Pacific Storm

by Linda Nagata

  “I say we go public,” Akasha offered.

  Ava tucked the fob into a pants pocket. “If Ivan didn’t believe our story, why should anyone else . . . except a handful of conspiracy-theory nuts who’ll believe anything.”

  “At least it’d be on the record.”

  Lyric’s voice intruded, speaking through Ava’s earbud: “I’m not the only one working the cloud. If you try to put something online, it’ll be wiped away before there’s time to capture a screenshot.”

  Ava hissed at this breach. She had not given Lyric access to her system, but the agent was there anyway, controlling her comms. Ava took it as a deliberate demonstration of her reach and it fed her mistrust. Even so, the sound of Lyric’s voice brought her a measure of relief. Lyric had designed this game, she’d drawn them into it, and though it hurt like hell to admit it, she’d seen deeper into Kaden’s heart than Ava ever had.

  That didn’t mean Ava had to like her. “So you’re back home?” she asked acidly. “Safe in a bunker somewhere? Kunia, maybe? Or bumming a chair from the FBI out in Ewa?”

  “She’s probably on a flight to California,” Akasha said.

  Right.

  “Lyric’s on our side,” Matt said. “And we’ve got a job to do. The goal is to prevent Denali from launching a missile, an action that can only take place if all necessary conditions are met.” He ticked off those conditions on his fingers. “The sub must be at sea, there must be a launch code from Washington DC, and both the commander and executive officer must be aboard, so they can each enter their own biometrically validated codes to certify the launch. By interrupting any one of those conditions, we can stop the launch.”

  “So block the launch code,” Ava said. “Or assassinate the Sigrún member who controls it.”

  “I don’t know who that is,” Lyric admitted. “My best guess is that Sigrún has a means to generate spoofed code outside official channels—though it’s possible they have someone on the inside, close to the president.”

  “Is Denali still in port?” Akasha asked. “If not, it’s all up, isn’t it?”

  Ava’s thoughts fared briefly back to the afternoon, when Kaden still had her trust and her affection. “Kaden said the submarine fleet leaves tomorrow . . . but tomorrow starts at midnight.”

  “Denali is still in port,” Lyric assured them. “It’s not due to sail until after sunrise.”

  “It’s the navy who needs to step in,” Ava insisted. “Not everyone in the chain of command can be loyal to Sigrún.”

  “No, but look how hard it’s been to convince you of the truth—and you still don’t fully believe it, do you? Because you don’t want to believe.”

  “Who would?”

  “Exactly.”

  But Lyric was wrong. Given all that Astrid Robicheaux had told her, Ava knew the scheme could be real . . . and Kaden had been so eager for her to leave the island.

  Lyric said, “I’ve tried going outside official channels, approaching several officers who could be in a position to do something, but every one of them has shut me down.”

  “Like they’re supposed to,” Ava growled, her own military training weighing on her conscience.

  “Robicheaux needs to be aboard the sub,” Matt said.

  “And he’s there,” Ava told him. “He left to join his crew before we left the hospital.”

  “Lyric, can you confirm he’s there?”

  “I can confirm that,” Lyric says. “He is at the dock, along with his executive officer.”

  “Then we have to lure him off,” Matt said. He met Ava’s gaze. “That’s why you’re here.”

  “I told you before, we’re past that. Kaden is not going to talk to me.”

  “Arnette is right,” Lyric said. “That window has closed. Robicheaux’s latest HADAFA profile shows he will not accept a communication from her, or respond to an entreaty should she get through.”

  “Hell of a way to break up,” Ava said—a bitter façade as she tried to hide, even from herself, the blunt trauma of being summarily cut off.

  Akasha spoke up, sounding cynical. “So the last option is to force Denali to stay in port, right? Get Matt over the fence. Let him do his thing. Trespass and sabotage.”

  “Lyric?” Matt asked, appearing unfazed at the challenge of infiltrating a base guarded by both electronic eyes, and armed sailors who were, no doubt, bored out of their minds and eager for action.

  Ava shook her head. “No way. Won’t work.”

  “Arnette is right again,” Lyric said. “I’ve run the models through HADAFA. There is no way you can successfully penetrate base security.”

  Ava sensed where this was going. She’d glimpsed the possibility when they were still on the truck. “But sabotage is still an option, isn’t it? If we can enlist the help of allies.” She looked at Akasha. “Say, a local insurgent group?”

  Lyric backed her up. “Yes. Akasha’s compatriots have been working on plans to harass and cripple the fleet.”

  Akasha’s face went slack with shock—then anger slammed in. She left her scooter and backed a step away. Her fierce gaze fixed on Matt as if she imagined Lyric looking through his eyes—and wasn’t that true? Matt’s smart glasses surely served Lyric as a window onto their activities. “That’s what this is really about, isn’t it?” she demanded. “You decided I’m part of Hōkū Ala, and you’re working a shell game to get on the inside—”

  “Akasha, this is real!” Ava snapped.

  Akasha’s wrath shifted to her. “Did you help set this up?”

  “No. I didn’t know until tonight that you had anything to do with Hōkū Ala. And I’m not sure I believe Hōkū Ala has the means or the talent to take out Denali.” Although Lyric’s interest suggested they did . . .

  Had Hōkū Ala been preparing for violent revolution? Like preppers, stockpiling weapons and accumulating hardware to make their insurgent fantasies feel more real . . .

  “Akasha, if there’s anything you know, now is the time.”

  Akasha shook her head. “I’m not part of it. I’m not on the inside.”

  In the army, Ava had spent a year working counterinsurgency. She knew how the game was played. “You’re not on the inside, but you know people who are. You’ve heard rumors about what they’re working on. Akasha, if Hōkū Ala has the capability to disable Denali and prevent it from sailing—”

  “I don’t know,” Akasha insisted, backing away, frightened now. “I really don’t.”

  Lyric: “My reports indicate Hōkū Ala has the means, but we need a way in. That’s why you’re here, Akasha. I selected the players who would bring the most value to my operation.”

  Bullshit, Ava thought. Akasha had come to the hospital because Ava requested it. No other reason.

  But then paranoia swept in. How long had Lyric been on the case? Akasha had transferred to night shift less than three months ago. Was that chance? And was it chance that not long after that, Ava found herself seated beside Kaden at the wedding of a mutual friend? Or had Lyric already been collecting and preparing her game pieces?

  It doesn’t matter.

  All that mattered, here, tonight, was that they stop Denali. “Can you do it?” Ava asked, meeting Akasha’s frightened gaze. “Can you get us in?”

  “I don’t know. I really don’t know what the operation looks like, or who else is involved.”

  “But you know at least one person.”

  “He’s prickly. Unpredictable.” She tapped her head. “He had a bad time, after Nolo. If he’s even willing to talk to me, it’ll take time to convince him.”

  “So get on it,” Matt said.

  “It’s not that easy.” She edged up to the scooter she’d claimed. “He doesn’t talk on the phone. If this is gonna happen, it’s gotta be done face to face.”

  “Give us a direction,” Ava said. “Where are we going?”

  “First we need to get down to the water. Then head Ewa. The old bike path, you know?”

  “There’s nothing out t
here,” Lyric said.

  “Oh, you’re wrong. He’s out there.”

  ◇

  They needed to get back to Kamehameha Highway, but blue lights marked a pair of patrol cars stopped at the turnoff into the stadium complex.

  “They might not be looking for us,” Ava said, straddling her scooter just outside the open market. “But how about we take another way out?”

  “Working on it,” Lyric answered. “I’ve got a potential route through the complex. Take the footpath. Walk your scooters. And stay dark. No headlights.”

  They skirted the bright lights at the entrance to the stadium, then passed behind a little amphitheater.

  “All right, you can ride now,” Lyric said. “But stay dark, and go slowly.”

  “Go where?” Ava asked. “I don’t remember an exit on this side.”

  “There used to be a hole in the fence,” Akasha said. “Kids would use it as a short cut out.”

  From Lyric: “It’s still there.”

  They passed offices and additional parking structures, all dark, with no one around—which meant the three of them would be obvious to anyone watching through a security camera.

  “Loading the route now,” Lyric said.

  A soft green guideline appeared in Ava’s field of view. At first it followed the concrete walkway, but then it diverged onto a dirt path that crossed a narrow unlit lawn. Glancing up, she could just make out the top of a chain-link fence against the brighter background of the night sky.

  “Drone!” Akasha warned, as Ava registered the faint waspy buzz.

  “It’s mine,” Lyric said. “It’s a jammer. Get through the fence. You’re going to lose connectivity for the next few minutes, and so is everyone else. Just follow the route. Don’t stop for anything. Matt, take the lead.”

  “Roger that.”

  Ava’s glasses popped up an icon announcing the loss of network connectivity, but the projected path remained. Locally stored on her device, it led away into darkness.

  Matt went first, whisking ahead, moving with speed for the first time. Ava followed, and Akasha came behind her.

  The path jogged sharply left. Then right. Ava felt the mesh of the fence scrape her shoulder. Then she was through. The path turned again, ninety degrees. She followed it, and to her shock, the ground fell away. She clenched the brake lever. The wheels locked, skidding, sliding, down a steep muddy slope. No way to stop.

  The glare of street lights in her peripheral vision blinded her to whatever lay ahead, and she’d lost track of Matt. But she knew Akasha’s position by the swearing behind her.

  Then she bounced down over a curb. Her teeth rattled as she arrived at what she guessed to be an asphalt road, though no lights illuminated it. Probably a closed driveway into the stadium.

  The projected path jogged left. She turned too, and as she did, two blue police cruise lights flicked on not twenty feet ahead. Their cold steady glow revealed a patrol car blocking the narrow, weed-choked drive.

  Lyric had known. She’d warned them, Don’t stop for anything. Matt had taken that advice to heart. Ava saw him again as he yanked his scooter to the side and shot past the car.

  The slim figure resting her ass against the hood made no move to stop him. She called out instead, “Ava Arnette, what the hell are you up to? There are quite a few patrol officers who’d like to know.”

  chapter

  16

  Reach out, Ava reminded herself.

  In a split second decision, she resolved to ignore Lyric’s instruction. Instead of following Matt, she jammed the brake hard and skidded, bringing her scooter to a stop just five feet short of where Officer Gina Alameda waited. Backlit by the patrol car’s cruise lights, Ava could not read Gina’s expression.

  “You here to arrest me?” she asked, as Akasha skidded to a stop beside her. Matt had disappeared into the dark ahead.

  Gina answered using her tough-cop voice. “Maybe.”

  “And maybe not?”

  Ava pushed her glasses to the top of her head, sending them into sleep mode. She gestured at Akasha to do the same. A record of this conversation wouldn’t help any of them.

  Gina said, “Tell me what’s going on.”

  “I can do that. But you won’t believe me.”

  “Let’s hear it anyway.”

  “Right. And then I’m going to need your help.”

  ◇

  “You really believe this, don’t you?” Gina asked, after Ava had outlined the basic situation.

  “I have to believe it. Maybe there is another explanation, but I can’t gamble on that. I’ve burned my career over this, Gina. Akasha has, too.”

  “But Ivan doesn’t believe it?”

  “It’s the chain of command, not Ivan. They’re telling him it’s not real. What’s he going to do? He’s down there on the beach, trying to keep a thousand tourists alive.”

  “I know what that’s like.” Gina let out a slow breath. “Remember when we were in high school and an incoming missile alert popped up on all our phones, telling us we were about to die?”

  “I remember,” Ava said with a sinking feeling. “False alarm. It wasn’t real.”

  “This feels real,” Gina said. “I don’t know why. Maybe because the world’s gotten more crazy every year. Fucking suicide cults, accelerating us toward apocalypse. Jesus, Ava, if this is real . . .”

  “Yeah. If it is, we’ll all be dead, or we’ll wish we were, by this time tomorrow. And if it’s not, at worst, one submarine will have been disabled. Come on, Gina. I need to know. Are you in?”

  “I can’t do anything about the warrants.”

  “But you can put the word out.”

  “Yeah. The warrants can wait until after Huko. Do what you need to do. And if you need backup, let us know.”

  ◇

  An unbroken stream of evenly spaced traffic filled the Ewa-bound lanes of Kamehameha Highway. With the taxi fleet due to be garaged, people were heading home while they could. Ava straddled her scooter, watching the oncoming headlights from the shadows at the side of the road, waiting for a chance to cross. After a minute, she turned to Akasha. “We don’t have time for this. I’m going to trigger the damned safety algorithms.”

  “Ava—”

  “Be ready to follow.”

  Ava waited a few more seconds, allowing a truck to roll by. Relying on the reaction time of the taxi fleet seemed a reasonable gamble, but she knew better than to hazard a human driver. When all the oncoming headlights shared the same height, the same shape, the same brightness, she rocked her scooter forward. She had a few feet of road shoulder to cross. Time enough for the autonomous taxi fleet to pick up her presence.

  The vehicles detected her instantly, reacting in networked alarm. A warning chorus of horns blared as she accelerated toward the outside lane of traffic. Tires squealed against pavement in a concert of deceleration, moments before she jumped the curb. Prickles of fear sweat broke out under her shirt as she bounced down in the traffic lane, in front of an oncoming taxi, its headlights burning into her retina. She breathed in the fumes of smoking tires, felt the soft kiss of a plastic bumper against her left leg—and knew the algorithms had worked perfectly.

  Headlights piled up on her left and outraged voices, muffled by closed passenger cabins, called her a fucking idiot as she shot across the inner lane and onto the median.

  Akasha joined her there a moment later. “Holy shit, Ava!” she said as the flow of traffic resumed, returning to full speed within seconds. “That was fucking amazing.”

  Ava laughed. The adrenaline rush demanded it. “Yeah? Well, we just earned a hefty fine and a year of community service. But what the hell.”

  She looked right, checking the town-bound lanes, but only a handful of taxis were heading into the city. “Let’s go.”

  ◇

  Once on the other side, Akasha took the lead. She followed an unlit access road down to the shoreline, weaving between potholes picked out by the beam of her scooter’s hea
dlight. The road ended in the remains of a small parking lot. Head-high brush grew out of the cracked asphalt. Wind rustled thorny kiawe trees. Insects buzzed and wavelets slapped at the mangrove-lined shore. This was the start of the Pearl Harbor Bike Path.

  “Pull up here,” Ava said. She looked around by moonlight, but saw no one. “Let’s get our belts back on, just in case.”

  In case they needed a shockgun, or a pistol.

  Ava moved quickly, settling her duty belt around her waist, grateful for the weight. It made her feel stronger, more grounded.

  “We don’t have to go far,” Akasha said as she secured her own belt. “Like three miles. No more. If he’s there. He might have evacuated.”

  “And you can’t contact him.”

  She shook her head.

  Ava thought about it as she hurried to re-secure her gym bag to the scooter’s cargo rack. “Lyric thought this Hōkū Ala connection was a good bet. But we’re running out of time and we never had many options. If he’s not there, to hell with caution. We’ll put out word through the coconut wireless. Ask who’s seen him—and then chase down the rest of Hōkū Ala if we have to.”

  “And if Lyric doesn’t turn up again? And Matt? You gonna keep going?”

  Ava had left her doubt behind, on the stairway landing where she’d spoken with Astrid Robicheaux. “I don’t think we’ve heard the last of them.”

  She rocked her scooter forward, accelerating toward the gap in the vegetation that marked the bike path. For the first hundred feet they rode through an aisle of brush. Then the shoreline opened up. Makai of the path, tumbled rocks met an expanse of dark water.

  Pearl Harbor was a complex, sprawling anchorage protected from the open ocean by a narrow entrance, and divided by peninsulas into distinct bays known as West Loch, Middle Loch and East Loch. Most of the navy’s existing facilities lay behind them on the shore of East Loch, and on Ford Island. Concrete remnants dotted the rest of the shoreline—building foundations, bunkers, roads, and eroding piers—all evidence of the military’s long presence, but abandoned now and overgrown. Not much had survived Nolo and since then, most of the shoreline had grown wild.