Jean-Claude’s muscled arms, bare to the shoulders in his white cotton shirt, bore only a light glow of moisture in the harsh overhead lights. He laughed. “If you desired victory, what man could withhold it?”
“Point taken,” Naryal said, unable to suppress a wry smile.
A chime from her control panel drew Naryal’s attention to an unexpected message. During the Davis affair, she’d assigned a rudimentary A.I. to monitor her late security chief’s communications. The digital watchdog was programmed to alert her if anyone accessed a tagged account. She scanned the alert and blinked. Davis was weeks in his grave, but someone had just logged in to the “Elizabeth” folder under his main alias.
“You seem distracted,” Jean-Claude called from Veillantif’s berth across the aisle. “Is everything alright?”
The Prince’s words barely registered as Naryal absorbed the message that had been left for her to find. She read the short but earth-shattering missive once more like a lottery winner double-checking the numbers on a ticket.
“Find Zane and Ritter,” she told Jean-Claude as she unbuckled her safety harness. “Bring them to Zeklov’s office in ten minutes.”
“I am sure M. Zeklov will lend you his office,” Jean-Claude said, “but why not receive us in your suite?”
Naryal stepped onto the catwalk positioned in front of her cockpit’s hatch. “Because we need the most secure room in the factory. Tell no one else. I’ll meet the three of you there.”
Jean-Claude and Zane were already sitting on the red velvet seats lining the front wall of Zeklov’s office when Naryal entered. Ritter stood by the drafting table, toying with a holographic Grenzmark III. Dellister stared into the shadows of the ceiling as if captivated by something only he could see.
The Prince rose to kiss her hand. “We have done as you asked, Mademoiselle. Perhaps now you will share the reason for this clandestine meeting?”
Naryal visually searched the mostly darkened room. Zeklov certainly had active recording devices, but he didn’t concern her. In all likelihood, the Russian industrialist’s factory was more secure than her own home in Jeddah.
“Minutes ago I received a sensitive message from deep within Secretary-General Megami’s inner circle,” Naryal said. “I believe the source is Sieg Friedlander.”
Ritter looked up from the table, his jaw slack. “Sieg is with Megami?”
“She’s in L1,” Zane said to the ceiling.
The sight of Dellister, clad in black as if in homage to the combat frame he shouldn’t have been able to build, raised Naryal’s hackles. She almost asked Zane how he knew, but her better judgment prevailed.
“It seems that Sieg and Megami had a falling out,” said Naryal. “He’s been confined to Sanzen’s old residence in Byzantium colony. Lieutenant Li is being held in the same location.”
“Does Max know?” asked Ritter.
“Captain Darving has been coerced into an advanced weapons development project at the Kazoku asteroid base Metis,” said Naryal. “He is collaborating with Tesla Browning on a combat frame to make all others obsolete.”
“It must be related to the plasma rifle Zane and I found,” Ritter said. “Megami can’t get her hands on that kind of power! By the way, what’s a Kazoku?”
Naryal faced Zane and folded her arms. “Perhaps you should ask Mr. Dellister.”
Zane kept his eyes on the ceiling and his mouth shut.
“The Kazoku are a private army engineered by Sanzen for fanatical loyalty,” Jean-Claude said. “Now they serve Megami.”
“That’s even worse,” groaned Ritter.
“I agree,” Naryal said, “especially since Metis is headed for Earth.”
Jean-Claude rose to his feet again. “That absolute maniac! What does she intend?”
“The extermination of human life on Earth,” said Naryal. “An army of Kazoku equipped with Dolphs supported by this new CF called XSeed would go a long way toward achieving that goal. Sieg also suspects Megami intends to drop Metis on us from orbit.”
“I know Megami’s a bloodthirsty tyrant,” Ritter said, “but why would she want to wipe out Earth’s population?”
“Fear,” said Zane.
Ritter’s brow knotted. “Megami’s afraid of us?”
Zane shook his head. “Not her.”
“Who, then?” Jean-Claude asked slowly.
Dellister’s heavy-lidded eyes snapped open. He sat up. “What?”
“We’re wasting time,” said Naryal. “Metis will arrive in Earth orbit in four days. Megami is currently in L1 negotiating a treaty with representatives from L3. Prime Minister Venn is expected to sign. If so, ZoDiaC’s involvement in this conflict will come to an end. The EGE will be on its own.”
Ritter broke the ensuing silence. “We need to hit Metis now—rescue Max and destroy this XSeed.”
“I concur,” Jean-Claude said. “It will be too late once Metis arrives and we are on the defensive. Who commands the asteroid in Megami’s stead?”
“The same Kazoku pilot who executed Omaka, abducted Li Wen, and decimated the fleet,” Naryal said. “Eiyu Masz.”
Zane leapt to his feet and stormed out the door. “Stop him,” Naryal shouted as she chased the mad pilot. Jean-Claude and Ritter followed her into the hallway.
“Wait!” said Ritter. “You can’t just walk out on us like this.”
“Dead Drop is stronger than ever,” growled Zane. “We’ll blow Masz out of the stars.”
Major Collins stepped around the next corner into Zane’s path. “Where do you four think you’re going?”
Dellister didn’t slow. Naryal watched in dread anticipation of seeing an unstoppable force collide with an immovable object, but Dorothy rushed out from behind Collins and interposed herself between the two men.
“I was gonna ask you the same question,” Dorothy said to Zane. “You shouldn’t be going anywhere in your state.”
“I didn’t hear an answer.” Collins stood in his olive flight suit, his legs planted shoulder width apart and his arms behind his back. His green eyes drilled into each of the four conspirators by turns.
Naryal stood her ground. “I’m not obliged to tell you any—”
“Max is in trouble,” Ritter blurted out. “Megami is making him build her weapons on an asteroid that’s crashing into the earth!”
“Is that true?” Collins asked.
Naryal rubbed her temples. “More or less.”
“And you didn’t see fit to share this intel with me?” Collins’ scar stood out on his reddening face. “How exactly did you plan to mount a space operation to begin with?”
“I’m a Coalition governor. I was going to arrange a shuttle flight from Kisangani using my official right of free travel.” She shot a withering look at Ritter. “Until someone compromised the mission.”
“You’re all under arrest,” Collins said.
Dorothy rounded on the Major. “What did I do?”
“Shut up!” said Collins.
“Listen, Major,” Ritter said. “That space rock will be here in four days, and it’s bringing a whole army just like the guy who thrashed us. Megami’s left the premises, and we’ve got a small opening to rescue Max.”
Collins’ face almost hid his warring impulses. “I’ll have to contact Colonel Larson.”
“Your devotion to the chain of command is admirable, Major,” Jean-Claude said, “but we have no time to bring this matter before a committee. By all means, contact your superiors while M. Dellister, Private Ritter, and I mount our rescue attempt.”
“Max is only in this mess because we let him down before,” said Ritter. “You taught me to make up for my mistakes. Help me make this one up to Max.”
Collins’ eyes softened. “I can’t let the pilots of our three most powerful CFs go gallivanting off to outer space and leave the fleet exposed.”
“I volunteer Jagannath for fleet defense,” said Naryal. “It isn’t necessary for me to board the shuttle, anyway. The others can fly on
my credentials.”
Jean-Claude laid his strong hand on her arm. “Veillantif and I shall stand with you.”
“I’ve got a score to settle,” said Zane. “There’s no way I’d miss a rematch with Masz.”
“If you’re going,” Dorothy said, “so am I.”
All eyes stared at the American nurse.
“Zane’s suffering from OCD and dissociative personality disorder,” Dorothy explained. “Does anyone else want to deal with him if he has another episode?”
“You and the Dauphin will fly back to the fleet with me,” Collins told Naryal. “Ritter, I’m granting you a field promotion to Corporal and lending you a squad of my men. They’ll accompany you, Dellister, and Wheeler to Metis. Understood?”
Ritter saluted. “Yes, sir!”
Collins returned the salute and stalked off down the hall. He paused, glanced over his shoulder at the Corporal and said, “Bring everyone home.”
33
Max kept glancing from his screen to the window overlooking the Metis test hangar. A huge metal face stared back. The XSeed instilled a dread fascination he hadn’t felt since he’d stood on his father’s porch watching a twister rip through a neighbor’s farm.
In Max’s defense, everything about the XCD-001-1 Prometheus commanded attention. Its blue-on-white paint scheme stood out against the hangar’s gray stone and steel. The XSeed’s brawny limbs and thick torso resembled boxier CFs like Dead Drop and the Dolphs, but with the sharp edges filed down. Its helmeted head, whose twin optical sensors held an almost human expression, unnerved Max most of all.
Except for that gun, Max corrected himself. The plasma rifle’s dark gray barrel peaked out from the leading edge of the coffin-shaped shield clamped to the XSeed’s left arm, leaving its right hand free for one of the two plasma swords jutting from the CF’s back.
“I’m losing my patience,” Masz hissed over the XSeed’s cockpit comm. “Give me clearance to launch.”
Down the row of consoles manned by Seed Corp transplants, Tesla Browning bent toward the control booth microphone. Max had never seen the Doctor’s brown hair mussed or his lab coat wrinkled. Despite the pressure to succeed, he’d made no exception today. “Standby,” Browning told Masz. “We will begin the test flight as soon as the ground team completes final checks.”
Max pulled up the main status manager. The tech crews were leaving nothing to chance, testing every circuit and checking every bolt. Still, the XSeed’s powerful bank of rockets was fueled and ready to unleash the ultimate weapon. Only minutes remained till Megami’s death engine launched with her slavering henchman at the stick.
One of the Kazoku guards entered the booth for a brief exchange with Browning. The project lead strolled down the aisle between banks of consoles and leaned over Max. “I’ve just been informed of a shuttle inbound from Kisangani,” Browning whispered. “There are no arrivals scheduled today, but the shuttle has valid diplomatic credentials. Is there anything I should know about?”
“Why ask me?” Max replied.
“Just playing a hunch,” said Browning. “Apologies if I spoke out of turn. There is one more curious detail: Most Coalition shuttles have alphanumeric designations, but this one flies under the name King of Hearts.”
With the gray-uniformed guard looking down the aisle, Max tried to keep his posture and expression neutral. “Can you get them landing clearance?”
“Not here,” said Browning. “There’s a small loading dock that serves this sector. I could say we ordered an emergency parts shipment and forgot to log it in all the excitement.”
Max stole a glimpse at the Kazoku standing impassively at Browning’s station. “The Kaks will be all over them as soon as they land.”
“Leave that to me.” Browning clapped a hand on Max’s shoulder and drifted back down the row to confer with the guard. The low crosstalk drowned out their words, but the Kak left without shooting anyone. Max went through the motions of his work, all the while waiting for the hammer to fall.
“Tech crews reporting,” one of the Seed controllers announced. “All systems check out. Pilot requests launch clearance.”
“Flight control is online,” said Browning. “Logistics and targeting?”
A moment passed before Max realized everyone was staring at him. He hastily checked Metis’ connection to the XSeed’s OS. “Radio-optical targeting link established and secured.” If only I could’ve gotten Marilyn in touch with Prometheus. It was too late now. Any unauthorized connections would be spotted immediately.
Browning spoke into the mic again. “XCD-001-1, you are cleared for launch. Take your position on the launch catapult and prepare to commence operations, over.”
Tremors ran up through Max’s feet as the XSeed tromped past the booth windows. The experimental CF stepped onto a rail catapult beside a Grento kept ready to launch in an emergency and lowered into a half-crouch. “I’m in position,” said Masz.
A bright flash lit the hangar, and a shockwave shook the windows. At first Max thought the XSeed had launched early, but his vision cleared to reveal Prometheus still perched on the catapult.
Chaos engulfed the control room. Max checked the hangar camera feeds. A blackened section of deck to the right of the launch door indicated an explosion. Charred chunks of plastic and metal littered the area.
The Kak guard stormed into the booth. “What happened down there!?”
Browning’s hands flew over his console. “We don’t know for sure, but it seems a palette of fuel drums detonated. No damage to the XSeed.”
“This test is cancelled pending a full investigation,” said the guard. “Clear your people out of the hangar. We’re locking the whole section down.”
“Perhaps you should bring your people back in first.” Browning pulled up an external camera feed on the booth’s main monitor. The overhead screen showed four figures in dark blue spacesuits tumbling through the vacuum beyond the hangar door.
“All Sector V security personnel,” the guard blurted into his comm, “we have men overboard! Report to the test hangar.” He dashed from the room.
Max’s head spun, but he knew that a sudden explosion that spaced four Socs wasn’t a coincidence. He allowed himself a half-smile. Browning, you underhanded bastard.
A second flash from the hangar snapped Max back into the moment. The XSeed was nowhere to be seen.
“XCD-001-1,” a controller yelled into the comm. “The launch is cancelled. Return to base!”
“Miss Megami wants this unit tested today,” Masz said from the XSeed, which Max needed a telescope to see flitting through space. Thanks to its energy-eating 1D armor, Prometheus barely showed up on radar.
“Everyone remain calm,” said Browning. “Unless I drastically misread the situation, an EGE extraction team is on its way. With security distracted, our rescuers should arrive any minute.”
A Coalition tech two seats down from Max jumped to his feet and stabbed a finger at Browning. “You’re talking mutiny!” The tech looked to his fellow Socs, who made up a minority of the control room staff. “You’re not gonna let him get away with this?”
Max stood up and decked the scrawny tech across the face. The Soc slammed into his console and slid limply to the floor. “Anybody else?” Max called out.
The other Socs averted their eyes.
“Good,” said Browning. “We’ve bought the EGE some time, but they’re still in enemy territory. We should fortify our position against breach attempts. Captain Darving, would you direct our efforts?”
Max cracked the knuckles of his sore fist. “My pleasure.”
“Who played the titular domestic on TV’s Mr. Belvedere?” asked a tinny female voice.
Ritter’s sealed helmet amplified his sigh. He’d dreaded being confined to a cargo shuttle for the twelve-hour flight to Metis with nothing to keep himself occupied. But as the trivia marathon hosted by NORMA, their A.I. pilot, stretched into its third hour, Ritter prayed for some peace and quiet.
“John Hillerman!” answered Specialist Josh Young, a member of the rescue squad Collins had sent with Ritter, Dorothy, and Zane.
“Incorrect,” NORMA said.
“That was the dude from Magnum, P.I.,” said PFC Ian Nixon. “Christopher Hewett played Mr. Belvedere.”
“All these questions are about pre-Collapse pop culture,” muttered Young.
“It’s not like there’s been much culture since then,” said Private Seth Phillips.
“You know whoever wrote this dumb quiz never talked to a real girl.”
The shuttle’s cabin resembled the cargo box of Jean-Claude’s transport plane, but with two rows of modular seats installed. The automated space freighter had no backup life support, requiring all passengers to wear spacesuits for the whole trip. Ritter only resisted the urge to switch off his suit’s comm for fear of missing something important. NORMA’s next transmission vindicated his patience.
“High-speed object sighted to starboard,” the A.I. said.
Ritter sat up ramrod straight in his seat. “What kind of object?”
“No radar data available,” said NORMA. “Limited to visual identification, I can only confirm that the object is a combat frame.”
“Look!” said Dorothy. The American civilian sat in the front window seat next to Ritter. The finger of her bulky glove followed a bright white streak burning across the black of space.
That’s a combat frame? marveled Ritter. He watched the manmade shooting star and wondered if even the blisteringly fast Dead Drop could match the white CF’s speed.
“It’s Masz.” Zane’s message gave Ritter a start, not just because the former CSC pilot had hardly spoken in twelve hours, but due to the venom in his voice. “I’m going after him.”
Ritter gripped his chair’s hard plastic armrests. Zane had insisted on traveling inside Dead Drop, which was loaded in the shuttle’s cargo box. If he wanted to take off, possibly blowing their cover, none of them could stop him. But if Masz really is out there, we might be better off if Zane keeps him busy.
Combat Frame XSeed Page 24