by Rick Royster
She never lied about having a kid. Those things just typically didn't come up in conversation when you were a young teenager; they only asked if she had parents or siblings. It was evident early on in her military training that she was a natural, so it would have been a crime to deny the Coalition her services. Besides, she had given the child to a kind elderly couple.
Her child had been born in a shelter for homeless teens. It was there that Matrix found her.
It was he who had taken her away from her daughter and started her on a new path in life. At the time, she realized it was for the best. She knew she’d done the right thing for her baby, even though it wasn't the right thing for her.
She wanted to tell Cayden, but she knew he'd never go against Coalition protocol; he followed orders, even when he didn't believe they were the right thing to do. His loyalty lay with what was best to win the war.
"Never allow personal feelings or doing what's right prevent you from doing what is just," he’d told her on more than one occasion. So, she had turned to the three people she could most depend on.
Rabbit gently checked Hoss' ribs, hip and chest, and by Hoss' own account, he had at least a punctured lung and three broken ribs. He was the team’s field medic and surgeon. Hoss’ landing from the Scavenger had done him no favors.
Tressa walked over to them.
At least the band was together, more or less. Although Goliath said he was in it for the pay, she knew at heart he cared for them all.
"How is he?" Tressa asked.
Rabbit was still bending down tending to Hoss’ wounds.
"He's beat up pretty good," Rabbit said, pivoting from his knees and looking up at Tressa. "He'll be fine as long as we get him to a med-vac."
Goliath, arms folded and back to Tressa, spun around quickly. "Med-Vac? Like at a hospital? We don't have time for that. Our shuttle leaves in two hours, I don't plan on missing it."
"We have to make time," Tressa said. "He's in no condition to travel like this."
Hoss struggled to sit up. "I can make it," he said through gritted teeth.
The hum of various engines pined overhead, and Tressa blew out a sigh and gazed at the vast cityscape below. Sky-cars went about their late-night business.
"Well, first things first, we find out what's on that Cube," Goliath said as he cast a glare at Rabbit. "That's what I signed up for."
Rabbit stood up. "Hey meathead." He pointed at Goliath. "He's hurt." Now he pointed at Hoss, saying, "We take care of our own."
Goliath chuckled, stepped toward Rabbit. "You mean like we just took care of Cayden?"
Tressa’s face flashed red, not in anger, but in shame.
"Or do you mean like you took care of me? How you watched Cayden lie to me, told me my Austin was back on Air Station Alpha, so I'd help you complete a mission?" Goliath said.
Goliath’s eyes were hard and his face turning red. "Damn your daughter, damn their rebellion. I'm in this to get paid. Let me tell you what I take care of." Goliath pointed his thumb to his chest. "Me. From this day forward, I'm loyal to myself. Now we take this Cube to Matrix, we get our money and Tressa gets to play Mommy." He glanced down at Hoss who was holding his ribs. "I just want my money, and if it seems like I don't care, it's because I bloody well don't."
Rabbit rushed the giant, stood toe-to-toe, eyes locked, two alpha lions set to do battle over the pride. Goliath saw Rabbit's hand hovering over his weapon.
"You reach for your weapon and I'll kill you where you stand." Goliath’s stare burned a hole through Rabbit's face.
"Enough" Tressa said. "We'll get Hoss to Matrix. If he can't get him right in short order, then we'll leave him there with Matrix. But we're not leaving him on this roof."
A wide grin spread across Goliath's face; Rabbit glanced back at Tressa. "Good boy, run along now," Goliath said, as Rabbit slowly walked back to Hoss.
Goliath nodded his head and shot him a knowing smile.
"Let's get to the next transport," Tressa said.
Rabbit pulled a grimacing Hoss to his feet.
CHAPTER TEN
And in the latter time of their kingdom, when the transgressors ae come to the full, a king of fierce countenance, and understanding dark sentences, shall stand up.
― Daniel 8:23
Inside a private quarters in the bowels of Air Station Alpha, century-old books and scrolls lined the walls. The cool drafts of air couldn't conceal the smell of expensive brandy.
Bozeman Chertoff tried to relax and clear his mind of the buzz he was feeling from too much hard drink. Dressed in an old-style but still mint-condition United States Army General's uniform, one which he had the habit of recreationally wearing in private, he rode the swell of nostalgia within him. Gone was his perfectly trimmed silver hair, replaced by a sparkling bare shaven brown head. Wiry glasses complemented his stately appearance.
He stood in reverence to the man high above him, seated on a levitating white majestic throne about twelve feet high, even though the man wasn't there in any physical sense.
The brandy had the General feeling dishevelled - like a whore-Queen orgied by a dozen men.
The figure was dressed in crimson armor and a cloak fit for a war-king. It was illuminated in the form of a three- dimensional holograph. Its origins were probably Region Six, Zone Six, but that was irrelevant; the glorious holograph dominated the General nevertheless. Bozeman couldn't have been more subdued if the man had been physically present with a blaster to his head.
The figure’s face was impossibly handsome, like the offspring of a handsome Samurai and a beautiful Nymph, but his expression was grim and unforgiving. The holograph then spoke. For all intents and purposes, it might as well have been a ghost, a malevolent spirit sent from the bowels of hell. His voice was like a demon, the inflection at once cruel and confident.
The holograph's throne descended and moved within a couple of feet of General Chertoff, and the god-man leaned forward. "You have kept me waiting, General."
Bozeman raised his eyes to meet the other's stare, his voice stammering. "Forgive me... My lord." The man's mere image pulled the last two words out of him.
A whispered curse escaped, and General Chertoff put a hand over his mouth, not to keep from talking but to steady his hand from shaking. He thought in time dealing with the Imperial High Command General would grow easier, but he was now as comfortable in his presence as he would be in a bathtub filled with water moccasins.
If anything, the talks became more terrifying, his mind able to conjure up all kinds of dark fantasies where he'd meet his demise.
"Where is my Cube?" the hologram asked.
For the first time, General Chertoff thought of what it would be like to have this conversation face-to-face, a cold chill gripping his spine. The Cube was probably halfway around the world by now but that answer wouldn't do.
"Well?" the Hologram demanded.
Finally, the brandy was kicking in, and at once General Chertoff felt relaxed and confident, liquid courage surging like lightning through his body.
"I'm running this operation, remember that; this is my plan. I came to you," General Chertoff said, half surprised that it was his voice speaking. "Things have been arranged, don't you worry. It's actually being delivered to me right now."
The General, with his hands now behind his back, coughed, took a deep breath and waited for what seemed like an eternity. The hologram said nothing, just stared with eyes so dark and beautiful they looked as though they belonged to some type of ancient flying dragon.
"Very well," the Hologram said.
General Chertoff’s confidence was increasing, the fear ebbing away slowly. The way you deal with any monster is to face them, not run away or cower.
"Don't worry, the deal is still on; you will have your Cube," General Chertoff said.
"Your place in this will not be forgotten, General. When we annihilate the Coalition and destroy the heavens, you will be seated with us at the glorious victory table. Your loyalty
will be compensated in full measure."
General Chertoff stood tall, shoulders square. "What does it matter to me? God, devil, you, them, good demigod, bad demigod; I could care less who wins your war."
The hologram’s eyes narrowed, he focused laser-sharp.
"As long as you uphold your end of the deal, you'll get your Cube. But I want a complete pullout of Global Union troops in Region Ten before I put it in your hands."
"I honor my commitments, General," the hologram deadpanned.
"I know you're wondering why I am doing this? I'm a patriot, my responsibility is to America first."
The hologram eyed him as if he could see through him. "Region Ten, what's left of it, will be yours, General."
"I don't have the promise of heaven or the fear of hell clouding my decisions. Those are arbitrary words to an old war dog like myself. I've seen plenty of hell, here, on the earth, in this war, some caused by your Global Union." General Chertoff turned and glanced at the door behind him, making sure he was alone. "My slice of heaven will be returning America back to its former state. That's all I want."
"In the end, we all wish to go home again," the hologram said.
General Chertoff smiled.
"General," the hologram said.
To his astonishment, the push-back worked, and the hologram vanished.
General Chertoff blew out a huge breath and bent over, putting both hands on his knees. His breathing was returning to normal, but he had the suspicion the Imperial High Command General was still there, in the room, watching him.
With the wave of a hand, the hologram disappeared. Saigo Takamori sat silently, staring out over the grandeur of the main hall, a magnificent space of polished marble, giant columns and vaulted ceilings soaring thirty meters above the mosaic floor. The walls were covered with statues of angels and demons locked in battle, coming out of the walls, identical to the hall of Pergamon. The monstrous structure painted an image of Imperial power.
The halls of the temple, which Saigo remembered all too well from growing up, used to smell like bleach and stale wine. Now that smell had been replaced by scented firewood and jasmine candles. Pictures lined the chambers: Heraclitus the philosopher, Circe the sorceress, Simon Magus the magician, Hecate, goddess of witchcraft...some of the ancient world’s most famous esoteric practitioners. The beige marbled floor led down to a circular pathway; an outsider might consider it blasphemous, assuming it led straight to hell. Saigo had been trained in the arcane mysteries of the Desani, dark angels whose origins harked back to the beginning of time. So ancient and powerful were their knowledge and skill, so elemental and potent that humans had been cut off from ever knowing of their existence, much less their application.
He leaned back against the comfort of his throne, still dressed in his ceremonial robes, the formal attire of his post and rank. The position of Imperial High Command General carried with it a tremendous amount of power and prestige. He was the prince of the earth, the second most powerful man in the world.
Saigo had learned through meditation and study how to analyze each and every human vagary, no matter how slight and nondescript. Even without those abilities, he would have known General Chertoff was lying. But why?
He could be sure now that the Cube contained more than Coalition technology. He would need to make its recovery top priority.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
You are my war club, my weapon for battle - with you I shall shatter nations, with you I destroy kingdoms.
― Jeremiah 51:20
The sun rose over the snow-covered mountainside in a remote long-forgotten-about region near the Swiss Alps. A dark shadow raced across the floor as the doors of the hangar bay sealed closed.
Cayden stood on the second-floor catwalk, overlooking the hangar as hundreds of mechanics worked, cleaned and tested the battle jets.
He'd just left the base’s morgue, seeing Gears’ bloated, sea-water-stuffed body for the last time.
She deserved better.
Tressa's betrayal dominated his thoughts; why was the Cube so important to her? She was willing to kill for it.
Two men in their sixties and wearing the rank of General on their sleeves approached from his rear. The man to his left, General Jiang Chiang, had regal features and a long scar running through a patch over his right eye. The other man was General Chertoff who was tall and thin, and now bald.
"Commander," General Chertoff said. "You're requested in the command room; we'll see you there in one hour."
Cayden glanced over his shoulder and returned his attention back down to flight deck.
The room was tinted in blue and green shadows as a holographic display 3-D monitor showed the faces of Tressa, Goliath, Hoss and Rabbit aboard the Intrepid. The action was paused, then began to move in slow motion.
Cayden stood in the center of the control room, which was quiet save for the low treble of the holograph and vid screen. He bit into a green apple, gave it a half-chew and tossed the green fruit into the trash. The large view screen showed the inside of the events that transpired on the Scavenger. He saw Tressa watching him, gun in hand with his back to her. Rabbit and Hoss were setting the bomb, Goliath shooting up the computers, then the four of them went leaping out of the fiery vessel.
Cayden shook his head slowly, stared at the screen, hissed under his breath and folded his arms across his chest. His sixth sense had given him plenty warning that they were in danger, but he’d been focused on an external threat, not an internal one. He'd cost Gears and his crew their lives.
A woman named Scanner, dressed in a gray lab coat and glasses, chewed gum and looked at her nails, then slumped in her chair with a deflated sigh.
"Again, Scanner, from the beginning," Cayden said. "This time, on the command module."
The command module showed a different view of the actions inside the Intrepid in halo-portation form.
She gave a sigh and stared at the bottom of her empty coffee cup. Cayden noticed for the first time that her eyes were dry and red from crying. Scanner was his younger sister; she designed Air Station Alpha and most of the advanced technology and vehicles the Coalition used.
Gears was her friend, but he didn't have a ton of time to be very sensitive.
A rush of wind and the automatic doors opened, as Generals Chiang and Chertoff marched into the room; the metallic doors slid closed behind them. General Chiang plugged a gold holograph into a port in the center console.
"This is what we know so far. Scientists had been working for some time on a project called the Trojan Cube at one of our black sites near Region One. It was of the highest priority and classified at the highest level," General Chiang said. "We lost communication with them last night; that's what led to your failed mission."
General Chiang peeked over at Cayden. "We also know Tressa received an encrypted message before your team of Rangers left."
"Any idea what it said?" Cayden asked. General Chiang shook his head.
General Chertoff peeked over at Scanner. "Baby Einstein here says the Cube has the names of every Coalition agent working inside the Global Union. There’s no way we can pull them all out in time. It also has the location and coordinates of Land Base Delta."
"Someone from that black site had to let Tressa know the Cube was there ahead of time. What intelligence officers did she know would contact her, and get her to agree to betray us and steal the Cube?" Cayden queried, directing the question to Scanner.
"More important than that; who does she want to give it to?" General Chertoff asked. Or keep it away from? Cayden thought.
Scanner shrugged her shoulders.
Cayden put a hand beneath his chin. "If not the Global Union, then who and why? Who were those mercenaries? Where were the soldiers who were supposed to be guarding the base? None of it makes sense."
"We're guessing the mercenaries you killed were our intelligence officers, and most of the hostages our scientists," General Chiang said. He placed a hand on Cayden's shoulder. "Don't
beat yourself up about it, kid."
"I won't," Cayden said through a tightened jaw.
It was a full three seconds before the General's head snapped back in Cayden's direction. "Those were good men and women, loyal soldiers on that sub,” General Chiang said.
Cayden shifted his gaze back to the holographic monitor. He thought it odd no one addressed the biggest question he had. Whoever commandeered the base already had possession of the Cube. It was being decoded when he went in and forcibly took it from surprised intelligence agents. He couldn't feel too bad about eliminating them because they were also trying to kill him. But someone had to order them to stay on site. He knew only one scenario made sense, that someone with close ties to Tressa had sent her in to capture the Cube. There had to be a fight over its contents. He needed to find Tressa, but whoever commissioned her was even more important.
General Chiang peeked over at Cayden. "If she gives the Cube to the Global Union, they could destroy us?"
Scanner popped her head up. "It'll take some time, but I'll be able to track it."
General Chertoff looked at Scanner. "If ordered, could you remotely destroy it?" Scanner raised a thumb in the affirmative. "That means maybe?"
General Chertoff then turned to Cayden. "If it's a spy from Region Three, they will just blackmail us for more of Scanner's technology. If the Global Union get their hands on it first, we are as good as dead."
"We can't send a large team of soldiers to track her and retrieve it; if the GU gets wind this thing is out there, they'll have the entire world looking for it," Cayden said, looking at the monitor. "It'll have to be the Desani."
"General Dak said you would say as much. So, I took the liberty of putting a small team together that would accompany you," General Chertoff announced.
Before Cayden could protest, and right on cue, the doors slid open. A man named Rhys walked in wearing armored fatigues and sunglasses, an unlit cigar dangling from his mouth. And to his side was Winter, a woman with ocean-blue eyes, flowing blonde hair and pink perfect lips. She moved like a young lion.