The Altreian Enigma (Rho Agenda Assimilation Book 2) Page 30

  Better late than never.

  Then, with a mental pulse that radiated outward in all directions, Jack freed every non–Twice Bound mind in the Parthian.

  CHAPTER 42

  Thirty-six hours after the disappearance of the Smythes, Prokorov watched the live streams of the countdown to activation of the Frankfurt wormhole gateway on the big screens inside the FSS military-operations center. Unlike the dog-and-pony show that accompanied the activation of the Stephenson Gateway eight years ago, there were no reporters, no military, and no onlookers allowed inside the cavern. Everyone had been cleared out, with the exception of the scientific and technical staff who would handle the banks of switches that would manage gateway activation and shutdown.

  Today’s action was barely newsworthy. The goal would be to briefly activate the gateway in the general vicinity of the same Kasari staging planet that the Stephenson Gateway had linked with, broadcasting a multimedia message explaining and apologizing for the disaster of first contact. The message would also provide the coordinates and codes to enable the Kasari to establish a link from their gateway to Earth’s, should the aliens decide to grant the human race another chance. Since the Kasari would certainly disallow any direct connection to their gateway, the entreaty was the best that humanity could hope for during this attempt at second contact.

  The unanchored wormhole would, of course, waggle through space within a few million miles of its target, but since humanity merely wanted to broadcast a message through it, that shouldn’t matter.

  On another screen, Dr. Guo, the lead scientist for the Friendship Gate, and Dr. Lana Fitzpatrick, the U.S. undersecretary for science and energy, would observe the proceedings from the secret North Korean site. If all went well, their phase of the operation would soon be given the green light. If not . . .

  Prokorov inhaled deeply and shoved the negative thought aside. One foot in front of the other, one step at a time. That’s all most people could do. Others, like him, learned to work in parallel.

  The voice on the speaker began counting down from one minute. The activity along the line of switchboard technicians increased as glittering LEDs illuminated and hands moved to plug the matching colored cords into the illuminated sockets. A low hum rose as the stasis field generator powered up, followed by the gateway itself.

  At ten seconds out, all activity stopped.

  Only a single technician held a red cable, his hand trembling as he waited to insert it into the last socket.

  Three.

  Two.

  One.

  The hand moved. The plug penetrated the socket. The gateway churned and shimmered into swirling beauty.

  A view of an alien star field spun and then shifted as the message broadcast began.

  “What . . . ?” The panic in Dr. Guo’s voice brought Prokorov to peak alertness.

  The star field beyond the gateway shifted again, looking somehow off-center within the gateway. Then Prokorov saw that it wasn’t the gateway that was the problem—the stasis field that sealed it from the void of outer space seemed to be shimmering.

  “Shut it down!” Guo yelled.

  But before his words could register with the technicians, the stasis field failed, unleashing a hurricane as the cavern decompressed, sucking scientists, technicians, and equipment through the gateway. While Prokorov stared at the display in shock, the destruction escalated as machinery was hurled into surrounding gear, knocked loose to be thrust into space. Then, as suddenly as it began, every audiovisual stream from within the Frankfurt Gateway cavern simply ceased.

  A dull knife of dread speared Prokorov in the chest as he stared at the blank screens that tiled the far wall.

  He barely heard the words of the scientist whose distraught face filled the upper left window on the big screen. Dr. Lana Fitzpatrick put her face in her hands in the adjacent display. Prokorov knew with certainty what this meant.

  The Frankfurt Gateway was gone. And it had taken a good chunk of the world’s top scientists and technicians along with it.

  CHAPTER 43

  Senator Freddy Hagerman jogged along the Washington Mall, his breath puffing out in small clouds. Today he felt an unusual hitch in his stride that meant he might need to get his running prosthesis tuned up. For now, though, he intended to ignore it.

  Up ahead on his left, the white spire of the Washington Monument rose up to touch the sky, a symbol of the American greatness that President Benton and his cronies had ceded to the UFNS. Fortunately, there were still those willing to stand up and fight for liberty, even though that fight carried a cost. And the cost of last week’s battle outside Frankfurt had been horrible to behold.

  At the time, Freddy had thought that the Smythes had been unsuccessful in their attempts to destroy the Frankfurt wormhole gateway, a failure that the worldwide press had loudly heralded. But less than two days later, when the UFNS had activated the gateway, the brilliance of the Smythe plan had become clear for all to see. They had somehow sabotaged the gateway so that it would destroy itself. Their actions had elevated the rewards being offered for information leading to the capture or death of the Smythes to more than $1 billion each.

  In a move to protect its peaceful political activities, the Safe Earth movement had disavowed any association with the Smythes and their outlawed Safe Earth resistance. Freddy and the other leaders of the Safe Earth movement had firmly denounced the robotic attack that had killed so many German civilians. Despite these efforts, Freddy knew that only the SEM’s millions of nonviolent members worldwide prevented the UFNS and its member nations from outlawing that organization as well. There may come a time when that would happen, but not today.

  Freddy harbored no illusions that the Smythe victory would stop Prokorov and the rest of the UFNS from again trying to welcome the Kasari Collective to Earth, but that was a battle for another day. Right now, he planned on enjoying the rest of his run among the glorious monuments to past greatness.

  CHAPTER 44

  Jennifer Smythe sat in the conference room created from one of the configurable quarters amidships, leaning back in her chair as she watched the others make their way in. Captain Raul, as General Dgarra had insisted that everyone call him, took his place at the head of the table that was capable of seating six. This ship had a crew of four, assuming she could come to grips with VJ being one of them. But the others had accepted VJ’s status as a virtual person, so Jennifer would just have to get over her mental prejudice.

  As if she had read Jennifer’s thoughts, VJ took the seat directly opposite her, wearing an utterly inappropriate copy of the uniform General Dgarra had created for Jennifer. Not her aide-de-camp uniform, but the slinky black-and-purple number that Jennifer had worn the day she marched into the ArvaiKheer Amphitheater at the head of Dgarra’s ten thousand warriors. Refusing to be baited, Jennifer decided to ignore the outfit.

  Dgarra seated himself to Jennifer’s left, at the end of the table opposite Raul. Although the military hierarchy that Dgarra expected clearly still made Raul uncomfortable, he was doing his best to act the role of ship’s captain. As such, he opened the meeting for which Dgarra had created the agenda.

  He cleared his throat. “Uh-hmm. This being our first official meeting of the crew, I would like to place a few things into the ship’s log as a matter of record.”

  Ship’s log? Jennifer thought. Good lord. Was she the only one at this table who recognized how cheesy that sounded?

  But when she glanced at the others, she decided that the answer to her question was yes, so she kept her comment to herself.

  “General Dgarra,” Raul continued, “has requested that items be put before the crew for agreement. Therefore, I’ll turn the proceedings over to him.”

  Dgarra picked up as if he had just been introduced to a group of his subordinate commanders. He leaned forward, his large arms braced on the table.

  “First of all, it has come to my attention that this starship is named after an Earth project that was responsible f
or welcoming the Kasari. Therefore, I propose changing its name to something more appropriate.”

  Jennifer realized that although she hadn’t consciously thought about it, she had never liked the name. She nodded.

  Hearing no objections, Dgarra continued. “VJ has given me a suggestion that I find most appealing. The tallest of the Koranthian Mountains, in fact the tallest mountain on all of Scion, is known as Mount Meridian. Scaling its peak is the first of the Koranthian rites of passage out of adolescence and into adulthood. Therefore, I propose that this ship be renamed the Meridian Ascent.”

  “I second the motion,” said VJ, clearly pleased.

  Despite her irritation at VJ’s phrasing, Jennifer had to admit that the Meridian Ascent had a pleasant ring to it.

  “I like it,” she said. “What about you, Captain?”

  Raul pursed his lips, most likely to suppress a grin at her calling him captain rather than because he was mulling the name over.

  “Agreed,” he said.

  As if his motion had been a foregone conclusion, Dgarra nodded and continued, his face taking on a grim cast.

  “Next, we must turn our attention to the tasks that lie before us.”

  Jennifer tensed. She braced herself for the topic they had all rigorously avoided in the days since they had fled Scion and made the wormhole transit that had taken them twenty-three light-years away. That had been the first trip she ever made through a wormhole that hadn’t felt like being put through a blender. But they were still all wanted, dead or alive, by multiple alien empires, one of which spanned a considerable part of the galaxy.

  “At the top of our list,” Dgarra said, “we are short on food.”

  VJ lost focus on behaving human and floated up into the air, drawing all eyes to her eager face.

  “I believe I have a solution to that problem,” she said. “I’ve been experimenting with the matter disrupter-synthesizer and have been able to create a number of complex proteins, including amino acids. Given time, I see no reason why I couldn’t build a version of the MDS capable of duplicating foods such as the Scion eels that we have on ice.”

  “I can’t wait to taste that,” said Raul, bringing a chuckle to Jennifer’s lips.

  “Regardless,” said Dgarra, restoring a serious tone to the meeting, “I propose that we return to Scion.”

  “I don’t like that idea,” said Raul. “Our recent endeavors there didn’t turn out so well, and it’s not like your own people would welcome you back into the fold. We’re public enemies one, two, and three.”

  “Don’t forget about me,” VJ said, scowling down at them.

  Jennifer took a deep breath, not liking that she was going against Dgarra. “Personally, I would like to return to Earth. Maybe we can make a difference there that we weren’t able to do on Scion.”

  “The fact that we weren’t successful doesn’t mean that we can’t be,” said Dgarra. “We just need to come up with a better plan.”

  Jennifer smiled, placed her small hand atop his, and squeezed. “What do you say if we let VJ try to solve our food dilemma while we think this over? In the meantime, if you can come up with a plan that gives us a reasonable chance of changing things on Scion, we’ll give it full consideration.”

  Dgarra looked at her, and she saw his face soften ever so slightly. “Fair enough.”

  Raul leaned forward, his face taking on a serious expression.

  “Since that’s settled, I want to make a few comments. We’ve all been through a lot since this starship left Earth to come to the Scion system. In different ways, the Meridian Ascent has become our new world. General Dgarra has been betrayed and denied his rightful role as Koranthian emperor. Jennifer and I have both lost our home world because it may have been either destroyed or assimilated by the Kasari. But even if Earth survived intact, due to a time dilation induced on our trip here, more than eight years have passed since we departed. And we have been changed by the events that have unfolded.”

  Raul shifted his gaze to VJ, who had settled back into her chair.

  “I also want to acknowledge the valuable contributions that VJ has made. Without her, I would not have been able to survive to rescue the rest of you.”

  Jennifer saw VJ blink and smile, but she said nothing.

  “So,” Raul continued, “the Meridian Ascent has not only become our home; we have become her crew. As captain, I believe each of you forms a natural fit for a crew position. Jennifer, you will be my first officer, and, given your unique abilities, you will also serve as my communications officer.”

  Jennifer knew that it was foolish to feel a flush of pride that Raul had selected her as his second in command, but she did. Her mind detected no hint of disapproval from Dgarra, and VJ made no objection.

  “General Dgarra will fill the role of tactical officer and be third in the chain of command. VJ will be my science officer.”

  Raul leaned back. “I want to thank General Dgarra, who advised me strongly in this matter. For this to work, I need all of you to buy in on major decisions. If there is disagreement, then I will make the call, but only after having listened to all of your arguments. If anyone has an objection to what I’ve just laid on the table, now is the time to let me know about it.”

  Jennifer looked at the others gathered around the table. There were no objections.

  “Okay, then,” said Raul, “our first decision will set our course, be it for Scion or for Earth. General Dgarra will inform me when he is ready to make his argument for Scion. Until then, this meeting is adjourned.”

  They rose from the table, with Jennifer and Dgarra the last to exit the room.

  As an electric thrill worked its way up her arm, she noticed that he still held on to her hand.

  CHAPTER 45

  Heather strolled outside the holographic illusion of the cloaking field, well beyond the inner bubble of protection that the stasis field generators provided for their New Zealand facility, enjoying the feel of the November sunshine on her face. She stopped to listen to the gurgle of the fish-filled stream that wound its way through the flowering meadow. Throughout the long winter months of June, July, and August, she’d spent almost all her time belowground, expanding their facility and designing the tech they’d used to attack the Frankfurt Gateway. Now, with Mark at her side holding her hand, she almost remembered what it felt like to be ordinary.

  Ordinary had gone out the window on that Los Alamos summer day when she, Mark, and Jennifer had stumbled upon the crashed Altreian starship and had been remade. The day had been very much like this one. A sudden breeze swept down from the beautiful, snowcapped peaks, bathing her in a river of cold air that raised goose bumps on her arms. Where had that youthful innocence gone?

  “Memories?” asked Mark, squeezing her hand.

  “Memories,” she confirmed.

  “We stopped it, you know.”

  His words pulled another vivid memory from her mind. Although it had been nearly midday in Germany when Prokorov’s scientists had activated the gateway, it had been nighttime in New Zealand. Robby and Eos, working alongside Jamal and Eileen, had hacked their way into the audiovisual feeds from the Frankfurt cavern, and the entire population of the Smythes’ Tasman Mining Corporation compound had gathered to watch the related visuals on the big screens in the operations center.

  When the gateway had stabilized, the stasis field generator took longer to fail than Heather had deduced. The delay had curled knuckles of dread around her throat. When the generator finally did die, unleashing a vortex of annihilation within the Frankfurt Gateway cavern, the onlookers cheered, including Heather. But their cheering was short-lived, and Heather’s elation had quickly turned into disgust as she watched more people being slaughtered by her actions. As was the case with almost everything else she had done, she had known this would happen. And no matter how she had tried to spin the story, to convince herself that innocents died in every war, she still felt sick.

  The vision cleared, and her eyes met Mar
k’s.

  “Did we?” she asked. “Or are we just spitting into the wind? Somehow everything we touch turns to blood. And then, before we know it, the wheel turns and brings us right back to the same mess we were trying to prevent.”

  Mark draped his right arm around her shoulder, and she leaned into him, feeling his surprising warmth. Mark gently lifted her chin and kissed her. When it ended, the feel of his lips lingered on hers. Heather looked into his eyes and could detect only happiness.

  “Right now is all we’ve got,” he said.

  She gazed up at him, so handsome with the breeze ruffling his brown hair, and remembered that there were some things she still liked about the present. She liked looking at him, liked the way he looked at her, loved the way he held her. She had her family here, and Mark’s family. She had Janet, Robby, and Yachay, the Quechua woman who had delivered Robby and been his lifelong nanny and protector. Even though Janet clearly longed for Jack, she still had Robby. And the banter between Jamal and Eileen was nothing short of hilarious. Even the sometimes-morose Dr. Denise Jennings was a nice person to be around.

  Unfortunately, this peaceful isolation wouldn’t last. They had been fortunate that nobody had yet violated the corporate “No Trespassing” signs, locked gates, and remotely monitored electric fencing that surrounded the 172 square miles of their remote Tasman Mining Corporation property.

  But as she looked into those deep-brown eyes that showed no trace of loathing, she breathed in the crisp spring air, letting it cleanse her cluttered mind. Lowering herself into the soft grass, Heather tugged Mark down with her.

  “Then we better make the most of it.”

  CHAPTER 46

  Silhouetted by Altreia’s magenta orb, The Ripper, wearing the black carbon nano-fiber uniform that had become his standard, stood at the top of the dais that rose from the center of the Parthian’s Hall of Lords, with Captain Moros at his side. A long line of Altreians, both Khyre and Dhaldric, snaked up the dais to become Twice Bound. Since the decision was voluntary, many in the Parthian did not elect to become Twice Bound, but those who did numbered in the thousands.