Authors: Bennett R. Coles
Virtues of War (39 page)
Her own.
Someone was in her apartment, exchanging exquisitely secure messages with Breeze’s lover. In the real world, Katja felt her fingers press against the hard surface of the desk.
Someone was inside her damned apartment.
Narrowing the focus again, she zeroed in on the most recent messages between Kit and Breeze. Nothing of note. He’d invited her to go for a boat ride on Lake Sapphire tomorrow afternoon. That was the full extent of it.
So Katja switched back to Breeze’s military communications, scanning for any information about activities she had in her calendar. Nothing unusual emerged, and she started skimming through the messages individually.
One caught her eye. It was from Jack Mallory, and was entitled INTERESTING INFORMATION. There were files attached, and they were big. Breeze had read the message, but hadn’t yet accessed the huge attachments. Katja mapped their source.
They came from the
Armstrong
database.
She pulled back to access them directly.
Then she saw it. “Centauria.”
At the first mention, Katja stopped dead. First she read the report, and then its accompanying files. She did so at normal, analogue speed, unwilling to risk missing any detail. As she finished, she went cold.
* * *
Opening her eyes, she sat back in her chair and tried to slow her rapid breathing. Panic welled up in her, but she focused and fought it down. Her networked mind was already running in several directions, all of them leading toward disastrous conclusions.
She had to act, and quickly.
She didn’t even know how to begin to explain what she’d uncovered. Then in a flash of insight, she realized that she didn’t have to.
Even as she held them she began to search for more connections in the Terran information networks, and added them to the list.
.>
She was still breathing hard, struggling to hold it together, when her door burst open. She leapt to her feet, hands up in a combat stance.
It was Korolev, eyes blazing.
“Pull back, Katja,” he growled. “I’ve got this.”
She released the information from her grasp, leaning against the desk in relief. The Cloud dissipated from her awareness, and she forced her senses to focus on the tactile. The dull beige of the walls, the hard surface of the desk, the gentle hum of the air conditioning. She shuddered, and it wasn’t from the chill.
Korolev’s eyes went blank, although she sensed he was still aware of her. She sat down, finally able to slow her breathing. Less than a minute later, he sat across from her, his eyes clear again.
“I’ve sent word to the Forces, and four other operatives are investigating this,” he said quickly. “Nicely done. What do you think is happening here?” He was speaking aloud, but his rapid-fire delivery was more like their Cloud communication. She couldn’t match his intensity, struggling to get her unplugged brain to keep up.
“I think there’s some sort of Centauri activity taking place right here on Earth,” she said, shaping her words carefully. “And I’m pretty worried about Jack’s suggestion that they’ve snuck an entire fleet into Terran space.”
“It’s not inconceivable,” he acknowledged, and he frowned. “But I think it’s unlikely.”
“Why?”
“They tried the full military assault last time, and it went against them. They know we’d prepare for a repeat performance.” He shook his head. “More likely it’s something new. Other colonies we can anticipate pretty well, but Centauria has often been a step ahead. The next war is going to be on their terms.” Concern remained etched across Korolev’s usually impassive face. She didn’t like it.
“What does that mean?” she asked. “What terms?”
“I don’t know.” He rose to his feet. “But we need to focus every operative we can spare on this.
“Come with me.”
* * *
There was a private car waiting for them outside the building. The human driver didn’t speak to either of them, but steered the vehicle confidently through the morning traffic in Longreach. The vast complex of buildings in Astral HQ fell behind them, and Katja found herself scanning the landscape for enemies.
As their car skirted the shore of Lake Sapphire, she saw the College on the far side. In the distance the thread-like space elevator shafts stretched up seemingly to infinity. This was the military and economic center of Planet Earth.
“Sir, this is where Kit Moro plans to bring Breeze tomorrow.”
He nodded. “We’re already searching it.”
The car descended into an underground parking lot in a mid-level, unsecured section of the city. It cruised to the back of the lot and slid into a maintenance parking spot that was obscured from the rest of the stalls. With a slight jerk, the floor of the spot began to lower swiftly, and they were swallowed up into a dark shaft.
Light began to seep up from below moments later and they emerged into another underground chamber. The walls were uniformly dark gray, and two other cars were parked neatly alongside several strange, military-looking vehicles and pieces of equipment. They exited the car, and Korolev led her toward a series of closed doors on the opposite wall. The central door opened as he approached, and she followed him through, hurrying in her silly civilian heels to keep up.
It was a locker room, empty but for one man who was in the process of zipping up his black jumpsuit. He glanced at Korolev, then nodded at Katja. She suspected that silent communications had passed between the two men.
They passed through another door into what appeared to be a command center. There were only two uniformed personnel visibly on duty, seated far across from each other with a vast, spherical network holographically projected between them. Other screens lined every wall, and multiple workstations sat ready for use.
“This is where I’ll be running things,” Korolev said without preamble. “The workstations are for non-implanted support operatives—like the two on duty now—who help feed us information. I expect this room to start filling up, once I’ve briefed the Fleet Marshall.”
Katja took it all in. Then a thought struck her.
“Breeze is a support operative—has she been here?”
“No.” Korolev shook his head. “All of her Intelligence work was done on Sirius, so she doesn’t know of this location, and can’t let this slip to her boyfriend.”
That was something
, Katja mused, yet his words didn’t fill her with confidence, especially as she surveyed the power of information amassed in front of her. She’d seen with her own eyes what Centauria was capable of accomplishing. As with Earth’s unrevealed assets, she worried that with the enemy, she’d only seen the tip of the iceberg.
“What’s my role going to be, sir?” She gave up on the absurd heels, and yanked her shoes off.
“I need you to go to your old apartment and see what’s happening there,” he said. “It’s remained untouched since you… disappeared, and you should be able to spot any changes, no matter how subtle.”
“Yes, sir.” Less than a day on the team and she was already on active duty. The Special Forces didn’t waste time. “Can we scan the premises to see what to expect?”
“No there aren’t direct sensors in a typical civilian apartment,” he replied. “From everything we’ve been able to observe remotely, nothing has changed. Yet those communications you discovered tell a different story. You’ll have to see for yourself.”
“Shall I take the car we came here in?”
“No. We have a better way to get you there.” He turned to look past her. “And I’m sending you with someone you trust.”
She almost laughed at that—as if she trusted anyone now. Nevertheless, she followed his gaze and turned around. A broad, muscular man emerged from another door and lumbered toward them. His olive skin blended with his dark, thick body suit, his moon face grim over close-cropped hair. He stared at her with the same inscrutable gaze she’d always known, small, dark eyes piercing but impenetrable.
She stepped forward, marveling again at Korolev’s perception. There
was
one person she’d learned to trust with her life. It was her old platoon second-in-command, Sergeant Suleiman Chang. As they met, she was amazed to watch his expression soften into almost a smile.
“About time you got here.”
She grasped his hand. “Have you been keeping tabs on me?”
“Just in combat,” he replied. “It was a pleasure training you.”
She laughed. “Fuck you, Sergeant.”
He really did smile this time.
“It’s Suleiman… or Sules,” he replied. “Katja.”
She laughed again. “Or Katty.”
“I’ve been briefed on our mission.” He nodded toward Korolev, who was speaking to the duty personnel. “You ready to go?”
She shrugged and looked down at her civilian clothes. “Can I change?”
“Good idea.” He motioned her toward the locker room.
* * *
There was a locker with her name on it, and a bodysuit in the same dark greenish-brown as Chang’s. Black boots fit perfectly, locking tightly against the suit legs. Skin-tight gloves were like paint over her hands, and a thick belt had enough pockets to wrap around her waist.
The pockets were empty, she noticed, as was the holster at her hip, but the lightweight pistol in the cage at the top of her locker filled the holster nicely, and the pockets proved ideally sized for the magazines of high-penetration, low-explosive rounds. She began to load them.
She glanced up at Chang. Had he spoken aloud or not? He tapped the side of his head.
“Good. Some weird things are about to happen.” He cocked his own pistol and slid it home. “Best to make our Cloud connection now.”
She understood, and resigned herself to whatever “weird things” he had planned next. The bodysuit was heavier than normal clothing, and was rigged like a spacesuit for basic life-support, but as she moved experimentally in it she found herself remarkably unrestricted. Armed and dressed, she looked to follow his lead.
He handed her a small helmet, then slipped his own carefully over his head. It locked into place with his suit’s collar, visor sliding down tight over his face, like a sheen, leaving his features clear but slightly distorted.
She squeezed her own helmet on, feeling strange as it seemed to collect up her hair and flatten it out against her head. As soon as it clicked into place at the collar, the visor appeared directly in front of her eyes, then flowed down her face as it matched every feature. She felt a moment of fear as it covered her nose and mouth, but air continued to pass in and out of her lungs.
She focused on him.
He nodded.
She wondered what the hell he meant by that.
He came up right behind her and wrapped a strong arm across her chest to hold her close against him. She felt a moment of panic at being confined like that, but quickly made herself relax.
Oh no.
She suppressed a mental curse… at least she hoped she had.
* * *
Every single muscle in her body tensed. She reached back both hands to grab Chang’s legs.
At first there was the sense of the floor beneath her, beginning to disappear. It wasn’t like being weightless—she could still feel the belt hanging against her hips, and the suit on her shoulders—but more like being
disconnected
. Her vision began to gray, then darken. As the light faded out, everything she could still see suddenly began to shrink, vanishing into oblivion.
Breathe
, she told herself, and hoped she wasn’t transmitting.
She could still feel Chang’s powerful grip around her, still feel her own iron grip against his legs, but there was nothing else around them. They were in the Bulk, in the fourth dimension of space where photons didn’t penetrate and gravity ruled supreme. She kicked her feet down, feeling nothing—but still knowing it was
down
. Fighting the panic welling up inside, she scrambled to get her feet on top of his. The constriction tightened.
She began her heavy-gravity breathing drills, forcing deep, shaking breaths in and out.
The constriction, she realized, was his arm holding her firm. She forced one of her hands to let go of his leg, sliding it up her own suit to wrap onto the arm he still had around her chest.
There was nothing but blackness. Then she realized that at some point she’d closed her eyes. Lifting her eyelids, she gasped as she saw a ghostly world of dim outlines drifting by her.
His deep voice was very calm inside her head.