reason the project was so important. Not only did they need to get it to maintain balance with the factions opposing their government, it would put the Academy in danger if Arlox got his hands on it before they did. Choosing sides has consequences, always, but I’d prefer they were a little further in the future, thanks.
He pulled himself out of his thoughts. “Any other questions?” Stephenson shook her head and gestured with her glass for him to go ahead. He straightened his spine, faced the machine, and announced, “Activate.” The holographic display sprang into being above the disc. “Connect to Zavian.”
The device negotiated connections with its counterpart, somewhere in the UCCA-held systems of the universe. The intelligence arm of the Alliance had many installations, and Arlox spent a goodly amount of time on site or on one of his division’s ships traveling from one to the next. A countdown popped up in the corner to indicate that the other man would be with him in two-and-a-half minutes. Maarsen used the delay to rehearse the points he wanted to address.
When the other man’s face appeared, it wore a scowl. Although it’s fair to say that even when he’s not unhappy he looks like that. It exacerbated the wrinkles that age had brought to his otherwise flawless skin. Dark hair was slicked back from his widow’s peak, exposing a high forehead with perfect eyebrows and piercing eyes beneath. Maarsen always figured it was the fever that shone in them that caused the man to remain as thin as he was, burning away his flesh like a ship’s runaway engines devoured fuel. His deep voice sounded in an annoyed, “What?”
He’d learned to take the other man’s rudeness in stride. He assumed it was probably the way he was with everyone, the typical conceit of those with extreme power. He smiled. “Zavian, lovely to speak with you, too.”
Arlox shook his head. “Get to the point, Nikolai. I’m rather busy at the moment.”
“As if there’s a moment in which you are not.” He raised his palms to forestall a response. “I will do as you ask. It has recently become apparent to me that there is a plot unfolding that connects the Confederacy and the Coalition. Are you aware of any such thing? Do you have information that you can share?” Maarsen worked with the military and government often enough to have a mid-level security clearance from them. Of course, most of what that allowed him access to he could already count on one or more of his students to share or acquire on his behalf, depending on their positions and proclivities.
The other man closed his eyes and gave a slight head shake as if the question pained him. “That’s rather broad, old friend. Perhaps you’d like to be more specific? Or are you simply fishing? As you well know, there are always plots between all the players, including you, I’m sure.”
Maarsen chuckled. “Fair enough. This has to do with the development of an Artificial Intelligence.”
The eyelids raised and his eyes narrowed. “Do you have evidence of such a thing?” The Professor nodded. Arlox growled, “I’m going to need whatever information you’ve collected, immediately.”
He’d anticipated the demand, and a heavily sanitized report of things the other man doubtlessly already knew was dispatched to him with a gesture. “On its way. I’m afraid we don’t have much yet. This is rather new to us, which is why I’m calling you.” He was never sure what percentage of what he said his rival believed, only that they were involved in a game with rules that changed from moment to moment. Sparring with Zavian was one of the true pleasures in his existence.
“Standby.” The other man’s image froze for almost a minute. When it came back to life, Arlox said, “You’re not kidding, that’s seriously thin. What I can add to it is this: Yes, they’re doing something, and you and your school would be well served to keep your noses out of it. It’s a priority for my department, and getting in our way would be a bad choice for you and your people both.”
The Professor wasn’t about to be dismissed so casually. “Now, now, Zavian, you know me better than that. My burning quest for knowledge can never be so easily quenched.” He thought the other man’s mouth quirked toward a smile for an instant. “I’ve provided you with what we have. Surely you’re able to point me in a useful direction at least.” He’d built up a great deal of capital with the other man during the years they’d interacted, and the unspoken inviolable rule of their relationship was that everything was a transaction. Maarsen had given, and now something of value was expected in return.
His rival sighed as if he hadn’t already planned to hand over his own sanitized report. He gestured, and an icon appeared on Maarsen’s display. Arlox said, “That’s what I can give you. Is there anything else? I’m late for my next meeting.”
Sure you are. He chuckled inwardly. “No, that’s all. Good to see you, as always, Zavian.”
The other man nodded. “Nikolai.” The image vanished, and Maarsen returned the disc to the secure drawer, then took a deep drink of his whiskey before speaking.
“So, what do you think?”
Stephenson shook her head. “I’ve seen videos of him, of course, but they don’t convey the sheer gravity of talking to him.”
“It’s true. He is a force, and one should never forget that when dealing with him or his people. He probably has as much power as anyone in government, and yet your average person thinks he’s a run-of-the-mill administrative figurehead. Which, I might add, is an illusion he’s quite happy to propagate. It’s always misdirection and lies, but now and again we can discover a grain of truth.”
The file had been automatically transferred to his tablet, and Maarsen reviewed it quickly, then nodded. “Most of this we know, but it does serve to confirm the probability that the thing we need is on Chesyira.”
Stephenson shook her head. “You realize what a challenge that’s going to be, right? I’m sure Jackson is up to the job if anyone is, but this might be bigger than the Academy’s people can handle.”
He shrugged. “Do you feel comfortable turning it over to the Alliance spies, knowing that Arlox has them all in his sphere of influence?” Even the ones that didn’t work for him directly took payments, or were being blackmailed, or shared information because they considered it their patriotic duty.
She sighed and drank the rest of her whiskey. “No, I really don’t. But you need to play this one big. Make sure he has access to every resource you can provide. Because it’s entirely possible even that won’t be enough to allow him to succeed. I’d l
ike to have him back when this is over, rather than knowing he’s rotting in some Confederacy prison awaiting trial for espionage.”
Maarsen nodded. “He’ll have it. They all will.”
That night, Jax summoned his team to the bar in the basement of the castle. The tables in the middle were packed, as were most of the booths that ran around the periphery. Some sport he didn’t recognize was being shown on the wall-mounted displays. The place was busier than he’d ever seen it, even on trivia night. His date with Juno had sadly been postponed to the next evening, as her warning that she might have work to attend to proved prophetic. Although, to be honest, meeting her after a full night’s sleep will be much nicer, even though it means waiting another twenty-four hours.
He’d half expected to hear from Stephenson or the Professor after their lunch, but no new information had been forthcoming. He was reluctantly forced to admit that he might not be the most important thing on either of their agendas. The lack of knowledge irked him. That wasn’t a feature of his other profession; most often, he was in the group of people who needed to know the things that were restricted to need-to-know.
He stopped at the bar and exchanged greetings with Coach, the part-time bartender, part-time sparring instructor, and the Academy’s go-to for any odd job that popped up, as the other man described it. Sweat stood out on the dark skin of his bald head as he moved quickly to keep up with the additional press of customers. His impressive mustache, though, was as perfect as always.
Coach’s voice was deep and gravelly. “What’ll you have tonight? Irish whiskey?”
Jax shook his head. “Keeping it light. Cider. Strongbow if you have it.”
“I’ll let you off the hook for ordering an English drink in a Scottish bar this once, Jackson. But you’re going to need to make up for it with a proper scotch tasting one of these days.”