Aurora Rising: The Complete Collection (148 page)

A tactical analysis led to the inescapable conclusion that for the moment those options were few. The Flight Deck Chief was in full-on sycophant mode, his solitary, weak protest having been crushed by O’Connell’s glare alone. If Dohman was on the flight deck she’d never be able to sabotage or otherwise interfere with the deployment of the mines. She couldn’t in good conscience ask the recon craft pilot to mis-position them because under this general such an error would likely result in the pilot’s summary execution.

She’d disliked O’Connell instantly upon meeting him, but in the initial days of this alleged ‘covert mission’ she’d had no reason to doubt the veracity of his orders. Given the number of dirty tactics the Federation engaged in during the brief war, she wouldn’t blame the Alliance for engaging in a few of its own.

But New Cairo had been a straight-up massacre of civilians, plain and simple. The array saw their ships as friendly—which meant the Second Crux War was in fact officially over—and they had barged in with zero resistance. New Cairo didn’t have a real military installation, only a reserve outpost for a couple of cargo and transport ships. The
Akagi
and its companion vessels dropped through the atmosphere and fucking carpet-bombed the entire colony, down to the tiniest outposts deep in the jungle.

All was fair in war…but they weren’t at war. Not any longer. And even in war deliberate attacks on purely noncombatant targets were frowned upon. This was the 24
^th
century; they were supposed to be civilized now.

The communications blackout had put everyone on edge, and that was before they started blowing up peaceful settlements. The crew wanted to know what was happening with the aliens. They wanted to know if friends and family were safe, and if they lived to the east where they’d evacuated to. They wanted to know their government had a plan to fight the aliens—
was
fighting the aliens. But all this knowledge and the accompanying comfort it might provide continued to be denied them.

At least her parents and younger brother lived on Demeter. It lay to the west of Earth; if the aliens attacked Demeter, the game was already lost. Those other concerns gnawed at her as well, but until she was able to do something about them she needed to concentrate on what she
could
do.

She reached the flight deck far sooner than she reached any conclusions, yet far too late to do any good. Six crewmen transported the first mine up from armament storage under the watchful eye of Commander Dohman.

Her stomach curdled at the sight, sending the rank aftertaste of the pickled slaw from lunch up into her throat. Using tactical nukes in space was one thing, where the damage stayed contained to a few ships at most—ships which qualified as enemy combatants—and the radiation swiftly dispersed into the vastness of space. Using them inside an atmosphere constituted another matter entirely. The wind currents of the upper layers would sweep the radiation into its ecosystem and spread it across the planet, seeding it in the rain clouds and permeating it into the air below.

O’Connell was a madman or a sociopath, and in all likelihood both. Her instincts had told her this within an hour of sharing a ship with him, but she’d allowed for other possibilities or even an error on her part until New Cairo. And if there had been a scintilla of doubt remaining after that bloodbath, his cavalier use of nukes on a defenseless colony eradicated it.

As the crewmen finished loading the mine into the small cargo bay of the stealth recon craft, she silently made the decision. She would have to stop him.

To do so, however, she needed allies, and she didn’t know this crew. She and the other three members of her squad were strangers to them—and two of the three members of her squad were essentially strangers to her, having been transferred in several weeks earlier at the height of the conflict with the Federation. She couldn’t be sure who to trust, and given O’Connell’s clear paranoia and hair-trigger temper she needed to tread cautiously.

Her pace slackened to a stop several meters away from the recon vessel as she lingered in the shadows. She didn’t have the capability to stop this attack. She was out of options for now. But in order to be ready when O’Connell made his next move, it was time to begin.

17

PANDORA

I
NDEPENDENT
C
OLONY

G
RAHAM DIDN’T GLANCE BEHIND HIM
to evaluate the quality of the projection as he departed the hidden estate via the checkpoint. He was confident it was an effective illusion, if not effective enough to deter the now-dead assassin.

Richard had left for Earth an hour earlier, Caleb and Alex soon thereafter. Graham had intended to return to Seneca forthwith, but then a request came in from Field Marshal Gianno. He could’ve handled it remotely, but it turned out Olivia Montegreu was on Pandora this exact minute, so he delayed his departure long enough for a brief in-person meeting.

The agreed-upon location for their encounter wasn’t far from the estate. He considered pondering whether the woman knew where they had been staying, but the likelier truth was simply that this was an expensive, upscale neighborhood and thus to her tastes. Still, he took a circuitous route as an added precaution, lengthening his walk by multiple blocks.

The added time also gave him an opportunity to debrief himself on the events of the last several hours. A significant threat had been eliminated with the death of the nameless assassin, though his experiences over the last several weeks left him suspicious the aliens retained other resources to deploy. He’d nearly lost another talented agent in the process…and he had to concede he still might. But Caleb had shown himself to be more like Stefan than expected when, despite clearly harboring underlying anger and distrust, he had reached out with the calm, reasoned overture.

Graham sincerely hoped Caleb left Pandora bearing greater goodwill toward him than the agent had arrived with, because he was getting tired of taking the blows for a decision two decades old which had never been his to make in the first place. Martyrdom made for damn ill-fitting attire.

He peered up when he realized he had arrived at the address provided. Then he double-checked to confirm the information, as it was an art museum. He’d accuse Montegreu of daring to possess a sense of humor…but as soon as he walked in the building he recognized the genius of her choice.

The museum featured wide, open rooms, high ceilings and marble flooring which announced each footfall well in advance of the person’s arrival. A dearth of spectators made it impossible to hide other agents in a crowd or create chaos as a distraction for misdeeds. There was only a handful of aristocratic browsers…and guards. Lots and lots of guards.

He found her in the second display room to the left studying a Cézanne piece with an outward air of intensity. She was alone in the room, save for the guards stationed at each of the four exits. Sporting a white dress suit and wearing her pale blond hair swept up in a graceful knot, she resembled merely another blue-blood patron.

“Rather a garish piece, don’t you think?”

“If you’re shopping for art critiques, you have come to the wrong man, Ms. Montegreu. A museum, seriously? Is this you making some sort of allegorical statement about the work you do—or possibly the work I do?”

She continued to inspect the painting in front of her. “No, Director Delavasi. This is me ensuring my safety, should you wish to renege on our arrangement.”

“What if some of these guards are my men?”

Her lips curled up in profile. “Impossible, Director, because all the guards are my men.”

He laughed loudly, earning a warning stare from the guard in his line of sight. “Are they truly?”

“Indeed. You see, I own this museum. Oh, you won’t find my name on the deed, but a skilled spy such as you will be able to trace it to me easily enough. In any event, you’ll want to not try anything untoward, lest you find yourself the recipient of a laser between the eyes.”

“Unless I’m wearing a shield.”

“Ha.” The word was verbalized in such a manner it made him wonder what kind of weaponry the guards carried.

Finally she abandoned the Cézanne to face him. “How may I fulfill the terms of my indentured servitude today?”

He crossed his arms over his chest and shifted his weight to his back leg. “Why are you on Pandora?”

“Certain of my subordinates here have disappointed me of late. I needed to make a few adjustments. One thing I’m not here for is small talk, so do get on with it.”

If the woman had anything other than ice coursing through her veins, it must surely be acid. He rubbed at his neck but tried not to otherwise display his fatigue; it had been a hell of a day. “I need thirty thousand units of nervous system stimulants—reaction time boosters, specifically.”

“You don’t already have a supply of stimulants on hand?”

“Not the kind you traffic in.”

“No, I suppose not. Thirty thousand is a large amount. For soldiers then? Fighter pilots perhaps.”

He glowered down his nose at her. Well, if she was stupid she wouldn’t have risen to her position and held it uninterrupted for nearly half a century. “What they are for is not your business.”

“Of course it isn’t. Will next week be acceptable?”

“Tomorrow will be acceptable.”

If it was possible, her visage hardened further. “Very well. I’ll see that they’re deposited on Chairman Vranas’ doorstep.”

“Or you can see they’re delivered to this location in Cavare. Far less bloodshed this way. You’ll also find some specifications in the file, as we do have the safety and health of the recipients to think about.”

“How very noble of you. Is that all?”

“For now.”

“Naturally.” She tugged at her suit jacket and pivoted toward one of the exits. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have another subordinate to dispose of. Good day, Director.”

She left him standing there under the watchful observation of her guards shaking his head at her audacity. It had been a hell of a day….

Aiden Trieneri stood behind the desk in his office, both hands pressed into the desk’s surface as he leaned in to study an unseen screen. Seconds ticked by…one…two…he flicked the screen away and transferred his attention to her. “Olivia. How goes Pandora?”

She allowed the implicit snub to pass uncommented upon. He was an inherently conceited, narcissistic man—this was not news to her, and holding him under her thumb did not currently suit her purposes.

She relaxed back in the chair belonging to the museum curator and folded her hands in her lap. “Bloodily efficient. We have a request from one of our ‘partners.’”

He rocked against the desk. “We knew they would be coming. And the request is?”

“The Federation wants stimulants for their fighter pilots.”

“What kind of stimulants?”

“The illegal kind, obviously. Nervous system boosters for reaction time. The contact provided the usual platitudes about safety concerns and whatnot, but I expect so long as we don’t send the stimulants likely to result in instant death it will be acceptable. If some of the pilots later develop tremors or the odd chimeral addiction? Those are the risks.”

He snorted, an act which didn’t exactly highlight his best qualities. “No less than they deserve.”

She crossed one leg over the other and considered him with mild curiosity. “Do I detect a particular distaste for the Federation? The military? Fighter jocks? Something more specific?”

“Only the unjustifiably privileged. Interesting how quickly their morals give way though. If they find themselves surprised at the consequences, they should not have dealt with the devil.”

“And who is the devil in this scenario?”

He smiled darkly, a more complimentary action. “Olivia, my dear, you are
always
the devil.”

Ah, reversion to flattery rather than risk exposing a weakness. Alas. “Yes, I am. My primary stimulant production facility is on New Babel, so I need to get them shipping out immediately. Seneca is a long way away.”

“We could use my facility on Argo Navis and halve the distance.”

She stared at him for a long moment. “Send the first lot out from there. My facility will backfill the supply chain as needed.”

He nodded in acceptance. “What about the Alliance?”

“They haven’t asked yet. Odds are their forces are too spread out for them to deliver those type of supplies in bulk anyway. Or it might be their leadership still has a few scruples.”

“Scruples will get everyone killed. This is about survival. Deal with the fallout after we survive.”

“Would you like me to get Miriam Solovy on the comm for you to set her straight yourself?”

“Oh, I would…” he regarded her dubiously “…can you actually
do
that?”

Could she? Eh…perhaps. But it would require playing the entirety of her cards in one gambit, and she wasn’t going to try and fail and lose face as a result. “If it comes to it—which it hasn’t. Just get those stimulants moving. Here’s the drop point information. I’ll return in the morning.”