The God Mars Book Six: Valhalla I Am Coming (25 page)

“I’m saying it’s better to
know
.”

Though there are a few things I know that maybe I’d
be better off
not
knowing. But I also know I’d always choose
the knowing over blissful ignorance, no matter how much the knowing
fucks me up.

Burns seems to stew on my heresy for a moment, then
comes back with video that takes over the med-screens. It shows
what I recognize as the video from the journalist’s camera rig. Of
Kali. And Mak and the other modded Cast.

“The blue one… She’s like you,” Burns starts his
prosecution. “Quite the piece of work, isn’t she? And you call her
an ally?”

“Apparently I used to call her my wife,” I joke
badly. “Thankfully, that reality has been erased.”

Lisa looks like she’d punch me through the barrier
between us if there weren’t so many critical eyes on us.

“Calliope Tostig,” Burns lets me know they know her
real name. Then he lets me know what else they know. “You
introduced her to General Richards at Tranquility. So we did some
checking. There
was
a Calliope Tostig on Earth, a Captain
with the old United States Army Special Forces, attached to
UNACT—your former command.” He puts her file up on Lyra’s screen.
“She resigned her commission and became a security contractor, or
more accurately, a mercenary. She was supposedly killed during a
weapons-recovery operation gone bad in Pakistan in 2068, after we
lost Mars and the world fell apart.”

I’m surprised that I feel the pain of her death, or
the death of that version of her, even though she’s obviously still
walking around (or a very convincing copy of her is).

“We could assume that was a cover, that she came to
Mars as part of whatever conspiracy made you,” Burns spins their
theories, “but her facial markers don’t match up.” He demonstrates
by putting a still of the current Kali up with her deceased
this-world self. And I can’t help but see Fera.

“Her Seed overwrote the body of a Cast warrior,” I
explain. “Some of her physiognomy is still left.” Like Sakina still
being able to see her father in Bel, or Fohat looking like Janeway.
It makes sense now. I’d assumed the appearance changes were at
least part mechanical, like a micro-scale plastic surgery, but if
it’s also partly done by systematically replacing cellular DNA, it
relies on the altered cells replicating, replacing the originals.
Even artificially accelerated, it would take quite some time, and
some cells don’t replace themselves as quickly as others.
Especially brain cells, and that may explain the personality and
memory remnants.

I don’t bother to share my theories with Burns, and
he moves on with his agenda, focusing on Mak.

“We have also identified this one. She was at the
Tranquility Summit attended by General Richards. Mackenzie James. A
member of the Cast tribe. But she certainly wasn’t like that when
the General met her. Or any of the others with them.”

He plays the video of my argument with Kali, when I
comprehended what she’d done, and how she defended it. Then he
shows her seducing Horton.

“Sergeant Horton is MIA,” Burns adds to the list of
crimes. “I suspect I know what’s become of him. But this proves:
You
can
convert others at will.”

“If you were paying attention, Kali used
ETE
technology, which is much simpler than ours. But you still don’t
want it swimming around in your righteously pure bodies.”

“And that’s odd, Colonel, because we were told that
ETE tech was also impossible to extract. Yet apparently the Shinkyo
have had some success.”

“Then you should be talking to them, since they’ve
been so ‘compliant’. While you’re at it, don’t forget to ask about
the side-effects.” I flash on images of Tetsuo, turned into a
walking metal sculpture, dying slowly and painfully in service to
his Daimyo.

“The Shinkyo insist that was a rogue element that has
been marginalized,” he regurgitates the bullshit they sold him in
exchange for their “surrender”.

“Under Hatsumi Sakura, sister of the current Daimyo
of record,” I subtly identify who’s the real leader.

“And their whereabouts remain unknown,” Burns shuts
down.

I notice Lisa glaring at me. She’s definitely not
happy with the news of what Kali has done, and is looking at me
like almost everyone else has been, as if that’s somehow my
fault.

“In any case, there’s nothing that we have that you
want,” I redirect back to the original subject. Then accuse:
“Unless UNCORT is making exceptions. Again.”

“That was also a rogue element,” he disavows the
experiments secretly conducted on the locals when the rest of Earth
believed that there were no survivors here. “We have investigated
and dealt with the guilty parties.”

“You’ve used a convenient excuse to eliminate
inconvenient opposition,” I impulsively reword, now openly
accusing, though I’m assuming based on what little I’ve seen of the
new Earth World Government. Burns doesn’t respond. Rick and Ryder
look extremely uncomfortable.

“Staley to Colonel Burns,” I hear Anton thankfully
interrupt.

“Go ahead,” he sounds dour. I’ve gotten to him, or at
least frustrated the mission he’s under pressure to complete.

“I think we’ve got him, sir…”

It sinks in slowly: I’m the only one hearing this.
The med screens and Lyra’s card have all gone back to what they
were running, and no one else seems to be reacting to this new
conversation.

“We’ve triangulated the command signals we were able
to pick up with the source of the uplink hack,” Anton reports. “It
came from the east, piggy-backed on the atmosphere net projectors
to make it harder to pinpoint.”

Anton feeds him estimations, several possible points
of origin, all well past Katar, into the eastern part of the Vajra.
I see them in my head.

“Is it coming from one of the far colony sites?” he
asks. Liberty, Alchera and Iving are out that way, all still
unknown quantities, though the Katar have reported encounters with
one group that still has firearms.

“We can’t be certain, Colonel. There was too much
interference.”

No. That’s not it. Asmodeus
wanted
them to
track those signals. He wants them to go chasing after him, spread
themselves even thinner.

I don’t dare speak up, knowing I’d be accused of
hacking into the conversation.

Dee?
I ask as discreetly as I can.

Doctor Staley, actually,
Dee answers in the
back of my mind.
He’s taking a hell of a risk, but he figures
you need to know. Just don’t blow it for him.

I’m going to need to leave,
I tell him.

Working on it. I know you’re not very good at it, but
try to be patient.

Oblivious to my internal conversation, Ryder produces
some sample cups.

“Any chance I can get you to fill these,
Colonel?”

“Sorry, Doc. My Mods are pretty efficient with the
resources. I don’t have to eliminate unless I really gorge myself.
I suppose I could pee if I maxed out my hydration capacities, but
you wouldn’t get anything different than anybody else’s healthy
urine, maybe less.”

She leaves the containers for me, hoping I manage to
be productive. Then she proceeds to give Lyra a cursory checkup,
thankfully without having her undress.

“How long is the quarantine period?” I ask idly. “For
her, I mean.”

“Two more days,” Ryder lets us know. “Then we run her
DNA again, cell test for the nano-virus or any sign of DNA
replacement.” She nods at the “patients” in the far ward. “We’ll
probably release them then, assuming the tests are clean. And the
troopers we’re holding outside.”

“And her?” I catch that she didn’t include Lyra in
that projection. Ryder doesn’t answer, doesn’t look me in the eye.
Rick does. He looks dour, disgusted.

I feel a sinking in my gut.

Lyra’s picked up on it. Her face screws up with
apprehension, but she knows better than to ask certain questions
with Earthside’s cameras on us.

As Ryder collects her gear and prepares to cycle out,
she finally does look back at both of us for an instant, and I’m
glad Lyra happened to be turned away at that moment: Ryder looks
like she’s got a terminal diagnosis to give, and she has orders to
keep her “patient” in the dark. But the gist is obvious enough:

Lyra’s being kept in here with me as a guinea pig.
Earthside is probably hoping I do infect her, preferably with
something lethal, because she’s inconvenient, embarrassing; because
of what she knows about UNCORT’s “rogue” projects, information that
I’m sure has never been part of any honest, open investigation. And
if that doesn’t happen, they’ll probably keep trying to expose her
to whatever they can get their hands on (and they already have
their hands on Harvester seeds and possibly a viable sample of
Asmodeus’ DNA hacking agent). It’s for the “greater good”, after
all.

That means I have to get her out of here, too.

Patience,
Dee tries to soothe.

Another day of boredom and aggravating sexual
frustration in a clear plastic cell passes with the usual bland,
barely-palatable food and pointless exams. Lisa tries to keep me
from brooding myself into doing something stupid by catching me up
on the months that have passed since I got her “killed” and fled
Melas Two, but the topics stay fairly trivial. I expect this isn’t
just about the constant monitoring, as she quickly deflects any
questions about how she’s been treated, other than to say that
they’ve let her out of containment, let her “consult” on various
missions and intel, with “safety precautions” taken.

If we’re talking about this when Rick or Ryder make
their rounds, I can see in their eyes the disgust and anger for
what they know about what was done to her: Anton let me know they
were abusing her months ago; experimenting on her freely,
invasively; and that their “tests” included vivisection and even
sexual assault.

I would take her from this place in an instant, but I
know she wouldn’t go, she’d fight me, tethered to her now pointless
and self-destructive sense of duty. I remember what Yod said about
her, what she represented to him: Selflessness. Service to others.
But there are limits. There
need
to be limits.

I also remember more than one of my Modded cohorts
wondering why we weren’t on Chang’s side, because driving these
twisted dangerous fucks the hell off the planet seems like the
righteous course more and more every day. It was Chang’s methods
more than his intention that kept that from happening (and now he
has to be doubting that either of those was his at all, having
supposedly taken Yod’s “offer” to play the role of the scary
villain in a moment of absolute despair, mind and memory altered
accordingly). Now that Asmodeus has taken over that role, that door
is well-closed.

If I would have known, if I could have gotten to
Chang earlier, maybe we could have worked together, eliminated
Asmodeus, taken a saner course, and we wouldn’t now be stuck
between two devastating threats.

And here I am, beating myself up again over things I
can’t change. I suppose it’s a marginally better use of time than
spinning Mod-induced bad thoughts that involve Lyra naked.

Something interesting,
Dee thankfully invades
my brain.

I get fed decrypted transmissions between Burns and
Jackson, vague and minimal, but referring to the status of
something called the “Warhorse”. Dee sends me a set of images,
specs of an armored ground vehicle, about twelve meters long and
three high and wide, all angular plates like it’s designed for
stealth as well as impact deflection. It rides on four caterpillar
treads, and features a base-sized 20mm gun and launcher turret on
top, paired with two smaller chain gun turrets. Its purpose seems
similar to the Leviathan Long Range Recon vehicle, but it’s
significantly smaller and lower to the ground. There are references
to “arming” and “camo upgrades”.

New drop,
Dee feeds me.
Designed
anticipating hostile encounters with the locals. Three units were
sent on the latest shipment, but the build was so shoddy that only
one is still running after they were dropped from orbit. Priority
is to get it here from Melas Two. Everything on it is old-tech,
hack-proof—they built it after you showed up converted and showed
them you could get into their networked systems.

They’re going after Asmodeus,
I easily
figure.

Armor and weaponry should be able to deal with
Harvester attacks, small arms,
Dee allows.

But not Asmodeus. This thing is big and stupid and
slow.
And these people are idiots.

They’re counting on its lower profile and masking
to hide it in the local growth,
Dee gives their poor excuse for
strategy
.

Assuming it doesn’t move,
I criticize.
What’s the mission?

Seek and destroy.
Dee flashes me more on the
“upgrades”. They’ve armed it with four nuclear torpedos, four
kiloton yield.

Shit.

They’re basically handing him four nukes,
I’m
certain. And while Earthside deserves that humiliation, the people
on this planet don’t deserve what he’ll do with those warheads.

We need to take it from them first,
I
decide.

Working on it,
Dee tells me that he’s ahead of
the game. As usual.
Patience.

I’m brooding over this new stupidity—and helplessly
waiting for Dee to get around to busting me out of here—when I
finally get graced by a call from Richards. They make me watch it
on one of the terminal screens out in the gallery, through the
layered transparency, like he needs the extra barrier between me
and his on-screen image.

“I’m sorry for this, Colonel,” he opens, sounding
reasonably sincere. “But you understand. Given recent events,
recent discoveries, we need to take extra precautions.”