Virtues of War (38 page)

Jump gates.
There was something bad about jump gates going on here—and there was only one system beyond Terra that had the proven ability to create them.

“Do you think Centauria built a secret jump gate, in Terran space?”

“What?” She stopped dead, straightening slightly to shoot him a perplexed look. “Where did that come from? When did Centauria come into this discussion?”

He ignored her reaction—he was fairly used to it. “This area of space… It’s way down south of the ecliptic, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.”

“And Centauria itself is south of Terra, by Sol reference.”

“Yeah, but it’s four light years away.” She was trying to humor him, he could tell. “I don’t think anything they did would… show up…”

She wasn’t slow. He gave her full credit for practically reading his mind. “Come on, Jack,” she said skeptically. “How could the Centauris make a new jump gate? The only way into Terra is via the regular gates, and we’ve been shooting at any Centauri ships that come through.”

He looked back at the two dark-energy concentrations. One large and diffuse. The other small and very precise.
That’s it
, he thought.

“I think there might be another way in,” he said. “The original jump gate relay our grandparents built to reconnect with the colonies.”

She shook her head. “Those were deactivated decades ago.”

“Says who?”

“Says everybody!” She was back to chiding him. “Didn’t they teach that at your school?”

“Yeah… but they also taught us that the colonies were grateful to be reunited with Terra, and to be brought back into the human family.”

Her lips pursed in a frown. “If the old jump gates were still there, the database would have shown us. These terminals have access to that sort of info, remember?”

He looked back at the workstation. It was logged in as “Chief Lopez.” Then his eyes darted around the room, remembering that every workstation had been abandoned after the incident, and the users were all still logged in. His eyes came to rest on the open door to Thomas’s office.

He leapt from his chair and ran through into the office. Rounding the desk he grinned as he was greeted by an unlocked workstation. Sitting down, he began calling up the information displayed on Lopez’s screen. Amanda followed him in, frowning again. Noticing her querying gaze, he spoke while he scanned through the unfamiliar menus of the command-level console.

“The regular database wouldn’t show them,” he postulated, “but if they exist, I’ll bet the eyes-only database will tell a different tale.”

Her mouth dropped open.

“What are you doing?” she whispered. “If Brisebois catches you, you’re dead.”

“This isn’t the CO’s account—it’s the XO’s. He’s the only other person on board with the same level of clearance.”

She shook her head. “How do you know this stuff?”

He couldn’t help but wink at her. “Combat fleet bullshit, baby.”

It took some time, but finally he found what he was looking for. He felt her hands squeeze his shoulders as a few of the most closely guarded secrets of the Astral Force appeared on the screen. Sure enough, the old jump gate still existed, and it was the larger of the two dark-energy concentrations. That could mean only one thing.

“Those bastards.” He sat back, leaning against Amanda.

“What?”

“They used our old jump gate relay and plopped their own new gate right where we’d never look for it. Even if we did, we’d just think it was the old one.” He pointed at the two concentrations. “My hunt controls would never have been able to distinguish between them, if they picked them up at all.” He marveled at the cunning of the enemy.

This war wasn’t yet over.

“Are you still talking about Centauria?” Amanda asked. “Even if they could build a jump gate—and I’m not sure any colony could—why would they want to build one there? It doesn’t make any sense.”

Jack swung the chair around, forcing her to take a step back.

“It makes
total
sense. They can sneak in and out at will.” He felt his stomach tighten. “There might be an entire fleet of ships in our system already, and nobody would know about it.”

“But Jack, jump gates are among the most difficult things ever built by humans,” she protested. Scorn was starting to creep into her voice. “What are you trying to tell me? That one of the colonies can just whip one up?”

He smiled, confident for perhaps the first time since joining
Armstrong
.

“That’s
exactly
what I’m telling you.” He jerked his thumb back at Thomas’s display, and the old jump gate it revealed. “What you learn in school isn’t always everything there is to learn. Trust me,” he said grimly, “they can build jump gates.”

“Okay, fine.” She raised her hands in concession. “So what the hell have we just found? And what are we going to do about it?”

A day ago, Jack would have gone straight to Thomas. His next choice would have been Katja. Who else could he trust? Who else would believe him?

Who else would even care?

“I think we have to tell Breeze.”

Katja didn’t have any particular problem with spying on the citizens of Terra. What bothered her was the fact that most people lived such boring lives. After only a couple of days peering into the unseen dimension of collective information, boredom was threatening her productivity.

Except, of course, when she tuned into what Breeze was up to. Connections between her various communications and movements revealed an ongoing plan that was stunning in its complexity and subtlety. Katja had never understood why the bitch did the things she did, but aided by her Special Forces implants and new Cloud-based perspective, she was beginning to appreciate the self-serving genius of her former cabin mate.

Having witnessed the pact made in Admiral Bush’s cabin, she hadn’t been surprised at his self-serving choice. What
had
surprised her was the agility with which Breeze had turned the situation to her complete advantage, finding a scapegoat for the inquiry, and getting herself inserted as the commanding officer of
Armstrong
.

On the surface it made no sense for an Intelligence officer to take command of a Terran warship, but as project director of the critical Dark Bomb research, Breeze had made her case, and won. Fortunately for her, with so much data already collected, there was no real need to go back into space.
Armstrong
had become a glorified orbiting lab under Breeze’s control. In the process, that harpy had got herself promoted… again.

Helena Grey was going on trial and would hang, while Thomas Kane would likely be returned to duty when his hearing convened this afternoon. There was nothing they could pin on him, but Breeze’s strong-arm tactics—or rather, Katja’s—would ensure that he never again tried to cross swords with her.

Sheer, evil genius. Katja couldn’t help but be impressed.

She had no official reason to spy on Breeze. Having successfully completed her test mission, she’d been formally accepted into the Special Forces and been given the task of mastering her use of the Cloud. To do so meant exploring the general data stream, and who better to spy on than the Demon Queen of Lies.

It was Korolev.

She looked up with a start. Sure enough, the brigadier was standing just inside the doorway, arms crossed and staring at her.

“Important lesson to learn,” he said mildly. “Never lose focus on the real world.”

Katja sat back in the chair, feeling her heart race. She was working in a small office at Astral Headquarters, standard desk and workstation set up to give the impression of a civilian employee, processing the endless flow of bureaucracy. Judging from the pattern of sunlight on the floor, she guessed she’d been in the Cloud for more than an hour.

Like Katja, Korolev wore civilian clothes. He sat down across from her.

“You seem to be getting more comfortable in the Cloud,” he observed.

“Yes,” she acknowledged, “although it’s easier if I focus on a single subject or line of inquiry. When I try to cast too wide, it starts to get shaky.”

He nodded. “Yet ultimately, that’s where the power will lie—from the ability to access vast stores of information all at once. When you can observe it as a single concept, you can pick out the patterns very easily. Staying with a single individual won’t give you the big picture.”

“Still, I can figure out what that individual is up to pretty quickly.”

“True, and sometimes that’s our mission.” He fixed his gaze on her. “Who have you been studying?”

She dropped her eyes, suddenly embarrassed.

“Breeze.”

He smiled slightly. “Ah, yes. acting-Captain Brisebois. One of your favorite people.”

“She’s fascinating.”

“I’m sure.” Korolev leaned forward, his expression growing serious again. “But don’t spend time on people you already know. You need to learn how to use the Cloud instinctively, and you need to learn fast. If you focus on friends or family, you’ll be drawn back into concepts and patterns you formed in the real world, and you won’t use your intuition to read the data properly. Relying on real-world impressions is a dangerous crutch.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Cast your mind wide.” He sat back. “Try to look at this entire building and all the information floating around within its walls. Begin with the unclassified data—before long, you’ll learn how to deal with encrypted assets as well.”

Following his lead, she looked up at the bare walls and ceiling, imagining the invisible dimension around her. All these people were shouting into the Cloud, and only she and Korolev could hear it.

“Are there any other operatives in the building, sir?”

“I don’t know.” The man could have made a fortune at poker. “You tell me.”

“How can I do that?”

He considered for a moment. “Sometimes a particularly sensitized operative can detect the presence of another. You have a gift, Katja—I think it’s the same gift that’s made your combat intuition so powerful. Given time, there’s no telling
what
you can accomplish, but for now, just do as I say. Study the Cloud as a whole, rather than narrowing your perceptions unnecessarily.”

“Yes, sir.”

He stood. “One last reminder,” he said. “Katja Andreia Emmes is off the grid now, and she can’t keep popping up. I’ll give you a few more days to close off any last personal matters. After that, for all intents and purposes, you no longer exist.”

“Yes, sir.” Katja nodded, wondering bitterly if anyone in her family had even noticed yet that she was gone. Without another word, the brigadier turned and left the room, shutting the door behind him.

Alone in the office again, she closed her eyes, and opened her mind to the Cloud. Despite Korolev’s instructions, she cast her net along familiar lines. Family and friends were the easiest to spot. Without even trying she picked up a transmission from Merje to Thomas, confirming the timing of his hearing. She felt the anger boil up at her whore of a sister, and that wretched, wretched man.

She’d been so tempted by his offer—why hadn’t she taken it? Clearly he’d made the same offer to Merje, and found a much more willing playmate. The thought made her stomach twist.

Her growing rage threatened to sever her link to the Cloud, and she channeled it into a single act of pique. Korolev wanted her to tie up loose ends? Slipping through the internal firewall of the law firm Ryan, Ridley, and Day, Katja hijacked the identity of Mr. Ryan himself and sent a one-line message to Merje Emmes.

Stop fucking your clients.

That would give the little slut a scare.

Forcing the rest of her emotions to disperse, Katja stilled her mind and tried to passively drift in the activity swirling in her vicinity. Terabytes of information flowed around her, mostly routine activity generated by the hundreds of personnel in her building. Breeze’s office was almost directly above her, several floors up, and Katja instinctively started to focus there.

There were a number of communications between Breeze and
Armstrong
, as well as communications sent to Admiral Chandler and the Fleet Marshall’s office. Nothing too surprising as Breeze consolidated her power base.

Suddenly Katja noticed another active node.

It was Breeze’s personal Baryon. The device was active almost as often as the military account, and most of the messages were going to the same address. Katja knew she wasn’t supposed to, but she drilled down to finer detail. Who was commanding so much of Breeze’s attention?

It was someone named Kit, and judging from the choice of words in the messages, Breeze seemed to be romantically involved with him. Expanding her horizons, Katja searched for information on “Kit Moro.” Not much appeared in the regular databases. He was a freelance journalist, recently arrived at Longreach, with connections to Chuck Merriman…

She froze on the first image she saw of his face. She’d met Moro before—he was the cameraman who’d been with Merriman when they’d ambushed her for an interview at the skyport. She’d met him again at Thomas’s party, where he’d been Breeze’s date.

Who was Kit Moro?

Perhaps it was the memory of their strange encounter at the skyport, or perhaps it was just her natural tendency to be suspicious, but Katja decided to follow the thread. She traced his Baryon messages back over the past few days, using them to identify a residential address. She let her search flow outward from there, noting everywhere he’d sent communications. No obvious patterns emerged, other than the frequency of connections to Breeze, and Katja forced herself to stop hunting.

When she did, a more comprehensive picture emerged.

There were several encrypted messages even she couldn’t read. For now all she could do was acknowledge their existence. Encrypted messages by themselves weren’t necessarily suspicious—many wealthy citizens paid top price for personal privacy—but something about Kit Moro’s encryptions proved unusual.

They were much stronger than the other civilian security codes she’d come across, yet they were much more subtle than the Astral Force secure comms through which she’d been wading. Moro’s codes were tight, almost elegant, and several of his messages were received at an address that popped out like a flare.