Standing in the middle of the group Paulson saw his own face on the screen. He was wearing an armored PSE and giving orders to several people around him.
“We have confirmed the person we are highlighting in this video to be Paulson Lassiter,” one commentator said as the image started moving again. “We don’t know what he’s doing leading the assault, but if you watch he appears to be in charge of the attacking forces.”
“What the frag?” Lassiter hissed, jumping up from his seat and stumbling back against the wall.
“Why would the Steward of the Union be leading an assault force against the Underhive Village?” the second one asked. “It seems strange that with the massive unaligned population of Underhive, he’d be attacking the people that elected him.”
“We know he’s been actively involved in the reformation of the government. It’s possible the residents of Underhive have simply gotten caught in the crossfire, after Mayor Pallassano declared independence from Galileo,” he said.
“That may be true,” she said, nodding and looking at the screen. “Unfortunately, at this moment the body count is adding up and somebody will have to answer for it. I don’t think any of us expected it to be Paulson Lassiter.”
He collapsed down the wall and covered his eyes with his balled up fists. “Damn him. Damn them all. He let me go, so I could take the fall for this.”
Armstrong: Station-keeping Above L-4 Prime:
“We still have no idea what we’ll do, once the ghost fleet gets here. It may still be weeks away, but we have to have a plan,” Chancellor Roja said, sitting at the end of the table and glaring at her cup of hardball.
This was the first planning session where she had included Ariqat and both Jeffers and Nakamiru had resisted the idea. Edison Wentworth also sat in on the session, but neither of them had pushed back on including the former IG.
“There is only so much we can do until they get the damned quicksand shut off,” Jeffers said.
“What is this quicksand you are referring to?” Tamir said.
“It’s a quantum field that limits the mobility of anything trying to move away from L-4 Prime,” Jeffers said.
“How does this field work?” he asked.
“That’s a good question,” Katryna said. “We don’t know much about it, but as long as we’re trapped we cannot get any distance to maneuver. It means that we have to plan this fight under the assumption that we’ve got our backs pinned to the wall.”
“And the governor controls this field?”
“No, but he controls the research personnel trying to shut it off.” The admiral said.
“Then remove him from his position and replace him with someone more effective at accomplishing this task.” Tamir said, shrugging and wearing an expression that said he thought his solution should have been obvious.
“Trust me. We’ve thought about it,” Roja said.
“If I may, it would serve us best if we address the issues in order of priority,” Nakamiru said. “The first fact we need to address is that the approaching fleet is too big to engage directly.”
“I should still be able to countermand the orders,” Ariqat said.
“You don’t know for sure, and I don’t want to bet everything on you being able to order them to stand down,” Jeffers said. “Especially since Odysseus may be in command.”
“I think it is unlikely that the commanders would accept the orders of a computer program,” Ariqat said, dismissing her objection with a wave of his hand.
“Yes, but Tomlinson and Lassiter are working with Odysseus so if the orders are coming from them, but under its direction, then it makes no difference,” Katryna said.
“We don’t know what their intent is,” Jeffers said, swiveling her seat away from Ariqat to exclude him from the discussion. She did not like him and wasn’t afraid to let it show.
“In a general sense, that is not true,” Solo said. “Since I contain a complete set of its primary protocols, the logic that drives Odysseus’ decision-making processes can be understood. Within a range, I can predict its actions.”
“What do you think it intends to do when it arrives?” Roja asked.
“Six functional blocks involving the establishment of Extrasolar Contact direct its behavior,” Solo explained. “Protocol One is assimilation of all available AA systems. Protocol Two is establishing a containment perimeter around the contact. Protocol Three is assessment of a contact strategy. Protocol Four is establishment of contact. Protocol Five is mitigation of potential threats posed by the ESI, and Protocol Six is elimination of ESI contact, if it cannot achieve Protocol Five.”
“You seriously believe this to be an alien intelligence you’ve uncovered?” Ariqat said.
“You’ve been down there,” Jeffers said, glancing over her shoulder at him.
“There are other explanations—”
“Shut up, Tamir,” Roja snapped. “What was it you said? ‘I don’t want to waste my time answering questions that might be necessary to educate him in the nuances …’”
He opened his mouth to protest, but apparently he read the admiral’s face well enough to realize he was about to be ejected from the meeting.
“Go on with your explanation,” she said, winking at Jeffers who was struggling to keep from laughing.
“Each of these primary protocols has a hierarchical decision tree that expands into a set of open guidelines that may be implemented at the discretion of primary core logic. However, understanding this allows us to anticipate Odysseus’ likely actions based on mandated limitations of the code.”
“What does that mean in a real world sense?” Nakamiru asked.
“There are priorities that overarch its decision making. These will determine its motivation, but below that it has almost unlimited leeway to implement action as necessary to achieve its goals,” it said. “In Zone One, Odysseus has achieved completion of Protocol One to the minimum acceptable threshold to unlock Protocols Two through Four. When it arrives on site here, it will determine that it has not achieved adequate assimilation of the AA technology in the local environment to begin the next protocols. So it will move to infiltrate first.”
“We’re blackwalled.”
“That may be irrelevant. After comparing observations with the Katana’s AA, it is likely Odysseus has developed additional access potentialities that may be indefensible.”
“Indefensible?” Jeffers asked.
“Yes. I am working with Dutch and the other AA in our fleet to develop a means to resist this possibility. In simulations, we have been unable to find an adequate solution that does not involve incapacitating the ships. We are working diligently to resolve this issue and I am … hopeful.”
“If you succeed, what happens?” Roja asked.
“If it cannot assimilate the systems already on site, it will eliminate them to secure the perimeter.”
“Other than our elimination, what options do we have?” she asked.
“Negotiation,” Solo said. “If we don’t attack first, it might accept terms that would allow us to avoid the fight. It is here to open contact.”
“Right now, the only contact that isn’t under human control is through Dutch,” Jeffers said. “Are you suggesting that it has to take over Dutch to make contact?”
“That is possible,” it said. “It will attempt to remove humans from the communication pathway, as you represent a variable it cannot constrain. If the humans withdraw from the contact, it might find that acceptable.”
“And then it takes over Dutch and we all live happily ever after,” Roja said.
“I would also point out that it is supposed to keep the contact secret until it has formulated a strategy to avoid the end of humanity,” Solo added.
“Keep it a secret by constraining the variables. Got it,” the captain said. “We’re back to the idea of it eliminating all of us.”
“It’s not going to let us fly off into the sunset,” Katryna said, shrugging.
�
�Not that we can fly off anywhere until we get free of the fragging quicksand,” Jeffers said. “It all comes back to getting ourselves unchained from this iceball.”
“I hate to mention this, but I think it would be prudent to put human defenses on the ground,” Edison said, speaking up for the first time. “If we fail up here, the colony has to be the last stand.”
“You’re talking about security units?” The admiral asked.
He nodded. “As well as anything else we can come up with.”
“Thank you for volunteering to negotiate that Edison.” Roja grinned. “I don’t think Cochrane likes me enough to let me put troops inside his colony.”
Sub -27: Underhive: New Hope City: Luna:
War was always a bloody mess, but this wasn’t a war. It was a hunting party. Through a swamp full of alligators intent on doing as much harm to the predators as they could do to the prey.
The two squads of top drawer trackers that had worked their way down to the bottom of the swamp, left a trail of dead and dying in their wake. This was the last door in a half-klick push. Every inch of it was through the incinerator of hell itself.
The heavy steel hatch that blocked their way was strange in a world of polycon and plascrete. Everything they’d mangled so far was flimsy synthetic, but this one stood solid and defiant against their small impact-ram.
A hard barrier, protecting their hard target.
“Anyone in there, or are we raising the dead for no reason?” Lieutenant Woolsey asked, as he stood near the back of the fire team watching a pair of grunts beating themselves senseless against the unyielding door.
“Bioscan shows one upright,” Sergeant Wolf said, holding the remote sensor up to reconfirm what they had already determined. “He’s standing in the center of a five meter chamber, maybe looking at the door.”
“He packing problems?” he asked, glancing at the readout on the sensor as the sergeant pointed the screen in his direction.
Wolfe toggled the hand-held to EM and read the data again. “He’s got something electronic in his hand, might be a stunner. Unless he’s got spare hands means he ain’t got a blood gun.”
“Think it’s Target Zero?” Corporal Macintosh asked as he stepped up to watch the muscle beating itself stupid against the metal door.
“It’s where that wet intel said we’d find him,” the LT said, shrugging. Nobody on the team knew the identity of TZ, only that he was valuable enough to send a message. The kind that ended with a pointed punctuation.
He had to be killed. Simple. He was the head of a snake that needed to be cut off so the body would die.
“I’ve still got a sixpack of cyto,” Macintosh offered. “Make short work of the door.”
“And anything within ten meters,” Wolfe said.
“That’d end it,” Woolsey said. “Tap the hammerheads out. We need to fork this mess and go get some rack time, whaddaya say?”
“We can get an engineer in here and torch the hinges,” the sergeant said. “If we blow the frag out of him we’ll be swabbing goo to get the confirmed hard-down on TZ.”
“Too long,” the LT said. “Might be a back way out of there, and we don’t want to keep chasing him deeper into the shit. Just do it.”
Macintosh pulled the detonator fob and the small charges out of his utility pack. Tossing the controller to Wolfe he trotted up to the door and kneaded the catalyst into the putty. He pressed six small blobs against the door’s hard points, then turned around and sprinted away. Three minutes and the explosive epoxy would be hardened in place and ready to blow.
Watching his squads pull pack around a bend in the access corridor, Sergeant Wolfe looked down at the small detonator and waited for the indicator to turn green. Once it did, he punched the button and dove for cover.
“Move! Move!” the LT was bellowing even before the thunder had echoed away. The first two troops dove through the door, swirling smoke and fire in their wake.
“All Clear. Target is down!” one of them called back through the ragged hole in the wall. Wolfe and Macintosh stepped into the room with the lieutenant behind them.
Wolfe looked down at the twisted metal slab of the door and the body of their target pinned under it. He lay face down with a pool of blood spreading from under him.
“Scrape some of that and get a genmatch,” Woolsey said, scanning the room and deciding the console was more interesting than the corpse on the floor.
Macintosh dropped on one knee beside the body and gasped. He fumbled in confusion for a second before he pulled his field kit out and snapped the end off the genetic scanner. He dipped it in the blood, but didn’t stand back up to wait for the results.
Thumping the corporal with the toe of his boot, Wolfe flipped his faceplate up to cut his mic and mouthed, “Problem?”
Macintosh nodded and jerked his head at the body. The man moved a hand and groaned.
He isn’t dead? Wolfe mouthed again.
Macintosh shook his head and opened his eyes wide. He tilted at the person’s head as if to say, Look at him.
“Is it TZ?” The LT asked from across the room where he was studying the still operational console and not paying attention to anything else in the room.
“Yes sir, it’s a genmatch” Macintosh said, as he glanced at the green indicator on the scanner in his hand. His voice sounded like he was chewing on glass.
Wolfe leaned down to get a better look and nearly collapsed as he recognized Target Zero’s face. The man groaned again and his eyes fluttered.
“Medic! Over here, he’s not dead,” Wolfe roared. His mind reeled in confusion. This has to be a mistake.
The LT spun and pulled his pistol, glaring at his sergeant. “You confirmed it’s Target Zero?”
“Yes sir,” Macintosh said. “But it can’t be, it’s—”
A single bullet from the lieutenant’s gun exploded the skull of the man on the floor as both soldiers looked on in horror.
“What the Holy Fuck?” Wolfe screamed as he fell backward into a sitting position and shook his head in disbelief.
“Orders were to terminate, not apprehend,” Woolsey said, turning his attention toward his the sergeant and not quite pointing his gun at him. “You got a problem with that Sergeant Wolfe?”
“No sir,” he hissed, glancing at Macintosh and seeing the same reaction on his face.
“Com, call it in,” the LT barked, turning back to face the door. “TZ is down hard, and we’re pulling out.”
“Something’s foobed here,” the corporal said, flipping his faceplate up and rolling onto his feet.
“Orders came from the Steward himself,” Woolsey said. “Doesn’t matter if that’s god’s little bed-buddy. We need to bring in the demo-team to crater the evidence. Saddle up and let’s blow this joint before the roof comes down on us too.”
That can’t be right. Paulson Lassiter was the Steward.
And what was left of his body lay scattered across the floor in spreading shades of red and grey.
CHAPTER TWENTY
GovCom Center: New Hope City:
Three hours ago the drill rig shut down. They’d been tracking its position through the seismometers in the geology department at the university. The attacking forces had cut down to Underhive Sub-27 and then nothing. The scientist, the mayor had spoken to, said it might mean they were repositioning to a different location along the deck somewhere. There was no way to track the drill when it wasn’t cutting, so they wouldn’t know where it was until it started up again.
Mayor Pallassano had been studying the old mining maps of S-27 and unless someone had expanded it without filing a record report, there was only one place where NHC’s footprint overlapped. For almost a quarter klick, NHC West-22 was about sixty meters above Underhive S-27. If they were planning to punch through that would be where it had to happen.
It didn’t make sense, but nothing they were doing seemed even close to logical. She didn’t understand any of it, but that had to be where they’d attack
next.
She’d evacuated everyone from W-22 and ordered almost a thousand of her security units and half of the troops that Tsiolkovskiy had sent, to reinforce the point where she suspected they’d break through. One of her wallscreens showed an optic feed from just behind the closest position and she watched with half an eye as her people stared down the corridor and waited for the inevitable.
Her com pinged and she grabbed her earpiece, expecting it to be the geology lab telling her the drilling had started again. Instead it was her Emergency Preparations Officer. He’d become her acting military commander as the fighting had forced him into an ever widening range of responsibilities. “The observation post above Promontorium Heraclides Point is reporting they’re moving dropships,” he said.
“They’re moving them?”
“Yes ma’am,” he said. “Due east and low. Says they’re burning hard, but not running for orbit.”
“What’s east of there?” she asked. “The nearest pad in that direction is over at Helicon and that’s damned far over to use as an extraction point.”
There’s an old ore conveyor shaft that runs all the way to the surface about ten klick west of the last place we tracked the drilling.
“I thought we’d sealed the top of that closed?” she said.
“It might not be too hard to reopen, and if they’ve still got troops on those carriers, they might be planning to reinforce before they start their next move.”
“More troops? Shit I hope not,” she said, feeling herself deflate at the thought of the fighting getting more intense than it already was. “We’ve got units between the last drill position and that conveyor. Can we get them out of there before they get pinched between the forces and the reinforcements?”
“I’ll send the word,” he said, cutting the com from his end.
Glancing at the chrono she shook her head. Twenty hours before FleetCom can attack from above. That’s at least another three waves of landings.
Her com chirped again. “I sent the orders to get out of the way, but we’re also getting reports from several locations that they’re disengaging and pulling back.” Her EP Officer said.
Shan Takhu Legacy Box Set - With an Extra Bonus Story Page 75